Dried Tears and Old Wounds

Once climbing into the wizards private sanctum, Rahsaan took mental inventory of their situation. Looking down at himself, he saw Voriel had gone and ruined the robe he had taken from the Morninglord’s church, leaving only the bottom half tied around his waist. Though he quickly saw that his outfit was the least of their problems. While Murcurian, Zahrys and Aspen were all exhausted with several different wounds, they looked liked they would make it. However, the optimistic sparkle had gone out from Eylylyn’s eyes, while Gohzrik mouthed nonsense repeatedly and followed any ambient noise with the enthusiasm of a newborn. Rahsaan felt unbelievably exhausted, and oddly . . . Sad. He still did not understand why he was crying when he came to, and he only had a fleeting image of the angel acting in a manner eerily similar to the vision he had seen in the dwarven mines.
But that wasn’t real. It had to be another trick from these witches, right? They had tried to attack Voriel before yet he still beat back against these fiends.
Though his mask was dull, he focused past its tarnished surface and said,
“Voriel? What happened to the others? Are you alright?”
——————————————————————-


Back in his misted realm, Voriel sat cross legged, his spear laying across his lap. He heard Rahsaan’s voice echo through the mist, but he gave no reply. With any luck, the monk would just think he was still resting from the fight and not continue to press him. He wore his mortal form, having cast off his white robe, leaving him in his silver breastplate and chained skirt. With a pained grimace, he clenched his fists tightly around the angel’s cry. He wanted to speak to him. He wanted to tell Rahsaan how proud he was that he charged into the fray despite his fears. But how could he without explaining what had followed, that his guardian angel was a mere plaything for that witch? “I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t save anyone from her.”

He bowed his head, “I couldn’t even save myself. Not now, not then.”

And from what he knew now, his failure was no surprise. It was just history repeating itself.
Finally finding the will to speak out loud, Voriel called out not to Rahsaan but instead, “Mahlajai. Are you available to speak, friend?”

The djinn was slow to appear or respond but eventually appeared before the angel, his eye sockets were empty except for the green gravelight that now resided where his pupils would have been. The djinn’s skin looked worn thin, almost as if he hadn’t eaten or slept in weeks and was now longer a healthy deep blue but was instead pale and grey. Even his swords now lacked their once gleaming luster replaced by rust and ruin. His voice when he spoke was now gravelly and course and using words seemed to require intense concentration and pained him with each syllable. “I am here.”

"Thank you. I understand you might be . . ." He looked up and let out a gasp when he gazed upon Mahlajai, " . . . though you seem to be a bit more than tired. Is this because of the Hag's magic? I thought its effects were lessening . . ." He then realized that the wizard and the dwarf did not return to normal upon her destruction. The bond between the Djinn and Eylylyn must be effecting him as well. If that was the case, his healing power would not be enough to restore the creature.

Voriel let out a sigh and said, "If you are able, I needed someone to confide in. Someone who understands being forced into servitude by a creature of evil."

The angel closed his eyes with a grimace, "You know that voice that hounded us when our friends were inside the dwarven kingdom.  It said I was Fallen, and deserve to be imprisoned in Barovia. Then I was told again, by the phoenix spirit that lived inside Izek. Both times, I thought they were just mistaken due to my diminished power. But . . . when the witch appeared before us, I did not see just a potent magic user . . . Even if she lacked the knowledge, she had capability to bind me to her. But what incapacitated me wasn't that . . . in that moment a surge of forgotten memories struck me and I realized . . . ."

Malaljai saw tears started to seep out of his eyes, "I am corrupted. It isn't Rahsaan, it isn't Strahd, and it wasn't even the hags. I am remembering what I really am."

Mahlajai stood silent and motionless but nodded at the angels need of a confidant.

When the angel began to tear up, the sickly looking djinn held a hand up and the tears fell away. He then asked, “Memories can be painful. They can also be notoriously unreliable...but what exactly are you remembering about yourself? What makes you believe you are corrupt and that this is not some other sort of trick?”

Voriel opened his eyes and looked up at Mahlajai, "I have tried to convince myself they aren't real. But I have no reason to doubt them outside I don't want to believe them."

The Angel stood, trying to regain his composure as he began,  "This could not have been long after the Battle of Pesh. A squadron of other angels had ventured into the lower planes in the guise of demons, fiends and even twisted versions of your kind. They were my . . ." He frowned, "I suppose mortals would call them friends, but they were so much more than that to me. It's kind of hard to explain if you aren't a celestial spirit." He paused for a moment in reminisce, then said,  " But they planned to undermine an allegiance that was being formed between some lesser princes of Hell and corrupted Viziers from the Plane of Fire. In disguise, they would sow discord between the multiple factions, and in the chaos have a chance to slay the commanders."

Voriel exhaled, seemingly forcing himself to continue, "But they were discovered.  I remember vividly Ara Zathra reaching out to me, pleading for help from me and anyone else able so that they would be able to escape."

Though now tearless, his eyes glaze over as he said,  "He was who I was trying to rescue. But now I know. . .Uriel didn't warn me against descending into Hell. He ordered me not to. He told me that if I followed after Zathra, I would never return to the heavens and would not be welcome in his court. I interpreted his order that he just doubted me, and . . . I wanted to prove him wrong, and prove that I strong enough to free the others and complete the mission. So I followed after my kin and disobeyed my master, lowering myself into the Abyss."  

He hung his head,  "And . . . and it only gets worse from here."

Mahlajai shook his head, “Every one of the Viziers is corrupt, it’s more just which ones are the worst. It doesn’t surprise me that such an alliance would be in the works, but it’s destined to fail.”

As Voriel continued, the djinn face seem to visibly continue to grow deep wrinkles and age spots. “So you can’t go back.... That doesn’t make you a servant of evil.” His voice also grew more strained. “You sound like you did the right thing.”

At the latter comment, Mahlajai coughed, “How?”

On his comment of the Viziers, Voriel let out a dismayed laugh, “Then I have met the worst.”

“As I have proven several times before, subtlety is not one of my talents. Forgoing deceit I fought my way through the layers of hell, tearing apart any fiend, demon, abomination or otherwise to reach my אחים. I knew that an angel fighting his way through the underworld would attract the attention of more powerful lords but I didn’t care. Zathra guided me to where he and the others were being tortured. All I had to do was get to them and we could shift to another plane.”

His expression turned even more sorrowful, “But.  . .  I was surrounded by  a swarm of Ifrit I could not defeat. They did not destroy me, instead they dragged me before their master, Vizier Ghornis. I don’t know how, but he knew a word of creation which forced me into this form.”

He gestured to his mortal body, “And once that, he did whatever he wanted with me. Which mostly consisted of submerging me into the lake of fire, whilst whipping me with scalding, spiked chains.”

Voriel stopped for a moment, wincing as sweat formed on his brow, as if just remembering his torture pained him.

“He was trying to get me to reveal my true name to him. He taunted me saying that all of my אחים had already caved and I was the last. That I had lost my place in heaven, but could still earn a station in his ranks. But I convinced myself that he was lying to me, that the others would never break and neither would I.”

Voriel let out a cry as he fell, his skin suddenly breaking out with deep, seeping lacerations. He wheezed through gritted teeth as his wounds scabbed over, leaving him covered in pale scars.

“Though I was wrong. He managed to learn half my name.” Though clearly still reeling from the experience, he did have a look of realization, “But I also now remember that same half.”

“He is supposed to be gifted when it comes to inflicted pain, information extraction..and being a delightful dinner guest if your tastes run more on the rare bloody young virgins side of things.” The djinn mused.

Mahlajai laughed, which resembled a mountain collapsing and crushing a hamlet of people-the cries filling the air, “And no...subtlety is not your strong suit.”

He just shook his head. “Voriel, if he got a piece of your name....anything is possible. Your memory loss could be from that very thing, or worse-you may have given more than you know....or the bit of your name you do remember might not actually be right.”
The djinn shrugged, “But what name do you recall?”

Voriel managed to smile. It was weak, but he very much appreciated Malajai's attempt at levity. He looked over his healed wounds for a moment, before he sighed and continued,
"In the tongue of men, the part of my name I recall is 'Inferno of Potential'. Though 'Talented Firestorm' is another translation,  though the best approximation for mortals ears would be the sound of a bonfire swelling to engulf a dead forest."

Voriel's right arm began darken, his nails sharpening into claws though he remained strangely calm,  "With what he had, the Efreet had complete power over my body, but not my spirit which only infuriated him further. In his final attempt to break me completely, Ghornis twisted my form so I would be indiscernible from a fiend from the lowest plane, so that no one would ever look upon me as a bastion of righteousness, and if he could not have my name, than I would lose it. So, in my last act of defiance,"

The seeping corruption stopped at his shoulder,

"I destroyed myself."

The angel's human form dissolved with a burst of light, pale sparks scattering into the mist. A few seconds later, the gray clouds parted near Mahlajai, revealing the towering angel who had resumed his spirit form. He looked the same as when the Djinni had first met him in this realm.

"Pardon my theatrics," Voriel said, his voice again sounding of discordant tones, "As Ghornis had no control of my spirit, I was able to escape. Though once I collected my bearings, I found myself in these mists, knowing only isolation. My prayers went unanswered, no mortals called to me. I lost all sense of time and only had a small recollection of who and what I was. I presumed I was a survivor of some great cataclysm, and the Gods were gone leaving only creatures of evil to roam the surface."

He paused, "Until in one of my dreams I saw a boy skulking through a dark alley . . ."

Letting out a sigh that sounded like a wave crashing against a shore, "So, this is what I now remember. The weight of it all hitting me at once is what brought the tears earlier."

His tone did turn more worrisome, "But . . . what do I tell Rahsaan? Mercurian Aspen Gohzrik Lyn Zahrys? I don't want to hide anything or lie to them. But what will they think of me? I'm worried because . . . if they lose faith in me, I may never recover my full name."

The djinn was contemplative and eerily silent for an extended period of time. Voriel could see words form on the edges of his lips but then die away and the Djinn’s facial expressions grew ever more minute until exaggerated and over the top motions were all that emanated, all the while the djinn continued to wither and decay into wisps of little flakes of air at a time.

When at last words did come they sounded distant as though being spoken from far away, barely audible. “You destroyed your body how? Do they still have it?....” There might have been emotion in the question but it was hard to tell.

The undead Mahlajai now grimaced, and the phrase was extremely broken up, “They are—-not fools. Lies will—hurt trust. We—find your name. Magic—know. More.” Before at last, the djinn collapsed back into a seated position looking like a patchwork of frayed and tattered wool, and less and less as he once was.

Regarding his bodily destruction he says, “My true power lies in my spirit. A tortured, ragged physical body did not have much more it could take, anyway. I merely channeled my power, overloaded it with far more than what the vessel could take, and it disintegrated. Demons are not very adept at healing or restoration, so they could only watch in horror as I destroyed what was there’s.”

He gestured around, “But the human form I could assume was not my own doing. When I was first created, Uriel gave me a physical form. As you already know, shaping a body is much easier than trying to make a new one. It would probably take a god’s intervention in order to regain my physical form. That is why I merely channel my spirit through Rahsaan. And even that is daunting for any length of time.”

Noticing Mahlajai’s worsening condition his tone turns more concerned, “What is happening? Your curse cannot be reinstated, can it? Mahlajai! Please! Don’t go!”

The angel reached out and touched the Djinn’s mind, “Please, you are the only one who can possibly come close to understanding me. What can I say to the others so they will not abandon me?”

The djinn said nothing but simply pointed to his wrist. When there was seemingly no comprehension he just closed his eyes and dematerialized.

He was only gone a matter of minutes but it seemed to stretch on for eternity. When he finally reappeared he looked much as he initially, though almost as soon as he arrived his body began repeating the same pattern of falling away as it had before though Mahlajai’s voice was slightly stronger than it had been.

“Evidently I am limited by how long and how much I can say here now that the hag has done her workings on Eylylyn. It’s annoying and frustrating but until I can figure a way around it, this will suffice.” He withdraws an hour glass filled with sand and tips it over allowing sand to begin dropping into the lower section.
“When that runs out, I will be forced to leave.”

The djinn looked at the device for a moment before adding, “In regards to what you should say...I’d honestly suggest being truthful and up front about it. They aren’t likely to understand everything but the gist of it is enough for them to have an idea of what happened to you. The one that it matters most to though it likely Rahsaan. He would also have the most questions. But trying to protect him by withholding information is not likely going to earn you any points and might be enough of a stepping stone for other more malicious entities to trip up the camaraderie or unity the group has.”

“But if Ghornis got any words of creation that is bad. Really bad. How sure are you that your אחים would not break? If he got one word it’s possible he got more. Were you able to free any of those you were searching for ? Or can you remember anything else?”

Voriel did not interject during any of Mahlajai's advice, instead emmiting a slow constant hum of pensivity. Though then he was asked a series of questions, he spoke,

"To be clear he did not learn any Words of Creation from myself or any angel. Even I do not know of any, in fact I am not sure if even Uriel does. Whether or not you have that knowledge is guarded as closely as a True Name. How Ghornis got ahold if it I will probably never know, but it did catch me off guard.  Though if he did know any others, I am certain he would have used them on me. He spared no expense to make my visit to Hell an unpleasant one."

"The Word he had was some approximation of Dust. Which someone like you and I could probably think if countless ways to use something like that, he just seemed content to spoil the flesh of living beings. Though he seemed particularly delighted to discover it worked on an angel's physical body."

His entire form seemed to tremble for a second, before he replied in a grieved tone, "No, I never saw any of my אחים again. Ara Zathra had stopped calling to me just as I was attacked by Ghornis's minions. I . . . think that the Efreet had decided then Zathra had served his purpose . . ."

Voriel's entire formed seemed to darkened within the mist, emanated a mixture of anger and sadness.

"I would do anything for a chance to avenge them. Yet now I can't even handle a old woman who makes burnt pastries!"

He then seemed to get a spark of realization and he asks, "I have been trapped for sometime. What was the last news you heard of this Vizier?"

The djinn thought for a moment before giving his answer. “The last I’d heard, he’d returned to his home and was simmering in his anger over the relative short period that the war lasted. His desire for surrounding himself in the screaming and terrors of war earned him a mark of respect from the lesser devils. That’s why your news of an alliance doesn’t come as a surprise. What does however surprise me is that he let you out. Maybe he underestimated you, but generally if you were as far and deep in as it sounds, even trying to shift planes would have been..uh.. taxing to say the least.”

Mahlajai shrugged his shoulder and a bone popped out. He grunts and forced it back in, but added, “I honestly didn’t care to think on him much. My plan wasn’t to end up in his service if I could at all avoid it. As you can attest, he’s an acquired taste.”

“You got me curious. Why?”

“I suppose just wishful thinking.” Voriel replied. “If would lift my spirit to learn he was bound and cast into the frozen pits, his superiors enraged that he failed to hold on to me. As for my escape .  .  .”

“I tried to appear somewhere on the ethereal plane, knowing that anywhere was better than where I was. As I did not get a good focus, I think that was when I lost my memories as I did not coalesce fully. My returning memory and power is, well for lack of a better term, my spirit bits finding their way back to me.”

He let out a slow rumble, “Though it is frustrating not having my own physical form. I hate when I help I put Rahsaan in direct danger. The only way I could have my own is .  . . “

He stopped, then shook his head, “No. I promised myself I would never do that. Off the table.”

As if to change the subject he asked, “So as for your powers, have they diminished, or just changed due to the Wizards curse? You no longer seem to be a spirit of the air.”

Mahlajai shook his head. “No I am still me...just not on a good day. Instead of being my normal airy self I appear to be a doldrum. The closer we get to the lands and power of my people the more I expect my old self to return-cursed or not. My people’s lands don’t accept Strahd’s influence as readily as elsewhere, and creatures of the night tend to avoid it. This isn’t to say its without its own dangers-its still magically untamed territory. But no-my current situation is fleeting. One thing about being trapped for a millennia or two teaches you is patience.”

The djinn looked at the hour glass for a moment before asking, “Um...what exactly is off the table for you?”

Voriel's expression seemed to lighten as the metnion that Mahlajai would be returning to relative normality. Though at the second question, his face darkened once more.

"The only way I could have my own form would be to steal someone else's."

He then folded two pairs of his arms, his expression thoughtful as he explained, "When I take the lead in Rahsaan's body, I am actually only sending a portion of my power. Now, his angel blood allows his body to hold my essence at all. Any other mortal's body would probably begin to melt and I would not get much use out of it. Whilst that happens, his mind goes largely dormant."

"But the reason I cannot use more of my powers or remain in the mortal plan longer than a minute is for his soul's sake, not mine. As you can imagine, an angel's spirit is far more . . . potent, than a mortal's. If I push it any longer, I actually begin to run the risk of subsuming Rahsaan's soul, while the rest of my essence fills the void he left behind."

He gestured around himself, "Doing so would also free me from this misted ethereal place. More of my powers would also be granted but, Rahsaan would be no more. Even if I found another Aasimar, I still would not force myself like that. I'd be no better than a demon possessing a human's corpse."

He looks back to Mahlajai, "Though Rahsaan is taking on more of my characteristics even without my direct intervention. The absorption of his soul may be . . . inevitable."

He then gave a knowing look to the genie, "Though it's not like that. It's more like it would be impossible to tell where Rahsaan ends and I begin, two parts forming a separate, new whole."