View source for Dantia/Stories/Release From Guilt, Obligation, or Punishment

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"It's not the only way," she whispered to me with a small shake of her head, "to train our combats, that is. We aren't limited to just constructs." Confusion must have been written across my face. She placed her hand on my wrist and pulled me into the nearest doorway, speaking in hushed tones in an attempt to keep the conversation private. "I overheard some of the elder Empaths discussing it. It's a spell that lets us confront the Undead -without- taking shock."

It felt like an eternity passed between us, her grinning at me in that way she did before doing something irresponsible, and me squinting back in confusion. "I don't understand," I responded slowly, her words not fully sinking in. "What do you mean without taking shock? It's impossible for us to harm any creature with a life essence and, twisted as it may be, the Undead do very much have their own life essence." I bit down on my lower lip, a habit when I was thinking carefully. "If it were true, why would we not have been taught it?"

She rolled her eyes dramatically, leaning back into the door frame in an exasperated manner. "After everything you've learned about manipulation and shifting, you're still surprised to find something the Khalo is unwilling to teach us?" The volume of her voice had started to rise but she caught herself and adjusted it back down. "I thought you were more shrewd than that, Dantia. Perhaps I shouldn't have said anything..." she trailed off, waving her hands in the air as if to erase the entire exchange.

It was my turn to take her arm, and I held her in place to force her to finish a conversation she had started. "No," I said firmly. "I mean... yes, you should have said something. But no, I am wholly UNsurprised to learn about yet another ability the Guild would prefer us to be ignorant." I exhaled slowly, a feeling of disappointment in my Guild rising from the pit of my stomach again. I pushed it away with a swallow. "What is this spell?"

Several days later I found myself in the cluttered showroom of Sierack's Reagents, eyeing shelves precariously piled with books, jars of unidentifiable objects, and magical devices. I moved down an aisle brimming with scrolls, each tied around the width with a piece of twine and labelled clearly with a tag. I stepped slowly down the aisle, eyeing tags as I passed. Sheepskin scroll... sheepskin scroll... I was looking for a.... Aha! I wrapped my hand around the width of a rolled parchment and tugged it out of it's slot. Written on the tag in precise writing was the word 'Absolution'. I took it to the man standing behind a high counter and set it down, digging in my pockets for the payment.

"Aha, 'Absolution'," said Sierack. He was a dignified looking Elf, with steel-grey hair and penetrating eyes. It felt like he was looking right through me. "Mmhm," I managed in short response, trying to make it clear that I was not interested in a longer conversation. "Absolution: the formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment," he recited, as if he was reading from a manuscript. I continued to count out the necessary coin, paying little attention to him. "I've had quite a few of your kind come through here over the years looking for that scroll," he said, with a nod in the scrolls direction. "It's always made me wonder.... is your kind offering Absolution, or are you in such need of it?"

My hands jerked, a few loose coins falling back into my pocket. Sierack continued quickly, perhaps realizing that his sale was at risk. "Ah, never you mind the ramblings of a Warrior Mage," he said with a quiet laugh. "Your total comes to nine platinum and two silver. The silver are for the cost of the parchment and ink, of course. Supplies aren't free!"

It had been several weeks now, and the roll of parchment remained unopened at the bottom of my satchel. Sierack's question had gnawed at the back of my mind like a Bard's song you couldn't shake until you finally heard it again. Between quite a bit of time spent in the library and a few very careful questions asked of the elder Empaths, I learned that the spell did not, in fact, expand our abilities to allow us to fight Undead. Instead, it suppressed our Empathic sensitivity until we were too far removed from our senses to feel the shock at harming a life essence, as weak as it is within the Undead.

I trained for years working specifically to heighten and refine those senses, and so to imagine forcing them into submission for any reason seemed unnatural, and perhaps dangerous if used on a long-term basis (I had, after all, heard about the physical effects that plagued those who used Icutu Zaharenela too often). It made my stomach roil.

With a hard shove of my foot I pushed the satchel out of sight under my bed, silently reaffirming my vow that my path would not be one of choosing insufficiency rather than strength.