Gaia's Champion Ch. 58 - Teaser (Patreon)

Tamara Dalca’s heels clicked softly against the waxed linoleum of the hospital corridor, the sound muted but distinct enough to make her acutely aware of every step she took. The psych ward smelled faintly of antiseptic and recycled air, an unpleasant mix that clung to the senses. She hated places like this, as they always made her feel uneasy, but for today, a small amount of discomfort was necessary for what she needed to do.

She was dressed as she always was when in public—dark velvet blouse, tight skirt, long leather coat—her gothic flair muted just enough to seem eccentric rather than dangerous. Beneath the surface, though, every fiber of her being was wound tight. She knew what kind of risks she was taking by being here.

The young doctor escorting her down the hall—a man with harried eyes, and a tie knotted poorly at the throat—kept glancing over his shoulder as if expecting someone to stop them. Crushing student loans had made him pliable for what Tamara wanted. A tidy sum had to be spent to get him to play ball, but if this yielded what she hoped, then it was money well spent. All she had was thirty minutes to look upon the shell of the woman once called Ishita.

Tamara’s mind churned as they approached the secured wing, specifically about the Guardians of Shiva. She had traced their threads back through whispers, sealed archives, and money slipped to just the right people. They were everywhere and nowhere, keeping their eye on traitors like Ishita… and they were aware of her.

After confirming that much, she knew it meant the longer she stayed in one place, the more dangerous it became. Still—answers were needed. Ishita had once wielded power of note, even daring to challenge the Guardians on equal terms, giving as good as she got. Until a spell had shattered her mind and stripped her down to fragments of the girl she had been. Whoever had placed it had done so to contain or silence her.

As the doctor passed his keycard over the last locked door, Tamara’s thoughts flickered briefly to her own bloodline. Carman’s blood ran through her veins, but it was a power that was just beyond her reach. Dark promises whispered to her at night, but she could never understand them. The door clicked, snapping her out of her introspections and the doctor turned to her, his expression torn between greed and nervousness.

“You have half an hour,” he reminded her softly, almost apologetic. “Then I’ll have to come back. If anyone else notices you here… I can’t protect you.”

“I understand,” Tamara said as she gave a small smile that never reached her cold eyes. “You’ve done enough. Leave the rest to me.”

The doctor nodded quickly and stepped back down the hall, leaving Tamara alone at the threshold. She drew in a measured breath, steeled herself, and stepped inside. The room was sparse: a bed bolted to the floor, a single chair, and a barred window letting in the daylight. There, sitting on the bed with her hair tangled and her eyes vacant, was Ishita… or what was left of her.

She rocked faintly, humming something broken and childlike under her breath. But Tamara knew better than to trust appearances, as a witch’s ruin was rarely complete. There would still be fragments—fragments Tamara intended to pry open before the Guardians came sniffing around again. Tamara began simply, settling into the lone chair across from the bed, crossing one leg over the other, and folded her gloved hands in her lap.

“Ishita,” she said gently, her tone carefully measured, almost maternal. “My name is Tamara. I thought you might like some company.”

The woman on the bed barely looked at her. Ishita’s dark eyes fluttered about the room like moths to a flame, never truly settling. She hummed something tuneless under her breath, then clapped her hands twice, as if expecting applause.

“Tea party,” she whispered with a grin, voice laced with the innocence of a child. “We need cups. Where are the cups? Do you have them? The pink ones?”

Tamara held her composure, though inwardly she seethed, as time was short and this… babbling was leading nowhere. She tried for several minutes, humoring Ishita, coaxing her into simple exchanges, hoping for some stray fragment to surface. But all she got were fractured thoughts, nonsense rhymes, and the plaintive desire of a little girl longing for a playmate. Finally, she exhaled sharply and let her mask slip for just a moment, her eyes narrowing.

“Enough games,” she murmured under her breath.