“Nothing but a bit of dust. All things considered we all got off easy this time around.” Raimondo replied as he gave a heavy sigh and lowered his mechanical arm. “But at least everything is back to normal...Somewhat...” He then looked around. The damage was not too severe it would appear that of course such a display woke up everyone sleeping and of course caught the attention of everyone. And to that some people were out yelling and pretty scared that they were attacked.

Well this did not concern him mostly, while the others were speaking he grabbed a cigar and lit it up. Nothing like a somewhat victorious smoke, that and now he was not sure what to do now since the paint monster retreated. Maybe it retreated back home...Or it could have retreated elsewhere...Back to square one again! Gah.

“What to do now...” He muttered.

Aeila looked on at the mayor carrying on in hysterics and scoffed, shaking her head. Not even a thank you for risking our lives?, she thought, quite annoyed that the mayor was clearly focused on riling up citizens rather than trying to calm the people who were terrified at what just happened. She looked over at the mayor as he was pleading for Raimondo's help, "I'm sure the 'arm of justice' would be delighted to help, mayor, but perhaps you should provide him with payment, after all, saving the city isn't cheap." The only reason that Aeila mentioned payment was because she was hoping that would nudge Raimondo into visiting her shop and getting some work done, and surely business would pick up when a powerful vigilante like himself used her enchanting services.

Aeila's ears perked up as she heard the governor mention the beast's name, she wrote in down in her notebook, maybe she would be able to learn something more at the library or in public records. Despite the recent chaos, she couldn't help but feel a little excited at the prospect on learning more about the creature and why it showed up trying to get its hands on the governor.

Heading back to the university, Vortahar was mentally preparing his excuses. Drayden could be quite persuasive and Vortahar had to be really sure of his words.

Crossing the entrance to the herb garden, Drayden was already waiting and came running to him with a worried expression.
"Where have you been, Vortahar? I was worried sick about you! I've heard rumors of trouble near the city hall; were you near the confusion, boy?"

"Yes, master. A huge creature, seemingly made of paint attacked the governor and some warriors helped to fight it back. I crouched behind a rock and watched the whole thing." Vortahar says excitedly almost blurting about his participation in the fight.

"A creature...made of paint...! You could have been killed, you lunatic! What were you thinking.... ?" Drayen shouts.

"But master...I was trapped there. The creature was tossing paint projectiles and I almost...

"Silence, Vortahar! If you had not defied me, this wouldn't have happened in the first place." Drayden yelled angrily. "I am responsible for you. Can't you understand how important you are...if..." Drayden dramatically stops mid-sentence as if having said too much.

"Important...what are you talking about, master?" Vortahar tries to probe him for more information but Drayden starts to walk towards the herbs with his tools.

"The Harlequins are getting too bold to attack like this at daylight." Drayden mumbles changing the subject and Vortahar follows him.

"Master, during the mayhem, I got a sample of the creature's paint. I suppose you would like to study it." Vortahar takes the small vial from his pouch and hands it to Drayden with a confused expression. Drayden takes it with a nod and puts it inside his tunic pocket but turns and continues his chores silently.

Abdown cast a glance at Vortahar as he left, deciding against pursuing him, for now at the very least. He assumed this was against his mentor's wishes anyways and would likely stir trouble, regardless of any good intent. Later perhaps a discussion was in order, over some tea.

The governor put his hand on his chin, pondering what to do now. An attack was staged so close to home, even if he felt no malice in it. It forced his hand, and he had to make a decision, one that'd certainly conflict with the coward of a mayor.

"You," Abdown said, turning in the direction of Raimondo. "I'm curious... what are your intentions with the Harlequins? I must say, it is rare to see those of us willing to take up arms, in your case, quite literally," he continued, giving a look at him, then over at Aeila, who also participated in the fight. "I feel I'm under pressure to make some... executive decision regarding all this, and the spread of Silence."

"Executive dec... decision?" the mayor muttered, a faint shimmer of some frustration in his eyes. "What? Haha... no, don't worry about it! You resigned yourself to advisory, remember?"

"Under the pretense," Abdown responded almost immediately, raising a finger and casting a piercing gaze at the diminutive mayor. "Of maintain the peace."

"Oh... oh! But nobody was harmed, all is well! B-besides it was... it was after you, right? Seems l-like a personal matter, right? No need...no need to involve..." the mayor responded, his tone getting quieter and shriller as he found Abdown's gaze increasingly... intense, shrinking back until no more words exited his throat.

"The Harlequins chose to pick up arms against the Silence, and some broke the taboo of killing others, even if they were infected, and overall, the Silence should be our greatest priority," governor Abdown said, turning back to Raimondo. "They are dangerous, don't get me wrong, and they have to be stopped, but they aren't exactly wrong, either. What does justice dictate in such a situation?"

Drayden scurries across the herb garden checking if all is well. He watches Vortahar play his pan flute to the plants. The boy believes the plants grow stronger with his music but Drayden knows the truth. Lately, he has seen strange people stalking the university. They are on the hunt, he is sure, for a very potent magic, that can change the direction of the tides of war. But he has found it first and the later this magic blossoms, the better for everyone.

Drayden starts to examine the paint Vortahar gave him. He separates some drops to put it on the microscope.
"Interesting," he notes, "I think I can use this...for something."

"There was once another who made the blooms, who's dreams became gardens... do you remember, or have you forgotten the roots from which you were cast? The tree that became your solace from the abyss is her effigy," a voice whispered, as if its owner were right beside Drayden, a voice that spoke to him alone. It was a woman's voice, with an ambiguous coldness in her tone. Under the microscope, the paint began to shift as if reacting to the presence. "I remember, for it was from her seed I was grown, in a bramble of her lingering regrets, thorns of sorrow. Just as she, with a touch, I can plant a seed in the dreamless... just as I did with Malachie. And this, the paint of creation? I made it grow as well, and through it, my connection to you, Drayden. I am curious, you were there from the time before, were you not? You and Abdown... did you... simply watch as the Silence consumed my mother?"

The microscope shuddered, and from it, a portion of the sample leaked out into a trail onto the table, turning black as it did so, forming into a thorny vine, and at the end, an eye-like red bloom opened. It was a signature of the witch, Zilthai.

Drayden freezes on hearing the voice and backs from the microscope. He recognises it from a different time. Before the Silence; when the saplings of bliss covered the fertile soil near the tree and its patterns could be woven by sheer imagination.

"I was there and so was Abdown, you know it. Do you think we had a choice?" he asks rather melancholically.
"We were powerless then against such a force but now we may stand a chance."

Drayden forces himself not to look at Vortahar, he could lose everything in an instant. He cannot give him away and focuses to saturate his mind with random images. If she gains knowledge about the "Light", their last hope would be buried forever with her corruption. Right now his ignorance is his best weapon against her influence.

"What do you want, Zilthai?" Drayden looks at the red bloom intently.

"What I want? Not old grudges if that is what you fear, or to... 'corrupt', like they say I do. The little ones all came to me, persecuted, feeling unfulfilled, or despair from being dreamless," Zilthai said, her tone getting somewhat quiet. "What I want ultimately doesn't matter, it is what I... I need to do for my mother's legacy, to free her precious world," she continued with almost stoic conviction. There was something within those words that revealed, only a little, some uncertainty.

"I had a dream last night, from the eyes of three. One from the garden of the moon, one upon a throne of stone surrounded by the nightmare turned, and the third rests in a field of white." she said, fully convinced that this means something. The dark bloom began to wither, as the connection that held it together began to gradually fade, turning to dust on the table. "If you have a light that you truly think is brighter than mine, a catalyst of your own, then by all means, use that knowledge and succeed before I do. There are not too many nights left, and I will stop the Silence by whatever means it takes."

With that, Zilthai became silent, the bloom turned gray, the eye cracked, and its form fell dry and lifeless, gradually crumbling away into dust.

Drayden scoops the rest of the paint and dust and throws the formless goo into the compost bin. Its magical properties have been exhausted.
He ponders over Zilthai's cryptic monologue. She knows. Despite her reassuring words, Drayden believes she is capable of anything to put her hands on his trump only to prematurely corrupt the raw power of the Light in her maddened crusade against the Silence.
Drayden watches the boy prune the herb shrubs.
Vortahar is not safe here anymore. They must leave the university.
"Master, is everything alright?" Vortahar timidly approaches.
"Pack your things, Vortahar. Your journey begins today."

A sound cracked through the air, or more like, a deafening of sound rang from below. It was not a sound, not quite the accurate term for it, but rather, a vacuum of sound, true to its name, the Silence was stirring. Night was falling soon, and with it, all villagers fled to their houses once more, stopping all work they had set up for today, including the repairs from the recent scuffle on the streets. What threat a small group like the Harlequins paled in comparison to the Silence by far, even as terrifying as the group can be, a corrupting force was nothing short of a surreal nightmare. It didn't just carry with it a sickness as some had described, but crawling forth sometimes were the monsters twisted and reformed by its touch.

"It would appear that time has come to return to my tower," Abdown said, looking down. He had to maintain the barriers, that was about all he could do at this point due to his advanced age. "Raimondo, what do you intend to do?"

---

---

On the far side of the great landmass, the beast had fled into the wooded region. She proceeded to lay down, having grown drowsy from the sedatives, and exhausted from all the exertion, panting, dripping with the paint-like substance. She searched with clawed hands to find what was the cause of an itch to pull out a dart from one of her legs and tried to get a better look at it. She pricked her thumb with the point of it and threw it aside, sucking on it.

"What did you do, Puah?" a man's voice called out. Puah looked around, checking for the origin of the voice, catching sight of a figure in one of the branches, it was a man, fairly young looking with strange features. It was Malachie, and he looked to her with not anger, but concern. "You weren't supposed to go there, so why did you?"

"I-," she muttered, but stopped herself. She looked down ashamed, ears drawn back.

"Honestly," he said softly, jumping down beside her. Taking from one of his pouches he pulled out some bandages and began to wrap her wounds. "You were there to get him, weren't you? Thought you could fix his and my issue?" he continued, tightening the bandage, causing the beast to yelp. He looked up at her, but she refused to look him in the eyes, looking a bit flushed. He sighed, looking more defeated than agitated. "Lady Zilthai had a vision of three places. Maybe this is it? Two of them should be easy enough, well, easy, as traversal goes, at least. One in the great tree, and one on an island below. The third, on the moon. Even if we could fly, the turbulence and distance would certainly be... a trial of its own."

"The moon..." Puah uttered, looking perplexed, even her magic, raw power as it was, wouldn't be able to penetrate the sky as it stood. Didn't help that she was an amateur at best, with only a powerful body. She sunk her head, thinking also of traversing the depths. "That island... too? Nightmares are greater there. I'm already marked, I..." she said.

"You won't turn, Puah. Zilthai said it yourself, you are resistant," he said, trying to give reassurance. "But... lets start with the tree, and see how it goes from there, alright? The others are waiting, if you are too tired to walk, I'll take you there."

Puah looked perplexed, but silently nodded, and despite the sheer size of her, a feat of pure strength, Malachie lifted the beast from the ground into his arms and began to carry her on his back, the scene both awe-inducing and absolutely absurd. And with only slight difficulty began to make the trek towards the Great Memoria Tree.