Osamaru Ta
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(WLTK) B1: Chapter 19 - "In The Palm Of Your Hand."
🕑 Added 2024-12-30 22:43:48 +0000 UTCGASP! What's this?! A WLTK chapter?! Hurrah! Ya, It's been a long time. I rewrote Amani four times before I landed on something I like, and the general vibe was hard to pin down. But I like it so far. Tell me what you think!
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Jeremiah made his way to Ulrick’s bakery shortly before noon. Just like yesterday, the streets were filled with Crossroad residents who were out on various chores. After all, even in the Outskirts, people still needed to eat, buy supplies, or go to work. What people were out and about kept their heads down and their eyes to themselves, though. There were few happy and smiling faces in this place.
Thankfully, Ulrick’s place was rather easy to find, centered as it was on Market Street.
Try as he might, he couldn’t see any sign of yesterday’s fight. The streets were unkept but free of glass. There was no blood to be seen anywhere. Even the side of the building that had cracked seemed repaired. It was like it had never happened at all. Maybe that was for the best. In the end, Jeremiah wasn’t going to question it. He shook his head and crossed the street.
Jeremiah paused, his gaze drawn to Ulrick’s shop window. At first glance, it seemed like any other bakery display — rows of decadent pastries, from towering cakes to gleaming doughnuts, arranged with care. But as Jeremiah looked closer, he noticed something unusual. Beyond the pristine display, the rest of the shop’s interior blurred as though viewed through fogged glass. The haze seemed subtle, almost imperceptible, but its effect was clear: it directed attention to the baked goods while obscuring everything else.
It was a clever enchantment, discreet but unmistakable. A subtle nod — for those who took care to notice — that the man behind the counter wasn’t just a simple baker. In a place like the Crossroads, that was likely a warning that needed repeating.
Jeremiah, for one, would be sure to keep that in mind.
Beyond the glass and the magic haze, Jeremiah could make out a large figure — most likely Ulrick — behind a counter, chatting animately with another, much smaller figure sitting at one of the dining tables. Nothing could be heard of the conversation from outside, but Jeremiah assumed this was the ‘eccentric’ that Ulrick claimed would have a lead for him. He just hoped he was doing the right thing.
Jeremiah took a deep breath and pushed open the door.
Diiiing!
The bell above the door rang with a pleasant chime, drawing the attention of the bakery’s two occupants.
“Jeremiah, my lad! Glad you could make it,” boomed Ulrick in a voice that carried a little too well, as though he assumed every room was an auditorium. The baker’s robust figure matched his voice — broad shoulders, arms like tree trunks, and a belly that suggested he often sampled his own pastries. Despite his volume, Ulrick’s grin radiated warmth, the kind of smile that disarmed irritation and left only fondness.
His outfit seemed almost comically mismatched for his size — a brown polo and black pants beneath the same two-sizes-too-small, flour-dusted apron he’d worn yesterday. It was hard not to chuckle at the sight of the man, who looked more suited to swinging a battle axe than wielding a rolling pin. Perhaps that contrast was intentional.
Jeremiah offered a small smile in return, raising a hand in greeting.
“Thank you, Ulrick. I appreciate the help,” Jeremiah said, his tone polite but tinged with curiosity. His gaze shifted to the other figure seated at a nearby table. “I assume this is who you wanted me to meet?”
Now inside, Jeremiah had a clearer view of the stranger. They sat still, legs dangling from the chair, their short stature making the furniture seem oversized. A large black hoodie cloaked their frame, the hood pulled up to obscure their face. Worn denim jeans added to their unassuming appearance, but something about the figure set Jeremiah on edge.
When their head turned toward him, Jeremiah froze. It wasn’t just the sensation of being watched; it was like their gaze reached out and brushed against him, cold and palpable. A shiver crawled up his spine.
The hooded figure slid off the chair with deliberate slowness, their hands still buried in the hoodie’s front pocket. They approached, their movements unnervingly smooth, and stopped just a few feet away. From beneath the shadows of the hood, they stared at Jeremiah for a moment before lifting slender hands to push the fabric back.
Jeremiah’s breath hitched.
The first thing he noticed was the second pair of arms tucked into the hoodie’s front pouch, their stillness so unnatural it sent a fresh wave of unease through him.
The second thing was their skin — pale blue, not sickly but serene, like moonlight dancing on quiet waters.
As the hood fell away, a young girl’s face emerged, framed by horns that spiraled outward from just in front of her temples. The twisting structures — the same color as her skin — curved elegantly backward, meeting just behind her head in a braided, halo-like pattern. Her hair, cut short and jet-black, clung to her head like a shadow.
But it was her eyes that held him captive. White irises, softly luminescent, floated in a sea of pitch-black sclera, giving the impression of a full moon suspended in an endless void.
Jeremiah took a step back, his pulse quickening. “A djinn?” he asked, as much to himself as Ulrick.
The girl’s eyes narrowed, and she frowned. When she spoke, her voice was as youthful and feminine as her face, though it seemed to echo slightly, as if she were speaking from the other side of the room instead of standing next to him. “Do you have something against djinns, human?”
Jeremiah was quick to raise his hands and shake his head. “N-no! No, of course not. I’m just… surprised, is all. It’s rare to see djinn in Prima City…”
The djinn narrowed her eyes further, seeming about to say something else when Ulrick made his way around the counter and stood between the two.
“Now, now, none of that,” He said before looking at Jeremiah. “Lad, this is Amani, the one I told you about over the phone.” He then turned to the djinn. “Amani, this is my new friend, Jeremiah.”
“Uhhh, nice to meet you, Ms. Amani?” Jeremiah said with an awkward smile. He silently thanked Ulrick for rescuing him.
Amani only folded her upper arms, then without breaking eye contact with Jeremiah, asked Ulrick, “I thought you said you found someone that can help with my ‘problem’? Why did you bring a Central boy?”
It was Jeremiah’s turn to frown, though Ulrick spoke before he could.
“Now, Amani, the lad’s a good sort. Helped me deal with some of Puck’s goons yesterday,”
Amani’s frown deepened, and her luminous eyes scanned Jeremiah’s form as if searching. After a moment, the girl clicked her tongue but, nonetheless, reached out with one of her top arms to shake his hand. As she did, she squeezed.
“The only reason I’m even considering this is because Ulrick vouched for you. Keep that in mind, human,” before dropping Jeremiah’s hand, spinning around, and walking back to her table.
Strange. Wasn’t he here to ask her for something?
Jeremiah turned to Ulrick and raised a brow. The large man gave him an apologetic smile and motioned to the table. “Have a seat, lad. I’ll bring out some refreshments, and we can discuss things.”
Ulrick turned and headed toward the back of the bakery while Jeremiah sat at the table across from Amani. True to his word, Ulrick returned after a few awkward, silent minutes, carrying a serving tray filled with pastries and three mugs. He placed the tray on the table and pulled up a chair for himself, the finely crafted wooden piece visibly growing to match his frame.
Jeremiah picked up a mug. The rich scent of spiced cider washed over him, dispelling the lingering morning chill.
Ulrick picked up the largest mug, took a sip, and grinned. “Excellent stuff. Thought I’d break out something special. First meetings are important, after all.”
Amani rolled her eyes, but Jeremiah didn’t miss the small smile that crept up her face as she sipped from her mug.
“Now, how about we get to business?” Ulrick asked.
Jeremiah set his mug down. “About that… you said your friend could help me find a shop?”
“That depends. How good are you in a fight?” Amani asked over the rim of her drink.
Jeremiah’s eyes widened. “Wait, fight? What are you —”
Ulrick laughed and gave Jeremiah’s shoulder a heavy pat. “No need to worry there, lass. Jeremiah’s tougher than he looks.”
“Now, hold up,” Jeremiah interjected. “Who said I’m fighting anyone? Ulrick, what did you volunteer me for?!”
Ulrick only shrugged. “What, lad? You didn’t expect Amani to help you out for free, now, did you?”
Jeremiah blinked. “No, of course not. But I was expecting her to ask for cash or something. Not… whatever this is.”
Ulrick scratched his chin. “Aye, that’s a fair expectation. But you see, lad, little Amani here —” the girl in question glared viciously at the man “— is in a spot of trouble. Now, I’m not one to butt my head into these things normally, but since you both came to me with these problems, I figured, why not help you solve each other’s? After all, we’ve got to look out for one another here in the Crossroads.”
Jeremiah shook his head. “Ulrick, I don’t know what kind of person I am, but yesterday was the first time I’ve ever fought someone like that. Sure, I’ve done some training, but it’s not like I’m going out of my way to pick street fights!”
Again, Ulrick laughed. “Don’t cut yourself short, lad. Maybe you don’t have the experience, but you’ve got the skill, that’s for sure. Trust me, I’ve been in my fair share of tussles.” He then turned and looked at Amani. “Amani can be a little… pessimistic at times. It’s a tricky situation for sure, but I doubt it’ll come down to a fight. If it does, though, it helps to know you can hold your own.”
Jeremiah stared at Ulrick for a moment before grabbing his mug, taking a swing, and setting it back on the table. “Fine. Say I agree to help her with whatever she needs, and she can find me a shop in return. That still doesn’t answer my question. What does she actually need?”
Ulrick grinned, then turned to Amani. The girl glared back at him before sighing and giving a small nod. Ulrick nodded in return, then turned back to Jeremiah.
“What do you know of djinn, lad?” Ulrick asked, his tone casual, though his eyes watched Jeremiah closely.
Jeremiah hesitated. “Not much,” he admitted. “You don’t see many in Prima City. At least, not in Central.”
Ulrick nodded, motioning for him to continue.
Jeremiah searched his memory, fragments of high school lessons and stories bubbling to the surface. “They’re a magic race, right? One of the demon tribes, I think. I know there are… old stories about them, too. They’re said to be naturally Gifted, with powerful magic. Though also tricksters of sorts —” his eyes flicked to Amani.
Such tales — heroes bartering with ancient beings for power or wisdom, always needing to outwit the cunning djinn — felt distant now. Regardless, those old depictions clung to his mind like cobwebs, casting a shadow over his impressions of Amani. Jeremiah felt heat rise to his cheeks as her pale eyes fixed on him, cold and cutting.
“Honestly, that’s about it, though,” he finished, returning to Ulrick.
Ulrick chuckled, taking a sip from his mug. “Not a bad start, but you’ve missed the finer details.” He leaned forward, grinning despite the weight of his words. “djinn aren’t just demons, lad. They’re intermediates — halfway between Wyrd and Magic, the fae and the physical. Straddling the edges of existence.”
Jeremiah blinked, startled. Intermediates were supposed to be anomalies — rare, unstable, accidents of nature or magic. But an entire race? That wasn’t just rare. It was unheard of.
Jeremiah shivered and turned to see Amani’s eyes burning into him with an almost physical sensation. Odd.
While Jeremiah processed this new information, Ulrick continued. “Normal fae can be considered little bits of Wyrd given identity. They anchor themselves to our reality through their Name. The djinn need no Name. Their bodies are as much flesh and blood as yours or mine. Their souls, however…”
Ulrick shook his head. “A djinn can’t anchor their soul to their body like we can. So, instead, they seal it into a focus. This can be anything: an old coin, a gem, a —”
“An oil lamp?” Jeremiah asked, cutting the man off.
Ulrick threw his head back and laughed. “Aye, a lamp. The point being this focus acts as an anchor of sorts and keeps their soul ‘here’ instead of dissipating back into the Wyrd. Moreover, as long as a djinn’s focus remains safe, they’re effectively immortal. Even if their physical body is destroyed, they can rebuild it given enough time.”
Jeremiah nodded as he followed along. While he wouldn’t admit it outright, he found himself rather enthralled. So little was publicly known about the rarer races that Jeremiah felt like a kid again, sitting on his father’s lap as he was told stories from long ago.
Ulrick took another sip of cider and continued. “This doesn’t come without its caveats, however. A djinn can suffer a wide range of problems if their focus is damaged and not repaired or replaced in time. If their focus is outright destroyed? Well then, that’s the end.”
“Now, if a djinn’s focus is stolen…”
Ulrick’s voice trailed off, and he gave Amani a sad look.
The djinn girl sank into her chair as both pairs of arms wrapped tightly around herself. Ulrick reached over and gently laid a hand on the girl’s shoulder. Amani took a deep breath and spoke, finishing where Ulrick left. “To hold a djinn’s focus is to hold their very soul in your hands. It’s holding absolute power over them. It’s not a matter of choice or will; the holder of a djinn’s focus can order them to do anything.”
The soft glow of Amani’s eyes dimmed slightly, and her gaze became distant.
“They’re… owned. As true to that word as possible.”
Only the soft touch of Ulrick’s hand on her head seemed to bring her back to the present. Her top arms reached up, and she pulled her hood up.
Ulrick gave the girl a soft, sad smile before returning to Jeremiah. “Sorry, lad. It’s a touchy subject for her people. Understand that their history is riddled with tales of enslavement and abuse by those who sought to use their power for their own means. Such things are rare today, with several laws protecting them when possible. But they’re not perfect, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t spread around what you learned here.”
“Ya… sure,” Jeremiah softly answered. His eyes drifted to Amani, and he felt a cold pang in his heart. Jeremiah couldn’t imagine living like that, always afraid that someone might take your freedom away from you, with no power to save yourself.
His hand almost rose to his solar plexus, where he knew the remains of the System Core were slowly being absorbed by his body.
Or maybe I do… he thought to himself.
Shaking that thought from his head, Jeremiah turned to Ulrick.
“Since you’re telling me all of this, I assume that means…” he asked.
Ulrick nodded. “Aye. Amani’s focus was recently stolen.”
The girl in question pulled the strings of her hoodie, closing the hood further.
Ulrick looked at the girl, then turned back to Jeremiah.
The giant man’s eyes were hard and colder than a tundra. “We need you to get it back.”
