Perhaps the grueso corpses from that evening had left too deep an impression on Jenkins, because after returning ho, he found he couldn't sleep a wink. The stove beside him burned quietly, and as he lay on his side, he could see the shadow of the sofa projected onto the distant curtains.
His cat appeared to be asleep. Since it was curled up on the sofa while Jenkins was on the rug, he couldn't quite make out its profile.
He ntally planned to move back to his bedroom on the second floor once the weather ward, but he had a nagging feeling that sleep would elude him tonight. Giving up, he threw off his blanket, sat up, and summoned the miner's lamp. With a soft whisper of "Rakul," his soul ascended into the vast, starry expanse.
The Star Spirit, it seed, was always available—at least, that was Jenkins's impression. This eting was no different from their previous encounters. Endless astral tides surged around them, and the magnificent sea of stars never failed to bring a sense of peace to Jenkins.
"Good evening. I imagine your part of the material world is currently experiencing night."
The Star Spirit gave a slight bow, and Jenkins nodded in return.
"I apologize for disturbing you again, but I have a few questions. They concern so clandestine Cursed Items, and I was hoping for your guidance."
"I can't promise guidance, but please, ask away."
Rakul extended a hand, inviting him to speak. As she did, Jenkins noticed the large, translucent, illusory to she held in her arms was slowly turning its pages.
"My city," he began, "is in the midst of a new crisis, one involving the undead..."
He chose his words carefully, trying to avoid any sensitive subjects, and Rakul nodded to show she understood.
"It involves so very unusual undead. I am certain that a Cursed Item is behind their appearance—my eyes allow to see things... differently."
The Star Spirit's expression remained serene; she showed no surprise at his revelation.
"My mortal friends and my ntor believe that only an exceedingly powerful Cursed Item could cause an undead resurgence of this magnitude. The problem is, I still haven't identified what I'm up against."
"A Cursed Item capable of reviving and controlling the dead..."
Rakul lowered her gaze to her book, its pages now turning at a furious pace.
"Do you have any more details?"
"It can revive even high-level undead with ease, and it controls them."
The flipping of the pages slowed sowhat.
"It can interfere with divination. So far, every attempt has failed to identify which C-Item is responsible. Yes, it's completely beyond our scrying."
The pages turned slower still.
"It can control a vast number of undead creatures simultaneously, regardless of their type."
Rakul nodded, the book in her hands having finally stilled. She placed a translucent finger on the open page and shared her findings with Jenkins:
"Based on your description, three Cursed Items in my records match your account. And yes, they are all exceptionally dangerous.
The first is A-06-2-8403, the Skull of Lux the Undying. To hold that skull, blazing with soul-fire, is to be bathed in blue fla and beco a master of the dead;
The second is A-09-1-7300, the Book of the Dead. A to bound in human skin and filled with countless blasphemies. In addition to containing forbidden necromantic lore, anyone who opens it automatically gains the power to command the undead;
And the third is A-12-1-0044, the Skull Sword of Departed Souls. A terrible weapon born from the fissures of death itself, it is the ultimate artifact of necromantic secrets. Its wielder becos the King of the Undead."
"Alright, I understand."
Jenkins was familiar with all three. He knew the story of A-06-2-8403, the Skull of Lux the Undying. About five hundred years ago, the Sage Church had sealed it within a volcanic crater in the outer sea, using the earth's fire and magma to suppress its bizarre properties. Ever since, more than a hundred Scribes had been stationed to guard the volcano year-round. At least ten Keepers of Secrets, all older than Mr. Smith, had dedicated their lives to watching over the artifact. The sealing itself had been immortalized in an oil painting hung in the Church's halls. In fact, the Nolan diocese had a copy, displayed right next to the painting of Jenkins slaying the serpent.
Jenkins had heard both Papa Oliver and Miss Bevanna speak of it on more than one occasion. He couldn't possibly forget the item's designation number.
As for A-09-1-7300, the Book of the Dead, it was practically infamous. It had caused imnse trouble countless tis in bygone Epochs. Furthermore, for certain reasons, much like the Devil's Docunt, A-03-1-6660, which Jenkins had previously encountered, an unknown number of copies existed in various languages.
These copies possessed extraordinary power in their own right, and their most insidious quality was that their terrible nature couldn't be detected until the book was opened. This led to incidents involving copies of the Book of the Dead occurring nearly every year, earning it the profound hatred of the Orthodox Church.
Finally, the Skull Sword of Departed Souls, A-12-1-0044, shared a particularly unusual connection with Jenkins. The great catastrophe it caused thirty years ago was what had directly led to Robert Williams coming to Nolan, marrying, and starting a family. In a way, the Skull Sword was intrinsically linked to Jenkins's very birth.
"Only these three?"
The list was shorter than Jenkins had expected.
"At least according to my records, yes. Only these three."
The Star Spirit nodded. While she might not have been born at the dawn of creation, she had witnessed the majority of this multiverse's history. Her conclusions were absolutely reliable, a fact Jenkins had no reason to doubt.
Because of last year's incident with the All-Knowing Treasure Mirror, the Star Spirit had promised to intervene on his behalf in the material world, just once, with her full power. Jenkins suspected that he would need to call in that favor very soon. If he truly had to face an innurable army of the dead in the near future, then short of unleashing his divine power to sweep them all away, the best option would be to call upon the might of the boundless cosmos above.
Bidding the Star Spirit farewell, Jenkins returned to the material world, an overwhelming drowsiness finally washing over him. He started to get up, wanting to check on Chocolate one last ti before sleeping, only to find that his cat was gone.
The small cushion on the sofa was still warm, a sign that the cat couldn't be far. Jenkins rose and padded quietly through the house, listening for any sound, and sure enough, he found it in the basent.
The cat was in a partitioned section of the room, perched on the workbench where Jenkins mixed his potions, delicately sniffing his Fantasy Flower. He had brought the flower back from Ruen, feeling it was too much of an imposition to keep asking Alexia or Miss Stuart to look after it.
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