Curian rolled the name around in her mouth for a moment, aware she was being watched.
“Dullahan,” Curian repeated. “Should I know that name? I feel like I should know that name for some reason.”
Sophia shook her head. “Based on what I’ve found, and it’s quite severely limited I’m afraid,” she explained, “Dullahan leaves few to no survivors in his wake. If you knew of him, you should count yourself very lucky.”
Curian shook her head. “I doubt it,” she said, frowning. “What else does it say? Anything about the Prognosticarium? What it has to do with Dullahan?”
“The text stops abruptly,” Sophia said. She turned the book and held it aloft for Curian to see. One page featured a small portrait of Dullahan. Halfway down the page, the words faded into nothingness. It wasn’t as if someone had stopped writing so much as if something had taken away what had once been there.
“Someone doesn’t want us to know the whole truth about Dullahan,” Curian said.
Sophia arched her eyebrows. “And what do you suppose that means?”
“There must be a way to stop him before he gets the Prognosticarium,” Curian said, the hint of triumph in her voice building with each word. “It means there has to be a way to defeat him. Good triumphs over evil, that sort of thing.”
Sophia opened her other hand to reveal the piece of the Prognosticarium. “I don’t suppose you saw how many pieces there were other than this one, did you?”
Curian scratched her head. She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply, then exhaled. She could hear Sophia open her mouth and, without opening her eyes, raised a finger to her lips. Sophia didn’t speak.
Another deep breath in, and another slow and lingering exhale. The darkness reeled and rushed around Curian, and suddenly she found herself back when she had first saw Dullahan atop the ruined tower. She spotted herself standing next to the trinket–the Prognosticarium. It had just begun spinning rapidly, right before when it stopped and dispersed itself. Curian focused, and the world of her memory slowed around her.
One piece rocketed off towards the north. A second piece to the south. A third soared just over snow-capped mountains in the east. A fourth mired itself in marshlands to the west. A fifth piece traveled a short distance before burying itself deep in the heart of a forest. A sixth piece moved too fast for Curian to follow, even when fully focused on what she had seen. The seventh and final piece was the one she grabbed onto. The one that Sophia currently held.
Something unusual happened, however. Before she could retreat back to the present, a rush of cold air roared over Curian. Dullahan had turned his attention to her–not the Curian who had held fast to the piece of the trinket as it carried her at blinding speeds over the land before depositing her in a sea. Dullahan was looking directly at the present Curian.
“You are a fascinating little creature,” Dullahan said, chuckling. “I found myself wondering where I would find the pieces of the Prognosticarium after you so foolishly caused it to slip from my grasp, but here you are giving me a map to find its pieces.”
“What?” Curian spat. “That’s cheating, damn you!”
Curian snapped back to reality, a torrent of curses pouring from her mouth.
“By the Gods,” Sophia said. “Such foul language. What just happened? You were here but clearly not.”
Curian shook her head. “It’s a memory trick,” she replied. “Got an old archmage to each me how to do it after I beat him in a game of chance.”
Sophia nodded approvingly. “How fortuitous.”
“Helps that I cheated,” Curian replied. “Anyway, if I focus I can go back to when I’m trying to remember and watch things play out. I saw where the pieces of the Prognosticarium went.”
“That’s fantastic news!” Sophia cheered. “And yet you look displeased.”
“Dullahan saw exactly where the pieces went, too.”