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Chapter 505: Echoes of the Fallen.

For a moment, the mountainside dell seemed frozen, time unmoving.

The focus of our hunt loomed above me, now truly colossal in size. Four craning necks extended upward sixty feet or more from a bulbous, distended body. Six trunk-like limbs supported the creature’s bulk, each one ending in a webbed, clawed foot. A pair of fleshy, avian claws reached forward from its chest, wicked talons two feet long clenching and unclenching at their ends. Uncountable tentacles sprouted in place of a tail, each one tipped with a blade, bone bulb, hook, or claw, writhing and snapping around the huge body.

Atop each long neck was a head like that of a transformed dragon, long and reptilian, each one almost identical to the others. Their horrible jaws ran vertically between their eyes, splitting the heads down the middle.

And burning between long, jagged teeth, the violet flames of Destruction danced in their gaping maws.

The scene surged back into motion, and the endless yipping, barking, and howling of a thousand beasts sounded through the wooded dell again.

A spear of bright white mana tinged with purple aether lanced through the air and struck the monstrosity square in the chest—or at least it should have. The flames of Destruction jumped, clawing in the mana and burning it away. The spear didn’t so much as touch the black scales.

"Keep your distance!” Riven was shouting. He’d drawn the other three basilisks to himself, and they were working together to form a gusting barrier of black wind that danced in dark shapes. The one-armed basilisk conjured a swirling storm of void wind and blood iron, but his spell burned away to nothing wherever Destruction touched it.

The monstrosity’s huge wings beat, stirring up a hurricane that toppled trees and flung the members of our hunting party backwards. I tracked Ellie with one thread of my consciousness; she was safe on Boo’s back behind a conjured barrier supported by both Vireah and Sylvie. Separate threads tracked the movement and spells of the others.

I withheld my own attacks. The Destruction-infused aether blade was clenched tightly in my fist, but using it against the monster’s previous incarnation had only made our situation worse.

The violet flames around my sword exploded outward into the shadow-wolf form of my companion. He shook his head, growling deep in his chest, then bolted away. The Destruction godrune emanated a powerful radiance from within him, and as he ran he began to transform. His torso broadened and swelled, his fur hardened into spikes down his back, and his burning mane became jagged saw blades of purple fire.

Each beat of the monster’s wings splashed Destruction across the dell. Violet fire ate rocks, trees, and the very ground. Regis dove into the path of a surging torrent, and a matching jet of violet flames spilled from his jaws.

Destruction devoured Destruction.

An involuntary shudder ran down my spine.

We need to end this battle quickly.

The hunting party was on the move. They fell back in groups, each race coming together to protect and support their clan mates. For a moment, everyone focused on collecting themselves and avoiding the beast’s attacks. Gone were the excited shouts and jeers, the crowing, the battle cries. Every asuran face was set in concentration. This was no longer a hunt, but a fight for survival.

The four-headed monstrosity had risen thirty feet up in the air. It whirled about and crashed back to the ground among the dragons, its claws slashing and teeth snapping. Conjured shields broke under the beast’s strength. Asura hurled themselves away at blinding speeds.

Thirty-foot claws of fire raked through the air, tearing through the wreath of violet fire and scoring thin scratches down the monstrosity’s side.

The spell barely left a scratch through Destruction’s flames.

Regis slammed into the beast from above, his jaws closing around the base of one neck. The nightmarish baying of the horde contained in the monstrosity’s belly intensified, and the fire of its Destruction expanded. All over its body, fissures appeared between the scales and fleshy patches of fur.

Its body is barely able to control the Destruction. It’s eating itself alive.

Even as two heads spun around to attack Regis, two others struck like snakes toward the asuras with a speed incongruent with its size. It spun and bit out at Naesia and one of her people both at once. Caught off guard, Naesia’s dodge was too slow, too late.

God Step carried me across the battlefield. I appeared inside the shadow of a set of vertical jaws as they closed around the phoenix. My hand took hers, and we melted back into the aetheric pathways. Jolts of bright purple energy ran down my arm and across Naesia. Her jaw was set, her lip curled up in a determined sneer, her eyes still focused on teeth that were no longer there.

The ground heaved, and dozens of giant blood iron fists reached out of the mountainside. They took hold of tentacles and legs, even one wing, trying to hold the monster down. Destruction ate away at black metal fingers and fists, but the monster was flailing.

"If we can pin it down My words died in my throat.

In the distance, I watched one of the beast’s flailing limbs descend toward Boo and Ellie. They were going to be crushed beneath it. The mana of the silver shield that had protected her was already dissipating.

My fingers released Naesia’s hand, and God Step flared again. The godrune seemed to take an age to activate. Already, my feet were digging into the soft, scorched soil as one part of my mind told me to run while another struggled to find the aetheric paths again.

Finally, God Step carried me away. I appeared at Ellie’s side as Boo attempted to lunge out of the way of the rapidly descending claw. Aether raced into my muscles and limbs as I braced myself.

The rough pad of a clawed foot longer than I was tall struck me. My body trembled against the incredible weight and impossible force. My core clenched, forcing out even more aether.

Boo was already moving, trying to carry Ellie away, but coiling amethyst flames licked down from the claws like whips, lashing the air and ground with fatal Destruction.

I reached for them. As my arm stretched out, a lash of Destruction wrapped around it. The material of my armor popped and cracked, melting away under the unstoppable consumption. My flesh and bone lasted no longer, and the limb fell away, burning.

Silver flashed between me and Ellie, and the weight bearing down on me lessened.

Silverlight hovered between us. It was once again in the shape of the sword as Aldir had wielded it: lithe and ornate, glowing so bright it was almost hard to look at. A spherical shield of pure mana had erupted from it, knocking the monstrosity’s descending claw aside, where it dug a long furrow through the rocky soil.

The blood iron fists were no longer grappling it. Regis was struggling to extricate himself from a pile of lumber where he’d been thrown, bringing several trees down on top of him.

Silverlight shifted, becoming the unstrung bow as it fell back into Ellie’s startled grip. Boo swung out wide, moving to keep Vireah and her dragons between Ellie and the Destruction-wreathed monster.

Aether constricted in the air, and our opponent trembled, suddenly slow. I felt Sylvie’s concentration as she struggled to bind it in a fist of withheld time.

Regis was in the air again. He slammed into the quaking creature, gripping it just beneath one head and pulling the neck back, revealing the deep wound he’d made during his last attack. His control over Destruction was keeping him safe, letting him linger within the monstrosity’s aura.

Zelyna had organized her leviathans. They were huddled together, working to conjure some mana art; the dell swelled with water-attribute mana, making it suddenly smell like the shore. Their focus was the exposed wound. Across the battlefield, Zelyna’s eyes met mine. There was no fear there, no chaos of muddled thought. She was in control, both of herself and her hunting party.

She recognized that we couldn’t kill it, not yet. We needed a plan to prevent it from continuing to spawn new and stronger incarnations of itself first.

Conjuring a new aetheric blade in my remaining hand, I adjusted my footing.

One of the dragon-like heads bit down on Regis. I felt his fear and fury, but also his hunger—for pain, for blood, for Destruction. The godrune sustained him, and his mastery of its edict countered that of our opponent’s.

The sky darkened above us, gray and black shot through with the red of fire-attribute mana. That mana swiftly condensed into balls of white-hot fire and fell as meteors, bombarding the monstrosity one after another. Most dissolved in the Destruction, but a few punched ragged holes in the expansive wings or exploded against its armored back, eliciting blistering cries of pain and rage from the creature.

As one, the leviathans lunged and spun in a kind of dance. A wave of mana swept forward, but the visible manifestation of the spell was so subtle that I almost missed it even with Realmheart and King’s Gambit.

A wafer-thin crescent of mana carved toward the exposed, wounded neck. Violet flames leapt up to reach it, but the wave of surrounding mana battered the Destruction, unable to douse it but feeding it while protecting the crescent. The spell sliced through the fire, and then through the neck.

I swept my weapon upward, from my hip to my shoulder. The aetheric pathways opened, and a bright purple line of aetheric light cut through several points at once.

Burning blood erupted from a dozen wounds.

Two of the four long necks and heads collapsed like fallen trees. One small wing fluttered away from the bulbous body. A leg buckled, limp and dragging.

Time returned to normal.

The two remaining heads roared. The creature reared back on four of its six thick legs, its avian claws digging at the air, the many tentacles snapping around it furiously.

Sylvie was flagging, her repeated use of her aevum arts draining her power. Regis flew in circles around the wounded monster, countering its Destruction as best he could. Chul hung back, flinging spells with the others, unable to risk approaching for a physical strike. Ellie fired golden arrows of protective energy at any asura who was caught in the waves of gusting Destruction fire that were still devouring the mountainside, giving them a moment to escape.

With one layer of my mind, I tracked the efforts of the asuras to keep the monstrosity pinned down with spellfire while avoiding its Destruction. Zelyna and Riven led the effort, shouting orders and ensuring the attacks didn’t kill it—though I was uncertain if that was even possible. With another, I kept myself moving, helping however I could without dealing any more direct damage to our opponent.

The rest of my mind turned to the problem of these incarnations. I was reminded of the Relictombs, where the aetheric beasts could be respawned indefinitely. If that was by design, where had this creature come from? It seemed possible, though unlikely, that the ancient asuras who created Epheotus manufactured this questing beast, seeding its potential in the magic of this place. Also possible was the fact that our quarry formed here from the interplay of asuran mana and the aether pressing into Epheotus through the barrier, out of the aetheric realm. The shape of it, its grotesque and tortured nature, was like a physical manifestation of the anger aether carried, which Fate had described.

Simultaneously, I considered two other sparks of new insight that were potentially relevant to the battle.

First, Destruction.

I needed to be able to separate the endless consumption from the asuras. My arm was still regrowing, but even the asura couldn’t match my own healing abilities. It was only a matter of time before the monstrosity’s Destruction began to consume them, one by one. It was essential that I cordon it off somehow, limiting its capability to continue shedding the violet flames.

It hadn’t been long since I came up with the plan to avoid Agrona’s notice inside a pocket dimension, and that idea hovered close to the surface of my many-layered thoughts. I’d formed such a pocket dimension twice now: first, almost by accident, inspired by the djinn’s runic magic in a moment of pure desperation; second, more purposefully, to hide myself inside Sylvia’s lair between the Beast Glades and the Elenoir Wastes. This second pocket dimension hadn’t been placed there out of sentimentality, however.

The mark of Sylvia’s will still existed inside her hidden refuge. I no longer had her will inside my core, and so I’d need her spark, that indentation she’d left in the mana through her months-long teleportation ritual and time-stop spells, to form a second pocket dimension.

I had no piece of Sylvia here to use as a catalyst to conjure a pocket dimension to cage the beast, which meant I needed another way. But we were close to the barrier that separated Epheotus from the aetheric realm. I’d felt that barrier in Everburn at the fountain, and again along the shore of the leviathan village, Ecclesia. Here, too, on the phoenixes’ ever-climbing mountain. Epheotus was itself—in some way—a pocket dimension. Still connected to the physical realm in which my world existed, but protected by a barrier that affected reality itself, containing space and time and life all together.

It was then, between one moment and the next, the many layers of my mind working together like the toothed cogs of a complex machine, that I understood what to do.

"Fall back!” I shouted. To me, I thought directly to Regis. Sylv, stay with El. I need you outside the barrier. Both my companions shuddered as they were inundated with many thoughts at once, but I withheld the worst of the effect, focusing my message and intent.

While I was offering direction, I was also pouring out purified aether and molding it.

The hybridized monstrosity beat its remaining wings and threw itself into the air. Twin mouths drooled burning black spittle as they roared, and the baying of hounds grew so loud it threatened to overwhelm King’s Gambit.

Mana, heavy and warm as a blanket, settled over me, deadening the horrible noise. I glanced back, looking at Ellie: she was focused on controlling the mana around me, forming a sort of buffer to absorb the sound. I winked at her, then stepped forward.

The world began to ripple and run, like I was standing inside a glass globe as the glass was still hot and being blown into shape.

The strain was intense, but I was ready for it. The first time I’d formed such a pocket dimension, it had killed me, or would have if not for the sacrifice made by Sylvie. The second had taken hours of careful manipulation as I plucked through the threads of Sylvia’s leftover magic. Now, I had only seconds.

Sylv, I need time.

Through our connection, I felt Sylvie reach for the aevum arts she had been practicing since returning from death. She was tired—the strain of her abilities was significant—but she pushed into the fatigue, drawing insight and inspiration from the lethargy of her own mental faculties and putting that feeling into the aether, which shivered and bucked as it clamped down.

The surging beast slowed, its wingbeats suddenly sluggish. A bright spear of light was forming above it, and the mana seized, its flow like grains of sand through an hourglass that had been tipped almost horizontal. A flock of darting, fiery birds of prey went from flitting swiftly toward the beast to a lackadaisical cruise through the air.

But Regis winged across the battlefield at speed, transforming as he approached, and the aether continued to swarm, picking up speed instead of slowing down. The globe solidified just as Regis, now little more than a shadowy wisp, passed through my flesh and into my core.

The rest of the world vanished.

Inside the pocket dimension, it was only me and the beast. An island of crushed and disintegrated ground floated in a sea of colorless and lightless energy and an open sky reflected across the inside of a plain steel sphere.

The monstrosity slammed against the border of my pocket dimension, shaking it. The flames of Destruction spilled across the steel surface, but there was no physical matter to devour. It was simply an end, and that was where Destruction itself stopped. The beast clawed its way across the interior, frantic. One head lashed out, biting at nothing. The other turned toward me. Its wings beating and pushing its body against the interior of the pocket dimension, the beast roared and unleashed a jet of purple fire.

Violet fire erupted across my body; within my core, Regis connected the Destruction godrune to me, conjuring an aura of Destruction through my flesh.

The Destruction surrounding me chewed on the Destruction attacking me, and the two opposing forces devoured each other.

I flashed across the small pocket dimension a second later as the beast crashed down on me, its remaining claws and teeth rending and tearing at the charged air I left behind.

"It’s just you and me now,” I said, doubtful that the horrible conglomeration of parts and pieces would hear me over the baying echoing from its distended belly.

Realizing my flesh was not under its rending claws, it hesitated, the necks swiveling to look for me. Eyes blazing with Destruction narrowed.

I gazed up at it from the ground. Its heads hovered over sixty feet above me, swiveling back and forth. Through Sylvie’s eyes, I saw the outside of the pocket dimension as well: suddenly quiet, the flames of Destruction going dark. The mountain was in ruins, among which the rest of the hunting party stared around in wonder. Sylvie was my tether beyond the pocket dimension, and I was hers within.

She felt my probing, heard my needs inside my mind.

"Let’s finish this hunt.”

The creature hissed, its wings flapping as it drove itself forward. Then, as suddenly as closing a book, the light inside the pocket dimension went gray, and the beast froze, and the baying of the monsters in its belly went blessedly silent.

‘It’s…easier, a bit,’ Sylvie thought through her concentration. ‘The space is so much smaller, and it’s just the three of you. I can hold this…for a minute. Maybe two.’

It wasn’t long, but I knew she was doing everything she could.

I turned my King’s Gambit-enhanced faculties fully to the second new point of insight.

The previous evening, when sitting before the fire after everyone else bedded down for the evening, I’d made progress on a long-lingering idea. With God Step, I’d opened one of the points through which I could step to travel the aetheric pathways, leaving it open. Aether had trickled through, turning our campfire purple.

I had, effectively, poked a hole directly through from this reality into the aetheric dimension. Unknowingly, I’d been using the aetheric pathways to travel through the aether realm for some time. After learning about this connection, I’d theorized I could open my own pathways into the aether realm, but last night had been my first step in that direction.

Now, I needed to go much farther.

With time stopped within the bubble of my pocket dimension, I began.

Theoretically, something inside the monstrosity was conjuring or generating these new incarnations. Out of its death, an even stronger version of itself was born. With each rebirth, it not only grow stronger but seemed to take on mutilated characteristics of its hunters—us—even including a mastery of Destruction when I used the aspect to kill it.

Even after everything I’d learned, I didn’t understand how this was possible, but I hadn’t dedicated much of my processing power to figuring it out. More important than how it happened, was how I could stop it.

Returning to the night before, I reached for that feeling I’d had in front of the fire, before Sylvie’s dream interrupted me.

Again, with God Step showing me the individual points connected by the aetheric pathways, I imagined a hole between the aetheric realm and my pocket dimension. This time, I searched for a point of connection within the distended guts of the horrid, frozen beast. I probed for the point, feeling and listening as Three Steps had taught me, more confident now but knowing that time was running out.

Faint and distant, barely sensible through Sylvie’s aevum art stopping time and the motionless flames of Destruction, a hole opened. Before, aether leaked into Epheotus from beyond. Now, with the beast itself acting like a cork, something else tried to move out, into the aether realm. The hole wasn’t big enough yet, and so I pulled harder, forcing it wider.

The fabric between realities resisted.

A dark amethyst flame flickered. One wing twitched. A pair of eyes refocused on me.

Outside the sphere, Sylvie trembled; her mind was beginning to fracture.

So much of my consciousness was dedicated to other things, thoughts operating parallel to my primary focus. I remembered what Zelyna had said. Thread by thread, I realigned the branching layers of my mind, emptying my head of any thought except absolute focus on the hole punctured between realms. It widened slightly.

The beast loomed, inching forward, fighting against Sylvie’s control.

Cold realization hit me. There was one other thing I was focused on, and I lacked the power to do both. Taking a deep breath, I released my hold over the pocket dimension.

The sphere containing us burst, and we slammed back into the real world. Sylvie’s hold over her spell shattered, and the beast clawed across the ground, its twin heads descending toward me.

It lurched to a stop as suddenly as it had started moving again.

Both of its heads craned back and down toward its bulging torso. Suddenly, it slumped over onto its back and began clawing at its own belly.

Inside it, the baying continued, but it was dowsed, dull. Distant.

I held the point open inside its body. I couldn’t see what was happening inside the beast, but I could feel it clearly.

The portal was drawing the stillborn future incarnations through, ripping them out of this world. Each one burned with the spark of Destruction that I had put in its flesh when the last incarnation had died. Weak and without their potential, these potential future beasts burned. One by one, then by ten, then by the hundreds. A thousand, then thousand. It was impossible to tell.

But Destruction ate them all in the cold void of the aetheric realm.

Around me, the asuras were shouting. Ellie was shouting. But I couldn’t process their words.

My entire mind was focused completely and perfectly on a single task: holding open the hole between realms.

The flames of its Destruction had turned inward and were now devouring the beast itself. And still, with a portal in its guts and Destruction underneath its scales, it seemed as if it couldn’t or wouldn’t die.

Its claws reached for me. Tail-tentacles lashed and cut in every direction. The jaws of its two remaining heads stretched out toward me.

Basilisks, phoenixes, dragons, and leviathans alike surged to my defence, slamming the monstrosity with everything they had. Bolts and bullets and shapeless manifestations of complex mana cut, burned, and burrowed into its flesh, widening the beast’s growing wounds and forcing it away from me.

A leviathan was caught beneath one huge foot, crushing the man to the ground beneath Destruction-infused claws. Zelyna’s twin shortswords melted as they carved through the beast’s leg, severing it and sending it crashing down the slope. Regis jumped into the leviathan’s flesh, shrouding him from the Destruction that would have consumed him.

Vireah conjured a curved shield that separated me from the beast, but a barbed tail hooked her through the leg, slamming her to the ground and sending her spinning into a cliff. Her body vanished into the rubble.

Dozens of blood-iron crescents rained down on the beast, severing tentacles and pinning one of its necks to the ground. The remaining claws dug great furrows as the second head snapped closed right in front of me, spraying me with Destruction-flecked spittle.

Chul rushed forward, heedless of the violet flames spilling from the beast’s skin. His round-headed maul blazed with phoenix fire as he drove it down and through the pinned head. The beast’s skull broke open and shattered, spilling out a black mush in place of brains.

The last remaining head pulled back, letting out a tortured scream even as violet fire jumped to Chul’s skin. His chest and arms were ablaze in an instant.

A golden arrow flew past me, aimed at his back. When it struck, a shining barrier wrapped around him, momentarily giving the Destruction something else to burn and pushing it back from his flesh. I tried to form the aether and mana to draw it away from him, but I couldn’t spare any concentration, could barely move or I’d risk losing control of the portal.

Destruction devoured the black scales and flesh, revealing dark muscle and bright bones. Another incarnation clawed through the meat, bursting its belly, but the portal, a pulsing disk of black and purple, had already consumed the incarnation's lower half. Before it could rip its way free, it was gone.

The bones broke down, devoured by purple fire, and then the musculature. Incarnation after incarnation flowed into the portal at its center, crowing with rage and dismay, the cacophony growing softer moment by moment.

And then it was silent. The last stillborn horror had been pulled away. Destruction consumed the last of the beast, and then, with no more fuel for its endless hunger, the flames died too, even those surrounding Chul and the wounded leviathan.

I released my godrunes with a ragged gasp.

The portal faded, and my senses dulled. I sagged to my knees and took long, slow, shuddering breaths. My ears felt clogged, as if I were underwater. Or like it was so silent, my brain was inventing noise to fill the emptiness.

Then…

Insight sparked in my mind, and I came fully awake again. The bright burning eagerness of new knowledge stung my skin.

A huge hand took me by the wrist and dragged me to my feet. I found myself looking into Chul’s exuberant face as he looked me over for wounds, his attention settling on my severed arm. A golden glow bathed his face and reflected in his eyes, one blue, one orange.

I grinned as the new godrune made itself known, connecting to the newly formed insight.

Seeming confused by my grin, he stepped back. “Are you well, my brother in vengeance?”

As the golden glow of the newly formed godrune receded, I refocused on my surroundings.

The mountainside was destroyed. The once idyllic dell was a torn and churned pit. Rock, trees, and soil alike had been devoured by Destruction, erasing even the signs of the asuras’ mighty spells.

The first face I found was Sylvie’s. She was sitting in the dirt, caked with sweat and muck, her shoulders rising and falling as she struggled to catch her breath. There was a concerning lack of focus in her eyes, but through our connection, I felt her reach out to assure me.

Next, I glanced at Ellie. Her mana signature was greatly diminished; the elixir from Lord Avignis had been spent, but my sister was in surprisingly good shape, considering the battle she’d just lived through.

Naesia was approaching the spot where the beast had burned away. There was a small patch of white on the ground. The rest of the asuras—it looked as if everyone had survived, although most bore injuries, some severe—gathered in a loose circle around her. She knelt and picked up a small white form. A fiery arrow still stuck out from behind its left shoulder.

The young phoenix touched the arrow, and it extinguished in a haze of cinders.

Slowly, as if thinking deeply about something, she approached Chul and me. The eyes of every asura present followed her in patient silence.

Looking at me with a complicated fusion of reverence and dread, Naesia held out the small corpse. “To the victor, the trophy.”

I saw her same expression reflected to some extent on the rest of the asuran faces. We’d passed through fire together; when we left Featherwalk Aerie, I had their respect due to my title. Now, that feeling was something much more real and honest: belief.

A head rested against the back of my shoulder. I knew it was Sylvie without looking. On my other side, Ellie ran up and took my arm, hugging it to her. Regis stirred within me, hovering near my core as he absorbed aether from it. Chul crossed his arms and beamed.

Kin clasped hands and battered backs with tired fists. Leviathans draped their arms around the shoulders of basilisks, while dragons and phoenixes fell together in tired heaps, their triumphant voices ringing across the mountainside.

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    Chapter 504: People of Alacrya


    Caera Denoir

    I gave the young man a pat on the back, then stepped away. His smile was grateful but weary, and more than a little sick. Still, he did smile. It was something. When he stepped up to the tempus warp, housed within the cavernous lobby of Cargidan’s central library, the mousy-haired mage who was to conduct this last transmission spoke soft, encouraging words.

    The young man had little to go home to. It was why he’d been comfortable waiting so long—to be the very last of the refugees to return to his people. No one would be waiting for him. The war had taken them all.

    Our volunteer attendant, a member of the Kaenig blood, flinched as she activated the tempus warp device. Her mana was fluttering and inconsistent. Within its tug, though, the tempus warp activated, and the young man was pulled away in a rippling of space and mana. With it done, she sat down on the platform’s edge and wiped her brow.

    “Thank you,” I said, forcing myself to stand straight despite the aching of my back and the lingering pain behind my eyes. “Tell your highlord that his assistance will not be forgotten.”

    The Kaenig mage gave a little snort. “For whatever good it’ll do. Still, I suppose these folk deserve to die in the comfort of their own homes.”

    I withheld my bitter retort, only repeating my thanks before turning and striding with purpose toward the library exit. The truth was, the purpose was a facade, not for the benefit of the other mages who lingered in the library but for myself. I didn’t quite know what to do now. I had spent entirely too much time in the small office I’d claimed upstairs, and I was loath to intrude on Seris; she already knew the last of the refugees were scheduled to go home today.

    But Cargidan itself offered little for me. Although home, such as it was, wasn’t that far away, I’d chosen to stay at the library itself up until now. It was our base of operations, where Seris and Cylrit had so far chosen to remain, and I had been needed nearly every hour of the day.

    Outside, I stopped and turned my face toward the late afternoon sun. My fingers went to my sternum, pressing into my skin. Beneath flesh and muscle and bone, my core ached.

    The first wave of mana had been bad. Like a tsunami from a distant sea, it had washed over us, and when it rolled away again, it had taken our mana away with it. Every single mage was affected, but the stronger suffered more.

    The second had been far worse.

    I started walking again, my purpose unclear for the first time in weeks. After the first pulse, Corbett and Lenora had retreated into the Relictombs with most of the other highbloods. Now the first two levels of the Relictombs were in danger of overcrowding. With so many ranking ascenders involved in Seris’s rebellion, their organization had quickly collapsed, and the ranking bloods in each city were limiting access to the Relictombs where they could. It was another disaster in the making.

    As I pondered the last couple of weeks and tried to turn my thoughts toward the next couple, my feet began to carry me toward the Denoir estate. Only whatever guards and servants hadn’t already fled the city were still there, but I had made a point to check in every few days. It would also be pleasant to sleep somewhere more comfortable than the cot in my office.

    Already weak from battle and imprisonment, the shock of Agrona’s defeat, and the first mana pulse, the second one drove like a spear into the core of every mage in Cargidan. Time and foresight had allowed us to prepare a number of elixirs for those most in danger from the backlash—namely, the strongest and weakest of us—which provided Seris and Cylrit a way to counter the worst of the effects. At the very least, it kept them alive. But even rationing elixirs for only those in danger of permanent injury or death, the city was already running out.

    I’d petitioned multiple times for Seris to take shelter in Relictombs, but she’d resisted so far. “Once I’m well enough to travel, I’ll return to my estate in Sehz-Clar. What’s left of it anyway,” she’d said with a distant smile. “Besides, I need to be here when Alaric returns. We’re still working out the details of broadcasting whatever proof he finds. Agrona’s broadcasting networks are in shambles.”

    Quietly, I knew that Seris’s estate wouldn’t be far enough. Early reports after the second pulse indicated it reached almost the entire continent. Only the southernmost reaches of Sehz-Clar had been safe.
    Which meant a third such pulse would almost certainly hit every single mage still in Alacrya. My skin prickled at the thought.

    Still, most of those who couldn’t reach the Relictombs were fleeing south. The rivers were clogged with sailing vessels, the roads with carts, and it was almost impossible to access a tempus warp with so many mages sick and exhausted.

    Seris knew this as well as I did, so this talk about returning to her estate was an obfuscation. I had experienced on many occasions just how prideful she could be. The rest of Alacrya’s leadership was dead or in hiding. She herself could have gone to the Relictombs or even to Dicathen, but she remained in Cargidan, ground zero for whatever these attacks were.

    Sometimes, when she didn’t realize anyone was watching, a strange, focused expression would come over her features, like a miner burrowing through rock or a scholar absorbed in a difficult text. She was thinking, theorizing, planning. To her, plotting from the safety of the Relictombs while those less fortunate continue to suffer here was weakness, not wisdom.
    I kicked a stone off the walkway. It bounced into an alley and startled a small scavenger mana beast, which screeched angrily and bolted away.

    The streets were nearly empty. I passed the occasional guard or unadorned servant running messages or errands for their bed-ridden masters, but it was a stark contrast to Cargidan’s usual bustle.

    That will be a problem soon as well, I acknowledge as I passed by an empty, shuttered grocer’s. Businesses were closed, industry ground to a halt. The distant farms that fed millions of city-dwelling Alacryans couldn’t reach us, or were hoarding their resources for their own small communities. The Relictombs was more insular, with enough industry on the first level to support its normal population. However, with so many escaping the pulses there, their resources would soon run thin as well, and they’d be forced to return to Alacrya or brave the deeper zones in search of resources.

    My thoughts continued to churn, cycling through the same worn channels, until I reached the Denoir estate. It was still standing, unchanged—well, perhaps a bit overgrown and unkempt, like a noble gone just a bit too long since their last haircut. As I stood at the unguarded front gate looking at it, though, I realized the truth: I didn’t want to be there.

    Corbett and Lenora had left. Lauden was gone. The blood was divided, shattered, at war with itself. “Just like the rest of Alacrya,” I muttered into the breeze.
    Instead of resting as I’d intended, I continued down the street, deciding to make a circuit of the city and dislodge my circuitous thoughts.

    My legs and brain were both tired when I finally ended up right back at the library, three hours later.

    After the chaos of organizing all the refugees and soldiers who returned from Dicathen, the handful of attendants and operatives under Seris’s command made the library feel even less alive than if it’d been empty. They paid me little mind as I marched tiredly through the library to the second-floor office I’d taken over.

    I unlocked the door, did a quick scan to ensure nothing was out of order, and then fell into the worn leather chair behind my borrowed desk. There, I sat for several minutes staring at nothing. My thoughts were finally, blessedly quiet.

    But the stillness didn’t last long. Anxiety—a subtle but invasive urge to do something—crept in like worms beneath my skin. Unlocking my desk, I reached for a certain scroll. I checked it several times a day, but it had been some time since it had last changed to show me anything except old messages.

    My pulse spiked as I saw new words scrawled across the surface.

    Excitement dulled to disappointment as I read the message Lyra Dreide had penned, which was then transmitted from her two-way scroll to my own across the vast distance between continents. Still no response from Arthur in Epheotus. It seemed unlikely that Arthur would be returning any time soon. We couldn’t even be certain he’d received our message, which had gone with the half-asura, Chul.

    That itself was an unnecessary, borderline foolish risk that I wouldn’t have taken, I caught myself thinking. I shook the thought off and continued reading.
    According to the note, tentative approval had been given for a small number of Alacryans to return to Dicathen, if we so wished. This was, Lyra made very clear, thanks to the work of Tessia Eralith. The Beast Corps, Dicathen’s new arsenal of mana-beast infused machines, was being relocated to Elenoir to set up additional long-ranged teleportation artifacts and oversee the process.

    I set down the scroll, letting it roll back up partially. This news was unexpected, and the timing was poor. There would likely be many Alacryans willing to return to the villages established between Dicathen’s Beast Glades and Elenoir, but we’d only just finished helping people leave Cargidan. For the moment, I was uncertain where to even start with this offer to relocate people yet again.

    “A lottery, perhaps. It sounds like we have some time to think about it, at least…” My voice was hollow and tired even to my own ears.

    My door suddenly opened, no knock proceeding it.

    “Talking to yourself now, girl?” a gruff voice said. “Not hearing voices in your head, I hope.”

    Alaric slumped in, looking as if he’d been blown in on the wind. Seris, holding the door, drifted into the office behind him. My mentor wore a simple, comfortable black dress that floated just off the floor, giving the impression that she herself hovered over the polished floorboards. No sign of her fatigue or distress showed in her mannerisms or features.

    I stood. “Alaric. You’re back.” My eyes jumped to Seris’s. “Were you successful?”

    “In a manner of speaking,” the aged ascender grumbled, dropping into a chair across the desk.
    Seris eased herself into a chair as well, perhaps the only sign of weakness she showed. “We have the key to the recording.” She slid the small piece of carved crystal across the desk to me. “We haven’t watched it yet.” Her gaze went pointedly toward a projection artifact sitting on my desk.

    My pulse raced as I loaded up the storage crystal and activated the projection. Alaric reached out and let his mana flow in a series of pulses that I recognized as a mana key.

    As we waited for the projection to display, I asked, “And what about the Instiller?”

    “Dead. Heart failure, poor bastard.” Alaric’s accompanying grunt didn’t exactly express a deep sense of sorrow. “At least he managed to give me the mana key sequence before he bit it.”

    I frowned but said nothing.

    An image of dense, endless stretch of forest was splashed onto a bare patch of wall. The angle of the recording artifact changed slightly as the small animated artifact adjusted its position. For a few seconds, nothing happened. An outside force caused a distortion in the visualized recording, and the bird-like artifact panned left.

    Several figures came into view, flying rapidly over the treetops. The distortion intensified, then the image normalized. The figures, eight in all, flashed past. The recording artifact leapt from its perch and followed. Four of the people appeared conscious, two flying ahead, two behind. The other four were horizontal, prone in the air, their bodies drifting on the wind between the others. I thought I recognized the four prone forms, but the angle was poor.

    “Well, this isn’t worth a shit,” Alaric grumped.
    “Quiet,” Seris ordered. Her voice was soft, but the tone of command was absolute.

    We watched the recording play out for a couple more minutes. The artifact banked up, taking a steeper angle to get above the small group, who were slowing down as they reached a place where the forest was all torn up. I recognized the broken pieces of a few devices similar to those Seris had used to freeze the Relictombs portals.

    It was then that we finally got a good look at each of the eight people.

    Prone between four asuras were Arthur, Sylvie, Cecilia—who we already knew had reverted to Tessia Eralith—and Agrona himself. The High Sovereign was unconscious, his head lolling even in this magically supported state. Seeing him like this made me deeply uncomfortable, and goosebumps roughened the skin of my arms.

    “Vritra’s hairy backside, it’s actually him,” Alaric said, his voice barely a moan under his breath.

    “Is that…?”

    “Kezess Indrath himself, yes,” Seris said in answer to my unfinished question. “With him are Charon Indrath, leader of the dragon forces previously occupying Dicathen; Windsom Indrath, his eyes and voice in our world; and this fourth dragon, the woman, must be Kezess’s wife, Myre, although I can’t confirm that with one hundred percent confidence.”

    As the recorded image continued, I focused on Kezess. He was much younger in appearance than I would have guessed, his features sharp and smooth. Bright blond hair hung down past his shoulders, tossed by the wind of their flight, and he was draped in rich white and gold cloth. I didn’t know what I’d expected, given the myth of his existence, but this…relatively ordinary man wasn’t it.

    A shimmering, distorted cleft appeared in the recording.

    “The opening to Epheotus,” Seris explained. “The artifact couldn’t capture it properly.”

    Kezess and Myre turned to look back at the land behind them. They exchanged a few words, but there was no sound, and the recording artifact was flying too high to even try to read their lips. Then they turned back around and floated forward, vanishing into the portal we couldn’t properly see. One by one, the rest of the group followed.

    The recording artifact flew several circles around the site, then banked and sped off in a different direction, likely to some predetermined extraction site.

    “Is it enough?” I asked, turning to my mentor. “It seems pretty clear to me. Kezess has Agrona. The other Sovereigns are all dead or missing, as are the Scythes. And the Wraiths have vanished. Alacrya is free of the Vritra clan.”

    “Enough to what?” Seris asked, although the words weren’t directed at me. Instead, she spoke into the air, then looked around as if hoping it might answer back. “Those capable of believing but holding out for proof will be convinced. There are others who will not be convinced by any evidence.” She shook her head as if clearing cobwebs. “Still, with more of the population assured that Agrona won’t be returning, we can take more concrete steps.”

    I knew what she meant. The Dominions were rudderless, broken apart into hundreds of small factions little better than city-states run by the ranking highbloods. Organization and leadership were needed now more than ever. Not for the first time, I found myself wishing that Seris would step up and claim the mantle. And yet, no matter how much I respected my mentor, I also knew that what Alacrya needed was to escape the old structure of governance, not replace one Vritra with another.

    Seris deactivated the projection and took out the storage crystal. After turning it over in her hand, she passed it off to Alaric. “See that everyone is made ready for the emergency broadcast. We won’t reach everywhere, not with the mess things are in, but we’ve prepared as best we can.”

    Alaric nodded as he stood. I caught the way his gaze lingered in one corner of the office. He hitched, freezing for a moment before clearing his throat. “On it. Everyone’s ready.”

    The old ascender shot me a tired wink, then left us. I watched him go with both curiosity and concern, but whatever demons he was battling were his own.
    Seris and I sat in silence for a minute, maybe two. It was difficult to think about time when the rest of my brain was so bloated with thoughts, some relevant, others far less so.

    It was my mentor who broke the silence. “You’ve done well, Caera. If I haven’t already said it, I want you to know. You’ve handled this transition, these people, as well as could be done.”

    I bit my cheek as I looked up from the desk to meet her eyes. She had one elbow leaning on the armrest of her chair, her cheek resting in her hand. She seemed… smaller, somehow. Not diminished, exactly, but more normal than usual. More real, I acknowledged to myself. I used to look up to her as something other, but we’ve been too much together for me to still see her as some kind of deity. Aloud, I said only, “Thank you, Lady Seris.”

    “I realize that I’m not exactly good with people,” Seris continued. Her gaze shifted, focusing on the middle distance. “I see problems and solutions. Life is a series of actions taken to result in a specific outcome. People become tasks, or obstacles. Tools to be used.”

    A frown darkened my face as I tried to understand what she was telling me, and why. “People rarely like being used as tools.”

    “No they do not.” Her gaze remained unfocused, but her brows pinched together, a fine line appearing between them. Her lips pressed together into a pale line. “You are different. You see the needs of the individual within the larger picture. The trees within the forest, so to speak.”

    “I…” I hesitated, swallowing and fidgeting with the half-rolled scroll on my desk. “Thank you?” I repeated, not meaning for the words to come out as a question.
    Seris nodded slightly, not looking at me. “Alacrya is in more danger now than it has yet been. For all their faults, our asuran leaders, the remnants of the Vritra clan of basilisks, protected us from others, if not from themselves. Now we are fractured and exposed. Our mages are weak, our populace terrified.”

    I leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest.

    “Which is why you should be in the Relictombs, regaining your strength and avoiding the continued mana-draining pulses.”

    “You assume there will be more.”

    I gave my mentor a wry smile. “Don’t play coy with me. With that much mana being drawn? Something that requires an incredible amount of power has been activated in the Basilisk Fang Mountains, probably in Taegrin Caelum itself. The terrified populace you mentioned has been turned into a battery. Do you know what it is for?”

    I didn’t really mean to ask this final question. I always expected Seris to know more than she told me. To compartmentalize and obfuscate was her way. It had allowed her to make it this far and kept her—and by extension those like myself who followed her—alive this long. I was confident she had some deeper understanding of these pulses, and I wouldn’t normally have pushed for more than she wanted to tell me.

    But I was tired. And I was afraid.

    She looked me in the eyes and held my gaze, suddenly steel again, no longer small but like a star blazing before me. “No, but I do know other things. Agrona is thousands of years old, maybe tens of thousands. He has the sharpest, most devious mind of any living being I’ve ever met. I’ve never witnessed him put himself in danger.”

    I understood what she couldn’t bring herself to say out loud. Agrona’s defeat was so sudden and complete, without even a fight, really. It’s difficult for an old soldier like Seris to accept.

    I stood and walked to the window behind my desk, looking down on the western lawn of the library. It was empty, and where it wasn’t overgrown the landscape had been crushed beneath tents and sleeping cots, or churned by the hundreds of refugees who had passed through it over these last days.

    I had to wet my lips to speak, and it took conscious effort to keep my voice from quivering. “Arthur gave us this chance. Even if he can’t be here now, he’s defending us from Epheotus, I have no doubt of that. We can’t cling to the fear of our own past. We have to look toward a future that we get to create.”

    Seris’s smile was almost audible, making me turn around to face her. “Like I said, you are different. We will need—”

    The door opened without a knock, and Alaric stumped back in. “All set. It’ll go out to the entire continent, much as is reachable anyway, right now. Tomorrow, it’ll replay at a different time, and then every day after that as is needed. Won’t be without pushback, I’m sure, but…” He shrugged, then flopped back into the open chair.

    I reactivated the projection device. It would immediately pick up the emergency broadcast when it started.

    It didn’t take long. The image shifted, showing the forests of the Beast Glades. The image was frozen and distorted.

    A voice issued through the telepathic field created by the projection artifact. ‘People of Alacrya. High Sovereign Agrona Vritra has been defeated. Alacrya is free.’ That was it. A simple message to startle and draw attention. A different one would be issued on the following day, with the message to be updated and become more involved and complex as time went on, adjusting the message to the response. We’d been prepared for this step before we even knew what the recording would show.

    Again, I watched as Agrona, Arthur, and the others were drawn along by Kezess and his dragons. The image seemed to slow and focus on Agrona when he first appeared, making it easier to tell it was him. The recording artifact took flight and followed, the sequence sped up to reach the final destination more quickly.
    Then it slowed again when the perspective allowed a better look at Agrona. There was no escaping that Arthur was a part of the picture, but his presence would be explained in further messaging.

    The distortion of the rift rippled through the picture, and Kezess and Myre melted away into it. Agrona’s body approached, and—

    The image froze. I flinched as a static humming issued directly into my head through the telepathic field. The distortion of the unrecordable portal began to spread across the image, like a piece of parchment on fire, turning black in the middle. Soon the entire picture was black and empty.

    “Damned, what have those idiots—” Alaric’s words were cut off as another voice entered our minds.
    My eyes widened, and I turned sharply toward Seris. Her hands were steepled in front of her lips, her nostrils flared, pupils dilated.

    “My people of Alacrya,” the unctuous baritone said from the darkness.
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      + 10 -
      That is craaaazyyyyy
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  2. Offline
    + 00 -
    quiet ...
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