Sidero’s PoV - Grasslands
“My, what a big hole you’ve got there!” Klipyl squealed upon cresting the rise before she started giggling. It was a mischievous sound that turned into full throated laughter while slapping a hand against a thigh. “A fisting wouldn’t even touch the sides.”
The pit resembles a sinkhole and—except for the rain faded scent of acid—might pass for one. “You have an odd sense of humour, don’t you?”
“I mentioned fisting to one of Amdirlain’s Lantern Archons,” replied Klipyl. “The little firefly was so funny. She thought I was talking about punching someone and even mentioned that Kytons would enjoy punches. Though after hunting with you, I’d say it’s more flaying things with your chain-blade thingies that gives you the jollies.”
“My preferred prey as a Hunter is Demons,” I reply and watch her eyes go wide before I wave her off. “I’ve been restraining myself.”
“Meow. Don’t restrain yourself for my sake, Hunter girl,” Klipyl laughed. “One question though, if you catch me, will you eat me?”
“You wish, Klipyl. You wish. We have other things to focus on.”
“Bugs, bugs, and more bugs,” huffed Klipyl and tugged a ragged rip a throwing disc had left in her leathers. “I thought the wave would never end.”
“Damage to your wardrobe aside, it confirmed that this place is at least a staging area.”
“Will you tell me one other thing,” Klipyl started and paused until I waved her to go on, already used to her continual questions. “If Kytons aren’t Devils, why did you decide your preferred prey is Demons?”
“My years in Hell’s Army,” I reply. “When I gained the Class, I figured I’d be back defending the wall at some point. Let’s head down.”
“Do we got to? I mean, this place is the pits,” punned Klipyl, gesturing to the hole as if I might miss the point of her joke.
I have to purse my lips to keep the smile at the dad joke from getting loose. “I thought that was the Abyss.”
“It’s Hell that has Pit Fiends,” protests Klipyl. “Don’t go pinning that name on us. Have your little scouting bugs found anything else interesting?”
Her question draws attention to my Eternal Map, only to find the Power shows no change in its fog of war since the fight ended. “Nope, and they’ve come apart.”
“Going to whip it out again?”
Still working to keep a straight face, I set the plate on a clear patch among the bodies and added a new carapace.
The recon crickets speed away around the hole, scouting ground level as per the plate’s instructions. They’ve barely started on their way when Klipyl tosses a body off the edge—it’s nearly ten seconds before I hear a faint splat under the bird calls.
“That’s a long way down,” Klipyl cheerfully remarks before licking blood from her fingers. The burns and blisters that blessings had raised on her lips during the fighting had already healed.
“You’re a strange demoness.”
Klipyl snaps her attention from the pit to fix me with a beaming and inviting smile. “You’re a strange not-a-Devil.”
The wave of sexual craving she projects washes across me, and—for just a moment—I miss Gaius. There isn’t any point in raising the sensation with her. I’ve never met a Succubus that didn’t project it. Though Torm insisted Amdirlain didn’t project that vibe when she visited initially, he’s hardly the best judge.
“I’ll send out a few dozen sets, and then we can head down.”
“Not doing the burning bodies thing again?” asks Klipyl, waving at the thousands of dead on the plains about us.
I give a quick head shake and point at the strange multi-winged birds overhead. “We’re hundreds of kilometres from the castle, and even scavengers have to eat. Though, jump back to the castle and describe this place to Echo with me standing on the edge, I’d like him to have at least seen it.”
“Do you think he’d be interested in-”
I wave her off with a laugh, and ignore her hurt little pout. “No and watch the come fuck me routine with the Erakkö.”
“I wouldn’t hurt them, Amdirlain might get upset, but fighting and blood make me feel frisky,” Klipyl huffs, practically squirming on the spot, hugging herself and rubbing her hands along her sides.
Brushing a hand across my face to hide the momentary smile that breaks loose, I indulge in teasing—just a little. “Does flying make you feel frisky as well?”
“Oh yes, especially with no clothes. The wind brushing across my cunt makes me crave something, filling me up. How did you guess?”
Yeah, she’s a Succubus! I bet she’d give a similar answer about walking, or eating, or heck, washing dishes!
Amdirlain’s PoV - Limbo - Monastery of Will’s Hand
Arith’s fellow healer was still napping when he returned with news that Master Jarithä had thrashed his challenger. He settled his gaze on Amdirlain with a glum expression before he continued. “Know you’ve missed two sessions with Master Elliyna, and my instructions are you’re not to miss a third.”
“My session is following the evening meal, which is shortly,” Amdirlain said, and Arith nodded in confirmation. “Am I allowed to return afterwards?”
“Know you are still a Novice and not injured,” Arith said reprovingly before he glanced at Liranë and frowned thoughtfully. “Know that you’ll need Master Tenzin’s permission to return.”
“Thank you, Healer Arith.”
“Might I know if your armour technique is natural to your species or a technique that you learnt?”
Amdirlain looked down at herself and smiled sheepishly. “I’d forgotten I still had the scales in place. At least I removed the back claws-”
Master Duurth’s arrival interrupted her, and she looked up hopefully. “Know that Master Jarithä has sent the remains of the delegation on their way, so he expects no immediate trouble.”
“They left—without Liranë?”
“Know there were a few concerned about you finding a way around your restriction to exchange pointers,” replied Master Duurth dryly.
“I was looking forward to chatting with Raszâka. I wanted to see if he’d run his mouth to the ‘it’ again,” grumbled Amdirlain.
“Know you should change your attire—it’s very skin-tight,” remarked Duurth.
“Know I’m naked. I transformed my skin,” retorted Amdirlain.
Both of them blinked rapidly and then spun around. At first stilled into silence, laughter eventually hiccupped from Amdirlain at their reaction. A set of new robes appeared instantly via Protean but she halted and didn’t separate herself from them. Shrinking them back away, she created a set with Chaos Shaping, and changed her flesh to normal.
“I don’t know what is up with you two. I’ve had that appearance for days now, but I’m dressed again.”
Duurth turned back with an exasperated look. “Know that it is simply improper once we became aware.”
“I don’t feel like rejoining them for the evening meal. Is it alright if I wait here and monitor Liranë for a bit and then go to my session with Master Elliyna?”
“Know that I only came to provide the news. Know that nothing is obstructing you from using Teleport to Elliyna’s door from here,” stated Duurth and went to leave.
Amdirlain raised a hand to motion him to stop, and he halted with an enquiring look. “Master Duurth, might I have a moment?”
“What is it you wish to speak about?”
Amdirlain gave Arith a look, and he simply returned it with a smile. “Do you mind if I speak to Master Duurth alone?”
“Know I do mind: it’s my infirmary, a patient is present, and my colleague is also still recovering. Would it not make more sense for you and Master Duurth to go instead?”
“Know that arguing with healers doesn’t go well,” advised Duurth with a straight face. “Shall I Teleport us to my office?”
Arith caught her glance at Liranë and waved her away. “Know I monitor her even when I’m not in the room.”
“Thank you, Master Duurth.”
The chamber that appeared around them was like Master Jarithä’s, with its minimalistic furnishing and general lightly marked stone. A noticeable exception was a coloured sand painting—nearly a metre square—the elaborate swirls standing out amid the starkness even in earth tones.
“What is it you wish to speak about?”
Amdirlain considered the promise she made to Zenya and cut right to the chase. “Would anyone have objections if I helped interested Novices gain Affinities?”
“Gaining Affinities is not a simple matter, and they have much to learn already,” reproved Duurth.
“It might be a simple matter if my technique will work for the Githzérai. It’s worked for Mortals and Immortals, though, so I expect Githzérai will be fine learning as well.”
“Years?” asked Duurth with his hand resting on the back of his chair.
“Nowhere near that,” refuted Amdirlain empathically. “You’d need more time for a meal.”
“What?!” exclaimed Duurth, his mouth still agape he stared at her bereft of his usual calm.
Duurth pulled himself together and eyed her warily. “What is involved in this technique? Does this involve an ability of your kind?”
The customarily composed master made a motion with his hands like a bird spreading its wings.
“It’s a technique—a Power really—from my Monk style, called Harmony. I use Telepathy and Harmony to allow another to understand the energy involved in an Affinity, and it unlocks. There are no pacts, bonds, or deals involved; I’ve even helped Celestials gain Affinities. Most recently, a group of Dwarves who were introduced to me by a High Priest of Moradin.”
“What Affinities can you teach?” asked Duurth. Still not sitting down, he tapped his fingers on the chair’s arm.
Amdirlain pulled a face and broached a matter that still worried her with Yngvarr. “Two, I wouldn’t want to teach unless someone I trust is looking to unlock a powerful Class option, but I can teach every Affinity. I’d prefer not to teach Infernal or Abyssal, but at least two powerful Wizard Prestige classes required every Affinity to access them. Plus, there are a bunch of other Prestige classes that need multiple Tier Four and Five Affinities.”
Duurth blinked at her like Liranë had kicked him in the head. “You know what is required to gain Prestige classes?”
“Yes. If I don’t know immediately, I can find out pretty easily—within chimes with its name. If I focus right, I can also learn the effect progressing it will have on a person.”
Duurth gasped before she’d finished and more fell than sat onto his chair. “Know I believe that Master Jarithä should converse with you on that matter. Would you show your technique to me?”
“What did you want to learn?”
“Would Nature be acceptable for a demonstration?” enquired Duurth, his gaze alight with excitement. “Know that Nature is hard to gain in Limbo and understanding it benefits the Chaos Shaping of our gardens for food growth.”
Amdirlain sat down on the simple chair opposite his own. “Harmony is an extension of the Meditation Skill, so if you reach a centred state, it will be easier to help you. Reach out your mind towards me. I’ll meet you in the middle, and we’ll begin.”
Focusing on the interaction of nature elements, Amdirlain experienced Duurth’s wonder at feeling the energy wash over his awareness. The experience—normally muted—came across strongly with his Telepathy linked to her own. He absorbed the concepts wholesale because of his extensive Telepathy experience and dropped out of the meditative state in under a minute.
“Know that I’ll discuss this with Master Jarithä, but he is still dealing with the aftereffects of the visitors. How many can you teach?”
“Maybe a hundred individuals at a time,” suggested Amdirlain and continued her explanation when Duurth raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I’ve not pushed my limits in a while. It could be more.”
“Know I’d expected perhaps a handful at once; certainly not that number,” protested Duurth.
“Oh!” murmured Amdirlain and gave him an embarrassed smile. “Do you think he’ll agree?”
“Might I ask why you enquired about teaching the Novices?”
“I was speaking to Novice Zenya. She wanted to follow in her family’s traditions,” replied Amdirlain. When Duurth didn’t respond immediately, Amdirlain went to fiddle with her braid, only to touch empty air.
Duurth looked on without comment as she regrew it before speaking again. “Novice Zenya is the student at your table with High Anarch parents?”
“Yes.”
“Know you’ve given me much to think about. Master Jarithä wasn’t expecting you to repay our efforts for you until after you had healed. Know that both this Affinity process and your offer of knowledge—if you would share it—are both invaluable,” admitted Duurth.
“Do… Is it alright if I use the practice yard until it’s time to meet with Master Elliyna?” asked Amdirlain. She forced her face to remain calm, having cut herself off from asking if they knew about Tier Six Prestige classes.
“Know you have my permission to use the strike plates or free training—there will be no exchanging of pointers. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Master Duurth.”
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Amdirlain teleported away and appeared on the edge of the training yard where Master Duurth had tested her control during her initial stay. At her appearance, everyone froze in surprise, and when Amdirlain moved towards an empty strike plate, they slowly resumed their practice.
When the first trainee returned to the practice yard after the evening meal, Amdirlain moved along the side of the building towards Elliyna’s door. Concern weighed her more than Liranë’s gravity field and when she went to knock, the door simply opened.
“Know I can walk faster, now come inside Amdirlain,” grumbled Elliyna.
“Yes, Master Elliyna,” Amdirlain replied meekly and hurried inside. She found Elliyna stretched out on the couch she’d used the first evening, her legs looking normal under the blanket that covered them completely.
“Know your question is obvious, but you’ll still need to ask,”
“Might I know why your legs changed that way?”
“Know it’s a Chaos affliction from having lived too long in Limbo and gone places where the Chaos was oppressive,” replied Elliyna, unfussed by the question. “How did you go burning up your pain?”
“My aura that projects rage was helpful for it after a conversation I’d had with Master Jarithä about choices,” admitted Amdirlain. “My Mind Palace is still a mess, but the tar pit doesn’t bubble as much.”
“Know after your reaction to my Faith last meeting I won’t ask for access to your Mind Palace. Would you project to me what you experienced when you looked at it last?”
“Did Master Jarithä share it with you?” asked Amdirlain, hoping to figure out a way to decline.
Elliyna didn’t hesitate to reply but gave her a reassuring smile. “Know that he did, it’s part of what led me to come here. Know I would like to see the difference and discuss some aspects of its symbolism in time.”
The moment she had checked it—with Arith absent from the infirmary—rose in her mind. She tried to capture all the details before she sent the moment to Elliyna. Instead of the tar pit erupting bubbles in a rolling boil, each popped with the slowness of a bubble rising through a foul pancake. Each popped to release icy fear and eye-watering loneliness. While some vile memories still came forth, the single manifestation she’d experienced was a pale apparition of a man whose hands wafted incorporeally through her instead of successfully grasping.
“Know I’d hoped you’d have gotten the bubbling to cease completely,” Elliyna muttered and cut off Amdirlain’s protest with a wave. “Know I’m teasing you, but you’ll need to keep working on burning it away or processing them. What fears drive you, Amdirlain?”
“Failing the…” Amdirlain cut herself off and considered Elliyna’s loyalties.
“Know that I’m one of the few people in the monastery that know you are a Fallen. Know I’m likely the only one who knows of your symbol on The Titan’s Wall,” declared Elliyna and drew her blanket up high enough to tuck her hands underneath.
“How do you know about that?”
“Know I had a dream the other night, one of her guides leading me to the Titan’s wall. Or is there another reason a symbol of a candle with broken manacles and chains around it radiates the same feeling as yourself?” asked Elliyna. “Know the memory of it didn’t fade upon awakening. I take it I don’t need to name who sent the guide? Know Jarithä has told me I should avoid names of power since we last spoke.”
Her interest in me isn’t reassuring. She has a reputation for cruelty, like the depths of winter.
Pushing aside her consideration of Mab, Amdirlain focused on trying to explain the tangle of emotions caught up in her situation.
“Celestials told me the only way to get free from a Demon Lady was to gain enough power to match her. That would require having a religion focused on me to move from Named to Demon Lady. Only after I could match her would I be able to break a bond she’d placed on me and be able to get out of the Abyss. It wasn’t true, but I’d already attracted followers by the time I found they’d lied, either intentionally or out of ignorance. Now there are so many Souls depending on me, more and more all the time. I can’t stand the thought of failing them. I’m furious. Celestials misled me—for whatever reason; I just wanted to be free and they fucked me up. Now I’m afraid for myself and petrified for the Petitioners.”
The words had come out in a rush, and the last admission had her clamping her hands over her mouth to stop more words from spilling forth. Tears streamed down over her hands, and Elliyna let her cry for a time in silence.
Elliyna’s expression shifted from disbelief to compassion. “Amdirlain, is there anything that you can do to safeguard them?”
“Nothing I know of, but who knows what the truth is there. I wish they’d fucking kept their mouths shut. I wish I’d been able to stop Eivor declaring for me or reject her declaration.”
“I take it that becoming a Fallen was unexpected since you started as a Succubus? Do you think perhaps that they might have offered you advice based on remaining a Succubus?”
Amdirlain thrashed her head about and had to push her hands out flat to stop her nails from driving into her palms. “I don’t know. I just know what is now. Are you sure Master Jarithä’s wards are tight enough for this conversation?”
Elliyna gave her a firm look before she answered. “Is anywhere ever truly safe? What is better for how you feel about yourself, a Succubus or a Fallen?”
“Fallen, I don’t have carnal cravings pressing against me all the time.”
“Know that lust makes a fool of anyone. Know certainly I was a foolish young thing when I was young,” Elliyna remarked glibly and Amdirlain had to breathe around her rage instead of stuffing it in a box.
“Have you ever experienced someone dying of extreme cold with the knowledge their children were dying right by them and felt physical arousal?”
“Know that I’ve not,” answered Elliyna quietly. “When did this happen?”
“In the Abyss they serve ice treats called Frost Gasps,” Amdirlain said, trying to avoid letting the memory of the moment drown her. “I should have known better, but it looked like ice chips. I bit into one, and I wanted to scream in horror, but my body had other ideas.”
“What did you do?”
“I gave the cup back to the Succubus who’d bought them and told her they didn’t appeal. The family was already dead, and I was already standing out too much,” replied Amdirlain and tried to relax her fists. “I wanted to destroy all of them so the Demons wouldn’t get any pleasure from their suffering.”
“Did you deal with this Succubus much?” Elliyna asked. Her deliberately casual tone poked at Amdirlain with the lightness of discussing a fellow office worker.
“I never wanted to deal with her at all,” growled Amdirlain. “I triggered a ward because of how my Class presented itself to their detection. When I was on the ledge, I took Monk, but their ward saw it as Blood Monk—a controlled Prestige Class. Since I wasn’t a member of the order, it brought me to their attention, and they captured me. This same bitch that later brought me treats had wrapped me in binding chains of agony. Then she paraded me like an animal and brought me to their initiation room. That wasn’t fun and involved the Demon Lady that placed a bond on me.
“That wasn’t fun?”
“Four times in the Abyss I’ve experienced what felt like an eternity of pain; my meeting with her involved the second of those occasions,” replied Amdirlain, and let herself dwell on fighting Liranë instead of the infernos of pain.
“Why do you use the word fun at all regarding it?”
Amdirlain huffed before she replied. “I’m told sarcasm is a defence mechanism. It’s a figure of speech.”
“Know that in trying to process all the pain you felt and harbour that making light of it won’t help,” Elliyna said. “Know that instead of denying the pain, you need to admit to it and whatever emotions arise from it. Do you think you’ll be able to deal with your emotions by denying them when you know that no longer works?”
“Where do I start?” asked Amdirlain, fighting against the pain and fears sliding scalpels through her brain.
“What do you want to talk about least?”
“Lady Balnérith,” Amdirlain readily admitted.
“Know that is the one we should speak about then,” declared Elliyna, and waved a finger at Amdirlain reprovingly when she protested. “Know you fought a champion to a standstill. Could you have done that when you faced her?”
“They hit me with a Spell of binding and I blacked out. When I was next aware, I was in complete darkness hanging by my wings,” Amdirlain said. The words grinding to a halt when the memory of despair and fear washed through her mind.
“Know you are safe, child. How long did you hang there?”
When Amdirlain finally staggered back to her room, she looked at the bed and longed to be allowed the oblivion of sleep. Physically, she felt fine, but the memories she’d dredged up had pain and fear still throbbing through her mind. The door closed softly behind her, but not before an errant breeze wafted into her room.
An ethereal figure came into existence a moment after the breeze tugged playfully at Amdirlain’s robe. The quiet energy radiating out from it stilled her immediate reaction to attack. The energy initially pushed against her with a palpable force but fortunately eased. A moment after its outline showed, the energy collapsed inwards and filled out the shape of an Elven male with golden skin. His eyes were a dark void split by a starburst of brilliant white light.
The draw of his gaze made it impossible to focus on his other features, but for the sway of a snow-white mane that cascaded down his nude body. When she locked her gaze to his face, Amdirlain found herself drawn into their depths and momentarily closed her eyes to steady herself. As she opened them again, she futilely hoped he’d be gone, even though the continued touch of energy was all she needed to know it hadn’t occurred.
“Who are you?” breathed Amdirlain and fought the urge to run.
“We’ve never formally met in this lifetime. Though you saw me awaken, you didn’t stay around for introductions. Not that I was safe for you to be around as you were then, especially not in the Necropolis.”
His voice was soft, and the Celestial words brushed against her awareness, carrying a depth of concern.
“Eleftherios?” questioned Amdirlain, and her eyes went wide.
“I owe you my existence, twice over, so please call me Thero, as you once did,” said Thero.
Amdirlain stopped herself from retorting about assumed memories, and a question tripped off her lips. “Didn’t you return to the Titan’s realm? I thought there were restrictions on interacting.”
“I’ve been monitoring a new sun and its primary cradle of life. Some orders Father gave when we went after the Leviathan and her children aren’t complete, so I’ve been using the loopholes while they exist.”
The mention of loopholes had Sidero’s situation niggling at the back of her mind, and Amdirlain merely tried to focus on the moment instead of pushing her concerns completely away. “Are you going to get in trouble for that?”
A slight curl of round lips fought for her attention, but Amdirlain focused on his words. “Perhaps, but that is my choice and I’m still fulfilling his orders from that attack, Ori.”
“Ori?”
“Orhêthurin,” replied Thero, and paused. “Sorry, you use Amdirlain now; I’ll try to remember. Please forgive me if—or when—I slip up.”
Amdirlain pressed a palm over her forehead and tried to focus past the gentler presence that still made her mind ache. “We were on that familiar a basis?”
Thero snorted in amusement, but his voice remained unruffled. “We were. You led the chorus that sang me into existence.”
“I led it? I thought I was only an adequate singer.”
“Who told you that?“ asked Thero, his expressive lips twitching in amusement drew her attention from his gaze. “Then again, you were always a demanding perfectionist, most critical of yourself.”
“Sorry, but I don’t remember any of that. It was a Dragon who told me named Claughuthruuazex. You’re the second individual that’s just dropped in while I’m trying to get time to heal. I hope you’re not here to trick me into something, because that would be beyond disappointing,” Amdirlain said, and realised she’d retreated until her back pressed against the door.
“The son of your friend, it’s surprising he still lives; even Adamantine Dragons grow old and die. I heard some of your discussion with Elliyna this evening,” admitted Thero. “What I heard was concerning, did you truly not want to become a Power?”
Amdirlain narrowed her gaze and felt the tension in her jaw from her teeth grinding together. “You’ve been spying on me?”
“I don’t know what you’ll be doing when I check on you and what I overheard was worrisome. Mostly, I don’t even monitor you but those beyond your power to protect yourself against. I can’t act directly against them, but I have spiked their wheels from time to time. I can’t protect you forever, and I can do nothing against the deeds of Mortals, but I’m buying you time to grow. Father’s taunting of his ancient enemies hadn’t helped you there.”
“Are you playing the part of the guardian angel?”
“I would not call myself a guardian, nor am I an angel. I end things, I don’t preserve them.”
“End things?”
“The Titan’s Servants, do you not remember what we are?” asked Thero, his voice alight with surprise.
Amdirlain felt her anger rise—a banked fire coming to life against exhaustion—but didn’t block it with sarcasm this time. “No, I don’t have any of my memories from earlier lives. I’ve the memories of a human in over her head and I’m honestly tired of all the bullshit with people believing they know me because they remember my Soul.”
At her words, Thero tilted his head, almost as if confused by her response. “You have the memories. You just need to unlock them.”
“I’ve not an Anar to have them sung open, and I’m not sure I even want them back,”
“Memories are not personality, though I can understand if you see them to be related. Anar could unlock memories prior to the rite of adulthood. Your Soul wouldn’t have lost that capability. All it needs is the right key, an event, emotion, or place.”
“Emotions aren’t my strong suit,” snorted Amdirlain, and pushed back to the earlier subject. “If you’re not an angel, what are you?”
“For your situation, that not’s important; I’m simply a servant, skirting the rules to aid one who aided me. Your first follower will you tell me how you impressed them?”
“Honestly, it caught me out of left field. Yes, I had helped Eivor’s daughter, among others, but I didn’t think I’d left that much of an impression with her. I’ll do my best, but I never wanted such a responsibility, the pressure of not only their lives, but their Souls.”
“The Mantle does suit you though,” offered Thero.
“Mantle?”
“The Mantle of your title—titles now—does suit you.”
“I’m not worried about it suiting me,” refuted Amdirlain and asked a question that had worried her. “Did he ensure I’d be on this route?”
“A Mantle would easily form for any Anar or Lómë—either possess more power than a Demigod—they also possessed enough knowledge to stop them forming. Though your Soul cannot express all its power with your memories locked away, all it would take is someone truly inspired by you.”
“Great, I guess I’m lucky someone didn’t see me as a bedroom goddess first,” groaned Amdirlain.
“I can believe you’re worried about failing them. I assume you believe you’d drag them into the Abyss if you fail your own redemption.” Thero continued on ignoring her interjection.
“Yes,” whispered Amdirlain.
“I’d say not taking the shortcut to get free speaks of your determination to endure. Be true to yourself, and I’m sure you’ll make it to the end.”
“Shortcut?”
“The Grottos,” Thero said, his brow furrowed and changed the shape of his eyes. “If you’d died within their Song’s perimeter, your Soul would have been able to shelter within its safety. Just as the Nox form imprisons the Lómë’s Souls, your form imprisons you. The Grotto’s Song would have protected your Soul from being dragged off to be encapsulated again by whatever home Plane your form possessed. However, there would have been only a slim chance of ever being reborn. Did none of their Souls respond to you when you were present? Recognise you?”
Amdirlain’s gaze had continued to widen during his explanation. “But the curse?”
“Brought you home and affects your Immortal manifestation,” said Thero. “Did you truly not realise it? I hope I’ve not done you a disservice by mentioning it then. Remember always, you have a choice—both in existence and in Power. Given your concerns, you should know Powers can transfer their Mantle to another, in part or in whole. Though I warn you, it can take careful preparations to avoid destruction, and it can also have unexpected repercussions.”
“What sort of repercussions?”
“Some that have attempted it have split themselves in two instead, or even destroyed themselves trying to transfer parts of their portfolios to Divine children. Others have passed them on without weakening—besides losing access to related abilities.”
“I thought Powers died if stripped of their Portfolios, or if all their Priests died?” said Amdirlain, the wood of the door creaking under pressure from her fingertips.
“If all their Priests have died and their form slain. That happened to the Greek Gods, from what I’ve learnt. The protocols forced all the human gods to manifest physically on the material plane when their people fled their lands. The same protocols limited the access they had to their mantles for the duration of the conflict.”
“Then Set?”
“The former Hidden and Usd’ghi took care of Set’s destruction; otherwise, he wouldn’t have died so quickly. There is a difference between having a Portfolio ripped from you and giving them to another. Mantles are extensions to your capabilities that allow entities to perform Divine roles,” said Thero and tapped his finger thoughtfully against his chest. The action drew Amdirlain’s gaze to the muscular expanse, and she hastily looked away.
“Take your analogy of the classes and Prestige classes viewed as buildings. Your self-image might treat your Mantle as a separate building or incorporate it such that to remove one would have the other immediately fall. Even if separate buildings, careless removal can level everything within you.”
Amdirlain blinked at his reference to her analogy and blurted out the question that came to mind. “You know how I’ve described normal classes and Prestige Classes to Mortals?”
“Why did you think your analogy wouldn’t be reused? It is not just your enemies I check upon. Your followers, and even some Immortal allies, have gained much inspiration from your deeds.”
“Thank you, Thero. I’ve more and more felt like the Celestials or the Titan had pushed me into the situation. The feeling of having used people was making me disgusted with myself. It’s strange knowing I have a choice, and it could have gotten way worse. It makes what happened less painful.”
“Perhaps it is because you know you can keep them safe if you feel you’re losing yourself?”
“I’m not sure, but it’s a big fear of mine; I’ll need time to process this and make my own choices. But I feel lighter with the knowledge.” Amdirlain said, and pushed her will against the damaged door to fix it.
“You should also know that just as your Mantle is tied to you, you are tied to it. At the moment, your Mantle provides you with a measure of balance to offset the cursed state of your form,” cautioned Thero.
“What do you mean?”
“Fallen normally cannot have a Home Plane that is not one of the lower planes, Amdirlain. The aspects of your Portfolio, your Mantle, and the Faith of others have effectively lifted you partway from the Abyss.”
“Okay, something to consider then. Who can I shift the Mantle to if I take that route?”
“Anyone in your presence or that you possess a bond to and trust enough,” replied Thero. “I’ve witnessed beings destroy themselves when the recipient was holding hands with them, and gods, planes away, succeed unaffected. If someone declares their belief in you now that you’ve felt it, you should possess the ability to block it, especially with Profile Mastery. I had to look to see how you perceive things; you have a strange mind.”
“Thanks, I think?”
Thero’s laughter was a light wash of tranquil energy that chimed within her for a moment.
“Take care O- Amdirlain. I hope you can find peace again wherever your choices lead you.”
Thero vanished, and his sudden absence let Amdirlain feel the wards his energy had seamlessly set within her chamber. She was scrubbing her fingers through her hair, trying to get her brain to stop spinning when she felt them fade away as well.
I didn’t talk to him about Laodice, but the Titan’s servant knew about her situation.
When she calmed, Amdirlain focused herself and sent a Message to Sidero. “Even when I’m supposed to be healing, I can get in trouble. In the last three days, I’ve vented some of my pain through a marathon challenge fight, and spoken with the shadow queen and Eleftherios. The Mind Healer doesn’t allow me off the hook—no sarcasm allowed. You’d like her, even if she worships the memory aspect of the Winter Queen.”
Amdirlain sat on the blanket to wait, not even trying to keep herself suspended in the air.
“Sidero says the confirmation phrase this time is we’re doing the ‘great Aussie wave’. A touch busy right now, wiping out a breeding site of drones. So far, we’ve killed a few thousand and fried a few mushroom farms. We’ve also squished a couple of big, modified queens popping out eggs that are completely unlike normal Thri-Kreen females. I hope you’re at least getting fucked on your holiday because Sidero provided orgasms by staring at me. Not fair!”
Giggling at Klipyl’s report, she sent back a burst of amusement.
The Aussie wave is slang for shooing flies. Though I guess that works since the Thri-Kreen are so bug-like, it indeed confirms they’re still together there.