))The story was over. The tale was through.
What should have ended however, did not.
It should have ended at the witch's gift.
A lone candle lit the small flat. About the small woman a dozen books, relics and artifacts lay cluttered about in haphazard fashion. She sat in the middle of it all, hunched over, her bright violet eyes peering into the depths of an old text, her fingers turning dry withered pages. She studied it with care, for within this thick tome lay a thousand answers, a thousand words of power. A tome for whom many had died, and many more had fallen, in the effort to obtain it.
A Book of Fel Names.
She paused, a single finger moving to trace a name in the fel lexicon. A word of interest. But not the word she sought. Still, it echoed in her mind.
Jhoryla...
All names had power, all names granted a certain level of control. Knowing someone's name told you something about them, it gave you a measure of authority. Yet the Book of Fel Names was more than just a catalog. It told you the name, but more importantly, how the name was to be used. How to vocalize and invoke the name. Further, the book was for all intents inclusive. And yet, the name she sought, the name she had looked for so diligently, appeared nowhere in the text.
Thoughts became words and Jhoryla uttered it out loud.
"Narsh'zaran."
It was a name to which she had no memory. A name of a thing that had somehow managed to render a creature of terrible power addled, confused, and afraid. A name missing from the book, from any and all of her books.
"Narsh'zaran."
She withdrew the stone, her cure, from its resting place on the floor. The sigil that sealed it, that bound its magic, that too was a mystery.
Questions with no answers.
It was a dangerous place to be when dealing with any of her kind. Jhoryla snapped the book shut, looking thoroughly disgusted, her nose wrinkling in disapproval at the whole situation. She slid the book from her lap and stood, resting her hands on her hips, wracking her mind with the events that had transpired the day before.
"It was so easy," Yva Darrows had said. Too easy. Narsh'zaran didn't seem especially clever, but he was certainly powerful. When Yva's icy hands had touched Jhoryla's, they sent a bolt of raw energy so powerful that it had nearly thrown Jhoryla from her place on the bench and into the cobblestone below.
"Of course it was easy!" Jhoryla snapped in the direction of Ripley. The tabby jumped, skittering off into her bedroom. Jhoryla sighed.
Yva hadn't given in of course. She was stubborn, and prideful, and here it played to her advantage. But Narsh'zaran was clearly stubborn and prideful as well. More to the point, he was finally understanding the game, and how to play.
GIve them something first, offer them something later.
"Who are you? And -why- do you want her?" Jhoryla asked. There could be a dozen different responses to either, and all of them plausible. Yva wasn't helping either. Jhoryla knew some of what had happened, but the story was far from complete, and the witch seemed hesitant to reveal everything.
Well, the tomes won't tell you anything. And you can't remember the name. No sense in wasting time here.
She had hoped for an easy solution, but now things would be murkier. She'd have to find out what Jak knew.
And I'll have to find Khaleese.
The thought made her cringe.