59. Riggs #2
Every step felt like a dream as he scanned the worn textbooks on the top shelf. Almost every book had words written on them he did not understand.
The old language.
Esemeray was beside him glancing around with awe. “Riggs…”
“I know…”
Riggs raised his hand toward the Historian who was standing in the center with her hands behind her back. “Please tell me you understand some of this.”
She nodded with grace, striding toward them. “Of course I do.”
The Historian’s slender fingers skimmed along the spines impossibly fast. “Ah, the old magic systems.” A cloud of dust filled the air as she pulled out the thick tome. “Here you are,” she said, passing the book to Riggs.
“Holy gods…” Riggs blinked, hardly believing he was holding history in the palm of his hands.
Esemeray surveyed the text. “That’s a hefty book. Do you think you will find the answers in there?”
Riggs cocked a brow. “Oh, I’ll find the answers.”
Hours went by and Riggs found nothing. He hadn’t bothered translating to Esemeray. He informed her, he’d explain when he received answers. Esemeray simply sat there patiently, observing his research. As if being in his presence were enough to keep her content.
It was for him.
The Historian placed another book with crinkly pages on the table. It was older. Darker. There was a presence about it—as if it had magic.
Esemeray stiffened, looking at the tome with intent.
“Are you ready for this segment?” the Historian asked, adjusting her reading glasses.
Riggs followed her finger as she traced the text along the worn yellow pages.
“Over five hundred years ago, a dark power was unleashed on this planet from another world. After many years of research and discoveries, there have been portals found linking to the Underworld. Darklings and other beings have been documented as the only entities to come and go through the rifts.” The Historian glanced up, meeting Riggs' eyes.
“Till this day, the portals remain open in two locations—Wraithwood and Shadow Realm.”
A shiver sharper than claws dragged down Riggs' back. “That’s why Wraithwood is a death zone? Why traveling through Shadow Realm turns you mad? The power there…it’s from another world?” Riggs asked, leaning forward. Why didn’t I know this? Why is it not public knowledge?
“Yes.”
“What are darklings?”
She traced her finger across the page and swallowed hard.
“It is a sentient shadowy presence. Darklings are what they are referred to after they attach themselves to humans, or other creatures.” She adjusted her glasses, blinking.
“However, it is believed the shadows don’t attach at random, but through a practiced ritual. ”
“What sort of ritual?”
“It doesn’t say…” She hummed.
Riggs brows bunched. “Do the darklings possess power?”
The Historian cleared her throat and continued reading the text. “Yes. It says they can manipulate shadows and telepathically communicate.”
Riggs nodded his thanks to the Historian, then turned to Esemeray, breathing heavily, and translated the information.
Esemeray asked, her chest rising and falling. “What does that mean?”
“I will find out more.” Riggs comforted her, rubbing down her shoulders, her back.
Riggs met the Historian’s gaze and waved a hand for her to continue. As if she had already studied the creature, she said, “Darklings steal their hosts’ consciousness and feed off life. Turning their host into something wicked, something dark.”
“Their soul?”
“Would you like me to continue reading, Mr. Whitlock?”
“Yes. Sorry. Please continue.”
She cleared her throat, glancing back at the text. “When attached for a period of time, it eventually consumes its soul.” She gave Riggs a look, as if saying to be more patient. “Once the shadows have completed their cycle, they return to wherever they came from.”
Esemeray mentioned voices last night.
Riggs gulped. “Anything about voices?”
The Historian glanced between him and Esemeray. “Some have reported to hear voices speaking to them, yes.”
Could Esemeray be a darkling? Are the shadows feasting off her? But how? She’s fully conscious. Dread dripped down his arms. But?—
“Anything about shifting?”
The Historian glared, tired of Riggs' interruptions. “No. Nothing.” She glanced at Esemeray before she closed the book, her face turning white as she locked eyes with Riggs. “We must take our leave now.”
Riggs whistled a tune, walking down the temple halls to meet with Kohen.
Before he kissed Esemeray goodbye, he had reassured her she was in fact not a darkling.
How could she be?
Yeah, she has shadows, yeah, she hears voices…so what?
One: she’s conscious. Two: she’s alive. It sounded like darklings ate their host and turned them mad. Plus, Riggs had never once heard of a godsdamned darkling.
Sounds made up. Something from a nightmare.
There was something else going on, and once they arrived in Theradonia, he’d research more about it.
Sliding his hands into his pockets, Riggs sighed, the fountains drowning out any sound. Twenty minutes away from Esemeray and he was already experiencing a whirl of emotions. Withdrawals it seemed like—which reminded him to give Killian the Tyger before he forgets.
Riggs lifted his fist standing before the red door outside of Kohen’s office—and paused. A promise was a promise. Kohen held up his end of the deal, and now, Riggs will hold up his end. But there was one thing—What will I say?
Just knock, don’t be a pansy.
Riggs rapped once.
Silence.
He sighed in relief, until shuffling on the other side of the door sounded. He could tell whoever was on the other side hesitated.
Riggs knocked again.
Then the door opened.
Kohen was sitting in his mustard, yellow chair, bracing his elbows on his wooden desk. He said, his face stone cold. “Riggs Whitlock, take a seat.”
His office was dim and neatly organized.
On the back wall, cacti and artifacts of tiger cubs sat on floating shelves.
A world globe sat in the corner next to a small leather sofa.
Kohen’s space filled Riggs' mind with a calming sensation.
Perhaps it was the decorations or the massive fish tank taking up the entire side of the room.
That was a sight to see.
How were the fish transported without dying in the hot desert?
Their bright-orange and neon-green fins illuminated the water with an aquamarine glow.
Those palm-sized fish were only found in the Emerald Sea.
Enu’s was what they were called. In the summer, during spawning, the males created a radiance effect throughout the entire ocean.
Kohen must have paid serious gold for those.
“Incredible… I’ve only seen sketches,” Riggs mused, beaming.