Page 157 of Jinxes and Drumsticks

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“We’re essentially going to be throwing magic at a wall and seeing if it sticks. It seems like a fool’s errand,” Bastion says, his expression twisting with mild disgust.

“What other choice do we have?” Wren counters.

We’re sitting in Bastion’s study. Aemon leans against a bookshelf lined with the entire Bramblethorn Lineage contained in urns, his arms crossed. The solarium’s table is set with bowls and spoons and crusty bread, while a fragrant stew bubbles in a cauldron at its center.

“We don’t know what this ichor does, Wren. We don’t know if it’s a tripwire or not. For all we know, if we tug on this thing inside of her, it could shrivel her insides and kill her.”

“I don’t think that’s likely,” Aemon says. “With the way things are healing now, I think it’s a subjugation working.”

I know I should be scared by that. I know what a subjugation working is—what it does—but gods, I’m just so weary from weeks of ups and downs. My capacity for fretting feels overspent when it comes to matters of my own safety—my own life.

When a subjugation spell takes hold—if the band of bruising around my neck settles in permanently—my power can be tapped into at any time. The caster of the spell can force me to do anything they want me to, because denying them could kill me. It’s powerful, old magic, and, frankly, frowned upon in a day and age when you can usually achieve its socially and morally acceptable equivalent with a binding spell like the one I did with Damien.

It’s ancient enough that Wren, Bash and I would have no real reason to know how to undo a working like it. Our only hope is Aemon, and he seems as baffled as the rest of us.

“Well, do we have any ideas of what we’re throwing at the wall?” I ask, as Bastion picks up a ladle and starts filling each bowl with soup.

I’m reminded of Satoshi’s stalwart support of soup and find myself looking at Wren.

Who is staring at Aemon.

Eugh.

I don’t really feel like eating, personally. My appetite has been dismal the last few days. But every time Damien calls, he asks for a full recap of what I’ve eaten in the day. He must sense that I’m feeling sad.

I underestimated how bereft I’d feel in Damien’s absence. I did alright for a day or two, then my nervous system flooded me with all of the breakup chemicals, despite repeated assurances that we have not, in fact, broken up.

Bash gives me a pointed look as he gives me an extra-large helping of stew. “You better clean that plate,” he says.

I stick my tongue out at him, but dip some bread into the stew and take a bite regardless.

“Well, what do we know about the Ichor?” Wren asks, seemingly breaking whatever bizarre enchantment Aemon has on her.

“It’s essentially the blood of the aberration,” Aemon says. “It gradually spreads from the physical form to the metaphysical one. So, there is a point of no return if we don’t address it quickly.”

“This is great. I have the metaphysical equivalent of an STI,” I say, choking down a mouthful of stew.

“Well, you are into getting choked,” Wren says, just as Bastion does an honest-to-gods spit take with his tea.

“Wren, what in the hells is wrong with you?” Bastion snaps.

“You’re not the one who had to breathe life into her! I’m allowed to make dark jokes... Right Lilipad?” Wren says.

I shrug. “Sure. Why the fuck not? My entire life is a joke at this point; we might as well enjoy it together.”

For what it’s worth, I really do mean for it to come out like a casual quip. I mean to make light of the whole thing. But even to my own ears it sounds jaded. I sound... bitter. Tired. Wren goes a little pallid, her expression falling into one of guilt.

“I’m so—”

“Don’t,” I interrupt her. “I—I’m fine. I’m just tired. I honestly meant for that to be a joke, but it didn’t come out that way.”

“You don’t have to joke about this, Lillith,” Aemon says.

He sounds serious enough that I meet his eyes. They soften, his brows rising on his forehead as he joins us at the table. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s alright to be frightened. It’s alright to be uncertain.”

“I just want this part to be over, for better or worse,” I say. “I think... I think I’ve just been jerked around by my life lately. All of the best things are happening right alongside the worst days of my life. One moment I’m at the top of the world, the next I’m worrying about losing my power completely. I’ve already died once in all of this. I’m not really relishing the idea of doing it all over again.”