A Troubled Economy

We Honor the Slain and Reclaim the Souls

We Honor the Slain and Reclaim the Souls

**Journal soundtrack “Anequina Beckons” by Brad Derrick and “ Beauty of Dawn” by Malukah

Tjordiir hands Shayzala the head of his fallen comrade. She takes the head gently in her hands. Her touch is delicate and respectful as she places it on her bedroll on the ground. She sits cross legged in front of the head. “Danjo,” Tjordiir says softly, peering down at his friend. She can see the sadness in his eyes. His face is worn and ragged. He and his friends have been fighting for their lives without rest. She knows this look, she has seen it too many times on the faces of her friends. She sighs deeply as she studies the face in front of her on the bedroll. “Danjo,” she says softly as she runs her fingers along the wrinkles of his eyes. He appeared to have been an older gentleman, from a land she is not as familiar with. She cleans his skin gently and prepares the diamond dust. It has been a while since she has had to call a spirit back to its body, lets hope the magic needed encounters no barriers. She relaxes her body, closes her eyes, binds her red cord around her hands and begins to chant:

Oh Broken God, The one Who Endures,
it is I your divine subject, once again to implore;
I ask for this man’s life to once again be restored.

In the fugue plane, does his spirit await?
Grant me the power once again to tempt fate.

Flesh, blood, bone and spirit combine,
Form whole this man’s body with power of the divine!

Shayzala feels the warmth of the magic pulse through her body. Waves of energy wash over her as euphoria sets in. She can feel the divine energy course through her as she chants her sacred spell. Just as she feels the spell about to release into Danjo’s remaining flesh, a harsh rigid jolt grips her body. Her connection feels strained, she tries to hold on, channeling all of her energy through her body to the point of exhaustion. Something is wrong, something is blocking her connection. Her face grimaces as she is shunted out of her trance. Her eyes blink open as she hears an unfamiliar voice. “Oh you want him back?” the voice says mockingly. “I can give him back, all you need to do is ask me, not your martyred god, the crying one!” This bald man steps forward, his tone disingenuine as he mocks her and her God. She can feel the energy in the air shift. This is not an ordinary man, he is powerful and his aura is filled with deception and mistrust. “Accept my power, accept the truth! I can bring him back, or I can simply leave him be, what will it be?” She looks around the room at the forlorn faces staring back at her. Time seems to start slowing down, sounds become like distant whispers. As if stuck in slow motion, she can see their mouths moving, surely beckoning her to bring their friend back. Her gaze meets that of the powerful one, she digs deep in her mind to figure out who he may be. Something seems familiar but alas, she can’t quite place it. She takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, time speeds up and she can hear clearly again. “I said will you accept my power?!” he says angrily. “Yes, I accept that you have power,” she states, staring without blinking. This seems to satisfy him for now and the rush of divine energy once again rushes through her body and the spell suddenly releases. “See, that’s all you had to do, this is happening because I am allowing it, remember that,” and he disappears. “What a fucking asshole,” she whispers under her breath. She refocuses and watches as Danjos body begins form almost instantly and he jolts awake, his eyes shooting open, staring into hers. “There you are, “ she says in a soft, comforting voice as she smiles gently. She quickly casts a calming spell to ease the transition from death to life. He stares at her for a moment and then sits up confused, upset, and clearly traumatized from his spirit being called back to his flesh. Shayzala soothes him the best that she can and his friends gather around to comfort him. “Shino, where is Shino,” he says over and over, his voice sounds worried, sad, and guilty. She stares at the faces of his comrades, their faces overcome with grief. She sighs…and begins to prepare herself for yet another resurrection.


I’ll be looking forward to your writing, I can tell already


Very nice. I like her take on the exchange. Some pride, some frustration, and some weariness.

cpthero2 littlewing

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