Amdirlain’s PoV - Limbo - Monastery of Will’s Hand
Days of stability that had seemed unlikely settled into place, and aside from making slow progress on not shattering glass, the days passed almost matter-of-factly. Attending lessons and sessions with Elliyna, following her instructions, and dwelling on happier memories. Memories that she hadn’t even been aware of forgetting showed how much pain she’d blocked even the few times she’d allowed herself tears.
Grief and regret mingled into happier times with her family. Her earliest childhood memories are accessible: of being curled up in bed to the quiet reassurance of Mum, Dad, or even Mal reading her simple infant’s stories. The memories brought both happiness and a sense of loss that tried to sink its teeth into her with guilt at her family’s pain. Yet Elliyna’s demands for analysis of facts over feelings lifted her from that undertow.
The guilt and responsibility she’d taken on underpinned so many actions later on in life, and even decisions with Livia. Guilt that she’d taken part in a scheme that had ended Livia’s life had compounded her own sense of loss. It had been part of the catalyst for offering Verdandi her True Name, along with the fear of what she might become.
The offer, intended to allow someone to cage her forever if she became a monster, was driven from guilt more than fear, yet neither emotion had ended up as fact. The fear had been driven by Viper’s temporary takeover through the flaw in her resistance that Livia’s death had provided. That fear had some fact to it, but the flaw Viper utilised shouldn’t have existed. Guilt that she’d survived where Elizabeth had died had left a wound, and it remained even if she could now acknowledge it.
Their new location had been used by second years before the Novice groups’ restructure, and though it was overall smaller, it provided some benefits that Amdirlain appreciated. The physical training was a constant even with the new training schedule. Despite the group’s improvements, the enclosed training hall they now used was pungent at the lesson’s completion. Dripping sweat, the Novices bowed to Master Liranë before they headed off to bathe.
The newness of the continual access to the training hall, along with its wall that has a permanent running track, chief among the benefits she appreciated. Pushing away the urge to go for an extra run before their ‘midday’ meal, Amdirlain turned towards the lingering Liranë. “How is she?”
“Know I checked on her last night, and Arith’s prognosis was it will be another week at least,” replied Liranë. “How is your chakra meditation progressing?”
“Slower than not shattering glass,” quipped Amdirlain and Liranë sighed in sympathy.
“Know you should try with a material that will deform instead so you can tell how much pressure you’re applying,” suggested Liranë.
“Isn’t that cheating?”
“Is there a reason to be stubborn about how you succeed?”
“That’s rich from a Githzérai. I think they etched stubborn into all of you,” countered Amdirlain and smiled at Liranë’s laughter. “But sometimes there is importance in not only the end but the means.”
“Additional training this evening after your session?” asked Liranë and half-pivoted towards the hall’s exit.
“As long as you remember, it’s not a rematch,” Amdirlain said with a smile at the scolding Tenzin had given their first session.
Liranë’s chuckle is a rich rumble of sound, and she shakes a finger at Amdirlain. “Know that I’ll hold you to your promise of a proper rematch.”
“That promise is conditional,” warned Amdirlain.
Liranë motioned in the infirmary’s direction. “Know that I still believe I should tell her.”
“I’d prefer you didn’t,” repeated Amdirlain and wondered if it was nature or nurture with how stubborn Githzérai could be.
“Know it would be an excellent test of character,” argued Liranë.
Amdirlain scowled and turned up her nose. “The monastery may believe they should hold those taking Novice oaths responsible as an adult, but they’re twelve-year-olds. Please don’t cause her to spike the offer while she’s still recovering.”
“Know that Gemiya told me her father has already disowned her,” said Liranë.
Wincing, Amdirlain gave a curt nod. “Yeah, she told me when she got word. That’s all the more reason I want her to have this chance at a new beginning.”
“Know that I’ll give her a chance, but it will depend on if she admits to the truth,” replied Liranë and waved off Amdirlain’s attempted protest. “Know I’ve seen the same evidence Master Jarithä revoked her enrolment upon, and the only reason I’m willing to speak to her is you tempting me with a rematch.”
Then I’m glad I didn’t have time to ask about one earlier.
As tempted as she was to argue, Amdirlain didn’t want to push Sarith’s luck and bowed her acceptance instead, the motion now far more practised. “Thank you. Everyone is taking her injury as evidence that she lashed out with greater force, but I still argue it was the Ki reacting to the aggression.”
“Know you are too forgiving,” retorted Liranë and stepped back to give Amdirlain’s shoulder a hard bump.
Amdirlain laughed bitterly and shook her head. “Hardly, but I’m trying to forgive myself as part of my healing, and I don’t want this regret niggling at me.”
“Know then, I’m glad it comes from self-interest. Know that a warrior shouldn’t leave a live enemy behind them on the battlefield.”
“She’s not my enemy. She’s a girl who was angry, uncertain, and scared; but life is scary.”
“Know I’ll judge her attitude for myself; if I don’t like how she answers, I won’t give her a chance,” warned Liranë.
“That is your choice. Just don’t let on the chance is at my request,” insisted Amdirlain. “She might see it as me rubbing her situation in her face, and pride is one of the few things she’s not lost.”
Liranë’s shrug didn’t fill Amdirlain with any conviction that she’d keep it quiet. “Know it’s her choice to be stupid or not, and she’s no reason to be proud now.”
Following Liranë from the training hall, the light faded behind them even before the door had fully closed. When Liranë headed towards the exit from their dormitory area, Amdirlain headed directly for the refectory. Far smaller than their previous location, it was more a dining room than a proper refectory. The fourteen Novices in their dormitory on the tri-course spread between three tables. The new table assignment was only days old, but it didn’t interfere with her developing habit of taking the time to meditate and enter her Mind Palace.
The sullen, angry, blood-red sun had softened towards a deep orange amber and no longer had the sky tinged with flames. The jagged top of the spire had smoothed out—somewhat, at least—and its sides had likewise transformed. Small patches of the tar had hardened into obsidian-like glass but much of it still slowly undulated with pain and memories she still hadn’t progressed to dealing with. Beneath its surface, the faces kept their uncomfortable expressions but no longer appeared agonised and screaming as they’d done in the past.
“Know I think I’m annoying Master Xharn,” Lezekus stated the moment she sat down at the table, her words jolted Amdirlain from her meditation.
“In which aspect of his duties here: monastery Master or as Moradin’s Priest?”
“Know it’s more the aspect of a nosey male wanting to know the name of the Goddess I’ve chosen to follow,” replied Lezekus and rolled her eyes.
“I think you’re enjoying frustrating him,” teased Amdirlain.
A mock huff came from Lezekus before she grumbled playfully. “Know that I can choose to share her name or not, and I chose not to share.”
“You barely made it to the physical training on time. Did you eat breakfast with the Priests?”
“Do you think I’d still be able to move if I hadn’t eaten? Is it Master Liranë’s intention to work us to death?” grumbles Lezekus.
“Know you had best get stronger as a Priest then so you can raise us when we die,” interjected Gemiya, before she sat down beside Amdirlain. “Did you sit down without waiting for someone else to arrive at last?”
“Know she was sitting, but I think it was because she was meditating,” offered Lezekus and brushed the damp ends of her cornrows off her shoulders.
“Know that I’ve seen her meditate standing up, so sitting must be a sign we’re slowly getting through to her,” Zenya countered and took her spot across the table. As she sat beside Lezekus, she gave a damp spot on the Novice’s robe a poke. “Couldn’t you take a few moments longer to dry your hair properly?”
“It’s my choice how damp I leave my hair,” retorted Lezekus with a smirk.
“Know that Amdirlain is having a bad influence on your language,” teased Zenya, but gave Amdirlain a mischievous smile.
“Aren’t we always influenced by those we associate with, for good or ill?”
Zenya’s gaze didn’t shift away, but her expression turned as serious as her tone. “Were you in the training hall all last night?”
The innocent smile that Amdirlain gave drew a chuckle from Gemiya and Lezekus, even before she answered. “Maybe. Why do you ask?”
“Know I needed some water last night and the underside of the training hall’s door was aglow. Know I didn’t peek inside in case someone was practicing spells against its targets,” replied Zenya. “Do you get enough sleep?”
“Speaking of spells, any tips for Air Dart? Know I can’t get it directed properly,” Gemiya interjected, and Amdirlain turned to her to ignore the question.
“Picture the elongated end of the structure aiming towards the target and projecting the Mana,” replied Amdirlain. “The intake of the Mana should flow down through the top of the formation, and out the tail to provide it focus and direction. Aren’t you supposed to be only practising Zephyr at present?”
Gemiya’s gaze grew distracted for a moment before she nodded in understanding. “Know I found Zephyr simple after what you showed us. What image are you trying now for the spheres? Know I noticed you’re back to breaking more of them again.”
Wrinkling her nose, Amdirlain shrugged ruefully. “The images of the band and egg cups I was using lifted them, but I don’t feel the contact, just the shape was preventing them from rolling around. I’m trying tendrils and frond-like structures to hold them,”
At Amdirlain’s explanation, Zenya gave a shudder. “Know I don’t want to know the plant inspiration you used that sprayed the ceiling then.”
Tendrils are likely a bad idea since I’ve used them so often to kill.
“I’ll figure something out.”
Yngvarr’s PoV - Royal Palace - Andúnë Court (Sunset Elf Court)
He appears relaxed and merely sleeping floating in the healing pool, wrapped in the water plants’ fronds—as long as you avoid his eyes. The relaxed muscles of his face look to be in a contented smile, in stark contrast to the gaze and their darting, bulging horror.
No residual magic lingered about him except for the healing water; whatever was causing this was neither arcane nor divine. Multiple detection attempts return nothing, and despite his evident awareness, even attempts to touch his mind avail nothing. No Spell calms the agony in his gaze, nor catches the lightning quickness of thoughts to tell what he was enduring.
“Do you see what they have done to my son, Prince Ýridhrendaer Malantur?”
The soft words draw Yngvarr’s attention to the Elven Queen sitting quietly by the pool her gaze fixed on Himelchon’s eyes. Her normally perfectly tended blood-red hair hangs loose across her crumpled finery like blood spilling from her heart, and pale-silver eyes echo the torment in Himelchon’s own. Normally radiant skin looks wane and pale despite the room’s vibrant life force that can hold death at bay for scores.
“There is no Spell, Blessing nor poison of any kind in place. This isn’t something a Norse has done, even if one of them had an issue with Prince Himelchon. Inflicting this—whatever it is—would have been beyond them, Queen Norrin.”
Slender fingers curl inwards, and for a moment, she looks ready to leap at me, only to slump as if the effort is too much to bear.
“You will return from your stay in Duskstone and scour the lands for information about what has befallen my son. Go among the human realms and shake out every speck of decay until you find the answer.”
“Surely there are others more experienced in such matters than I?” I protest, trying to figure out where even to start an investigation. Perhaps Moke or Hrafn might know who could come up with such a traceless affliction.
“He was in Eyrarháls at your request, was he not?”
“No, your Majesty, I had requested help from my younger sister Brethil, but your son prevailed upon her to allow him the opportunity. Regardless, I will do my utmost to assist the search.”
“When my son is well again, you will return to your place among our people, and we will announce your engagement.”
I freeze at her instructions and take in her dull gaze fixed on her son.
“No, your Majesty.”
My reply stops whatever Norrin was about to say, and for a moment, her mouth simply moves soundlessly before a low hiss of noise comes forth. “What?!”
“I have no intention of marrying her since I’m already married, regardless of what you and Mother believe.”
“Your Houses need to be joined,” growls Norrin, the words’ timbre harsher than I thought I’d ever hear from her lips.
“I believe I have other things to do, your Majesty. Should I seek information on what ails your son or stay and argue with you?”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
The lifelessness disappears from her silvered gaze, and fine features burn with rage and the silver blazes with power.
“Get out of my sight before I exile you from our lands forever, Ýridhrendaer Edlen.”
The hissed words spark and toss about in the chamber’s tranquility, and her change to my name makes her decision clear.
“I will still seek to learn what has happened to your son, your Majesty.”
I adjust the bow I start from habit, and instead of a greeting from Noble to the Queen, it becomes a fitting gesture of respect from a commoner. Before I can step away, the family’s marks are already fading from my robes, and the Queen’s attendants step well clear of me as if her ire is contagious.
By the time I’m clear of the palace’s wards, the only evidence of my family connection is the gaps in my finery. Heedless of etiquette and the protests of guards, I open a Gate and step through to outside the wards of Duskstone; the familiarity of the corridor after weeks of coming and going with mining crews, have made it simple to target the Spell.
I’m fumbling at the front door, unsure how I got there, only for Alfarr to pull the door open in a rush and usher me inside.
“What happened?” Alfarr asks, frowning at whatever he sees in my expression, and his eyes dart across my clothing. “Those look like your formal robes, but all the insignia are gone. There isn’t a wound on you, but you look ready to hurl your guts.”
“I stand before you Ýridhrendaer Edlen, of house Malantur no longer.”
“That’s why they recalled you, to put a boot into your guts?” questions Alfarr, the anger in his voice falling into the ashes of my disbelief.
“My cousin-”
Alfarr’s arms wrap around me, and his warmth helps still the spikes of my sorrow. The comfort of his presence sheltered me in the way no one else ever offered to me. When the shudders of pain cease, I stay leaning against him enjoying his reassuring presence pressed along the line of my body.
“Sit down, I’ll heat some of your tea, and you can take your time telling me what’s going on.”
Ebusuku - Elemental Plane of Earth
A Portal ripples into existence as agreed but I stay concealed until the half-score group is through, and it’s closed again. Only then do I let the concealments go but remain in place until they release or re-sheathe weapons.
“How is the raiding going?”
Erwarth’s gaze scans about the stone cavern before settling back on me. The bare bone of her wing’s arch visible under the Sisterhood form she currently wears is a strange contrast to any Succubi I’ve ever seen. “We determined the fate of the missing Erakkö, but there weren’t even bodies left to retrieve.”
“I’ll let Amdirlain know when she’s recovered, but I’ll ask their military to pass along messages to whatever families they left behind.”
“How is Lady Amdirlain’s healing progressing?” asks Erwarth, with forced casualness.
“It’s still progressing. The last Message didn’t sound as distressed, but she’s been too good at blocking things before. Her mindset is still so Mortal it’s strange dealing with her.”
My admission has Erwarth nodding. “Maybe ask to see the Mind Palace she mentioned. It might accurately show her progress.”
“I’ll send her a message to see if she can use Spirit Bridge to contact one of us from her Mind Palace. She mentioned doing so with another previously, though she didn’t possess an Oath Link with them,” I say and take in the others, unconcerned by Erwarth taking the lead. The rage and jealousy that I’d seen in every Sister beneath their identical appearance was completely absent. “What did you need to meet up for?”
“Equipment issues. We’re looking to replace some of the Abyssal gear or acquire upgrades. We’ve chests of gems and precious metals along with crates of Mithril and Adamantine ingots we’ve pillaged. Mainly it's weapons and armour from trustworthy Artificers, wands, or empowered rods to increase combat capabilities, along with healing potions. A lot of the enslaved people we’ve freed have been in rough shape. It’s been fine when the raid’s gone smoothly, not so much the time things got messy.”
“Have you freed many? I thought you were focusing on quiet raids.”
“That changed when we found clues to the Erakkös’ location in the paperwork finally. We’ve hit strongholds tracking them but ensured we first disrupted the portals for their reinforcements. Once we wiped them out, we ended up with fifteen thousand freed between four locations. With that many, even a fraction needing healing uses a lot of Mana.”
Remembering the beaten state of those we’d already freed, I know what she means. “And it’s never just a fraction.”
“Precisely,” growls Sírdhem, shrugging out of the Succubus shape, her black feathers erupt into sight. “Asshole Dao. Anyone from a species not their own is less valuable than tools and fit only to grind into dust. At least Demons have an excuse for being vicious.”
“If you’ve got a list with your needs, I’ll see what I can organise from Duskstone. Though why aren’t you buying from the Exchange?”
Sírdhem started setting down storage bags others from the group passed along to her.
“I said trustworthy Artificers, Ebusuku,” snorts Erwarth. “I’m keeping clear of it, and I don’t want to risk commission work from there.”
“Avoiding information brokers?”
As the last of the storage bags are set upon the ground, Sírdhem holds out a gleaming memory crystal. The contents make sense but range from basic to extremely expensive. “I’ll speak to Mirage first; some of the simpler potions might be things she can craft to gain experience.”
“Whatever works, having someone organising it frees our time for progressing. No immediate need, but combat will claim equipment eventually,” replies Erwarth and motions to another. The energy of a Portal pulses into existence, showing another bleak cavern beyond its threshold.
“Good hunting.”
The first of the group is quickly through the Portal securing the area, and Erwarth gives me a nod. “Likewise.”
As she steps across the threshold, a question comes to mind.
“Wait, do you remember one of the Titan’s servants named Eleftherios?”
My question causes Erwarth to freeze halfway across the threshold. She continues on, only looking back after she raises a hand to someone on the other side. “It’s been a long time since I heard that name. He is the personification of a Concept—not the whole of it—more a facet of one, a conduit to interact with it, you could say.”
The amount of power he would possess chills my thoughts, but I manage another question. “Which Concept?”
“Death,” Erwarth replies before the Portal closes, and the news leaves me blinking.
Scooping up the bags, Planar Shift delivers me home and her Domain settles around me, its vibrant energy a rush of welcome. There are more Petitioners than days ago, and I notice two Elves sitting cross-legged beneath a new tree whose branches bend under the weight of fruit. Their deep moss green skin isn’t a colouration I’ve seen among Elves before, and I take note to speak to them later. I pass groups wandering the streets and watching Farhad teach a mixture of Archons and Petitioners. A glimmer of light zips by and I wave towards them prompting the Lantern Archon to spin about and race back to me.
“Do you know where Hook or Mirage is, little one?”
As they bounce on the breeze, I’m not sure if they’ll have anything to share, but finally, a faint female voice resonates.
“I think Hook is at the staging area for outbound teams, but I’m not sure about Mirage. I saw her at the brewer’s place, but that was ages ago,” she says.
“Ages?”
“Two hours, or was it three?” Her voice is barely audible at the end, and she dims to candlewick before flaring up again. “At least three hours.”
My smile causes her to spin about, her filigree a blur of lace formed from golden vines.
“I see, thank you.”
“Bye, Ebusuku.”
The Archon blurs away before I can ask her name. I’m not sure how I’ll keep track of so many new ones about the place.
Heading towards the crafting hall area, the activity at the staging area nearby is a swarm of shifting lights from the gathered Archons. Through an open Gate, I glimpse bluish grasslands and Sidero’s chains lashing out to crush a constant trickle of Thri-Kreen drones. Another score of Lantern Archons race across its threshold before the Gate closes on the fighting.
“Hook.”
The Archon was already turning in my direction before I spoke, and I raised a hand in greeting. “How are things going?”
“Busy, but going well,” replies Hook, making notes on a crumpled piece of paper. “Sidero found another nest, so we’ve sent sixty Archons through to gain initial battle experience with her. I’ve lined up a few of Týr’s Valkyries to help open Gates to Cemna and Letveri regularly now.”
“Things seem to be a little crowded,” I say, eyeing a group of new Hound Archons conducting weapon drills not far away.
“We’re going to have to hold off retrieving more of the older souls. None of the last four groups faded into the Domain’s wellspring; a lot changed into Archons instead,” says Hook, waving his pencil towards the valley’s closest end. ”While the boundaries have crept outwards, we’re soon going to need another major expansion like the last time Amdirlain tended them.”
“I’ll mention it to her, but we could set up some visitor’s quarters outside. The Norse patrols don’t need to be inside our borders all the time they’re here. If nothing else, it will give the Dwarves some fun building defensive fortifications for them beyond the boundary.”
“They have a bit of work on at present,” objects Hook.
“I’ll discuss the priorities with them,” I offer. “If they build new structures outside the Domain for visitors, that will free up the ones inside they’ve already built and let them build forts—win-win. Any messages to pass onto Amdirlain?”
Hook’s expression turns to one of thoughtful concern. “Let her know we’re chipping away at her to-do list so she’s not to worry.”
I snort when I leave him to organise the next groups. The Domain pathways are busy with Petitioners moving between gatherings amid the various clearings where groups are sitting to talk or learn new skills. Everywhere I look, they seem to be engaged in learning, almost as if the whole Domain’s residents are obsessed with newness. The first quiet spot I find is an overlook along a cliff-side path that shows the hive of activity through the gaps in the trees.
“Maybe we should have held off gathering the older Erakkö souls; Judgement isn’t traumatic for them,” I murmur to myself, and dismiss the thought. Twenty-twenty hindsight, as Amdirlain would say, and I consider how to tempt her to allow me into her Mind Palace.
“Amdirlain, when you have time in your routine, would you use Spirit Bridge to invite me to your Mind Palace? I’d like to talk, not just throw messages back and forth.”
No answer is forthcoming after nearly an hour, and I’ve already started down the path again when I get her reply.
“I’ll try, but I’ve not used that Power except to pass a message across Oath Links for some time.”
The Message buzzes in my ear, and there is a strange sensation a short time later. A narrow tightrope-like connection stretches out from far away carrying an invitation, it feels like Amdirlain’s energy. Unsure how to make use of it, the process takes repeated attempts before I suddenly feel drawn along it. It’s long moments in darkness before a deep-amber light beckons from ahead and I emerge to stand upon battered black stone.
The light comes from a dull sun overhead in a black sky that illuminates the tar and obsidian covered landscape around us. It’s a view fit for planes of the Abyss showing Souls trapped beneath obsidian, and foul tar. A series of bubbles from a mouth far away gives the impression of a Mortal drowning. Amdirlain’s sitting away from the edge in the odd style she prefers, her downcast gaze fixed on the ground, deliberately focused away from the view.
“Was I interrupting anything?”
“No, I was only practicing Ki Movement in our new training hall. The delay was- well, it was more I wasn’t sure I wanted to show you this mess,” Amdirlain says. Her gaze stays fixed downwards and away from the desolate landscape around us.
“Tenzin is letting you use a training hall, but didn’t let you use the courtyard?” I enquire unsure where to start with her obvious discomfort.
“It was the fact we had an exposed courtyard that was the issue,” replies Amdirlain with a twitch of a smile. “She didn’t want anyone out there alone.”
Laughter bursts out at the thought of what might happen to most things in Limbo upon crossing Amdirlain’s path.
“Yeah, I know, but they have their rules, and if she made an exception for me others would have been asking,” interjects Amdirlain before I can tease her about Tenzin.
“Githzérai are a race known for their love of Law,” I say. Crouching close, I lift her chin prompting her, at last, to look at me instead of the ground. “It’s not the viewing platform you told me about, but is it worse or better than it was?”
“I’m still a work in progress, but I’m getting better,” admits Amdirlain
I lean my forehead against hers and catch her in a hug. “You had me worried. How is your training going?”
“I’m still shattering glass ornaments when I lift them with Telekinesis, but I can hold myself aloft with it easily enough,” offers Amdirlain. “I’m at least making progress on other techniques, like Matter Agitation, and a few basic building blocks.”
“Lifting yourself? Your mind might associate that with Flight,” I suggest. “Why not image holding a child’s hand?”
The look of confusion I get almost has me grinning before she finally speaks up. “What?”
“When you are lifting them, imagine the glass object is a child’s hand. I can’t believe you’d harm a child, and your mind might react more gently.“
“I’ll give it a go,” Amdirlain says, and the bridge between us seems to waver for a moment under the pressure of her sudden intensity. “If something happened to me, would you take care of everyone?”
“I can’t take your place. Their Faith is in you,” I huff in exasperation, her intensity making it clear what she means.
“Mortals’ Faith and the Oaths link to the Mantle, and if something goes wrong, I need to make sure they’ll be safe.”
The raw need in her words bubbles patches of the hardened tar around us with a press of energy. Images of deeds common to the denizens of the Abyss flash momentarily into existence; the content and sheer number stop me in surprise. They come apart in patches that sweep from one side of them to another and the bubbling below us ceases.
“What was that?”
“I can look into the Souls of Mortals, along with the essence of Demons. I hadn’t realised it had stuck with me until I came off balance. That isn’t important though. I’ve simply got work ahead acknowledging none of these memories are my doing, so I can easily get at the sources of my pain. What is important is that the Souls that rely on me are safe.”
The moment at the end of the maze rises within me, tempting me with the choice of power again, and I carefully push my focus away from it. “I’m… I’m not sure I’d trust myself with that amount of power over others. I chose to enter your service like I had promised when you promoted me.”
Amdirlain goes wide-eyed at my words, and I brace myself for her disappointment, only for the landscape to rock when she erupts in laughter. Her body shakes with full-bellied amusement and for a moment I think her grip on the Mind Palace will collapse. In places, the obsidian rock cracks and shatters, exposing the lakebed through the gaps, but instead of more memories erupting, slivers of shattered pieces fade away.
When the laughter finally eases, patches where there had been still-bubbling tar look calmer, other sections are spider-webbed with fractures and the slivers that faded are still missing. I look back from the changes in time to find myself caught in a hug and the still giggling Amdirlain trembles against me. That tail-end of the laughter takes far longer to subside than one of Tickles’ outbursts and the light from the sun changes—amid the deep amber patches of a softer yellow show.
“Those that believe they should have power really aren’t to be trusted with it,” Amdirlain whispers in my ear when she finally mentally catches her breath. After planting a kiss on my cheek, she rests her cheek against mine for a time with a tightening hug before she steps away. “You’re such a fine big sister.”
The laughter looks to have eased some of the unhappy lines that had been present in her expression, but there is still too much tension.
“You’re far kinder than any of my family.”
At my words Amdirlain catches my hand in hers and keeps hold, her voice becoming soft but intense. “That’s not true Ebusuku. All the Archons are part of your family now, in a way that matters the most. Always keep in mind there are two types of family, those linked to you by birth, and those that find a place in your heart along the way. I need to remember that as well. I’ve been mourning lost family, not treasuring my new family enough.”
“I’d still prefer you keep the Mantle or whatever you called it,” I protest and set aside the Domain’s growing space issue.
“Mantle is what Eleftherios called it—in Celestial, not some translation—so I’ll take it as the official name,” states Amdirlain. “I’m not looking to abandon them, but I absolutely need to make sure I can keep them safe. Once, in some ways, their trust felt like a burden—now, it feels more like a gift. I only hope it’s one I can measure up to, but that makes their safety even more important to me.”
Amdirlain’s attention turns to the landscape, and I wait while she takes it in. “Wow, laughter does wonders. Have a think about it. I’m not even sure how I'd go about transferring it, and Eleftherios said it’s risky depending on how integrated it is with me as a person. I don’t want to transfer it, but I also don’t want to just dump this on anyone without warning if I find I’m losing myself to the Abyss.”
“You’re looking for an Heir Apparent?” I ask, trying to see it from Amdirlain’s perspective, yet the thought is disturbing.
“Yeah, it’s called succession planning in my lingo. You should always know who is going to take charge if something happens. It saves confusion, and prevents power grabs from people you don’t want in charge,” explains Amdirlain, and dread clouds her gaze.
The look is disturbing and hearing bubbles popping, I blurt out the good news. “Viper got toasted.”
“What?!” exclaims Amdirlain and genuine pleasure blows the cloud of dread away.
“They had summoned her to the Material Plane, and Isa found her. Apparently, she unsung all the memories of yours she’d kept, killed those holding her summoning pact and her Priests, before she dusted her form. Plus, she gave her a stupid use name that makes no sense.”
The news has Amdirlain grabbing my shoulders and a gleeful expression lights up her face. “Thank goodness that’s such a relief. Isa- oh.”
“What?” I ask, at the sorrow softening her gaze.
“I sent her a message, and I wasn’t kind in what I said. Then she does this for me,” murmurs Amdirlain painfully and pain twists her expression chipping at the light in her gaze.
The emotional zig-zags are showing me how damaged she’d let herself become, and I owe Erwarth for this suggestion—I wouldn’t have caught this in messages if she’d kept her voice composed. Her guilt has me wanting to shake sense into her, but I keep a level tone. “No. She needed more than just one kick in the arse, though Torm delivered one to Ilya’s butt yesterday.”
“He did what?” grumbles Amdirlain, and I wish I’d held my tongue at the sudden irritation in her gaze.
“Did what should have been done! He was telling them off for the damage they’d caused to you and Ilya protested his lecture. All he did was leg sweep her and had his sword pointed at her throat. I’m not the biggest fan of you and Torm, but he rates higher in my eyes now.”
“But he shouldn’t have-”
The contact of my fingers on her lips feels so genuine when I cut her off, I have to wonder about what this Mind Palace is really. “I didn’t pass your idiot instruction to be gentle with them onto him—and he was restrained—so don’t get angry with him. You’ve taken harder falls sparring with me. Some of Ilya’s words, let alone her attitude, deserve more than just a little humiliation. He made it clear your current situation wasn’t entirely on them, but also how they hadn’t helped. They needed to know exactly the consequences of their behaviour.”
Her anger eases into a sullen look, and I hope I haven’t caused Torm grief. “Was this before or after they’d helped?”
“After, but he didn’t know about it until Isa tried to calm the situation down, although he had no intention of allowing it to escalate further. Torm heard her mentally warn Ilya before he needed to administer further chastisement. His words to Echo—not mine. Echo reported the whole thing to me; it makes me want to buy the kid a present.”
I give a happy sigh, and when Amdirlain raises an eyebrow at me, I have to keep myself from pinching her cheeks.
“Which kid?”
“Both of them. Torm for the arse-kicking, and Echo for sharing the memory.”
The exasperation that earns sets me laughing, and thankfully Amdirlain joins in.