“I want- need, to know where his daughter is."

Marion cut in, gripping Idun tight in his hands.
He have now heard what the man had to say for himself- and he could not understand, at all, what fostered such a deep hatred to anything that looked somewhat different from yourself. Not that he would care a whole lot to know, anyway- at least not at this moment. There are much more pressing matters at hand, and Marion quickly collected the potion ingredients into his satchel for further reference- there is something that, out of the gathered group- only he could fix.

The information was promptly given, and Marion hurried off with the directions in mind, not sparing the merchant behind him a second glance.

How Rekkel would be dealt with are in far more capable hands, and whatever they did- Marion would support that decision, since Beak have every right to do so, and he trusts his friends full-heartedly that there was not a doubt in his mind about their goodness of heart. They'll do what they consider is right, and Marion will do so as well.

Thinking about the dosage, the mix of herbs that he could roughly guess the end result of, and a vague mention of timespan- Marion snapped his fingers in beat, and started to word the modifying lines into the song as he ran along- he knew the answers, what to look for. It was infuriating how he haven't insisted on seeing the daughter first before everything else. He could have been able to help her sooner.

Rena smiles sweetly at the merchant, taking a slow, steadying breath as she examines Rekkel with silver eyes and lifts him up so he's dangling from her hand…and then those pale, caustic white eyes slowly fade…to black. Not the black of ink, or the black of night, or dark of shadow or the abyssal ocean depths. It is more than that. Deeper, more potent, more hungry. And though it strains against the walls of her eyes to reach him, it does not…and then thin filaments of that blackness begin to slowly, agonizingly spread under his scales from Rena’s grip on his throat, branching and growing and expanding ever outward, moment by moment. It’s slow going, but those empty eyes gaze into Rekkel’s own orbs the entire time, unblinking, empty of light and life and soul. When she speaks, her voice is hollow, empty, akin to a chorus of whispers from within the blackness that has consumed her eyes, “...the Stars will not remember you. But we will. We remember everything the Stars forget. We are everything the Stars forget. You shall be us and we shall be you, and we shall scream together for eternity…” and even as she speaks, those threads of hungry black spread further and further, burrowing inward at the same slow, agonizing pace as their outward spread…

…Rekkel’s scream is cut off as the hungry darkness devours his vocal cords, spreading further, further, further, minutes passing as the diminutive lizard desperately struggles, his eyes bulging as the blackness threads through them, darker even than the black of his pupils.

Slowly, slowly do Rekkel’s struggles die, the red scaled lizard hanging limp from Rena’s hand, weakly wheezing as he’s slowly, agonizingly consumed by the threads of black. There is no blood. Nothing falls from the body. The hungry shadows spread through and across the unfortunate merchant’s body, consuming one wide, terrified eye last of all, as though giving him one last glimpse of the world of the living before Rena holds nothing more than a silhouette of that deep, devouring black…and then that silhouette dissolves like smoke. There is nothing that remains, nothing to bury, nothing…nothing left to remember…

The crow with eyes of hungry black speaks one last time, “...truly, a delectable offering…we shall remember this…Brighteyes…” and then she gasps as though breathing for the first time in those long minutes, the devouring darkness rapidly disappearing behind her pupils as her eyes flare back to that silver light as she staggers back, a mixture of confusion and satisfaction in those shining eyes as she returns to the group with a smile in the ruffling around her beak, “...’s done. Page torn, star snuffed. There’ll be no Stories told of the person who brought us here” and with that, the Blackfeathers follow after Beak and Marion, happy to let N'hil's latest meal remain forgotten...

Beak follows Marion to... to the house of... someone's daughter..?  No... whose house was it?

It's strange how complete that hole can be, for how well everything still seems to function without... whatever used to be there.  Aside from a slight feeling of dizziness, of mental fog and vertigo that comes and goes as her mind adjusts to whatever was lost, nothing seems to have changed.  They were running toward this house, and they're still running toward this house.  There's a woman, she's sick, poisoned... someone was poisoning her she... had somehow consumed poison.  Spike moss, among other things, but in small enough doses that she and Marion had thought it was the wasting disease.  But now she and Marion know so it's off to save this woman.  Where did she even know this woman from, though?  How did they know what she had consumed?  This is wrong.  This is fine.  Marion is the best healer she knows; once he knows what was in that poison, he should have an antidote ready in no time.

"This is the place," Beak explains, pointing at the door.  How did she know that?  "His daughter (whose daughter?)  That woman should be inside.  I... ah... I believe I shall wait out here, though.  Her family  She is... not fond of people with my... condition, from what I can recall."  She never met this woman, how would she know?

Some lingering strange feelings, almost like tiny contradictions running through her mind as she waits outside the house, but they lessen over time.  There are many at first.  Then there are a few, and then barely any, and then they finally stop, the last of them ironed out like stubborn wrinkles in an old pair of pants.  This is fine.  The woman is fine; she'll go on to make a full recovery.  Beak is fine; she's made some amazing new friends for the first time in decades.  Whatever trouble there had been here... no, there hadn't.

Which only leaves the question of... what now?  Beak can't just go back to her life of swamp and solitude after this.  Not after having people in her life again.  Marion had invited her to the capitol, said there was a festival going on... perhaps she should take him up on that invitation.  She hopes she'll run into the Blackfeathers again, too... which is certainly not a sentence any person in their right mind would normally say.

Marion nodded, and headed inside.
There was soft voices of conversation- it didn't take too long, and then there was silence, and then there was singing. Marion's voice was kept barely above a whisper as he sang. The song took it's time- it was longer than anything you have seen him sang before.

When he re-emerged from the house, though, Marion seemed at ease, and he smiled to you- she'll be alright.

"I've cleaned it out, and did some basic work of repairing the damages- she will need to see a healer afterwards, too, to keep track of her recovery."

He explained to the party, and sighed.
"I felt like I could have done something sooner... but I kept drawing up blank about what it was. It's kind of odd... "

Shaking his head as if he could shake off the thought, the young elf continued.
"But I think we are done here...? I think. At least, it is getting late, and we'd need to secure a lodging for tonight. And- Beak, I haven't forgotten about the invitation, though. I want to make sure again, if you would come with me to the city? I have a friend that will ship us over there, and it would be a great vacation- and then you can start working hard again!"

The Blackfeathers quickly find Beak out in the street, outside the crooked merchant’s the poisoned woman’s home, a chorus of chirps ringing out in greeting as the chicks swarm around the elder skeleton and the adults sort of group up around Beak, Rena and Bell on either side of her with Nev behind, all three of them smiling and chirping, though Rena seems a little haggard channeling even the briefest sliver of Nothing is hardly easy as she leans against Beak’s side, for once relishing the unnatural feeling of blind spots forming in her memory.

The silver eyed crow gazes up at the house as she murmurs, “...if’n ye want or need t’ find us again, look t’ the Crescent Isles. I can point out the spot on a map if’n ye have one, but suffice t’ say that our barrow is there, dug under a little hill in the middle o’ the forest…I think I speak for all o’ us when I say we’d love t’ have ye over…” the others trill their agreement, the chicks grabbing at Beak’s hands as the group waits for Marion to return…

…Bell, Rena, and Nev share a glance as they wait. This one, who’s turned out to be like them in so many ways, this one they want...time to start laying plans…didn’t Marion offer Beak a trip to the Sol City Harvest Festival? Perhaps they'll run into each other again rather soon...

Lilicors Village. In an open market, on a busy day of buying and selling, one may find various vendors peddling wares, from food to jewelry to arts and crafts and everything in between.

This is not their story. This never was their story. Certainly not that anyone can recall.

This is a story of a lonely old skeleton from a drowned village from before the Marsh Flats were what they were. This is a story of a bright-eyed and optimistic sun elf, at times in over his head but with a heart as golden as his hair to see him through even the seediest locales. This is a story of a family of crows and one raven, who overcame both a dark reputation and a curse on their memories to reunite and find love amidst the pain. This is a story of false enemies and true friends, of overcoming loneliness and isolation, of wounded hearts supporting one another, of finding one's people and one's place in this world.

Sol City. Crescent Isles. There is so much out there.

It's time for a certain skeleton to stop hiding from it all.

Marion Aurea and the Blackfeather clan were the first to welcome Beak to the world of Charon. They will not be the last.