A visible shudder traveled through the shaman, trying to imagine what Morrigan described. Taki had known the voices of the spirits, the gentle brush of their presence, in the earliest of her memories. Severing that connection would be like carving out her soul and mincing it up, isolated and devoid of reason. Even by proximity, the idea was far worse than losing your senses or limbs... even insanity would be preferred.

"That seems like a difficult life to face, the idea is terrifying to say the least. I now better understand your reason for being annoyed by my magic, for that you have my thanks and I will try to respect your situation going forward."

She looked down at her hands, then around to the room at her companions. Such a fate, such a curse, didn't seem quite real to the shaman... like some bad children's tale designed to instill a level of existential horror, particularly for the magically gifted.

"Admittedly, my studies in healing have been more of the 'in the field' variety. While I can mend some ailments, the scope is limited... broken bones, bruises, even missing limbs... but curses and infections are beyond my skills or understanding when they get too complex. Give me a moment, I'll check my library."

With a level of grim determination akin to their adventures in the Ash Ruins, Taki practically flew across the room and into the library adjacent. She had a myriad of books on healing spells, magic principles, and many kinds of natural medicine in the first area she looked. The next was a collection of books and scrolls she'd received as part of her adventuring abroad but that yielded even less. Checking over the materials she'd obtained from the W.E.F. hinted at a few mythical curses and diseases but it was little more than mention. Lastly, she delved into the bulk of her library that had been painstakingly procured through the Mage's Guild. Most were relevant to guild business directly, but some like the book she and Beist had published together were practical knowledge. That wasn't to say they lacked in any regard, only that wasn't the shaman's method for learning about magic.

After several minutes of sorting through the bindings, then contents, she ended up with a trio of similarly bound tomes. Each was by a different author from a different time period, but all concerned afflictions of magical nature. She opened the first and turned to the section on curses, expecting to find more of the same. Instead, she found a detailed description, matching Morrigan's. It included several hypotheses about it's cause, but as yet was known to be irreversible. Checking the printing, she picked up the next oldest volume as she'd started with the newest. Again she was met with the same results, though their publishing was nearly three decades separated. The last book held the most promise, as it preceded the latest by well over a century. While it was a modern printing, it was verbatim to it's source.

She combed the various, disorganized sections before reaching the one she was looking for. Almost word for word, Taki stared at the reality of the situation in disbelief. Her greatest joys included all the adventures with Morrigan and her companions, and not being able to help in this case took her a moment to process. She was practically in tears as she returned to the main room, steeling herself to face her friend. In all likelihood, they'd walked this same path themselves, discovered the same truths and bitter reality.

"According to what I could find in my personal archive, what you've told me is accurate to the letter and has been that way for quite some time. I will not be a source of false hopes if I can help it Morrigan, and there is no known or rumored cure... not even a whisper of a wild and extravagant chance... I must admit I find that idea to be unnerving, as if taking the air and driving it from my lungs."

Taki paused for a moment, steadying herself before continuing.

"If you'd like me to try anyway, I will gladly do so, but I fear it will be a futile endeavor to say the least."

Oh, Morrigan so hated the repulsed shudder that flitted across Shitakibo’s expression. It was a pitiable existence, to be sure. There was more to it, they’d learned, than just being removed from the privilege of casting spells. Magic was the life force of this world. Without it, one found themselves lacking both physically and spiritually.

Shitakibo had no way of knowing that for the first ten years of their life, they’d been a mute recluse.

“Not annoyed, exactly.” Morrigan flipped their braid over their shoulder dismissively. A lie they told even themselves, perhaps. “More at the concept of magic in general. The ultimate irony in the play that is my life is that both of my parents were rather strong mages. They had high hopes for me… that kind of bitterness doesn’t leave you overnight. To be fair, I’d no idea what I was even missing until a few months ago. Astrid Stormstone - a little brat, but I am friends with her father - and I got into a bit of a situation. I experienced her magic, and she experienced my curse.”

What a delicious taste of freedom that had been.

“It is the only time I have ever known the true disparity between your life and mine. And it is a taste that will linger on my tongue for long months to come.”

They could not bring themselves to even look at the shaman, lest they see her face and the truth of her pity. They didn’t expect her to know much, truly. Before Kamille had told them the name, Morrigan hadn’t even put explanation to their own affliction. Only research in the hallowed halls of the mage’s guild had pointed Morrigan in the direction of the Rune Wars.

Magic was supposed to be able to cure any malady. Yet there was no hope for that which it could not touch.

“I am not surprised.” They shrugged. “It is not a common condition, by any sense of the word. By all means, feel free to check.”

They finished their sweets and checked on Plague once more while Taki checked her tomes for any mention of it. She wasn’t gone for long, yet Morrigan could practically count every second ticking through the hourglass. They were so intimately aware of the grim reality that their condition was not going away anytime soon. Yet, they were still quite adept at clinging to their own illusions.

When she returned, however, it was with the news that Morrigan’s information was all accurate.

Their laugh rang hollow through the room.

“Never before have I so hated being right.”

They shook their head at her soft, sad lamentations. “As I have said, it is better for me to learn to live with the cards I have been given. I’ve always been quite resourceful. And who knows?” They smirked. “Perhaps one day I will beat the odds and become the first person to rewrite reality. After all, it was not so long ago that the odds were I would not even live to see childhood.”

They had always taken great pleasure in breaking expectations.

“Feel free to try, if it will ease your conscience. I’ve no illusion it shall work, either. But fear of the outcome should never stop one from trying. Do not worry about my feelings, Shitakibo. I am not the same charlatan I was in the bowels of that volcano.”

"Nor I the same Shaman..." There was a hint of consideration in Taki's voice, though her features wore a knowing smile and even a tinge of purple started to blossom on her cerulean scales. She sat quietly for a moment, feeling out of her depth for the second time this year. She knew she could try all that was tried in the past, but there was one resource she could possibly seek out.

"If you'll give me a bit of time, I will consult with my Guardians and some of the other greater Spirits I'm on friendly terms with. Messing around blindly with curses is not something I wish to risk for either our sakes."

While she very well could try to brute force a solution, she knew enough of history and magic to understand that it was not wise to mess with something you didn't fully grasp. There was a reason almost all forms of magic took some kind of training and discipline. Even those gifted with magic from birth needed to mold their will and imaginations or things could have dramatic and dire consequence.

This was something far and beyond the shaman's capacity, so she would turn to those who taught her the ways of magic. One spirit in particular had proven to be a vast source of knowledge and history, though contacting them had become more difficult since Vulcadreus destroyed the mountain they called home. Such spirits weren't tied to a place, but this one seemed fond of it's home and hadn't been adjusting very well. Still, it would do no harm to seek out information from other sources, especially those who might have some understanding.

It had been some time since Morrigan had given thought to the possibility that they could fix the way they’d been made.

Long before they struck out of the circus to go on their own journey. Back in the days they were still a whelp, the ink still drying on their arms where they’d painstakingly etched their own tattoos. Their teacher imparted lessons of alchemy; of lying and scraping for money. The art of the illusion. Sell someone exactly what they want to hear and it won’t be you that has convinced them - they would convince themselves. And Morrigan was very good at lying. They took to it like a fish to water. Out of any persona they could have constructed for themselves, they just had to pick a wizard. Both the cruelest form of punishment and the most impossible dream.

Yet, that did not stop them from imagining, in the back of Madam Medb’s tent while they ground up alchemical components, made smoke bombs, and learned the art of card manipulation. That perhaps one day if they worked at it hard enough, this entire facade might become real.

It had been a long time since Morrigan last entertained that notion.

And therein lie the problem. Kaivalya had once become a liar and a cheater to obtain everything they wanted, stripped themselves of their very personhood to become Morrigan - the manifestation of everything Kaivalya ever wanted to be.

And, with a start, Morrigan realized that Astrid Stormstone had been right. Kaivalya wasn’t dead, because Morrigan was the culmination of everything that child had dreamed about in the back of that wagon they once called home. Morrigan fiercely protected their own identity not because they’d killed Kaivalya; but because they were still protecting that child.

Kaivalya was still alive, because Morrigan had put that child to rest in a safe bedroom with a promise, ”It’s okay. You can rest your head - I’ll take care of you now.”

Kaivalya had dreamed of a hero, someone to save them -

And so they’d become that person, because no one else would.

Without that dream to cling to, who would Morrigan become then? They didn’t know, and perhaps that was what had always scared them the most.

Maybe Morrigan didn’t need to know right away. They were only just now coming to terms that Morrigan as they were was a hollow creature. Whatever would become of them was up to the future. But there was a very real possibility that this would not work…

And Morrigan was fine trying, even if the destination at the end of the road was failure.

They nodded, unsure what else to say for a moment. “Feel free. I’ve no expectation they will know anything, but I will not dissuade you from trying.”

They leaned against the wall and pulled an old, faded deck of cards from their pocket, shuffling the deck with an absent expression on their face. An old creature comfort, perhaps.

Nodding, Taki sat down on the floor and closed her eyes. The soft sound of Morrigan's shuffling eased the transition by giving the shaman a rhythm to focus on. Within moments, the world took on a strange misty haze and everything around her seemed to be an exaggeration of life. She looked around to spot her Guardians awaiting her arrival, the pair greeting her affectionately for a brief moment.

'There is a task to be done, what do you two know of the so called "Mana Curse"?'

'Only whispers Taki, rumors and tall tales.'

'We could ask the Mountain Spirit.'

'I thought we might start by visiting the Guardian of the Oasis, they may have some insight.'

'You have a point there... shall we be off then?'

'Our destination is familiar to you?'

Ryu and Keta stared at the shaman, waiting for her to realize they'd both waited for her at the Oasis for some time.

'Alright, I won't say any more, lead on.'

While not fully sure herself what they'd meant, Taki followed her companions through the misty wilds. Her spirit was like a beacon to many of the beings, so their progress was often hindered. Taki was not one to pass up an experience, and sharing little moments with the gentle spirits that flocked to her side were a habit she'd had since childhood. She bid them well as she traveled, arriving at a mirror of the Oasis in what seemed like some hours later.

Overhead, a great shadow passed over the group, with a wingspan that reminded her of a true dragon. When she looked up into the haze to catch a glimpse, she nearly tumbled over as the body of a large feline soared just overhead stirring the mist. She turned to the familiar spirit and knelt.

'Greetings and well met my friend, it has been some time.'

'That it has, and you have grown much. What brings you this day?'

'The wisdom to help a dear friend, hopefully... Perhaps there is a private place we can speak on this matter?'

Nodding, the spirit turned and walked towards a large boulder set into one side of the Oasis' canyon. Placing a paw atop the boulder, they moved it aside to reveal a private den before entering. Her guardians followed without hesitation, while Taki took a moment to take in the sight. She bowed politely in thanks and stepped through the entrance, which was covered behind them.

'What wisdom could be of aid?'

'I seek to understand what is known as the "Mana Curse" and any who might know of it's origins, function, and undoing.'

'You have met one afflicted?'

'I have, and would like to help in any way possible.'

'The Mana Curse is akin to a bound spirit, a soul whose connection is bound to the body they inhabit so tightly that even magic does not flow. Much as a bound spirit is tied to it's object or place, so to is that soul bound to it's body. While incredibly rare, to my knowledge there is no way of unlocking that soul from it's bonds.'

'That is the same information given by scholars and healers in the books I've studied... Thank you, and I hope this was not inconvenient.'

'Not at all, your discretion is appreciated. The Oasis is meant to be a place of peaceful reflection and greater understanding, this was appropriate.'

'I am grateful for your wisdom, and glad to see this place is still doing well despite recent events.'

The spirit simply nodded and opened the door once more. Taki thought they seemed tired, exhausted, but said nothing out of respect. She could only imagine the deluge of happenings since the Drakolt Incident so she could sympathize. Turning to her guardians, she spent a moment reflecting at the pool by their side. Why was she going to such lengths? Would she be willing to take any risk involved to see this through? Would Morrigan?

That last question made her pause, and consider just how well she really knew the Fellblood. As she was doing so, she felt a gentle tug on her spirit from below. With a smile, she pat her guardians and let the sensation carry her deep into the earth.

'SHHHHHAAAAMMMMAAAANNNNN'

'Greetings once again Great Mountain'

'SEEEEKIIIINNNGGGGG'

'I am, seeking a way to free another from the so called "Mana Curse".'

The Mountain Spirit shook the walls of their sanctum, though Taki couldn't tell if it was out of anger, fear or frustration. There was a long and seemingly dire pause before they spoke again.

'CURRRSSSEEE WILL NOOOOTTTT BREEEAAAAKKK...'

The spirit's voice was sullen, and hollow, as if they'd encountered this question many times before. She pried no further on the subject, instead spending their time together sharing traveling stories and singing songs to help ease the tension of the situation. The pair parted shortly after and she took the seemingly long journey back to her home and herself.

Shitakibo meditated for a long time.

A… long time.

The charlatan shuffled the deck in their hands over and over, fingers idling across the edges of the well-worn material. This deck was old; as old as the entity known as Morrigan themselves, a gift from Madam Medb when they entered the criminal world proper. Oh, this deck had been used to scam many a customer of the Dreamscape Bazaar. The real magic was not in the cards, or even in the divine, but Morrigan’s own ability to read people and feed them exactly what they wanted. All it took was a quick hand, a flick of the wrist, to retrieve the card one wanted, and a silver tongue to weave stories woven in the card’s meanings.

It had been quite a while since they’d done a reading for themselves.

There was no time like the present, they supposed. Especially if whatever conversation Shitakibo was having would take long. With renewed resolve, Morrigan shuffled the deck one more time, in fluid, smooth motions. There would be no manipulating the deck. This would be up to luck… and their own mind.

A simple, three-card spread would do. Past, present, future.

Morrigan drew the first card and set it on the ground in front of them.

King of Cups, Reversed.

Upside down the king’s shadow was in full display. The dark side of generosity and balance. Someone trapped within themselves. Someone who was vindictive, punishing others through emotional manipulation. A sign one might be repressing their feelings… at risk of emotional outburst and moody tantrums.

“Oh, how droll.” Morrigan spoke to no one in particular. “I suppose that the king is supposed to represent me?”

It would be the ultimate irony, that the biggest manipulative force in their life was themselves. That ought to have been a good thing. Lying was not inherently bad in of itself; Morrigan had manipulated themselves to become greater than they were, and manipulated others to gain fame and money. Either way, they supposed the drawing of this card held no surprise.

Next came the present.

Five of Swords, Upright.

A sly man, collecting three swords from the ground. Two more scattered at his feet - a victory and a defeat all in one. A card which represented conflict… upright, indicative of an incident which left one with a sense of loss. Even if the reader was the victor, there was always a price to pay. Still a steep cost to survival. A sign to pick one’s battles.

Morrigan didn’t need to guess what this was meant to represent.

They glanced over at Shitakibo, still deep within her meditation.

After a moment of somber thought they decided not to dwell on the present for longer than necessary. They were in the thick of it, after all.

Morrigan pulled one last card, far more curious to see what the future brought.

Knight of Cups, Upright.

“Two cups?” Morrigan mused, taken aback. They hadn’t realized that their problem was so… emotional in nature.

The card depicted a knight in a slow trot, a single cup aloft in his hand. The card which represented action… one who was inspired by dreams and desired to make them real. Humanitarianism, beauty… love.

The final steps of your journey are about to be completed. Do not be tempted to run away again - this is where you belong. Your journey was meant to being you a sense of new appreciation.

Morrigan stared at the cards, on the cusp of realization.

“Well that’s just maddeningly unhelpful.” They decided, sweeping up the cards and tucking them back into the deck. “All of this to tell me to be happy with my lot in life.”

They didn’t need the fake diviners to tell them what their parents had said for the entirety of their youth. Though they could not deny there was a kernel of truth in it. Morrigan had been the one who was forced to resign themselves to the possibility that this curse would never be cured.

For a moment Morrigan felt they stood at the crossroads between two options. They could take this information they’d learnt, and become a better person… or continue on the road they’d forged for themselves and become a worse one. The choice was theirs to make.

They stood, brushing dust off their clothes as Shitakibo opened her eyes, coming back to herself from wherever she had gone. They tried not to let too much hope shine in their eyes when they spoke.

“Well? What did you learn?”

Taki sat quietly for a few moments, taking several slow breaths as she returned to collect herself. She heard Morrigan speak, though it sounded garbled and distant, as if someone was shouting into a gust of wind. Sitting quietly for another long minute, the words came through her fogged mind.

"Well? What did you learn?" Morrigan said, a puzzling look of both some frustration and a hint of hopefulness. Before answering her friend, she centered herself, trying to find the words to convey how much the shaman wanted to defy this reality before her. It wasn't often that Taki felt helpless, unable to overcome a given situation with wit and patience and understanding. She did her best not to show Morrigan how troubling it was, but couldn't keep a measure of sadness from her body language.

"I have learned that the oldest of spirits I know is troubled by this affliction, which is humbling, but even they know of no cure, no remedy or treatment of any kind. I sincerely wish there was something, even some wild and ancient rumor, any lead to follow... not being able to help resolve a situation, especially one for a friend..."

Taki's voice trailed off, no longer able to fight against the emotions, she stared at her hands and wondered if anything she was doing was helping others. She could only imagine how difficult it would be for Morrigan, in a world that lives and breathes magical connection the way that Charon did. The more she pondered it, the more she understood just how terrifying that reality would be for her... if she woke up and could no longer feel her spiritual connection... her entire body shuddered at the thought.

If even the old mountain spirit was annoyed and saddened by the mention, then what hope could this lowly Orochi offer her friend, other than her support whenever possible? Some part of her wanted to at least attempt to brute force Morrigan's connection to magic open, but she also knew that was more likely to end in disaster than help... She sat on the floor, feeling helpless and defeated by a situation for the first time in a while, unsure what more to say or do to comfort Morrigan.

“Ah.”

To be honest… this was not unexpected.

Morrigan had been the one to assert they’d found nothing on curing the mana curse in the first place; yet from the listlessness on Shitakibo’s face you’d think she was the one who’d received a lifetime sentence to a life-altering curse. It was surprising for Morrigan to learn that she was acquainted with a spirit who was afflicted with it. They’d always assumed that those with the curse would not leave spirits the way that a physical being might. Or that in death the shackles of their soul might be freed. A quandary for later – Morrigan cared so little for the dead that Shitakibo’s connection to her spirit companions was a foreign thing.

Morrigan doubted they’d find much wisdom there themselves, but maybe it was worth researching when they returned to the guild.

These troubles were neither here nor there. Shitakibo had done them a favor delving into the spiritual world that resided at the edges of the physical realm, and now, she was throwing herself to the floor of one plagued with chagrin at a situation they’d only just learned was helpless.

Morrigan had been there.

They sat next to her, brows furrowed, unsure what to say. A more emotional person might be able to conjure the proper words to tug at her heartstrings; but that required the truth, and as established prior, Morrigan was an incorrigible liar.

Well. There was no point in sugarcoating it anymore.

Morrigan sighed, fiddling with one of the rings on their finger. They were prone to wearing silver, but this single piece was startling gold. Conspicuously, the only ring they wore on that finger now, where their other hand was adorned in ornate jewelry.

“Sometimes the more you chase answers the further they drift from your grasp.” Morrigan breathed. “It is why I have sought comfort so long in concocting my own reality, rather than confronting the one that has been written in the stars for me.”

Like if they believed in themselves hard enough they could manifest a solution like a wish on a falling star.

They turned to Shitakibo with a light grin. “To be honest it’s hard to miss what I’ve never had. It is easy to dream about the impossible. But you know me, dear shaman. I am akin to a cockroach. I will not be squashed so easily. Besides. It seems impossible to make being bereft of magic look this good, but as always, I manage.” They flipped their braid over their shoulder.

“Worry not about me, Shitakibo. It is just another hurdle I shall have to learn how to overcome with panache and style.” And oh, they intended to. “… But drop your worries, I insist. I refuse to be pitied. If it means that I have to be twice as wonderful in this rat race known as life then so be it – I will shine. But I will not be treated as fragile as glass, you hear me?”

A piss-poor attempt at comfort, but it was all they new how to say. They couldn’t bear to see Shitakibo look at them like she’d just delivered a death sentence. Nothing had changed since she’d known them - only her knowledge of their lack of skill. Yet they were still the one who’d climbed a mountain right next to her, taken on the challenge of the volcano. She did. It need to worry about them.

"Of all things I might consider of you Morrigan, fragile is not one of them. Resourceful, quick witted, full of glittery ideas and sparkling ambitions that require the first two skills for survival... but I would not think to pity you a single moment my friend. Forgive me for my empathy at the situation, or how it might have been perceived otherwise."

Taki pulled a cushion to sit on from a cabinet and sat across from the pair, trying to accept the reality. She was glad they'd all made it out, and no matter what hardship came tomorrow, they would be on their own two feet to face it. When Morrigan did need magic to solve a problem, she would happily answer that call, even if the circumstances were... less than ideal. She definitely felt she understood Morrigan a measure better, some part of the way they phrased and reacted to the tale spoke of the struggles.

Stretching for a moment, she took another look at the stranger laying across her couch. They seemed to have settled from their injuries, though there was no telling how long they'd rest before waking. Between the party, the aftermath, and her jaunt into the spirit realm, there was a tiredness in the way Taki moved.

"Would you care to stay the night? You're both welcome and there's no lack of space, plus some rest will give me the energy for a proper breakfast before you set out again."

Morrigan could only manage a small shrug.

“Empathy… pity… they all start to feel the same in the end.” Regardless of one’s intentions it left the same impression. Still, it was somewhat heartening to know that Shitakibo did not view them with something akin to pity.

“It is fine.” They insisted after a long beat of silence. “I am not offended that you might wish to help.” They did not mention that the last time they received “aid” from those who claimed to care, Kaivalya spent their youth barely allowed out of their own room for their own safety. What a double-edged sword empathy was.

Morrigan much preferred to simply help themselves.

Still. Regardless of what decidedly sour emotions this conversation dragged up from the pit of feelings Morrigan often declined to examine, they felt like they’d at least gained a better understanding of Shitakibo, as well. Despite her kindness they’d still held onto the impression that she was far too noble and straight-laced for the two of them to ever be able to morally reconcile. Yet, they’d somehow found it - this serendipitous sensation known as common ground.

A strange place for Morrigan to be. Yet they could not deny that Shitakibo had helped them - without her they would have faced significantly more trouble in rescuing Plague. When they’d seen her amongst the throng of people at that gala, Morrigan could honestly say they’d not expected her aid. They’d not underestimated her capacity for goodness, though perhaps they’d both overcome a few internal judgments today.

Morrigan stood, brushing off their clothes. They were still in their party attire; the fancy robe was now crumpled and covered in dust, though it would come out easily enough. They’d intended to make their way with Plague back to Sol City posthaste and change into more fashionable and clean clothes - admittedly, Shitakibo’s offer should not have come as much of a surprise as it did. It’s already so late and frigid out…

“Why not?” They decided after a moment of deliberation. It would be easier to transport Plague if she was actually awake to do so. Morrigan did not have the capacity or desire to carry her unconscious body home, thank you very much. Their goodwill only extended so far.

They swept into a low bow, as if offering their gratitude; though it was still an insufferably showy motion.

“For what it’s worth… I appreciate you trying.” That was more than anyone had tried for them thus far. It left Morrigan feeling rubbed raw in a way they didn’t enjoy. Some rest would not be unwelcome at the moment.

They flashed her a crooked grin. “Upon the morrow, Shitakibo.”

Tomorrow, they’d take Plague back to the Capitol. Tomorrow, they’d carry on with business as usual; but they’d know, deep in their heart, things might never be quite the same. That inexplicably, Morrigan had become a different person than the entity they’d created. And it was time to start considering what that meant for their future.

But tonight, they would rest well with the knowledge that the two had saved one of the few people Morrigan could consider a friend. That, inexplicably - Morrigan had done good with Shitakibo.