"Can your family and this couple truly wait that much longer?"
Jenkins asked again, realizing in his heart that the deity in question must be truly furious.
"There is another way," the old gentleman explained. "When those creatures blasphed the god, they also killed a pair of divinely blessed lovebirds and fashioned their bones into a comb. If we could find that comb and free the souls trapped within, I believe we could be forgiven. But in all these years, my family and this couple have never found a single clue about it. I imagine it's buried deep in so forgotten ruin or resting in an Enchanter's vault."
He re-wrapped the painting in its canvas and then tried to help the woman to her feet. Leaning against the counter, Jenkins tilted his head and watched them, struck by how peculiar life could be.
"'Lovebirds, a comb... Is this fate? Is fate compelling to get involved?'"
His foot tapped rhythmically against the floor, a subconscious habit that made no botherso noise.
"What are your thoughts on the Orthodox Churches?"
he asked suddenly.
"Thoughts? None to speak of."
the old gentleman replied.
"Then would you seek their help, if it beca necessary?"
"Perhaps," he said evasively. "It would depend on the nature of the trouble. The pseudo-god who cursed us isn't an evil deity, so even if the Orthodox Churches knew of our plight, they wouldn't intervene."
He answered vaguely, still struggling to lift the collapsed woman.
"Actually..."
Jenkins decided he would do this good deed. The morning's events had been too unusual; it was as if fate itself had placed this opportunity in his hands. He was happy to help them, especially since they had refrained from violence.
"Actually," Jenkins began, "I heard about that comb you ntioned just last year. Yes, on the other side of Fifth Queen's Avenue, a rather large woman was using the curse of a lovebird comb to swindle people out of their money. The Sage's Church caught her red-handed last winter."
"What?"
The old gentleman froze, his head snapping up to stare at Jenkins. The woman, who had been feigning collapse on the floor, also lifted her head, her gaze just as stunned.
"It's true," Jenkins affird. "In fact, I was slightly involved in that case. I've even seen the comb myself. It looked sothing like this."
He casually picked up a slip of paper from the counter, sketched the comb from mory, and handed it to the old gentleman.
The man took the sketch and studied it for a few seconds before passing it to the woman. She nodded hesitantly, prompting the old gentleman to unwrap the canvas from the fra. He held the drawing up to the man in the painting, who also nodded in agreent.
"It is the one," the old gentleman breathed. "Oh, I... I don't know what to say."
He was so overco with emotion he could barely speak, his face flushed as he gripped a nearby shelf to steady himself. It took him a long mont to regain his composure enough to talk to Jenkins again.
"This is... truly... Oh, rciful heavens!"
He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and made a holy sign over his chest—an emblem Jenkins didn't recognize. The woman finally got to her feet, clutching the fra and weeping. Her previous act of being gravely injured was now completely forgotten.
The old gentleman, who still hadn't given Jenkins his na, quickly decided to head to the Sage's Church with the woman. They were desperate to finally lift the vicious curse that had plagued them for epochs.
They were both incredibly grateful to Jenkins, even the woman he had effectively "exposed." Before she left, as a token of her gratitude, she shared a piece of information with him.
"I noticed the lamp on the cabinet. That should be an Unshadowed Lamp."
"Hmm? Yes, it is. Do you recognize it?"
Kren had been active long before the woman was cursed, so it was quite surprising that she could recognize an item that had been buried deep underground for so many epochs.
"Yes, of course I do," she replied. "It's not a common practice anymore, but back when I was alive, Enchanters in certain regions who mastered shadow abilities favored these Unshadowed Lamps as a way to seal secrets. It was a very obscure art, of course, and because it borrows power from the Shadow Realm, the Orthodox Churches would never docunt such things."
The old gentleman had already stepped outside with the painting, a clear gesture that he would not eavesdrop on any secrets.
"You an, the Unshadowed Lamp is not a Numbered Item?"
Jenkins asked.
"That's right. It's an artificially created Extraordinary item with a limited lifespan. However, because it harnesses the properties of the Shadow Realm, it has managed to remain functional across several epochs. You can essentially think of it as a notebook for sealing away secrets, just one shaped like an oil lamp. While I don't know how to create one, viewing the information it holds isn't difficult. You simply need to draw the creator's chosen sealing rune on the base of the lamp with blood, place it in any shadow, and wait a few seconds."
With that, she gave Jenkins one last nod and joined the old gentleman waiting outside. Together, they set off for the Sage's Church to finally put an end to their ancient curse.
Jenkins had told them of his affiliation with the Church, so he expected they would ntion his na during their questioning. The woman, however, promised not to ntion their final conversation about the Unshadowed Lamp, as it had no bearing on their curse.
And just like that, a curse that had endured for epochs was coming to an end. It was all so simple, it felt as though fate itself was playing a practical joke.
Reviews
All reviews (0)