Down In Flames

As the voices disappeared, Phee quickly got to his feet, completely mortified and more aroused than he’d ever been in his life. He peeked around the door frame looking for witnesses to his humiliating exit then took off.  He found the men’s room to wait out the erection Liam had caused.



When Phee could finally walk outside without shaming himself he slipped into the lobby. Phee had to leave.  It wasn’t worth seeing whatever it is Liam had planned for the rest of the evening if he was to be ambushed like that again. Deeply rattled and more ashamed of himself than anything else he set off to find his parents. Phee didn’t even blame Liam. He was the one who tried to use his powers on a person that he had no right touching.  His parents would be horrified if they ever learned what he’d tried to do.

Phee stopped as the doorway that lead back into the ball room. He stood and watched the uneasy mix of glitterati and hardy farm stock. They talked to each other pleasantly enough but the two world did not mesh well.

Behind the strained smiles and awkward pauses lay mistaken feelings of superiority on one side and inadequacy on the other. Aristos and HomeFarmers didn’t belong together.  He and Liam didn’t belong together. So why the hell did Liam feel the need to force a misalliance so unnatural?  

Phee’s stomach flipped. Nerves already shot, he nearly hit the ceiling when a hand came down on his shoulder and Casea practically yelled right in his ear.

“Phee,  damn it I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Where the hell have you been?” She shouted as the musicians struck up another classical dance he didn’t know.  Phee just looked confused.  

“Sorry! I was just…”

Casea didn’t bother letting him finish.

“Come on! They want us to sing.  It’s our chance.  We can find a patron.”  

Phee nodded. After what just happened, being on stage with so many eyes on him would be a welcome distraction.

Phee assumed the orchestra would lend them a couple of instruments.  The drums at the back went to Casea.  Ace looked a little green what he always did until he pulled it together.  The few gigs they had, Ace’d practically puked beforehe managed to calm himself. Usually reminding him what the life of a dairy farmer looked like had him rocking out like his future depended on it.

Two guitars appeared from somewhere.   They were Milo Roshara‘s, the nicest Phee had ever seen.  Phee did recognize the one Ace held.   It was the bass guitar used in the Mima Nova concert. He looked down at the one in his own hands, Greyfalcon’s Milo Roshara… Greyfalcon’s. Holy shit!

Phee swallowed. He clutched the guitar.

“I.. I cant use this.”  Phee looked up and the orchestra manager frowned.  “What? Not good enough for you? “

“No… no sir.  It… It belongs to Grey.”  The orchestra manager put his hands up as if to ward off blame.

“Hey… I didn’t steal ‘em.  That guy told me to give ‘em to you. “ The elderly man pointed to a figure standing in the backstage area.  The figure stepped forward.

Phee blinked as the features resolved themselves.  

Goddess! It was Grey in the flesh!

Phee’s eyes bugged out. His band mates hadn’t noticed that Grey was there. Phee didn’t know what the hell to do.

Already spastic from Liam’s manhandling, Phee seriously considered running away.

As it was he back-pedaled as Grey advanced, step for step. Grey stopped and Phee stopped retreating. Grey started walking forward again and Phee moved away without really thinking about it. Phee held the guitar out in front of him as if trying to ward off the greatest musician in the country.  He was acting like an idiot.  He couldn’t stop his feet from doing what they wanted.

Knowing he must look ridiculous, Phee planting his feet on the floorboards. Phee stood still as Grey came close enough to share words.

“His lordship told me you were an odd one” Grey looked highly amused and not embarrassed at all by the idiotic behavior.

“His lordship is extremely opinionated and should keep his impressions to himself.” Phee glowered, he couldn’t hide his irritation. Liam wasn’t his favorite person right now. Hearing the opinions of a depraved sex fiend from his idol’s mouth jolted him out of his shock and into righteous anger.   

Just by a couple of loose syllables from Liam, one of the most powerful voices in music now thought he was a flake.

Grey’s eyebrows shot up and a bright smile graced his lips. He laughed openly and easily.

“Too right Mr. Fallon. Too right.”

The laughter was infectious and put Phee at ease. Phee shook his head and smiled back.

“He’s the most self absorbed person I’ve ever met. Ever.”

Phee’s hands clenched, frustration coloring his words.

“He’s guilty on all counts. Glad to see you’re not dazzled. Lots of people fall into that trap.  They see all the glamor and forget that he’s… ”

“Just a brat with papers.”  Phee finished sharing a smile with the rockstar and quoted one of his favorite songs of Grey’s in the process.

“Smart, talented and good taste!” Grey leaned back on the wall his eyes drifted down to where the guitar hung in Phee’s fingers.

“What’s the matter with my old ’shara then? I hope she’s okay? I didn’t have a new one to give you as this was the only stop this tour.”

“I can’t accept this sir. I mean it. It’s practically a national treasure.”

Grey chuckled.

“Not quite. I’ve had her for a long time but it’s more for sentimental value these days. She hasn’t really rocked in a long time. I think she needs to be in the hands of someone who’d coming up. You saved my life. When I heard you played I knew she didn’t belong to me anymore.”

Truly touched Phee pulled the guitar back. His parents would have told him that he absolutely shouldn’t accept anything for what he’d done. Homefarmers did what was right because it was right, not for a reward. However the gift was so sincere and wonderful he couldn’t seem to draw up the strength to release the instrument.

“I don’t deserve this sir. I just did what anyone would have in a difficult situation.”

“Nonsense. Liam told me what that thing looked like. Normal people would have run for their lives in that situation. You saved a lot of people. You and your friends deserve this and a lot more, but I know you won’t accept a financial expression of gratitude?” Phee blanched at that.

“Thought not.  So take this.  Please.  You need a little help right now and it would make me feel better.”

The guitar felt so right in Phee’s hands that he couldn’t let it go. She was smooth around the neck where Grey’s fingers fit. He had worn a path in the resin. Phee tried to span that indentation.  It encompassed a range of movement he wasn’t even close to matching on his best day.   

“Consider it an expression of my friendship.” Grey held out his hands and Phee took it. Grey blinked at at Phee’s fantastic smile.   Liam’s fascination made sense now. Perfect sense.

Liam had no idea at all what kind of headache he was in for. The prince had no idea how to deal with Homefarmers. It had taken Grey years to get around Mikhail’s prickly barrier and even more time to surmount his prejudices.   Then even more time and persistence to get Mikhail to admit that there was any smidgen of a chance that he wasn’t perfectly straight.

If it wasn’t for the way his boyfriend watched Grey when he thought Grey wasn’t looking, Grey would never ever have bothered or held on so long. Mikhail had been worth every screaming fight and frustrated night Grey had put into the relationship. Mikhail’s love was so precious because of how hard Grey had had to work for it.  

Liam however was screwed.  It might even be worth breaking contract, Grey thought, to stick around and watch Liam bash his head against Homefarmer stubbornness for a few weeks.  Grey saw a lot of his Mikhail in Phee.  Liam would finally understand why Grey’d worked and was still working so hard to earn the man’s love and trust.  Grinning to himself, if Phee was anything like Mikhail, he’d have Liam so bound up and sexually frustrated Liam would be chewing the castle walls. It might be worth a few thousand it would cost to witness it. Hopefully Liam would remember Miki was from this area and seek advice before Phee killed him.  

Still Liam had chosen well if a little young. The prince rarely dated anyone around his own age.  Phee was arresting thought, especially with those eyes.

Phee’s group converged. The bouncy brunette greeted Phee with a smile then stopped in her tracks. She stuttered and stood there with her mouth open, completely agog. It was pretty funny as Phee introduced his band mates. The bassist was equally amusing. He clutched the bass guitar like it was the most precious thing he’d ever held, and promised to return it in perfect condition.  He practically hyperventilated when Grey told him to keep it.  Ace didn’t even bother to say that he couldn’t accept it.

They didn’t have more of a chance to speak futher as the orchestral conductor ordered them onstage.

“Name?”

Phee, Casea and Ace looked at each other.

“We um… don’t have… one. We just like playing together,” Phee stammered looking embarrassed. Ace was busy loving his new bass guitar.  Casea was busy goggling at Grey.

“The StrangeWatch.”  

Phee looked at his friends. His mom often commented that he and his friends picked up every odd notion like they were on Strange Watch or something. In the old days that was what the night watch was called in the cote. It was as good a name as any.

The announcer went out into the staging area.

“Opening for Greyfalcon this evening.  The Strangewatch.”  Phee stepped onto the stage to smattered applause.  The room was full of people, he knew and people he didn’t.  People were talking in clusters and sipping punch at the tables. Phee recognized faces from school, all beautifully dressed but looking uncomfortable being thrust in with the glitterati like moths hatched into a butterfly farm.

Casea already picked the three songs they were to perform. Each were popular and had lots of mass appeal but they were really the same as everything else being played in Ida, Telerata and Mima Isol.  They were supposed to showcasing their range and talent, showing perspective patrons that they could handle themselves in a big city setting.

With Grey’s own guitar in hand, Phee didn’t feel like sucking up to Aristos. Not for his first song with such an important instrument. Casea looked to him as he hesitated on the opening riff of ‘Amazing’. They played enough together that Casea could sense Phee’s hesitation to start. He looked back and mouthed the change in program to his band mates.  Casea looked nervous but Ace beamed and nodded. Phee strummed another cord that sounded as sweet and pure as any he’d ever played. The guitar hummed as if expressing its approval and excitement.

Phee smiled. The object had an essence about it; a personality. Perhaps it was a bit of Grey himself but he could feel it.  The thought bore Phee up and drained away his apprehension.

“This is a local Springcoming folk song. Many of us know it and know the steps.” Phee smiled and the crowd applauded politely. Phee spotted his parents standing in the back, they were beaming and clapping wildly. They were proud of him for choosing something that show cased Homefarmer culture.  Phee strummed the first chord and started to sing. The melody was haunting in minor cords. Phee listened to the guitar for the opening then began the sonorous ballad.

"There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief,

"There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief.

Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth,

None of them along the line know what any of it is worth."

Phee strummed picking out the refrain as the crowed fell silent. The audio phone floated and bobbed gently before him as he sung. Phee watched his parents pick up the dance. The slow martial movements that assisted with the tale as much as the music and lyrics.

"No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke,

"There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke.

But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate,

So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late."

In the wings Grey’s watched silent as Phee performed, stunned. The boy was good. Quite as good as he was at that age, probably better. Phee’s fingers eased the haunting strains from the guitar as easily as any professional. Grey rubbed at the goose bumps on his arm as the tale of the Watchtower unfolded.

“He can sing.” Liam said coming up behind his friend. Grey nodded speechless.  Liam had been off balance for the last couple of hours. He’d had a smoke with Alvesara and the fresh medicinal did little to calm his nerves.

Liam had been practicing with the witch every day for the past week.  She called his progress impressive for a nation of backward thugs.  She didn’t compliment anyone.  So he’d been surprised to find Phee the essence of Phee waltzing right past her shields like they didn’t exist and scaling his shield as well.  Liam’d caught Phee messing around in his mind. On purpose.  It was as if the boy had no idea he was doing something incredibly illegal.  More nerve wracking was his reaction. He was still enraged not by the trespass but by the idea that Bristol Pierce had touched Phee.  Jealousy was a new and completely unpleasant experience. Liam had never had a problem getting what he wanted. Having the object of his desire belonged to another person made it an even bigger challenge.  Phee’s case was different. Exclusivity had never held any appeal and usually when someone’s interest waned he was usually all too happy to see them go. Getting a person stay with him to be the only one and only thing in that persons purview that never been an issue until now.  Liam wanted Phee, body and soul nothing else would do.

Liam realized his secret was out. He would need to exercise full control over Phee any way he could.

The bass guitarist was astounding.  Casea, the Aristo, in the group was powerful on the drums but when they sang together her soprano soared over, Phee’s strong tenor and Ace’s deeper bass vocals. The song poured over the audience, electrifying them, bright and warm.  Music channeled and amplified whatever it is Phee was doing.  Liam found himself falling back under Phee’s spell with every haunting bar.  As it was even usually busy uninterested Midgie had been arrested, standing and listening but her body tensed to move.  Liam checked Grey and he too and fallen under the band’s spell.

Liam tensed ready to stop them, to spring onstage when he was stopped by a hand on his elbow.

“He’s harmless. He doesn’t even know he’s doing it.” Skype murmured. “It’s actually quite impressive in away. Novices can’t produce something this subtle.”

“He’s spelled the crowd! If someone knew, they’d all be arrested and charged with sorcery.”

“Most likely the majority would simply testify that his music was spellbinding but not magical. They’d want to testify on his behalf. The spell is so subtle that not one of your country’s mage hunters would be able to prove its existence.”

The mage hunters had in the last forty years had fallen out of favor. Originally their function had been to ferret out malevolent magic. In the last century during the height of the mage hysteria that had gripped Karrath they’d been granted powers beyond the ordinary police man and that power had been abused with horrifying results. Many innocent Karrathi were killed on only very shaky evidence. Their abuses had been curbed but remnants of that era remained. Being taken up as a witch was nothing to be joked about.

As Phee sang Liam realized that not only would he have to force the boy to do as he asked he’d also have to protect Phee from Phee.

“He’ll have a lot of people after him. It’s probably good that you’re black mailing him.” Skype said, her amusment plain in her voice.

“That was a private conversation.” Liam snapped. Goddess only knew how much of him being naughty to Phee had she heard! His shields remained strong inside of hers.

“Your muscular friend is broadcasting his distress all over the place.” Liam looked up and found Phee staring. Their eyes locked as he sang.

“All along the watchtower, princes kept the view

While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too.”

Phee’s eyes pulled Liam forward. So dangerous… To stare too long at them was to be enslaved.  Liam didn’t even feel himself move as Phee’s eyes dragged him forward. He heart leaped and his body felt flushed with fever as Phee’s desire dragged him forward. A cooling hand on his shoulder stilled him. Stopped him and suddenly Liam could move again he quickly looked down as Skype pulled him away.   When he looked back Phee’s attention had turned back to the audience.

“What the hell was that?” he asked Skype scowling. For the first time in his twenty two years Liam didn’t know if he could handle the person he wanted. Court life with all its bold intrigue hadn’t prepared him for Phee.  Nothing could have prepared him for Phee.

“Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl,

Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.”

The haunting ballad ended and they picked up another song.  Liam turned shaken as the audience yelled and howled for more.  If this was the usually reserved aristocratic response to Phee and his band. What would the world do when he was unleashed upon it?



***



Deep below in the dungeons,  two guards played charat as the party swung above them the prisoner hadn’t moved in a full three days. “Hah” Said the taller one as he dropped several cards on the stack.  Tarak Swain tossed his hand of octagonal cards down on the stack in disgust. He handed Tisdayle, the older guard his winnings.

“Geh… at least they could bring us some grub for their fancy party.”

“Eh… ‘s nothing better than Marianne’s stew up there. Gots me a jar right here.” Tisdayle plunked a glass jar the size of a person’s head on the table. Bits of meat and vegetable floated amid the sediments.

“E-gads that Marianne’s a good one.” Tarak muttered in envy.

“She even sent some along for the ‘sassin there.  Sez anyone what would try to kill the prince and a bunch of innocent kids obviously went missing of some coddlin’ in ‘s home life.”

Tarak Swain grinned and looked over at the prisoner lying prone on the pallet.  His eyes were closed and still as death.

“Tell yer missus that she’s rather soft hearted and that the soup won’t go to waste.” Tarak spooned himself a generous bowlful.



There hadn’t been any problems holding the assassin, he stood when told sat when told in complete silence. He did everything requested but speak. There were guards men that attempted to start fights with the creature but kicking something in the gut that didn’t seem to notice the kicking only frustrated the kicker.

Tarak knew that the prisoner would be given up to the Imperials, as Liam had not been able to get any more information with the tools he had on hand. The emperor had returned word that the assassin and his implements were to brought to Ida for processing and that a place had been prepared for the assassin. The prince would be leaving with the assassin as it was no longer safe for him in the country so far away from the Imperial guard.  Liam was to report to the Citadel as soon as he reached the city.

Benham requested a few of the Homefarmer guardsmen travel with them as the threat was escalated. Tarak didn’t relish being in the way of guns that shot lightening but he’d never been outside the Homefarms before and he wanted to see the mirrored spires of the Golden City.



He’d signed up for the tour without a second thought. As he tasted Marianne’s exquisite soup he happened to glance over at the prisoner. It didn’t register to him at first that the beast thing was standing. The monster was as still as a statue. Tarak looked hard forcing himself to understand what his eyes were telling him. It was like parts of his brain didn’t want to acknowledge that the creature was standing on the wrong side of the bars. His side of the bars. Tarak had barely enough time to register what was happening before the beast was on him.  Tarak was completely unable to move as the demon bored down on him. The room grew darker and darker until all Tarak could make out were the demon’s eyes. The gold trails in the iris seemed to writhe and the fiercesome green and blue tattoos glowed as if released from the assassin’s skin.

The world flipped with a lurch of vertigo. It was as if Tarak was looking through the eyes of the assassin.  There was another lurch and he was back in his body. 

Tarak moaned dropping the spoon that had been halfway to his mouth.  His head pounded but even that was fading.

"Wots’ the matter mate?” Tisdale asked looking aggrieved at the waste of good soup.  



The assassin!

Tarak jumped up from the table and carefully approached the bars.

The assassin remained in the same position, prone and silent.

“Oye mate y’ orta finish the soup. Taint gunna be a hot in a bit. Ye can gawk at the prisoner later.”

“He moved! It moved. The assassin it was outside the cell just now. Didn’t you see it?” Tarak asked then swore as Tisdale denied it.

“Yer must be hungry Tarak. I hear hunger can cause ye to see all sorts a’things.  Plus our friend here hasn’t moved on his own in three days. That’s enough to unease anybody.”

Tisdale returned to the savory soup while Tarak continued to stare at the figure on the cell cot.

“He’s in there right and tight. So soup’s on.”

Tarak stared another few moments then walked back towards his bowel. Tarak sat down and took a long sniff. The turnips and spiced scalli flavors made his mouth water. There was time enough to report what he’d seen to Benham after lunch.

The soup was phenomenal. Marianne had out done herself. All the Cordell’s could cook but Marianne had a talent.  All that kind heartedness must come out in the food.

“We must thank her for the meal.”

“What?” Tarak asked frowning. “Why did Tisdale need to thank his own wife? And in such an odd voice.

“I didn’t say anything.” Tisdale looked perplexed.

“You did! You said you needed to thank Mari for the meal!”

“Neh? Why would I say that?” Tisdale asked.

“You did! I heard you loud and…” Tarak looked slowly to the cell. The prisoner remained as still as death.

“Yer’ freaking me out Tarak.”Tisdale snapped.

“Ye think I’m not freaking out the same?”

“Same.”

“What?”

“What?” The word slipped out of Tarak’s mouth but Tarak hadn’t said it.

“I did…. “ Tarak felt what he could only describe as a fullness in his head. Another person was suddenly where there had been only one.

Hi!

And Tarak fainted.



Or so Tarak thought he had when he came out of it. The sensation of movement jogged him out of the faint. He was walking quickly down the hall that led to the ball room. Tarak walked but he wasn’t the one controlling his legs. Fear engulfed the guard again.

Oh no, no, no, no, no, not again.  I’m not holding your bladder again while you nap.  You roust yourself right now Tarak Swain and deal with the new state of things.

Fainting like a sheltered maiden. I swear to Belial I’ll let you soil yourself.

The insult snapped Tarak right out of the sucking fear that had tried to claim him.

"Spirit.. why have you possessed me?"

Well in truth I tried to kill you but you’re still there… and stop talking to yourself out loud. You look crazy.

A servant trekking up the hall in the opposite direction peered at Tarak warily.

Just think it and I’ll hear you. Frightened again Tarak tried it.

What do you want? Why are you here spirit. What have I done to displease that I should be so possessed!?”

Better.  Tarak waited.

Wait… aren’t you going to answer me?

Nope.

Frustrated, Tarak tried to stop himself. His arms flailed for a moment but his legs just kept on moving.  Tarak found that the wraiths control was imperfect. He kicked out and pushed, trying to expel the demon from his mind. Excruciating blinding pain raked across his senses. The pain went on and on. His back bowed until it felt like the muscles there ripped from his back. The echoes of the pain sizzled along inside his skin. It felt like the wraith had fillet his spine.  Tarak found himself laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling. He whimpered to himself.

Act like an animal again and I’ll excise you entirely from this body.

The wrath got the shared corpse up off the ground despite the pain and marched him down the hallway. The prince…. What was the ghost going to do with his body?

Don’t even think about it, boy. You think that hurt just now? If I excise you I’ll make you stay conscious for every second of it.  The wraith threatened. It was more than a threat. Tarak could feel the intent behind the words.  

The excision would remove Tarak’s soul entirely from his body killing him but hurting the wraith in the process. The wraith didn’t want this as he had tried…. And failed to excise him before.  Tried and failed? Tarak wondered at that.

Tarak was suddenly aware of a sensation of intense scrutiny. You can hear me? Even now? Ignoring the wraiths surprise, Tarak addressed the issues that most concerned him.

YOU TRIED TO KILL ME!

Err… yes I said that before. But you mustn’t take it personally. The wraith communicated in a calm, rather pleasant and educated voice.

WHAT? How can I NOT take it personally? YOU TRIED TO KILL ME!  Tarak howled.

Well, it’s the nature of things really. The wraith responded.

Tarak radiated shock and dismay silently.

Marianne, put some tasty chicken in that soup didn’t she? The chicken didn’t want to be in the pot but there it went. It’s the chicken’s job to get et. Actually you should be apologizing to me. You’ve quite nauseated me here.



What! Tarak’s squawked much like a chicken.

What if your dinner refused to die, sat up in the pot then ordered you not to eat it?

But I’m not! he squawked then realized that he was sounding more and more like the prey in question. 

Eh, chicken, human, same difference… except you’ve changed a bit since I’ve last had the pleasure of consuming your kind. You’ve grown a bit stronger. I’ll admit it’s been a long time but still…

The wraith kept Tarak’s body marching down the hallway.

Same wonderful bodies though.

They turned and entered the ballroom.

Prince Liam! He had to do something. Warn someone about the wraith but Tarak could not even open his mouth to alert anyone. The threat of that soul-destroying pain lingered in every step he took. Tarak tried to fight again but he was weaker now. Something… his mind want to drift away on the music. Each beat had him anticipating the next and his ability to think and fight eroded.

The wraith grew stronger with each bar. The music seemed to grow its power and its intent. The wraith seemed to be aligning itself somehow with his internal controls. Tarak was afraid he would be pushed out entirely from his own body. Panicked Tarak looked for the source of the music.  It issued from Phee. Little Phee Fallon sang on stage. Everyone in the cote respected the Fallons, the son was adopted but turned out to be a relatively good one. He had some ability doctoring the sheep, horses and riding birds.  

Suddenly Tarak was flooded with a sense of elation he knew wasn’t his.

That’s someone I never expected to see again. If the wraith had its own face, Tarak was sure, it would be beaming.  The creature was excited by Phee. Excited in a way that made Tarak acutely uncomfortable.

Stupid human, you’ve no concept of what you’re witnessing have you?  The wraith laughed.  Well let me show you.

The ghost took over Tarak’s eyes as the dancers twirled around the stage. Phee moved gracefully. The wraith focused Tarak’s eyes until he could see every detail in fine and kept focusing until Tarak’s head started to hurt and kept focusing. It was as if the wraith pulled muscles and manipulated things Tarak had never had access to, even in his own head.  Suddenly the room dimmed and he stopped seeing with his eyes. The light in the room slid and smeared like one of those fancy paintings that hung in museums, Tarak had never had any interest in seeing.

As the details smeared away he could see more, but not just see.  Feel more. He could see people’s feelings their mental states; agitation happiness, anger.  Just as he got used to looking at feelings  his vision changed again. Each person was blurred out. It was as if many, many pictures flashed quickly in each person’s place. Many versions of the same person, old, young in different clothing styles and fashions.  It was so disorienting that Tarak recoiled from them.  Inanimate objects didn’t blur though, not as much as the people did. Then his vision changed again. Objects blurred and phased out then his vision changed again and again to see things he didn’t understand or want to understand until what he knew were people dancing resolved into blobs of white light suspended in a miasma of shadow and smoke.



The walls and even the floor below took on a hazy unreal quality. Blobs of white passed him at about face level. Looking down he could see other blobs passing beneath him. And then others farther beneath. He wasn’t sure but he thought he was looking through the floor. Some lights glowed strongly others flicked and waffled as they bobbed along.

Ignore them. They aren’t important. The wraith stated.

Tarak looked up to where Phee had been singing.  What he saw on the stage set the guard shuddering in fear.  There was nothing indistinct about the silent, monstrous thing that stood on stage. It was as if a giant avian shaped hole had been opened up against the backdrop of the world. It was black and bulbous with huge dragging wings as if the creature had been dipped in oil. It dripped and the fluid would spin off, stretching and reforming to rejoin in the main mass. It was truly horrifying. Tendrils belched forth from the creature’s beak, oily and black whenever the dark tendrils found a light they subsumed it, wrapped it around until the light flickered and failed like the rest of the lights bobbing around the creature.

The bird sung low and loud, and the lights closest to the creature took on a purple cast as if stained by mere proximity. They were lashed around with tendrils and bobbed and flickered within the main mass. Tarak backed away or tried to but the wraith wouldn’t let him move his legs. Tarak’s terror was only eclipsed by the glowing admiration exuded by the wraith.

What you’re looking at dear Tarak is the failure of your little goddess to do what she swore to do. You’re looking at the end of your world.