Hey Readers! If you haven’t already, be sure to check out other posts here to read previous chapters of The House On Astor Street. Enjoy!
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jason let go of Emma’s hand as the closet door into Mr. Troddleton’s hallway swung open. The two of them walked out and Emma waved to Mr. Troddleton who appeared to be hours deep in a classic movie binge. Jason didn’t have the skills to travel through a flash tunnel on his own yet, so Emma volunteered to accompany him home so he wouldn’t need to rely on a bus or train. He hadn’t realized at the time how long he was speaking with Margot, but it was nearly one in the morning by the time he finally left and was escorted back to the Anderson’s home. Everyone was gone by that point, but Sandra assured him that they would all get together again soon to further discuss their plan to deal with the Domenicians.
Standing in Mr. Troddleton’s hallway, Emma asked Jason, “Are you feeling ok?” She didn’t wait for Jason’s response. “I wish I could have told you everything up front, but my parents made me swear not to say a word…”
Jason looked down at the floor, his hands in his pockets. Emma could tell he was lost in thought, his emotions enflamed. Finally, he answered, “Actually, I’m doing really well.” He looked up at Emma, an enthusiastic smile forming on his face, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, this is all a lot to take in… but, I got to meet my mom. I learned so much about me that I never knew… It sort of feels like I got the missing pieces of the puzzle. As a kid I always thought there was something missing. I used to wish I had a normal family like my friends did. As I got older, though, I guess I started to outgrow those empty hopes.” Jason shrugged, “I don’t know, it’s pretty amazing it sort of all came true in the end.”
Emma put her hand on Jason’s shoulder and met his smile. “Good, I’m glad to hear that.” She turned and started walking towards the front door. Mr. Troddleton ignored them, his eyes glued to his television, while his fat orange cat rolled over silently and continued his slumber.
“Ok, so I have to ask…” Jason looked excited, “where exactly does Margot, er, my mom, live? When she took me through the flash tunnel, where did we go? Somewhere in Europe? Asia, maybe?”
Emma laughed, “Well, I really hate to disappoint you, but you actually went under our house. Not like, right under, about one hundred feet under.” Emma noticed Jason’s face morph into a confused expression. “So, at some point after the opera house incident, the Harcava enlisted the help of the Bouldarians to construct an underground bunker, of sorts. But, a really nice bunker.”
Jason interrupted, “Bouldarians?”
“Yeah! They are a group of… beings… that possess a very basic level of mezmora. They look mostly human, but are about half our height and have hands and feet about two times the size of ours. Think, dwarves from childrens’ fairytales. Anyway, because their abilities are limited to things like moving stone and wood with mezmora, they tend to be some of the world’s finest carpenters.”
Jason looked amazed, “So, a group of magical creatures built a mansion under your house?”
Emma laughed again, “Sure, if you want to put it that way. Your mom is such an integral part of our Harcava and the rest of our community that she couldn’t actually leave leave, even if she knew she couldn’t be seen. In fact, the home I live in now once belonged to your mother. Part of the original plan, I guess, was that my parents would buy it from her estate after her ‘death’ so they could continue to use it as the central meeting spot.” Emma folded her arms across her chest and looked beyond Jason at the tv as it flashed Audrey Hepburn dancing through the streets of Rome. “I remember the Harcava getting together every week and, like clockwork, your mother would stroll into the library from the flash tunnels right at seven. She was always so beautiful and elegant. For years, I didn’t know any better and simply called her ‘Auntie C’, never really knowing what it stood for. She always baked these delicious chocolate chip cookies for me.” Emma looked back at Jason. “Anyway, as I got older, your mother started showing up less and less, until I didn’t see her anymore. My parents told me she was away on some very serious work and forbade me from going to her house. Then one night, about a month or so ago, on your twenty-fifth birthday, she showed up again. It was just my parents and me when we heard her coming down the hall. She told us all about you and what she thought was coming.” Flippantly, and with the wave of an arm, Emma added, “And that’s basically how we got to today.”
Jason stood there, speechless, thinking to himself that, for all these years, his mom was not only alive, but was living in the same city. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind and said, “Well, look, I have an early day tomorrow, but I really appreciate everything you and your family have done for me this weekend.” He turned and walked towards the door. Emma stayed where she was standing in Mr. Troddleton’s hallway. She waved at Jason coyly as he reached the door and turned to look back at her. “Goodnight, Emma.” He smiled as he left, then marched upstairs.
The next morning, Jason woke up feeling refreshed and inexplicably excited about his new identity. He went on a quick run through the park, acutely aware of Penelope Springer, the woman his mother mentioned as one of his other worldly observers. She was petite and clothed in a florescent pink running outfit. Her long blond hair was tucked into a Chicago Cubs visor. She smiled and breathed “Morning!” as she ran by. Shortly thereafter, Jason saw Phil Dodger at the coffee shop on his way to the train. He recognized Phil’s ponytail and bushy mustache from Matilda’s quick description. Jason noticed Phil look up from his book and met his eyes for a second, before Phil casually picked up his coffee and took a sip, pretending not to notice him. Jason laughed to himself as he thought about how many clues were in front of him throughout his life. He grabbed his coffee and hopped on the train towards The Loop.
Jason’s train rolled up to the Washington and Wells L stop where he shuffled out amongst the morning rush of people. He made his way west on Madison and saw the southeastern wall of the Civic Opera House. As he got closer, his eyes began searching the nearby sidewalk for Matilda. He tried looking through the sea of legs moving in various rhythms and directions, but couldn’t see her anywhere. When he crossed the street, he realized that Matilda’s usual spot sat empty. Confused, Jason looked around casually, but couldn’t see her or her colorful wardrobe anywhere. He shrugged and made his way into his building.
As he walked across the lobby towards the elevator bank, Jason noticed two police officers talking to the security guard, who was holding a walkie talkie. Unphased, Jason hopped on to a waiting elevator and rode it up to his floor. The doors dinged as they opened and Jason walked out to a crowded hallway, full of some of his co-workers and police. Jason walked slowly through the crowd, spotting Kayla inside his office’s lobby. He began walking towards her when a familiar voice called to him, “Are you Jason Ellington?”
Jason spun around to see Officer Campbell looking at him, his hands on his hips. Jason looked around the room, feeling the questioning gazes of his co-workers burning into him. Jason swallowed hard and, unsure about what was going on answered, “Yeah, umm… I’m Jason.”
“Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?” Officer Campbell began walking into the office suite, so Jason followed diligently.
He walked by Kayla who gave him a confused look. “I don’t know” Jason whispered as he walked by. He saw Candace sitting on the couch in the lobby, sobbing, and talking to another police officer who was scribbling notes on a thin pad of paper. Down the hall, Jason could see Shane talking to two other officers, his sleeves rolled up and his arms crossed. Officer Campbell opened one of the conference room doors and yelled to the nearby police, “I need five minutes with the Ellington kid, uninterrupted.”
Jason sat, his mouth dry, palms sweaty, and a heat forming in his core. He jumped as Steve closed the door behind him. “Jason, I need you to keep your eyes on me the whole time and listen to everything I say very carefully. This needs to look like a questioning and, since everyone can see in here, you are going to have to do some acting, got it?”
“Yeah… yeah, of course… got it.”
“When Candace arrived early this morning, she came across something while she was getting the break room together. Jason, she found the body of one of the weekend cleaning staff.”
Heat began climbing up Jason’s spine and wrapping itself around his neck and shoulders. “A… a body?” He stammered.
“From what we can tell, the cleaning staff was here the night you had your run-in with the Devitors. The victim’s body was found seated at the breakroom table and he appeared to be sleeping. However, this morning, Candace saw that he wasn’t breathing and called 9-1-1. The coroner is on his way and this will likely be categorized as death by natural causes. Heart attack or stroke or something to that effect. But, Jason, when I saw him, I knew this was the work of the Devitors.” Steve took off his hat and wiped his brow line, taking a deep breath. He was talking quickly, seriously, his eyes boring into Jason’s. “Because you were here that night, I have the excuse of taking you into the station for further questioning. I think, for your safety, it’s best we get you away from here… we don’t know who or what might be watching. We need to act casual, like we are simply following protocol. Does that make sense?” Steve had been leaning on the table with both his hands planted sturdily on the surface across from Jason. He stood up and told Jason to follow him, then opened the door.
Outside the conference room, Steve told one of the officers to inform Shane that Jason had to be brought to the station for some more in-depth questioning. Steve walked Jason further into the office towards the back exit, the same one he ran through just two days earlier to escape the murderous Devitor. As they rounded the corner, Jason could see the yellow crime scene tape blocking off the break room entrance. A crime scene investigator’s camera flash went off in the small room, pointed in the direction of the breakroom table. Jason and Steve got closer to the back door as more of the breakroom was exposed from behind the wall. Jason could see the janitorial cart, then a chair. A couple more steps then he could see the edge of the table, then another chair. A couple more steps and Jason finally saw it, a man. He was seated sitting straight up like a board, with his hands folded on the table in front of him. His eyes were closed and the look on his face was stagnant, all of his color completely drained.
Jason was breathing quickly and he could feel the heat inside him pulsating in his temples and down his arms. Sensing this, Steve placed his hand on Jason’s shoulder. Immediately, Jason felt a cool sensation rush from his shoulder down throughout his body, squashing the forming heat. Steve opened the back entrance door, guiding Jason out into the hallway. They walked together towards the stairwell door, then down a flight of stairs. On the next landing, Jason spotted an array of wild colors and equally wild hair. “Matilda?”
“Jason, Matilda will take you back to Astor Street from here. Keep close to her.” Steve looked over at Matilda and added, “I’ll be there later tonight.” He turned and made his way back up the stairs.
Matilda looked over at Jason with a reassuring smile and said, “Let’s get you out of here.” She turned towards the stairs and, together, they began their descent down to the basement.
Chapter Thirty
They walked for what felt like miles through dark tunnels underneath the vast city. Their footsteps echoed on the concrete ground as the light from the two flashlights Matilda procured from a locked cabinet in the tunnel’s entrance bounced along the ground, walls, and ceiling. Every so often, they would arrive to a locked gate that stood in their way. Without any hesitation, Matilda would extend her hand to within an inch of the latch, grab onto Jason’s wrist with her other hand and a sliver of rich red mezmora would swim from her palm into the keyhole, unlocking the gate.
The sensation to Jason was weird in that he didn’t feel any warmth, exhaustion, or any other familiar effects other than a gentle release from his core every time Matilda grabbed on to his wrist. Curious, Jason asked Matilda what she was doing by the time they got to the third gate blocking their way. “Well, I myself do not possess the gift. But what I can do is act as a conduit for it, and bend it to my will, as long as I can find a source of mezmora. It’s sort of like, we’ve got the recipe, but we are missing the ingredients. We are well versed in the use of mezmora, but don’t actually have it ourselves.”
“There are more people like you?” Jason was fascinated by uncovering another layer of this shadow world.
“Of course! My people are called the Brillions. We’ve been allies of the Altruites for as long as history has recorded. In fact, many of the people your mother and the Harcava have had watching you all your life are my people.” She looked over at Jason and smiled. “We are great protectors and know how to blend in in plain sight better than most.”
Jason thought about the times he had seen Matilda on the sidewalk. He thought about how long she had been there. It was only recently he had noticed her, but how long had she actually been inhabiting her spot next to the opera house? Months? Years? Maybe she really was a master at blending in.
A short time later, Matilda stopped abruptly and announced “Ah, here we are.” She pointed her flashlight at a small crack in the wall. “May I?” She handed her flashlight to Jason and grabbed onto his wrist. She put her other hand within an inch of the crack and another thick, rich, red beam emerge from her palm, lighting up the tunnel around them. The ribbon of light crawled into the crack, plunging Matilda and Jason into a darkness spoiled only by the two weak, artificial glows from their flashlights.
Seconds later, a red neon blaze began to emanate from the crack the light entered. Like liquid, the light slowly spilled along the lines in between the bricks composing the wall until, eventually, the light froze in the shape of a large door. The light grew brighter and brighter until it vanished completely, casting Matilda and Jason into darkness again besides their flashlights. Blinking as his eyes adjusted, Jason heard the sound of stones grinding against one another, then the rusty squeak of hinges swinging open. Matilda placed her hand on the square of Jason’s back and nudged him forward lightly. After a few steps into the evaporating darkness, Jason heard the familiar sound of hinges creaking shut and an explosive echo ring off the walls of what Jason believed to be a large warehouse.
Motion sensor lights flickered on, causing Jason to recoil again as his eyes further strained against the reintroduction of light. Once he regained his senses, he looked around the room, which was comprised of massive storage shelfs lined with wooden crates, sheet draped objects, and industrial grade plastic wrapped shapes. “Where are we?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the seemingly endless rows of shelves.
Matilda began walking down an aisle to the right as she said nonchalantly over her shoulder, “The basement at the Museum of Contemporary Art.” Jason, bewildered, hurried to catch up to her as she stopped at the end of the aisle and looked both ways. She said a few words to herself before letting out an audible “Ah, yes!” She turned to the left and called for Jason, “Follow me, please! I’m going to need your help with something.”
They stopped in front of an aisle with an array of different garments in all different shapes, sizes, colors, and designs. They were being stored behind what Jason assumed was some pressurized plexiglass container. Matilda walked up and down the lengthy aisle, studying each outfit in the containers. Minutes later, she stopped abruptly in front of a two-tone, geometric pantsuit-inspired outfit. “Jason, come take a look.” Jason wandered over. “What do you think?”
Jason stared at the outfit, which reminded him of a 1980’s music video. “Yeah, I mean, pretty crazy looking…” He still wasn’t sure what Matilda was asking or what he was supposed to be giving his opinion on.
“Great!” Before he noticed what was happening, Matilda grabbed Jason’s wrist and a small green strand of light shot out of her palm onto the plexiglass surface. The plexiglass slid open like a transparent closet door, exposing the collection of 1980’s garb. “Excuse me” Matilda announced as she climbed into the storage container. She pulled the outfit off the hangers then jumped out. As she did so, she eyed Jason up and down and sniffed towards him like an animal seeking out a scent. “Oh…” her face contorted slightly, “Oh, no, no, no… Follow me.”
In no time at all, both Jason and Matilda were in retro style outfits and shoes. Their other clothes were thrown into a gift shop bag they grabbed from an unopened supply box they found at the far end of the basement. Jason threw on some sunglasses from another storage container and Matilda pulled her hair back into a ponytail then adorned her ears with neon colored geometric earrings. Matilda, Jason thought to himself, looked completely transformed. She looked polished and clean. Without her frumpy outfit he usually saw her in, he realized how tall she actually was. Noticing his assessment, Matilda laughed, “Well, we couldn’t walk out of here wearing dirty clothes that smell like sewer water, could we? Besides, we could have been followed, think of these as a disguise. Now come on, let’s get out of here.”
Looking like two eccentric art enthusiasts in geometric retro attire, Jason and Matilda walked towards the door that led to the museum. They pushed the door open, exposing an “employees only” stairwell. As they ascended the stairs, they heard a door on the ground floor open. Jason tensed immediately, but Matilda reassured him everything was ok. As they got to the top, Jason saw a handsome middle-aged man dressed in jeans, a polo and a trim blue sports coat. He was wearing glasses and had a shiny metal name tag that read “James Landon.” In a deep, rich voice, he said, “Ah, Ms. Aberscatch.” He smiled at Matilda. “It’s lovely to see you again.”
A faint heat, combined with a rush of adrenaline, roiled around in Jason’s stomach. Matilda put her bag of clothes on the ground and stepped towards James. When she was within feet of him, Matilda’s face cracked into a huge smile as she threw her arms around him. “Mr. Landon, looking dashing as always!” She turned around and motioned for Jason to come over, which he did cautiously, the heat in his core subsiding a little. “Jason, this is James Landon, the head curator for the museum.” She turned back to James and repeated the introduction in reverse. “James, this is Jason Ellington, Adam’s son.”
“Would you look at that!” James exclaimed. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Jason.” James smiled warmly as they shook hands. “I’ve seen you around here before, a big fan of the print media exhibits, I’ve noticed. We have a great new exhibit coming at the end of the year on the evolution of newspaper comics in American culture, you’ll have to pay us another visit.” He smiled again and turned back towards Matilda. “So, to what do we owe this pleasure?”
Matilda took a step back and made a mock runway pose in her retro outfit, “I was showing Jason around the private exhibits in the basement.” She laughed as she walked back over to pick up her bag. Turning back towards James, she added, “I do apologize, but we really must be going.” Matilda motioned over towards Jason with her thumb. “Precious cargo.”
“I completely understand.” James stepped out of the way and held the door open for Jason and Matilda. “I’ll walk you out.” He led them through the annals of the museum, walking them through storage areas and maintenance halls. They walked through the employee breakroom to several inquisitive looks, no doubt from museum employees that recognized the outfits Jason and Matilda were wearing from a recent exhibit. They emerged to the back of the main hall, facing the wall of windows that comprised the front entrance. The three of them walked casually towards the front, James pointing out various pieces that adorned the welcome area.
They walked through the front revolving doors and stood atop the stairs that led to the entrance of the Museum of Contemporary Art, the skyscrapers on Michigan Avenue looming large just a couple blocks away. James shook Jason’s hand again and reminded him about the upcoming comic exhibit. He turned to Matilda and held her hands in his and made short small talk, which culminated in asking her to dinner. She giggled and failed to give any answer other than “Oh, James!” He called Matilda a heartbreaker then leaned forward for a hug. While they were hugging, James reminded Matilda that he needed the outfits back within one week because the collection needed to be sent back to the MOMA in New York City.
Matilda looked over at Jason in her 1980’s garb and sighed, “Shall we?” The two of them said goodbye to James, then turned and walked down the stairs, looking like two time traveling, neon, 80’s obsessed mannequins.
Chapter Thirty-One
Matilda and Jason walked into the cavernous vestibule of the home on Astor Street. They were hot and hungry and still dressed in what looked like some overtly exaggerated 1980s magazine centerfold. They could hear muffled voices coming from down the hall, accompanied by the occasional sound of clattering dishes. They followed the sounds to the kitchen where Sandra and Margot were busily preparing large spreads of food and snacks. As they walked into the kitchen, Margot looked up briefly while straightening rolls in a basket, “Oh Matilda, Jason, you’re…” she stopped, noticing their outfits, “…home.”
She put her hands on her hips and looked directly at Matilda. “Stopped by the museum, I see?” She laughed then went back to organizing the bread basket. “You both look ridiculous, by the way.”
Jason, confused by the extravagant display of food and obvious preparation for some large gathering asked, “What’s going on today? Is it someone’s birthday?”
Sandra spoke first, “If only it were.” She walked over to the refrigerator and began sifting through the produce drawer. “No, honey, we are going to get the Harcava together this afternoon for, well, an emergency meeting.” She pulled out a plump lemon and set it on the counter. She took a deep breath and finished her thought, “Given the fact that the violence has begun to spill into civilian territory… well…” She eyed Jason with a soft smile, “We need to come up with a plan.”
Jason knew what she meant. He knew that she was talking about him. That everyone was talking about him. A wave of heat and guilt crashed over him. All he could muster in response was a timid, “yeah.”
In the moments of silence that followed, Jason became keenly aware of the whirling colorful ribbons of light zooming around the kitchen. Green ribbons of light spun spoons in mixing bowls, while red ribbons of light scrubbed dishes in the sink. A thin, yellow strand of light was shaking salt and pepper over a sizzling slab of meat cooking on the stove, before floating down to a spatula that flipped the meat, creating loud, aromatic crackles. This new world mesmerized Jason. The most mundane of daily tasks, transformed into incredible displays of magic.
Jason was yanked out of his thoughts when Margot gently placed her hand on his shoulder. She gave him a hug, the first hug he ever remembered getting from his mother. She smiled and said, “Why don’t you follow Matilda downstairs to my house and get changed. People will be here shortly.”
Jason hugged her again, this time initiating the action himself. Margot was a little startled initially, but then leaned her head on his shoulder, relishing the fact that she had her son back. Jason walked over to Matilda, who was eating grapes from one of the prepared trays. Together, they walked down the hall into the room of doors where Matilda grabbed Jason’s wrist to power the flash tunnel. Seconds later, they were in Margot’s home. Matilda took Jason to a fully furnished bedroom, complete with several sets of clothes that fit him perfectly. He realized at that point that the room was more than guest quarters, but a second bedroom neatly decorated, fully furnished, and generously stocked specifically for him.
Jason changed and, not knowing where to find Matilda, began wandering around Margot’s bunkered home. He walked down the hallway that led to her library, again studying the photos depicting a young Margot with her various friends and family. He acknowledged the multitude of plaster cats adorning seemingly random spaces all over the walls and doorframes. He listened to the echo of his steps in the wood-paneled and stone hallway, realizing just how silent it was being insulated by one hundred some-odd feet of earth separating the home from the surface.
He turned a corner and found himself in the rotunda entrance he was so intrigued by from his initial visit the day prior. He decided to go down another hallway. Similar to the first, he noticed intricately carved wooden doorframes, the ever-present cat plaster frescoes and gently humming mezmora powered hall lamps. There were more pictures, but this time, of beautiful manors, country houses, villas, chateaus, and castles. In the foreground of each picture was a group of people, some of whom Jason recognized.
As he continued down the hall, he found saw photos of the house on Astor Street. Like the other photos, there was a group in the foreground. Jason immediately recognized most of the faces. The Harcava. The other people, Jason assumed, were visiting guests from other Harcavas, perhaps from around the United States, maybe the world. Seated in the center of each of these photos, Jason noticed, was the elegant and beautiful smiling visage of his mother. She looked a lot younger in these photos, early twenties or so, he estimated. When he approached the end of the hallway, he looked at the final photo hanging on the wall. There, like the others, was the Harcava, a different group of visiting guests, and a pregnant Margot, beaming from the center of the frame. The last group photo before Jason was born and all their lives changed forever.
Out of pictures to view, Jason tried the door at the end of the hall. The unlocked door swung open without a sound, exposing a plush office. There was an ornate wooden desk, polished and shiny. On it were meticulously organized stacks of paper stamped with the emblem for the Crawford Family Foundation. Even in her supposed death, it appeared that Margot remained involved with the organization from amongst the shadows. On the wall behind the desk was a stunning mural of three featureless figures standing in a circle in the center of a wooded area. In the middle of the three, floating just above their heads was a brilliantly colored ball of mezmora. Jason could make out strands of pink, blue, white, red, and green. There were other colors protruding from the palms of the figures, dancing towards the glowing sphere in the center.
Jason turned around to face the opposite wall. In the center was a large, circular brass cage sitting atop of a sturdy marble pillar that splayed into three legs, culminating in a base that resembled cat paws. The cage itself had a spiral design of interweaving metal, similar to the ball of floating light in the mural across the room. There was a steady hum emitting from the sphere and small spaces in between the metal bands exposed a faint glowing light. On either side of the contraption were two large photos, one of his father holding an infant child and the other of his mother holding the same infant child. Jason’s heart fluttered as he realized it must have been him in his parents’ arms. A glimpse of a life he would never know.
Jason got closer to the glowing cage, which was taller than him, and placed his hand on it. It was cold to the touch. He leaned closer, trying to look through the gaps in the brass, but could only make out slivers of light and glass. There was a soft knock on the open door that caused Jason to jump backwards. Matilda walked in, dressed in one of her many multi-colored patchwork outfits. She had released her now wild hair from the ponytail she had styled it in earlier and was wearing flat house slippers that peaked out from under her ill-shaped dress. “Ah, I see you’ve found the storage cabinet.”
“Storage cabinet?” Jason thought the term was far too mundane for the beautiful piece of art standing in front of him.
Matilda laughed and sauntered over next to him. “Let me show you something.” She rolled up her right sleeve, exposing a simple bracelet with small colored glass charms. She put her right hand on the side of the cage. The beads on her bracelet began to glow as the sound of a latch unlocking rang out, and two doors swung outward from the center of the cage, exposing crystal vials full of rich lavender mezmora. The glow from the swirling vials, danced across Jason and Matilda’s faces as Jason stood there in awe of the cache before him.
“What is this thing?” Jason asked.
“Like I said, it’s storage!” Matilda laughed again. “As I was telling you earlier, there are people in this world that possess the knowledge of mezmora and its uses, but do not produce the gift itself. I showed you earlier how I can use your mezmora to do various things, but that doesn’t help if I’m ever alone and need a supply of the material.” Matilda reached in and picked up one of the crystal vials and looked at it. “Your mother figured out a way to export her mezmora and store it in an external receptacle. But not only that, she figured out how to make it accessible to me and the people like me, so we don’t need to have your kind constantly by our side. Even with these, we can’t perform the skills you guys can, but it’s enough to let us get around easily.” She put the vial back and looked at Jason. “No one has ever been able to do this, storing their mezmora outside of themselves, at least not in modern times. Even now, to many that have never seen this themselves, it is still only a legend. They say only the most powerful people are able to master this skill.”
Jason looked back at the different sizes and shapes of the vials, studying the pulsing mezmora inside them. He felt a heat begin to stir in his core as his eyes remained glued to the full vials. To the right of the filled vials were a dozen or so empty ones. He felt the heat slither up his spine and into his neck, throbbing in his ears, jaw, and shoulders. He reached for one of the empty vials, Matilda intently watching his next move. He could feel the heat gathering in his upper arms. He picked up the vial and cupped it in his hands. Without thought, without initiation, without a sound, the heat rushed down his arms, a string of solid green mezmora pooling in his hands, then crawling into the vial. Jason, his mouth agape, looked up at Matilda, who had a shocked smile on her face, watching as the last of the mezmora nestled into the vial.
Without taking her eyes off the swirling green material, Matilda breathed, “My god… the legend is true.”
