Ar'Kendrithyst

Chapter 135, 1/2

Chapter 135, 1/2

Erick stepped out of the light, down onto the stone courtyard of Tenebrae’s Castle, along with Jane, Poi, and Teressa.

The door to Tenebrae’s tower, on the other side of the courtyard, closed. Tenebrae had just vanished inside, along with a Rocky.

Ophelia was nowhere to be seen. Erick did not expect to see her here after what she had said, but newly sapient [Familiar]s were not something he had ever dealt with before. She could have been here. Jane was certainly a handful sometimes when she was younger, and though harsh words went back and forth sometimes, he would still have wanted to see her. Whatever the case, Ophelia was not there in the courtyard and Erick had no idea where she had gone, but news of what Ophelia had done was here, for sure.

Rockys stepped outside of their houses, concern in their posture, if not their stone-solid faces. And then the cafeteria door slammed open. Palodia rushed out, straight for Tenebrae’s tower— She stopped as she saw Erick and everyone else.

“What happened!” she demanded, her voice frail.

Rockys, who had been avoiding Erick and his people since they moved into the guest house, all turned toward Erick, with more coming out of their houses as stressful moments piled onto each other. Some went right for Tenebrae’s tower, completely avoiding whatever talk was happening in the courtyard.

Erick spoke, “A Rocky interrupted the expedition with a bit of trickery which indicates a conspiracy of some sort that involved multiple Rockys, but after she transformed into a fully unique soul and took the name Ophelia, she denounced Tenebrae because she couldn’t stand to watch him die. She left. Tenebrae is not taking it well.”

Gasps echoed around the courtyard. Immediately, several Rockys turned toward two Rockys in particular, their near-expressionless faces gaining hateful accents. Palodia went blank for a long moment, looking out past Erick at nothing in particular.

Palodia spat, “Shit! Dammit.” She scowled. She turned and eyed one of the Rockys who everyone else was looking at; the one on the staircase leading to the walls. “Volcanus. Who did this? Was it Igma?”

Most every Rocky looked more or less the same. There was variation on a theme, for sure, but picking out one Rocky from another would be like picking out an Ophiel from another; impossible. The Rocky that Palodia and everyone else looked at, however, had dark stone eyes that were almost black. It was the barest nod to individuality.

Oh. And this had been the Rocky who Erick first saw when he intruded upon the Castle, days ago, back when it was flying near the Firemaw. This was the one who had overheard Erick talk about Redarrow’s prediction.

Volcanus said, “Igma apparently made her choice of name and residence. Ophelia is cut off from the Estate.”

Palodia said, “Dammit! Ig— Ophelia— That bitch really had to pick that name, huh? She just had to be as much of a cunt as she could have—” She stopped herself. “Fine. Ophelia can deal with the loss of her ability to see her father on her own.” She ignored everyone and went straight for Tenebrae’s tower, muttering, “I can’t believe she did that. Of all the fool—” She tried the latch.

It was locked.

She scowled, flickered with red light, and the door swung open. She rushed inside. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving the courtyard in silence once again.

Volcanus drew everyone’s attention as he spoke to all, “Master Tenebrae is now indisposed. It is our duty to prepare to receive our Seniors. They will likely show in the next few hours.” He stepped down the staircase and into the courtyard, moving toward Erick.

Other Rockys began moving in a quick rush throughout the Estate, toward destinations and purposes that Erick could only guess at. Events seemed to be happening rather fast, and Erick felt something like an outsider.

Volcanus walked up to Erick. He said, “We of Tenebrae’s Estate apologize on our Master’s behalf, Archmage Flatt. He will likely not be able to receive you or venture into the Green Labyrinth for the foreseeable future. At least a week. We will gratefully host you during this time, or, you can leave, and venture forth on your own. Or… Master Tenebrae has authorized me to hand over copies of his own [Gate] research. He authorized this yesterday, in case the worst should happen. Thankfully, all that happened was a major fright. Do you wish for this option?”

Erick’s eyebrows rose. He said, “No— I mean. Yeah. I’ll look at notes, but if he’s not there to help me with them, then I know I won’t get far— Is he going to be okay? He did not look good.”

Other Rockys paused in the courtyard as Volcanus and Erick spoke. Volcanus noticed, and swished a hand at them. They took off again, headed toward wherever it was they were going, to do whatever it was they were doing.

Some Rocky came out of a house with a white carpet, and laid it out on the ground outside of the door to a house across the courtyard from Erick’s guesthouse. A hole opened up in the courtyard, and a pair of Rockys came up the unseen-until-now staircase, carrying a mattress made of white stone.

They were... decorating?

Volcanus continued, “Master Tenebrae has occasionally had bouts like this over his long life, but he has come back from them before, and he will again. He is not that old, yet. But if you do not wish to wait, then we will wish you good luck. As for now, we will be moving the Estate into safer territory while he convalesces.”

“You all want to leave the Green Labyrinth?” Erick said, “No. Can we not do that? I’m not ready to move on and I don’t think Tenebrae would either. Is protection a problem? I can have Ophiel patrol if needed.”

Volcanus smiled, a little. “I am in charge of defense when problems arise, and Master falling ill is one of them. I am attempting to solve possible problems as fast as I am able. I apologize for the quick pace.”

“That’s not a problem.” Erick was keeping up, just fine.

Volcanus nodded. “Then, I will accept your offer of the protection of the Estate on my Master’s behalf. I know he would not want us to move you from your Path unless absolutely necessary, and so your offer will likely bring him comfort while he recovers. Thank you. We will merely move the Estate higher into the sky, then, after—”

A thrum vibrated the courtyard, right before the air in front of the tree shimmered with purple light.

Volcanus turned toward the shimmer, saying, “Right after the Seniors show, for you can’t [Gate] into a moving location.”

The purple shimmer in the air opened, like mist separating. A [Gate] appeared, leading to another courtyard, in another place, where the stars shone in the sky and wardlights illuminated a small gathering of stone people. Seven stood out in the open, but more watched from behind pillars, or from elsewhere in the illuminated space.

Three of the stone people stepped forward, through the purple portal. The magic shut behind them.

The first was a woman of black stone, and thick like she had eaten well her whole life. The second was a man of grey, thin to the point of appearing breakable. Both of them wore their own stone flesh like it was thin clothes; pants and shirts and shoes, but nothing too fancy. The last person out of the [Gate] was a Rocky who wore clothes, with flesh fully animated, unlike the other Rockys all around who looked more like broken stone statues.

None of them wore happy expressions.

‘Rocky’ stepped down into the courtyard, saw Volcanus, and asked, “Where is he?”

“Tower,” Volcanus said, not wasting time.

Two of the newcomers rushed toward the tower. ‘Rocky’ flickered with white light as the grey one reached the handle. The grey one opened the door both he and ‘Rocky’ vanished into the tower.

The black one remained behind. She asked Volcanus, but eyed Erick, “How bad was it?”

Volcanus said to Erick, “I apologize for asking this rude question, but could you please make yourself scarce? I must deal with family matters, now.”

Erick said, “I will, if there is nothing I can do for him, or for the Estate, or anything else.”

The black one asked, “Do you know immortality magics? Full body restorations? Any of that? [True Restoration].”

Erick would have taken those words as sarcasm from anyone else, but the black rock woman sounded completely sincere. Erick said, “I do not. Sorry.”

The woman nodded. She turned to Volcanus. “Do we need to find a lawbreaker for [Polymorph] extensions? I can get one, tonight. Eidolon has jailfulls.”

Volcanus said, “No.”

Erick walked away, into the guesthouse, feeling like someone who was escaping from a series of unfortunate events.

Jane was already inside the house, waiting for him, but Teressa and Poi had only abandoned the courtyard when Erick did. He shut the door behind him, while Volcanus and the black rock woman argued about bodies and magics. ‘Messalina, the Life Binder,’ got rapidly offered; the black rock woman would search for and find the woman if it was necessary. Volcanus denied the necessity of such a drastic action.

… And Erick sent out some Ophiels to patrol the air outside of the Castle, while everything changed inside the Castle walls, and Erick tried not to listen in on the various conversations happening right outside his temporary residence.

Erick went to his stacks of books and picked one out, trying to take his mind off of what he was hearing outside, through his patrolling Ophiels who were both on the Castle walls, and in the air beyond. He felt his stomach sink as he could not help but listen.

Jane came right up to him, asking, “Is that Rocky out there the original, you think?”

“Yes. He is.” Erick said, “I can hear some of them speaking of a few things, and that is what someone said out there. He calls himself Rock, now. The black one is Obsidia. The grey one is Slate. They’re the Seniors; some of the first Rockys to become their own person over the years. There’s a lot of them living in Eidolon, down in continental Nergal.” He said, “Volcanus lied about Tenebrae being okay. He might not make it.”

Jane paled.

Erick continued, “Heart failure. Stress. Circumstances. Rock gated in some doctors from somewhere not a minute ago. Imperial doctors.”

Wide-eyed, Jane sat down on a conjured chair next to her father. She picked up a book, and read next to him for a while, also trying to take her mind off of what was happening outside.

- - - -

There was a knock on the door.

Erick briefly panicked, assuming the worst possible news.

He rushed the door, answering it quickly.

A normal, mostly-put-together Rocky handed him a delivery of tomes and wardlights. Erick asked after Tenebrae. Tenebrae was okay. Tenebrae was stable. Tenebrae was okay. The Rocky repeated himself. Erick knew he was lying.

But what could Erick do? Nothing. And so, he read, while the Rockys of the Estate and the Seniors who had come before all walked around the courtyard, or stared at the door to Tenebrae’s tower, or sat in the shadows to the side, waiting for news. Erick could not help but overhear their small, deep conversations, or their names, or what they thought of Ophelia, while a part of him oversaw the whole event through Ophiel’s eyes.

Erick focused on the books before him.

The tomes were the work of decades of attempts at [Gate], and only a small portion of those notes were from the Gates of the Green Labyrinth. Everything else came from the demon and the angel of Oceanside, and various immortals around the world, and other archmages, and everyone who he could ever track down who had completed the Worldly Path.

That last one sunk Erick’s heart; Tenebrae had never found anyone who had managed to complete the Path in the correct way. Everyone either paid the 10 points, or gave up. Apparently, people in ages past had completed the Worldly Path, but no one had completed it in recent memory.

- - - -

Another knock came from the front door. Hours had passed. Erick rapidly answered the caller as Jane came up right behind him, eager to see who was on the other side.

Rock stood on the other side, looking well-put-together, but that could mean anything. Erick felt a twist in his chest.

Erick asked, “Is Tenebrae…?”

Rock said, “He’s not okay, but he will live for at least 20 more years—”

Erick felt a tension leave his gut, and his shoulders. He sighed.

“—if he never has another scare like that.” Rock looked at Erick, as though waiting for confirmation of an unsaid understanding.

Erick said, “And you don’t want him to continue, but he wants to continue.”

Rock nodded. “That is correct.”

Erick’s curiosity got the better of him. He asked, “Why was what happened so traumatic, if you don’t mind me asking? Was it something I did? Was it something Ophelia did? Feel free to tell me off; that I have overstepped.”

Moments passed, as Rock seemed to weigh some ineffable thing, then he said, “I will answer, because he will answer this without you asking, and he will lie, and more problems may arise from his lies, as they usually do.” He paused. He said, “The only variety Tenebrae likes is in his food. Everything else reminds him of what he has lost. So when Ophelia did what she did…” Rage. And then, not so much rage. Rock calmed himself, then continued, “Tenebrae summons as many ‘Rockys’ as he needs, all the time, and while we all originally belong to the same hive mind, that same hive mind crystallizes all the time into new, individualized lives. When we do differentiate, we try to do so out of sight. Ophelia did not. Thus… Today’s issue. Tenebrae’s issues. It came together to give him several heart strikes.” He added, “In case you haven’t noticed, Tenebrae is a rather emotionally stunted, angry man. It is… a problem.”

Erick was polite, “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Haaa.” Rock sighed, then he asked, “Will you please leave him behind while you journey into the Labyrinth?”

“I will have to talk to him about that.” Erick said, “But Redarrow didn’t say that it was a sure thing that Tenebrae would die if he came along.”

Rock glared, but then softened. “If Redarrow even hinted at the possibility that my father could die, then I must ask you again to please take the old man’s wellbeing into consideration, even when he will not, and leave him behind. He is too old to go chasing fantasies anymore. He had four children who could cast [Gate]. Any of us will be here for him and be personal [Gate] mages, if he wants. But please. I ask you: Leave our father out of this fantasy.”

Their father. Ah. It’s like that.

Erick felt warmth in his chest.

“Can I see him?” Erick asked.

“Yes.” Rock said, “That is why I came down. To talk to you and tell you what everyone else wants, what father wants, and to ask you to do the right thing. Will you see him, now?”

Erick agreed, leaving behind Jane and Teressa, but took along Poi.

The courtyard had changed while Erick had been holed up in his rooms. Carpets of all colors and wardpaints of all kinds had dressed up the courtyard into something that Erick did not recognize, but the main colors were tans and whites. Reds, yellow, blues; these were accents here and there, except for on the roofs, where they had been fully wardpainted into pastel colors.

From inside, the place looked a lot nicer. From above, the place looked like a rainbow village on an Italian coast. The castle looked wonderful.

Erick instantly knew that Tenebrae would hate it, for sure, otherwise it would have looked like this all the time.

They followed Rock through the door into Tenebrae’s tower, into a place full of trinkets and paintings and books and carpets and lush wood. A staircase wound upward, and the three of them took it, passing reading rooms and drawing rooms and libraries. One floor had closed doors, each of which had a space for a nameplate on them, but each nameplate was empty, except for one, labeled ‘Rocky’; it was the only one open. Obsidia sat on a stone bed inside. She looked up as Erick passed by.

The next floor was a living space with a kitchenette and assorted furniture. The next floor held one room, with a door between it and the staircase. The door was open. Slate was inside, next to Palodia. Both of them stood on one side of a large bed. A dragonkin stood on the other side, speaking of medicine and gesturing toward bottles, laid out on a dresser.

Tenebrae laid in his bed, surrounded and buoyed by pillows and under the covers, looking sickly, with bags under his closed eyes and sweat upon his forehead.

Rock moved into the room and was acknowledged by everyone, but the doctor kept talking of medicine regimes to Palodia and Slate. Erick stepped in, but remained to the side, exactly like Poi usually did. Poi stepped in and stood beside Erick.

The doctor finished his instructions, and asked, “Any questions?”

Palodia said, “No sir. Everything is understood and we even have the notes. Thank you for responding so fast.”

The dragonkin said, “I’m glad I could help. If not for Archmage Tenebrae… It would have been bad. We would have lost an entire city to those Rivergrieves. He’s a great man. I hope he gets better.” He looked toward Rock. “Now I’d hate to be pushy, but we are in the middle of a battle and Tenebrae is fine. Can I get that [Gate] back, now?”

Rock lifted his hand. A purple-rimmed [Gate] appeared. A throne room appeared on the other side. A man on the throne threw his hands up in relief, shouting about how it took them long enough. Rock said, “Thank you for your assistance, Grand Alchemist Irikilo.”

Tenebrae opened his eyes.

Irikilo looked down on Tenebrae, and said, “You’re in good hands, Archmage. Get better! Bed rest for a while. Doctor’s orders!”

Tenebrae grumbled in annoyance, then closed his eyes again.

Irikilo nodded, then walked through the [Gate]. It closed behind him.

Tenebrae’s voice was weak, as he asked, “All clear?”

Slate said, “Clear. All medicines are what they appear to be. He was truthful. No soul problems, either.” He spoke down to Tenebrae. “You should get better, if you follow his orders.”

“I will make him follow the doctor’s orders,” Palodia declared.

Tenebrae scowled, his eyes still closed, and said, “Bastard has the gall to charge me that much money, I should damned well get better, or I should go and destroy those towns that I saved.”

Rock said, “None of that, please. Besides: Erick is here.”

Tenebrae breathed deep. He opened one eye, lifted up his head, and peered at Erick.

Erick waved. “Hello.”

Tenebrae’s eye snapped shut as he laid back onto his pillows. “Bah. Stupid. I swear, I am not this feeble! Ophelia just surprised me, because...” His voice trailed off, then came back as he asked, “Did you understand all my notes yet? I’m not going to die without learning [Gate]! So if you have learned it already, maybe don’t break this old man’s psyche until next week!”

Erick tried to lighten the sudden dark mood by saying, “I’ve got some better theories than I had before, but nothing too solid; I’ve only had them for a few hours, after all. You’re still necessary, Tenebrae, for who else would I astound with my ability at magic if you die? Everyone else is already accustomed.”

While everyone else in the room winced, Tenebrae laughed.

“Ha!” Tenebrae smiled, and said, “Idiot-savant planar-archmage. Can’t enchant a gods-damned Grand [Prestidigitation] Stove, yet expecting to make a Gate in his first year on this planet! Ha.” He sighed, then said, “I feel better now—”

He tried to get up, but Palodia and Slate were right there, gently nudging him back to horizontal, saying that the doctor ordered bed rest.

Tenebrae said, “Well I gotta shit! You want me to shit the bed?”

“That’s why the gods made [Cleanse].” Palodia glared, and without a single hint of amusement in her voice, said, “Shit the bed.”

“Dammit.” Tenebrae said, “At least help me put the pillows behind my head. I need to talk to Erick.”

Rock said, “Erick cannot stay long because you need to sleep.”

Slate helped to put a small pillow behind Tenebrae’s head.

Erick stood at the foot of his bed.

“This is a minor setback. I am not this old. 90 is not that old. I am fine. But my Rockys are overprotective.” Tenebrae eyed Erick, saying, “We are still going into that Labyrinth, you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“Read my notes if you have to do something. Or whatever. You’re not leaving me behind when you go in there, understood? I don’t trust you in that place yet! It’s dangerous.”

Rock, Slate, and Palodia frowned.

Erick said, “I understand.”

Tenebrae’s voice turned harder, “This is my life’s dream. I don’t have many of them left, and you’re not going to take this from me without my direct consent. Don’t fuck with the dragons. Don’t explore there. Wait for me to get better.”

Erick said, “I’m on vacation, Tenebrae. Relaxing with magic books seems wonderful.”

Tenebrae sighed out as he smiled wide. He closed his eyes, saying, “Good. Now someone take this pillow out from behind my neck—” Slate removed the pillow. Tenebrae muttered, “I’m not going to be comfortable for days, am I.”

“Nope.” Palodia said, “Ready for sleep? It’s time for sleep. Slate is going to watch over you. Then it's Obsidia’s shift. Rock and Volcanus have the night shift.”

Tenebrae muttered, “Stupid rock names. Why did you idiots all pick rock names. I swear, it’s to torture me because I was so unoriginal…” His voice trailed off.

Rock gestured Erick toward the door, then walked that way. Erick and Poi followed Rock down the stairs. A sudden argument exploded back in Tenebrae’s room as the old archmage quarreled with Palodia and Slate about his healthcare needs. Erick heard something about Shaped [Cleanse].

Tenebrae’s voice carried far, “You want me to get rads, woman? I oughta write you out of my will! I will not shit my bed!”

“You will if you have to! If it weren’t for the potions you couldn’t even talk!” Palodia declared, “We’ll just have to deny you those potions then, won’t we? I’ll get much better compliance out of you if you’re weaker than a mouse!”

Tenebrae protested—

Rock stopped at the drawing room, rounding on Erick, bringing him back to the moment as he demanded, “Are you going to let him follow you into the Labyrinth?”

Erick’s plan had been smashed from a direction he hadn’t even considered. But Rock’s words lit a discordant flame in Erick’s heart.

‘Let him’?

What trash! Erick was following Tenebrae along paths the old archmage had charted long ago, and he was thankful for that help! And what was this, now coming from Rock, except for an attempt to control Tenebrae’s freedoms?

Now, obviously, Erick understood that Tenebrae probably shouldn’t be running around in a Twisted Vision full of hidden dragons and assorted [Gate]s, but—

Trying not to let his anger into his voice, Erick said, “I am going to honor his wishes, and you should do the same. It is not right for you to take away his dreams.” He offered, “Or! You have a week to get him to change his mind. Maybe this is just what he needs to realize he shouldn’t be doing something like this anymore. Redarrow spoke of that possibility, too.”

Rock demanded, “What were Redarrow’s words, exactly? Did you write them down?”

“No need to write them down. I remember them just fine.” Erick recalled, “They were… ‘If Tenebrae accompanies you, he will die. If he does not, others will die. Hmm. What is the value of a life? A pinprick of light upon the background of reality? A beacon in the darkness; a lighthouse, perhaps. What is the value of a life, when comparing bonfires to candles? All of that is barely-there misty Fate. Choose as you will and already have. Maybe Tenebrae will simply be humbled. Maybe everyone will live. The chances of either are rather low. But! What I see does not always come to pass, while what comes to pass, is always seen before it arrives.’ And that was all of that.” Erick added, “Except… Redarrow did have to revise his conversation with me a hundred times, and he still failed to predict everything that I would ask of him.”

Rock glared, but his stony facade softened when Erick spoke of humbling, and that ‘everyone might live’. He said, “That’s not as bad as I was led to believe... And yet...” He gestured toward the staircase, saying, “Please find your own way to the guesthouse. I must think.”

Erick said, “I’m sorry for that episode, or whatever it was. I never expected… Ophelia.”

Rock turned away, sighing. Silent.

Erick and Poi left Tenebrae’s tower and made their way back to the guest house, through the decorated courtyard.

- - - -

Flying through the cold air, high above the Forest, Ophiel dissuaded many different attackers from approaching the Castle. Flocks of man-eater birds. Sky serpents that moved like flying snakes. Forest couatls, which were almost like flying snakes, but with feathers. Small attackers couldn’t get past the [Air Shield], but the larger ones could… if Ophiel hadn’t been there. Mostly, he used [Merciful Suffocation], dealing large amounts of damage every time the animal attackers breathed. Erick tried the same defensive measures against monsters, but monsters just enraged when they found out their prey fought back.

And so, sliced up monstrous attackers fell down, down, down to the Forest, after they failed to navigate the molecular wires of [Hermetic Shredder]. Occasionally, notifications for brand new monsters would ping in Erick’s view. Skyborn Owls. Airfrost Elementals. Snakes. Variant couatls. A ballooning spider! How weird. Weren’t those all gone? Apparently not.

Even more elementals.

There were a lot more high-flying monsters out there than Erick had ever known.

At dinner time, a knock came from the door to the guest rooms. A Rocky delivered sandwiches and soup that Palodia had made; there would be no communal dinner this night. Maybe tomorrow.

- - - -

An undulating not-couatl blipped into the night sky between the city of Spur, and the Dead City, Ar’Kendrithyst. Her name was Sunny. A second Sunny blipped in beside the first. Both were bright green and glowing brighter. The clouded sky turned darker as roiling moisture hid the moons, and the stars. The [Familiar]s were preparing for what was to come.

It appeared, exactly as usual.

Above the walls of Ar’Kendrithyst, where purple and red light played in the night, a darkness swelled, like a rising tide. The crystal lights of the Dead City dimmed as a new type of monster lifted beyond the walls, preparing to crash over the edge.

A new type of monster. A tide of shadows.

It swelled up, and then over, falling like a sudden river, over the wall, to the sands below. Like an ooze, too big to be believed, it crashed over the wall, and Ar’Kendrithyst was brighter for its absence.

No one really knew what the new monster was, only that it was dangerous. The powers of Spur had named it the Dark Tide, but if it had an actual, Script-appointed name, Kiri had not found it out. No one had. For the damned thing didn’t seem killable.

The great shadow ooze crawled across the orange desert, swallowing all life as it passed. The few Crystal Mimics that had repopulated the space between Spur and the Dead City during the day were swallowed in the Dark Tide’s passing. They were nothing more than tiny morsels of meat and magic that added to its bulk, like drops of rain adding to a kilometers-wide sudden sea that spread out and forward.

Some, who heard the stories coming out of Spur, were calling the new monster a whole lot of slimes. Most were calling it a new type of ooze. The people who actually fought the phenomenon had no real designation for the beast, whatever it was, but they did not call it a slime, for the Dark Tide had no core; Kiri and everyone else on duty tonight had checked for that many times. It could have been an ooze, but… no. That was too fantastical. An ooze this size would destroy civilization, and an ooze this size would not be so ‘easily’ beaten back, each night.

Lightning flickered overhead.

And then the storm unleashed.

Rain fell; a sudden onslaught of water, turning the sands to wet mud. Lightning flashed down, striking the Dark Tide where it flickered throughout the whole intact mass like the undulating shadows were some dark reflection of the skies overhead.

Where lightning crawled, shadows evaporated.

Where shadows crawled, they ripped past stone walls set up in the daytime, like concentric rings between Spur and the Dead City, put there by the defenders in order to give the Dark Tide pause, and themselves a bit more time to fight. The Dark Tide paused, yes, but it crashed through those walls, just the same.

More lightning came. More of the Dark Tide evaporated in sudden bursts of liquid shadows becoming gloom, becoming air, becoming nothing.

More Sunnys took to the sky. Lightning fell every second. Kiri dismantled most of the ‘ooze’, but not all of it. Smaller pools of liquid shadows, separated from the whole, made it closer to Spur, and that’s why people did not think this monster was an ooze. When oozes got pieces chopped off of them, usually those separate pieces just died. Sure, they might have fought on for a while, but they did die. These separate pieces just kept fighting.

Of course, then people were quick to point out that some species of ooze would separate into individual killers if the parent was split into pieces. No one liked hearing those people talk.

And besides! These pools of shadows were easy to kill. Oozes were not this easy to kill.

As the smaller pools of shadows came for Spur, other people took over, where Kiri left off.

For half an hour, lightning turned the night into day and booms echoed across the desert, while fields of fire, ice, and decay, all tinged with Light, burned, froze, and melted the smaller pools of shadows.

But not everyone had someone like Kiri on their side, and Kiri was herself just filling in for the archmages who wanted breaks.

In the morning, the people of Spur would hear that Frontier had fallen, but that came as no surprise for Frontier had almost fallen yesterday. They had already evacuated all non-essential personnel the night before. They had been planning to try some new tactics to combat the Dark Tide, but obviously, those new tactics did not work. The real problem was that Frontier hadn’t had an archmage in years, and thus, they fell.

Shadows almost took Kal’Duresh the day before that, but the incani city had somehow gotten the Poison Archmage, Orenza, to come to town. 50-kilometer wide fields of glowing orange mist did wonders against the Dark Tide. Kal’Duresh would last for a while, or until they made Orenza unhappy. From what people were hearing, keeping the Poison Archmage happy was a difficult task.

At least the Dark Tide could not survive under the sun. It could not survive under any bright light. It could not make it to any other cities of the Crystal Forest before the sun would come up the next day.

Too bad it usually stayed in the Lower Reaches of Ar’Kendrithyst, until the sun set.

The Brightwater might have been a part of those Lower Reaches, but it was still filled with brightness and Light, so this helped the people of the Brightwater to ward off the Dark Tide, but it was not a perfect defense.

As the sun crested over the walls of Ar’Kendrithyst, a Sunny popped into the air above the Brightwater to see what damage had been done by the night’s battles. What Kiri saw was what she expected to see.

The Dark Tide had captured another kilometer of the white crystals surrounding the place. Just a single kilometer of the edge. Deeper in some places. Shallower in others. The frantic actions of the people and shadelings there had done much to prevent an overrun in the middle of the night, but they were losing ground. Eventually…

Well. The fate of the Brightwater was obvious to anyone with eyes to see.

Kiri moved Sunny along.

She watched as the agents of Frontier, who had lost their city the night before, decided to make sure that the people of the Brightwater lost their homes, too. As daylight came upon the world, yet another assault began on the last remaining brightness of Ar’Kendrithyst.

Kiri sent her Sunnys around, checking on certain parts of the defense of Spur that needed checking.

One place that didn’t need checking was Forward Base. It had fallen to the Dark Tide at the Dark Tide’s first appearance, and was now nothing more than rubble scattered in the air of the Middle Reaches. No one knew where the liquid shadows came from, exactly, but there were a lot of fingers pointed at the Brightwater, which, to be fair, might have been responsible for the Dark Tide. Shades and their whole society had been responsible for a lot of evil in the world, after all.

Silverite was in talks with the people of the Brightwater, though, and news was that the Brightwater was saying that they had nothing to do with the Dark Tide.

Which. Again. Lies, probably.

We were talking about Shades and their ilk, here.

Except, that the Dark Tide did attack the Brightwater from every direction, every night; that much was true, for sure. Kiri had even seen as much.

Kiri didn’t know much about all that, though. Not really. Whatever rumors came around were rather baseless, as was the nature of such things. All she knew, for sure, was that the Shade known as the Professor, the Chancellor of Truedark, and also just ‘Farix’, had publicly announced that the Brightwater was not responsible for the Dark Tide, using the walls of Ar’Kendrithyst to speak that ‘truth’ to everyone both inside and outside the city, and to also ask for people to ‘please stop trying to kill him’.

He had actually said ‘please’, too!

Unheard of.

There had been many attempts on his life, apparently, but all those who tried to attack him left those encounters with no memories of what had happened, except of Farix saying he was sorry, and that he was trying to do better, and ‘would you like to work with us and help us do better?’. A [Cleanse] had fixed whatever fuckery was going on with the assassins Farix had released, but after such a [Cleanse], all memories of their attempted assassinations were completely gone, from the time of their departures for their mission, to the point when they were [Cleanse]d and in the middle of debriefing.

Kiri flew Sunny across the lands between Spur and Ar’Kendrithyst, watching as broken walls were rebuilt and the killing fields were repaired for easier killing, for tomorrow’s battle. The sun had risen hours ago, and the land was almost reset for tomorrow. Kiri came back to herself and yawned, as she finalized the details in her nightly report and signed her name. She handed the report to Sunny, then Sunny blipped over to Quartermaster Liquid’s office in the Courthouse and deposited the report into a small box made for such. Hers was the fourth such report to arrive.

Kiri hadn’t done much physical action in the last week, but she had cast more magic than she ever had before. Scion of Focus was the best.

She had wanted to read a little before sleeping, but that plan failed as soon as she tucked herself in and her head hit the pillow. She gave one final glance, through Sunny, to a bastion of defense located in Ar’Kendrithyst that had failed to fall in the middle of the night, and that had actually expanded since last she looked.

… It looked fine, still.

Kiri slept.

- - - -

Anhelia stood resplendent upon a rose-pink crystal skyroad, while lavender glows reached up from far below, and the bright yellow sun crested the walls of Ar’Kendrithyst, bringing even more light to her little slice of eventual-heaven. Crystal towers loomed behind her, with nary a single shadow in a single crystal depth. From the roof of the Dead City, all the way down to the Lower Reaches, she and her family had carved away the darkness from seven different towers. A tower a day, so far! One of those towers was more special than the rest, though.

Anhelia started her conquest by aiming for the rivers, or rather one river in particular. River Tower North was hers. But for all the logistical power that the River Tower represented, with its gardens and defensible fortifications and living quarters, it was only one third of the original river system of the dead city of Kendrithyst.

Over a millennium ago, back when Ar’Kendrithyst was still under the ground and wrought walked these roads, and lived in this land, a three-part river had flowed throughout the entire mega-metropolis. It was known as the Vital. The Vital hadn’t been called by its true name in a long time, but eventually, it would be called that again.

Surrounded by cleansed towers and purified itself, the river tower drew dark water up from the deep depths, then Anhelia’s magics went to work. Bright with power and anathema to all shadows, [Cleanse]d and Light-Altered water cascaded down onto crystal washways and aqueducts. That water churned with purifying power as it moved through pipes and flowed in the open air, banishing all shadows that got too close to its cleansed brilliance. This single River Tower, properly adjusted, as Anhelia had done, would push back the dark. It would enforce a new status quo upon the Dead City.

It would bring Ar’Kendrithyst back from the dead, eventually.

It was all a part of the plan. And what a plan it was!

All the threats around them, from the monsters both old and new, and the unknown threat of the Dark Tide impinging on their borders, desiring their lives, could not compare to the preparation that had gone into Anhelia’s conquest of her grandmother’s home. Now that the Shades were gone, all obstacles were merely tribulations to overcome. Nothing would stop her conquest. Nothing. She hadn’t known that there would be a ‘Dark Tide’, but it was within expected parameters. That was why she had set up River Tower North as she had. The light from those cleansed waters pushed back most everything that was actually a threat, and the Dark Tide was no exception.

Anhelia smiled.

She turned, a little, and regarded her family, and all the others she had hired and bargained for into being here, for this. Her family was with her, of course; eleven wrought of the iron-caste, just like herself, though only a few of them resembled incani like her. There were incani from the Wasteland; people who she had always been close to, but never truly a part of. Orcols from Treehome; only a few of them, and only because they were the best at taking down large threats. A few shifters of varying talents. There was even one harpy. Ikawa Kali had been the granddaughter of Krakina, the Weather Witch of Spur. The young woman would have eventually taken Krakina’s place as Spur’s Weather Witch, but then Erick came along and changed the way the weather worked! Ikawa worked well here, though; Anhelia had plenty of work for a young prognosticator such as Ikawa.

She had use for anyone with spellcasting talents. She even had some humans, but only three of them, as they were the ones the Headmaster had sent to Spur and were therefore reliable. Eduard, Maia, and Ramizi. There seemed to be some inter-party trouble there, but they kept that problem to themselves. Anhelia had been close to many humans in the past, but not since Erick’s reintroduction of humans to Spur, had she had many chances to meet more that had not immediately thought of her as a threat since her form was incani. These three were decent, and they doubled as a connection to the Headmaster, which allowed Anhelia to ‘excuse their inclusion’ to the incani in her employ.

The Quiet War was quite tiring, sometimes.

And then there were the three wrought from Stratagold. They were of adamantine-caste; Royalty. Each of them were as dark as Dark, though some had green hints in their reflective surfaces. They were overseers, and completely uninterested in ‘taking back Ar’Kendrithyst’. They were only here because they had to be here, according to their own imperialistic laws, to ensure that no wrought secrets would be unleashed on the public. They were something that Anhelia was forced to accept, or else there would be problems of entirely different sorts. At least she had gotten good royalty. Most of them weren’t worth a damn.

Killzone was also of the adamantine-caste, and Anhelia liked him well enough, but—

Enough problems! Today will be a good day! Thank you for giving me this opportunity, Erick! If you ever come back to Spur, I’ll be sure to give you a 90% discount on all information.

Anhelia had regarded her forces to see that they were ready, taking just a moment to do so. And now, she turned forward, chuckling.

Her forces waited behind her, in the rose and lavender sunlight.

But in front of her laid the next conquest. The next tower of the Dead City.

Dark red, like blood. Shadowed purple, like the color of deathberries (1). Mists of gloom and abyss and shadow swirled in the depths of a 40-kilometer tall crystal spire, exactly as they had swirled for the last millennium. Exactly as they had been ever since Melemizargo killed Kendrithyst, and made it his own dark home.

Anhelia stepped forward. Her footsteps clinked on the rose-colored crystal, until she reached a line in the air. On her side was daylight and brightness. On the other side, in front of Anhelia, was shadow and darkness. This was the edge of her [Domain of Light].

Anhelia did not have many powerful spells, for she was not an archmage. She did not have the [Call Lightning] of Erick, or his apprentice. She did not have the [Grand Shield] of Archmage Opal. She did not have the raw ability to shape the world to her whim, like Archmage Wave or Archmage Obsidian.

But she was immortal, and she had been planning and preparing for this day for a long time. Time and information can make mockery of skill, after all.

With a cast, she expanded her Domain.

Light flooded the next crystal conquest from top to bottom, like strings of radiant fireballs exploding downward, as far as the eyes could see, deep into the depths, rapidly passing the Middle Layer, crashing down into the darkness of the Lower Reaches, pushing out the invading shadows of the crystal spire.

Leaving behind another home for more people who would eventually come and have children of their own and repopulate the—

The expected reprisal shook Anhelia out of her reverie, but it was expected, and so, she was prepared. She just let her hopes get away from her for a little while.

The screams of displaced shadows and disturbed monsters echoed up from the depths. And then came the scratching and the clawing. Monsters raced up the soon-to-be-reclaimed crystal tower, right into the jaws of death.

With a joy unbounded, Anhelia commanded her forces, “To war!”

She was being melodramatic, she knew. ‘To war’? What nonsense. What slag! On the first day of this she had yelled ‘Take back the homeland!’ That had earned her a lot of side-eyes and small laughs. These people were here for treasure and levels and power, and that was it. Some of them even wanted rings like the ones on her own fingers; Erick’s artifact-level Stat rings, that never broke. She had already given out many such rings, but once people got a taste for power, one ring wasn’t good enough. They wanted two, and then the better versions. Ah! Greed. Such a good motivator.

If it weren’t for these rings, then… Well. It would cost more to do what she was doing, but Anhelia had been preparing for this for a long time. All Erick’s rings did was save her some yellow…

Erick had done a lot for her. Maybe she’d give him a 95% discount.

Ah! This was fun.

Anhelia smiled as the spells of her family and hired mercenaries rained down on oncoming kilometer-long centipedes, sword-birds, ethereal ghasts, and all manner of shadow monsters. She worked on maintaining her Domain; that was the only true heavy lifting necessary in this conquest of the Dead City, now that the Shades were gone. Only one was still inside Ar’Kendrithyst. The rest?

Anhelia knew where a few of them were.

- - - -

Caizoa had not slept in two days. With the Black Star on her chest and a map of the world on the desk in front of her, she pointed out the locations of the Converted. Her teams of assistants moved out at her command. In minutes, they were on site and telepathically linked to the holder of the Black Star, asking for confirmation on their targets that they had standing, or sitting, or sleeping, in front of them.

Caizoa sent out ‘Yes’, then ‘Yes’, then ‘Yes. Both of them.’, then ‘No, it’s the other one, to the right.’.

Takedowns commenced. Slave collars were wrapped around necks. People got shoved through [Gate]s, right into holding cells.

Minutes late, after everything was calm, a letter carrier delivered letters to Caizoa’s war rooms. He wore the livery of King Rashi, as usual, for Caizoa had taken up residence in the King of the West Bank’s castle, located on the Grace, in the center of the Wasteland. King Rashi had thrown his full support behind Caizoa after she had liberated his daughter from Converter Angel control and brought her back home.

She’d be more grateful to the rest of the world if they would follow King Rashi’s example.

She did not want to read the letters, but she did. Some of the letters were declarations of war if their people were not released. Others were strongly worded threats. All of them were official notices of anger at her actions, sent to her because she, or rather her teams, had left letters at every single abduction site, detailing what they were doing and why, and that if they wanted to blame anyone, then they should blame the Angels.

The only reason she hadn’t sparked a full war against the Wasteland, for she had abducted nobles and commoners alike, is because most of those so abducted had already been released back into the world, without the Angel’s Conversion upon their souls.

King Rashi was fielding most of that diplomatic hassle; thank the gods. But Caizoa still needed to be updated on the threats, according to King Rashi, and so, she was.

Such soul cleansing had been difficult at first, taking days, or longer, because Caizoa knew no real Soul Mages. She was not a noble, after all, and all the nobles who had been in her party had been killed in the Trials of the Armory, or by Skorka, later, in the mass poisoning that Caizoa took part in.

Caizoa only knew that the kings and queens of the Wasteland had such Soul Mages in their courts, but none of them had been willing to show their hand; to reveal the existence of the soul shifting that every noble took part of, behind closed doors. Nobles all Matriculated with 20 in every Stat, as everyone well knew, and they did not get there by hard work or good eating. King Rashi actually didn’t have a Soul Mage in his employ, and he might have been one of the few.

Or maybe he was lying to her, too.

So Caizoa had to find other Soul Mages.

She had found one fast enough.

“You should get some rest, Caizoa,” said the ‘soul mage’, after everyone else had left the room. “You’re losing weight and dignity. King Rashi is going to start testing you again if you appear weak.”

Caizoa looked to the dark-skinned ‘soul mage’. The soul mage could have passed for a man, or a woman, depending on lighting, but though she appeared incani, with horns that looked like horns and eyes that looked like eyes, Caizoa wasn’t fooled. She was not what she appeared to be, but Caizoa didn’t really mind the deception. So far, the Black Star had vetted her soul surgeries at 100% perfect.

Caizoa said, “Since you’re here, I can only assume that the last batch of healings went well?”

“Correct. You can send them away whenever you want, or whenever King Rashi feels like he’s gotten enough ransoms or concessions, as usual. I’m not a part of that ugly business.”

Caizoa turned back to her map, asking, “What is your business, then?”

The Soul Mage smiled, “Just doing my part to help the world, Caizoa.”

Caizoa wished she could truly believe that. Uncle Anopix had said never to trust the other Shades.

But.

Well...

Without Lapis, the Shade of Enchantment, there was no way to fix the Converted without extensive damage and long recovery times and fuck ups which included death, mutations, or worse: soul mutilations. Without Lapis, Caizoa certainly would have inadvertently started a war, for the Black Star had revealed harbormasters and mayors and sergeants and so many nobles were all Converted, just waiting for the Converter Angel to call for Total War. The Angels had been very close to winning that war before it had even begun. Now, the Converter Angel was on the Moon, Celes, just biding her time, doing gods-only-knew what.

And so…

It was what it was.

Lapis was a vital part of the fight. For now.

Better Lapis than Erick!