Amdirlain’s PoV - Maze
Time Sense prompted Amdirlain to end her latest session, and she almost teleported to her next target out of habit. A quick check confirmed Ascetic Triumvirate had reached 100 last practice session, and she made another change.
[Experience Allocation confirmed:
Ostimë: 50% weighted.
Ontãlin: 50% weighted]
Absently rubbing her thumb across a now smooth palm, Amdirlain considered how to start. “She’d act on key notes within songs, that’s what Orhêthurin said to Mori. These trees might be useful after all.”
Far Hand applied force to an apple, and she listened to the change. The pressure added to the tree’s music, though the technique’s notes sat apart from it. Resonance focused on the pseudo-apple tree, and Amdirlain let the rest of the music around her wash away.
Just the same as the blades of grass, she could hear the individual music for the technique, tree, and fruit. Within the orchestra, the musical sections painted out the trees inner details down to the leaves and sap. While the Power absorbed all the music individually, her inexperience blurred the lines between them in understanding it.
She repeatedly plucked apples with Far Hand, trying to find where the fruit’s stem snapped in the music. She knew a few sharp notes would signal the stem’s severing but kept getting lost in the overall harmony.
“I want to get to where I just need the notes where the stem breaks. Let’s take it one stage at a time.”
Returning to the longer music, Amdirlain listened again, not to the tree or the fruit but the pressure’s Song. She’d practised scales and familiar songs from Earth, but now her voice rose in unearthly vibrant tones. The music’s energy shivered across her tongue, and a focus slip flattened the tree in a sharp crescendo. Pain Eater informed her of a minute ache of fatigue damage only for Protean’s regeneration to wash it away.
[True Song (10->11)
Note: Are you going to tell yourself it's just your stronger Willpower?]
Gideon’s gauntlet just made Amdirlain chuckle.
“Well, that’s awkward.”
She turned her attention to the chamber’s orange tree, and this time, the energy didn’t catch her by surprise. The intent of the music added to a ripe orange and sprayed pulp across the ground.
[True Song (11->12)
Note: So close, yet so very far away.]
“You’re looking for a spanking, Gideon,” huffed Amdirlain, and she almost laughed at the thought of Sarah dealing with an aspect.
A memory of a perfectly faceted gemstone—the size of a child’s fist—suddenly leapt up and grabbed her attention. It was burning in the forge’s light, infinite facets adding across it every moment, growing outwards as she watched. Within each was a funhouse maze of reflections tracing each choice that had led to the outer shell. An awareness formed as the layers grew, and it looked back at her from every surface as it turned.
The gemstone spun erratically, in constant motion, spraying the walls with a rainbow of possibilities. Sound clawed its way across her skin, leaving bruises in its wake, and power roared out within the memory. The music contained more layers than the combined Song that Orhêthurin had used to create a distant sun.
A sensation of needles piercing flesh had Amdirlain yank herself free through force of will, unsure if she even wanted to know what Orhêthurin had been doing. She felt herself twitch with the remembered pain and moved over to pluck the dress from the hidey-hole. The act of settling it into place provided her mind with a signal to relax.
Forcing the memory aside, she started a step at a time and progressed from spraying the ground with pulped fruit. The pressure of her intentions made the difference between pulped, squished, and then finally whole. Only once a fruit dropped undamaged from the tree did Amdirlain attempt the next step in the reaction.
* * *
It had taken practice, but eventually, she reached the point where a single note severed a stem, and a series would cause a clean cascade of fruit. Amdirlain was already singing before she put her foot through the second entity. When the first unit appeared, she pushed the Song towards the core notes within its precise music and released it. The unit staggered but didn’t fall, the difference in the material having slipped her strikes partially aside.
“Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
“Yes, I can,” grumbled Theinas, the dissonant edge to the unit’s sound proclaiming it hadn’t gotten off scot-free. The sounds painted an image of multiple cracks running through gears and connecting shafts.
“Thanks, that’s all I needed to know.”
“You’re not planning to grind for experience?”
“No, you’ve been accommodating. Told you I need to get the basics down,” chirped Amdirlain. “Time to practice other things, and I’ll work on getting experience applying them to foes wherever I end up.”
“Are you going to stop destroying entities?”
“These vile things? Why would I let them remain a potential risk? They’re so faded they don’t give experience, but maybe I’ll use them for target practice. I get one free shot each time after all.”
Amdirlain gave him a pleased smile and teleported back.
What do those other powers do?
[Lingering Song:
This Power can establish persistent True Song effects. Open flames will continue to burn regardless of fuel source, weather effects will persist, without additional energy provided. The effect size will also influence the total duration, but the Singer’s Will can end any results they set. Altering a True Song with this Power causes fatigue damage dependent on the intended time and complexity of the Song.]
[Physical Song:
This Power makes use of the movement of the possessor’s form to shape music. Requires skills to provide precise control over the tempo of motion to release the songs correctly.]
Lingering Song I’ll start on after I get better. Figuring out how to unlock Silent Song and Physical Song will be interesting.
Putting those aside, she started on another Psi technique. Memorising its Song, she worked through the music it caused and set about duplicating the sequences of effects individually. The challenge of pressing the Power into an increasingly shorter piece of music helped her progress.
* * *
It was weeks later that the double chime caught her while duplicating an Energy Stun. Despite the ringing sound, she finished the short Song, and the air crackled with the lightning strobe effect of the third-tier technique. The Lingering Song effect sent an increasingly familiar icy chill along her nerves, but she didn’t wait for it to settle. Already dressed, Amdirlain grabbed her key and blurred through the passageways towards the stairs.
Please let me not exit into the Abyss.
The stone barrier at the top of the stairs had transformed into the same destructive energies she had seen various auras pass through unscathed. With her dress quickly settled into place, Amdirlain started up the stairs and, without hesitation, stepped through their blazing light. The quick notes in their Song signalled an instant shift in location, and Amdirlain found herself in a corridor of Human proportions. After the years she’d spent in the Maze, it was a claustrophobic experience.
Though the grey-white stone remained the same, a bright mosaic strip ran the corridor’s length. The artwork along the mosaic showed a procession of figures passing through a door. At the corridor’s end, a varnished rosewood door stood ajar with a warm light showing around its edges.
I said I’d talk to him; not the time to be shy.
When she pushed the door open, she found beyond it was a large white room with a black basalt door on the far side. In the middle of the room was a figure familiar only from Orhêthurin's memories. The Titan looked nothing like the D&D monster she’d imagined before regaining those memories. He stood nearly half her height again, but partly because of the straight horns that rose from above his ears. Broad featured with a wide nose, the deep brown gaze seemed odd among the grey-slate pelt that covered him from head to toe. Unlike those memories she’d gained of him, he wore a sleeveless shirt and pants made from roughly spun material.
At her entrance, he stood slowly, his gaze fixed on her face, and sorrow rolled off him in waves. Despite the tidal force she could hear trying to catch him, he politely constrained himself and nodded to her.
As his silence dragged on, Amdirlain spoke up to prompt him to find his balance. “Hello Nicholaus. Theinas said you have some choices for me.”
Nicholaus smiled sadly and gestured towards a chair that appeared across from him. “Hello, Amdirlain. Would you spare me a moment and sit, or would you prefer the choices immediately?”
When Amdirlain moved towards the seat, Nicholaus lowered himself onto a low bench, the difference in height setting them at eye level. The Song from him vibrated through her bones, but it still wasn’t the intensity Amdirlain had expected to hear. “You’re not physically here, are you? Your presence is like Theinas’ training connection.”
“Training connection,” chuffed Nicholaus, and a trace of amusement tickled across his song. It drowned out quickly, and he nodded sharply. “Nothing like that. I’ve focused my attention here, and that's enough to express a physical form. I’m sorry for what happened to you, Amdirlain, even before you left here the first time.”
“I'm sorry too, Nicholaus, but I’m not your daughter. Orhêthurin’s my past life, not me. I know enough to contextualise some situations, but we’re different people.”
“That I know, though some aspects in my service were hopeful you’d remember her fully, or at least regain more memories quickly,” affirmed Nicholaus.
“What did you want to talk about?”
The broad, crooked smile he affected made Nicholaus appear relaxed, but his music didn’t match it. His smile intended to relax her, but her eye-roll in response turned it genuine. “I’ve had to speak through servants, and that isn’t the same as talking to you directly. I know you’re not my daughter, but you wear her face, and you’re a result of your Soul’s journey. Knowing her Soul endures is different to seeing you and sensing its presence within you.”
“I guess it's like a heart donor’s family wanting to meet the recipient.”
“I don’t know what you mean, so I’ll have to take your word for it,” replied Nicholaus, and he fell quiet. Amdirlain just waited for him. “I’m honestly not sure where to begin. The important thing first, though, unfortunately it changes nothing. I’m sorry you came back under these circumstances. I knew you still existed, and that was enough for me.”
“Wrote your eldest son’s bloodline an open-ended IOU, didn’t you?”
“Yes, foolishly, I did exactly that,” admitted Nicholaus. “I had intended it to be the last safety measure if the other gods caught up to him and his wife. It would have allowed them to call on me and flee to us. I could have put them in stasis or something if we had no options for them to live somewhere. When he perished, I should have reclaimed it, but I could feel his descendants through it.”
“When did it get twisted to cursing people?”
Wincing at her question, Nicholaus grimaced fiercely. “Hundreds of years in their reality, billions had passed for us. They used it to ask for punishment for a child murderer, and I saw no harm in it.”
The words evoked her experience in the corridor, and her utterance of the name uttered was cold. “Was that Moloch?”
“No, much before him,” asserted Nicholaus. “Gideon told me you met a mental simulation of him. Your term ‘corridor of choices’ isn’t quite right. It shows you the points in life where you had the most fear, or could have changed things, and the progression of fears or regrets you’ve dwelt on.”
“So my fault for being paranoid,” chided Amdirlain.
“Not what I meant. I was just trying to explain why it threw you into that sickening torment.” objected Nicholaus softly, rubbing his hands down his thighs. The nervous motion was something she’d never seen in Orhêthurin’s memories. But as he shifted, Amdirlain listened to the discomfort in his Song and waited him out.
“I’m not belittling the foulness that it put you through. It is what it is. I wish I could have sealed it off to you, but the most Gideon could do was try to warn you.”
Wrinkling her nose at the memory of the instability warning, Amdirlain nodded sharply. “He tried, and being me, I ignored it. Did I set the rules for the corridors?”
“No, Orhêthurin did; that wasn’t self-inflicted. You’ve already told me you’re not her, so don’t you dare blame yourself,” protested Nicholaus. Frustration and sorrow spiked hard within his music. “I’m not good with people; it never seems like I have the right words. You have my daughter’s Soul, and you destroyed a factor that contributed to her death. If I could, I’d reward you generously, but the rules bind me.”
“Can we move on to my choices? I take it they’re not good.”
A low growl of frustration rumbled around in Nicholaus’ chest. “The one I’m sure you’ll take isn’t good at all.”
“Then start with what you think I won’t take.”
“Leave. As occurred before, I can eject you from the realm. You’ll be reborn somewhere and this time free of the vines; I’ll hope your future lives are better ones. You might find yourself a genuine Godly being somewhere with the vines gone.”
His explanation had Amdirlain’s lips twitch with suppressed amusement. “Not worried about that last. But you’re right, not happening. Next?”
“Come into the Spire’s workshops,” huffed Nicholaus, the exasperation colouring his tone at her quick dismissal. “You’ll never be able to leave the Spire again, but you’d be safe. The interior is an infinite plane, and you could practise True Song and whatever skills you wanted. Stay and help us build the worlds; the aspects can come and go. They ignite the sun and shortcut the process by setting planets in place. Lots of work to do, but we could work together again.”
Amdirlain raised a hand and cut short his sale’s pitch. “But I’d never be able to leave. Why?”
“The seal. Since you're related to me, once you go into the main areas of the Spire, you’d never be able to venture out into the realm,” explained Nicholaus reluctantly. “It's part of the reason you left. Nowhere to be reborn, even if you had been Anar. When you left, I sent them out with you.”
“They didn’t want to go?”
“No. As you would say, I kicked them the fuck out!” growled Nicholaus. “They allowed him to betray you and then killed you by declining into almost universal laziness. I wouldn’t keep them in the forge where they’d just ruin my mood. The rules stopped them from being reborn except by an Anar, and I wanted them gone. Your Sarah got Bahamut to send me a message, and I also allowed her to leave. I knew your oaths would draw her to you in other lives.”
“I’m pretty sure Sarah’s in charge of herself.”
“True, but she wouldn’t stay in Bahamut’s care with you gone.”
“Alright, next?”
“While it is possible for others, it's not an option for you. When-” Nicholaus cut off his explanation with a raised hand. “It might be best if I explain something first. Souls or spirits transform into celestials by adding their energy to the celestial—merging. The celestial energy of most souls, even those like Anar, merges in a smooth alloy with nothing lost.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Amdirlain’s gaze narrowed at his wording. “But for me, there is a catch?”
“To the energy that serves as the foundation for the celestial species, adding a primordial's Soul would be like pouring oil over water. It won't merge and might form a layer atop, but most will simply slide away.”
Amdirlain swallowed at the image and sat back in her chair. “So the excess?”
“Lost, to blur away into the realm’s energy. I don’t know who the Celestial would be, but it certainly wouldn’t be you. Even as you were when newly arrived, it would still be equivalent to pouring an ocean into your Maze accommodation’s pool. The demonic energy was a shell around your Soul in case that was the next question. You stretched that thin, making it easier for you to shuck her later. With Fallen, it’s a state, not a change to your Soul.”
“Fuck!”
“You need soap for that mouth of yours?” snorted Nicholaus. He motioned, and a plain table sat between them. Atop its rosewood surface were two practical clay cups, and a large amphora rested on the ground next to it.
“You swore!” exclaimed Amdirlain playfully, trying to lighten her mood.
Nicholaus fixed her with a bemused smirk and poured them a drink. The fluid he poured out didn’t smell like the wine she’d expected from the clay amphora but high-proof spirits.
“So what? It's my damn house, and I’ve heard you swear enough.”
“Why the drink?”
“Relax and drink first; it's almost strong enough that you’ll feel it.”
Amdirlain took a sip and was sure it would have killed a Mortal instantly; despite that, it was smooth, with a citrus bite she couldn’t identify. She nodded in appreciation, and after a moment, Amdirlain pressed on with something she’d wanted to ask. “Will you let the others come home?”
“Of course, Laodice and Ruithor may come home if they’re freed,” Nicholaus said
Even as Amdirlain opened her mouth to correct him, her thoughts jumped at the second name, and a reverse black-and-white image shone in her mind. The massive arc of his wings and even the fine line of his face were all cast in shadow. He was a living silhouette of an angel, defined by the limits of surrounding energy, a void that continually sang as it obliterated even the light that touched it. “The fourth aspect was oblivion?”
“Not was. He still exists, of course. Otherwise, he would have returned here, but his very nature makes it hard to determine his location. The Leviathan’s death throes flung his body away and, like Eleftherios, somewhere with a similar nature will have drawn him in.”
“I was talking about the Anar. Will you let them come home?”
“Why should I let the Anar return?” asked Nicholaus flatly. “After what they did to Orhêthurin, why would you even want them back?”
Orhêthurin’s memory of arguing with her husband and other references to Balnérith swam together from fragmented memories.
“Let me work this through. Balnérith was a Solar, wasn’t she?”
Nicholaus blinked at her sudden change in topic and shrugged after consideration. “As close to what her previous reality had to them, why do you ask?”
“Just pieces of memories that I caught references to her in. Still trying to make sense of lots of fragments. I’ve got the feeling they never really met in person.”
“I dealt with the entities that arrived here by tapping that reality for the initial fuel we required. It was to mask Orhêthurin’s existence initially, then Orhêthurin continued that pattern,” explained Nicholaus, concern etched lines across his broad face. “You will not avoid her?”
Amdirlain smiled grimly, baring her teeth as if she could sink them into the memory of Balnérith in the Sisterhood’s chamber. “No, I’m planning to destroy her. Orhêthurin wasn’t perfect, but I’m pretty sure Balnérith had set her hooks in lots of the Anar. I think she’s why they slowly warped in attitudes the way they did. She arranged their destruction; she manipulated the Lómë too smoothly not to be involved with the Leviathan’s attack.”
“Some people react to power in different ways. What happened with the Anar was not all Balnérith’s doing,” cautioned Nicholaus.
“You’re right; a large part of it lies with Orhêthurin. She was so afraid of her power that she let others determine the path she needed to live in life. You even warned her, but creating the Anar and Lómë had her attention in the memory I gained.”
“I warned her more than once, but we all have our blind spots or obsessions,” replied Nicholaus, and his music shivered with amusement and concern. “You don’t seem to be concerned about growing powerful.”
The wince his words provoked stilled Nicholaus' Song, and Amdirlain gave a rueful shrug before she explained. “Initially, I wanted to be strong enough to get free. I didn’t want power over others, and in part, I still don’t, but I’m seeing the price of letting others fill the power vacuum she allowed. It's part of the reason I don’t want Orhêthurin’s memories. I need to be more comfortable with myself before her memories, especially her fear of power, gets added to the mix. The Lómë said the memories are factual, but they hit me with an emotional punch.”
“You are not Anar nor Lómë,” observed Nicholaus.
“She crippled herself, didn’t she? Not only the vines but before that.” blurted Amdirlain.
“How did you know?”
“There was a memory where you created the souls of Anar and Lómë together.”
Nicholaus raised a finger to signal his objection. “I never created the souls.”
“In the memory, sparks fly up into the air. Orhêthurin transformed them via True Song, and you bound them into bodies she’d prepared. I could feel the power in each one, and I’ve heard from a few that the Anar had power equivalent to demigods. Yet she felt stronger there than in a memory where they'd seeded the vines on her, but they'd not yet fed,” observed Amdirlain, and she met his gaze.
“You’re right; she didn’t need my help to create them. My part was to fuse and purify the raw energy, but even that was simply to speed the work. Orhêthurin created all the original souls in our realm. I’ll admit I can copy the result, but that isn’t where my talent lies. Indeed, aspects she sang into existence now handle the creation of new souls.”
“Our realm?”
“Our,” confirmed Nicholaus. “She was the spark of life, its inspiration. I was just the smith assisting in the labour. Have you recalled the creation of the dragons?”
“I have, but don’t you know everything I know?”
Nicholaus slowly shook his head, but his horrified gaze never left her own. “Long ago, I promised Orhêthurin I’d never listen to her thoughts. You might not see yourself as her, but allow me to treat you as I would her in this respect. I said I would never, and I will never, break the promise I gave to Orhêthurin. It would have saved us both pain if I’d never made that promise, but I did, and I will not break it now.”
Stung by his pain, Amdirlain raised her hands in apology. “I’m sorry. Do you change yourself when you make a promise?”
[Diplomacy [J] (14->19)
Note: Polite conversation! Several apologies! The wonders never cease.]
The snort of amusement from Nicholaus came perfectly in time with the message. At first, Amdirlain thought he’d also seen it, but his reply made it clear it was for her words. “I’m not an eastern spirit to change myself with a promise. My word is my bond, and I do not break it, regardless of the pain it causes me. Aren’t we getting a little off track? Why did you ask about Orhêthurin crippling herself?”
“Your intent? No matter how others interpret the promise?”
“My intent, not what others wish to hear. Otherwise my kin would have known not to set foot inside the trap that tested their nature,” Nicholaus wryly admitted. “Still, back to your question. ”
“The memory I regained when you… she was making the souls. You told her she was primordial. Even then, she felt stronger than any memory I’ve regained before she set to killing the gold elves,” Amdirlain stated, only to pause in amusement at Nicholaus’ smirk. “Did I amuse you?”
“No, not amuse, you are right. After Orhêthurin's husband parted from her, she extracted and set a significant amount of power aside. She felt it isolated her from the concerns of others. She justified it by saying the balance was stable, and I didn’t need her to be as strong. I had already set the seals and didn’t know how badly she’d eroded her capabilities until the vines held her.”
“Why didn’t she reclaim it?”
“Twice crippled, her Soul wouldn’t have survived the process,” explained Nicholaus. “What she kept was but a fragment. When Orhêthurin died, she wouldn’t tell me where she’d hidden it, so I could help. Since she'd hid the power in our realm, breaking the rules to force the matter would have wasted all her work, yet gained nothing. I would have been pushed from the realm, and she'd have remained trapped in the Spire, bodiless. In part, Orhêthurin left because she just wanted to be normal. I failed her in that regard. It's all she wanted since her mother died.”
“I remembered that morning,” whispered Amdirlain, and she caught Nicholaus’s pain. “I lost my family coming here, but you lost yours a long time ago. While I’m sorry for that, it touches on things I need to discuss for my explanation to make sense. It was Poseidon’s abuse of power that hurt Orhêthurin, not you. It locked the fear of having power, and becoming a monster, into her. Without that fear, I think she could have kept the Anar from Balnérith’s influence,” sighed Amdirlain.
Nicholaus waggled a hand cautiously. “Neither of us can be sure; you’d need all of Orhêthurin’s memories to know. How do you think she could have stopped it?”
“By actually being a leader and not hiding in the background. In various snippets I’ve recalled, I can see Balnérith’s touch twisting the Anar towards ruin. Orhêthurin had other priorities and stayed distant so the Anar wouldn’t understand how powerful she was,” Amdirlain explained.
“But you’d have done it so differently,” snorted Nicholaus, and an edge of defensiveness set in.
“It took me years to sort out my mess. I won't judge Orhêthurin for the fear she held. I’m simply applying that same attitude to the Anar. We don’t know everything. There are things in the memories I’ve seen that are red flags,”
At a shift in Nicholaus’s Song, Amdirlain signalled him for patience and gave him time to settle the emotions that churned through him before she spoke again.
“I saw red flags only because of what I know are the events, but hindsight is a wonderful thing. I’ve had plenty of time to think. I have questions: Why did Balnérith want the Anar and Lómë weak? Just to destroy them or for something else? What did she have planned, and has she completed it? If she has, why keep the Lómë trapped?”
Nicholaus’ expression went hard, and his music gained a wariness that screamed of concern for her. “I’m not omniscient, and Gideon has rules I won’t cross. Maybe from her perspective, why let them go? Balnérith couldn’t abide by the rules we’d set. I told her she could follow her nature within the limits of the rules. All she heard was the permission without acknowledging the limits, she was extremely reluctant to give in to the need to earn something.”
“Balnérith was powerful previously; I don’t think she understands being accountable,” offered Amdirlain, and she gave a sarcastic snort. “Pride, why should anything restrain her? Sounds like the Greek gods.”
The sudden shift of sadness in his song stopped Amdirlain. “Aren’t you pleased they got destroyed?”
“I won’t try to deny that; I’m partly glad. But I find myself happier that Hestia survived than that any of them are gone. Some were just the victims of poor leadership; I’d have preferred they changed, but they’ve no more chances. The souls that looked to them, at least, will be reborn under better stewards,” stated Nicholaus. “With great power-”
At his words, Amdirlain immediately jumped in. “Comes great responsibility?”
Nicholaus scratched a horn before he shrugged. “Not what I was going to say.”
“I’m sorry, it's a common phrase,” said Amdirlain.
“With great power comes temptations to abuse it as merely your right. Balnérith was proud of her power and couldn’t understand why the rules restricted her. Outside the Abyss, power can corrupt; inside, it's even more insidious. Know that Laodice brought herself, Theinas, and Eleftherios low, looking for battles that didn’t need to be fought.”
“She seemed so calm and reasonable when dealing with B,” observed Amdirlain. “Though some of her statements seemed strange.”
Her words earned a nod of comprehension. “Laodice couldn’t reach either of you. How else was she to fight against the demonic influence trying to corrupt her? There was a war to be fought, in this case, for your soul. Why wouldn’t she take part?”
“So the entire ‘War of the Four’?”
“They followed Laodice’s urging and provoked it. The events were in line with the task I set them, but they stretched the boundaries quite far. On Leviathan’s home planes, they deliberately herded him to where they could lay waste to demonic armies while they fought. They let themselves get distracted and paid the price of their choices.”
“Then why did the others agree with the approach?”
“You clearly don’t remember your previous relationships with Eleftherios or Theinas,” teased Nicholaus. “I’ve been told you know of Ebusuku’s heritage. If you could destroy what your deceased lover despised, and destroy her murderer, wouldn’t you?”
“No wonder he turned up naked in my room,” murmured Amdirlain.
“He did what?” started Nicholaus, and he seemed to focus into the distance. “I’ll speak to him about that.”
“It was during my stay at the monastery, not here. And Theinas?”
At her question, Nicholaus gave a disgruntled sigh, and shrugged. “The relationships occurred post your divorce. I should keep my nose out.”
Clearing her throat, Amdirlain mediated to calm the blush and deliberately crossed her hands in her lap. “Regardless, whatever she wanted to ruin, I want to bring back. The Anar were victims of poor leadership; Orhêthurin's lack of providing it is something I can hopefully resolve.”
“I can’t simply pull them back in. I won’t be a part of that again. If I did, it would be the same as what the token put your families through. Plus, doing that to them would open the option for others to be caught up in the effect,” warned Nicholaus.
“No, I meant, as a reincarnation option,” explained Amdirlain, and she tried not to snicker at the Isekai situation she just asked him to create.
“You take your pattern’s motif seriously, but not seriously enough. It’s a key to more than your energies.”
A rift of razor-sharp notes shivered across Nicholaus’ presence; though isolated from her, they still made Pain Eater react and suppress the pain clawing at her spine.
“Stop, please,” gasped Amdirlain, surprised at the music’s viciousness.
Snorting, Nicholaus gave her a sharp nod. “I will have to. What I’ve said is already at the limits of unbiased behaviour. I will look at your request.”
“If it’s only after they’ve already died, at least they get another chance at life.”
“This might catch others who’ve become connected to their souls. Such connections don’t require the oaths you and Shindraithra exchanged.”
“Shindraithra?” puzzled Amdirlain. A memory of an Adamantine Dragon in front of her and Leviathan’s acidic breath washing over them both hit her from nowhere. Orhêthurin's guilt had her gasp as bile surged in the back of her throat. The roiling guilt from failing her friend brought tears that made Pain Eater’s recount of all her flesh scoured away seem dim. “I got Sarah killed. Shindraithra was Sarah’s draconic name?”
“It was her original name. She frequently adopted it after achieving adulthood, either in whole or part,” acknowledged Nicholaus. “You see your failures instead of accomplishments, don’t you? Is that what drives you?”
“Sometimes,” admitted Amdirlain.
“The weight of failure can crush someone if they don’t look at what they’ve brought to a world. Sarah wouldn’t have had any of her lives without you. Keep that in mind, I know my Orhêthurin asked that question of Hirindo, her husband, when they parted ways. He was lucky I had already finished the seal, or he wouldn’t have liked our discussion,” growled Nicholaus.
The thought of Nicholaus in a grumpy father mode had Amdirlain clearing her throat in amusement.
A huff cleared Nicholaus’ throat, and when he resumed, his tone was calm. “Anyway, if their Soul bonds are strong, they might find themselves reincarnated here as well. It can’t balance otherwise, so I’m going to have to allow outside Souls a chance to reincarnate in this realm. Those realities that have no singular authority aren’t the issue, but some might have gone to realms like ours. This will take some investigation and potentially negotiation.”
“So that is the difference between realms and realities? One has a bunch of over Gods, and realms have one?”
“I’m not an over God,” laughed Nicholaus. He motioned to Amdirlain with his cup and took another swig. “Talking to one person, maybe three, is the limit of my patience. I’m certainly not telling them what to do. I don’t even tell them the rules. They’re more careful when they have to figure out what draws punishment themselves. But with the Anar, this is a chance some don’t deserve.”
“Orhêthurin failed them first,” offered Amdirlain, her tone gentle but firm.
[Diplomacy [J] (19->20)]
Despite her soft tone, she still drew a wince from Nicholaus, and his shoulders slumped slightly. “Very well, but I will have nothing to do with stealing someone from their loved ones again. Ebusuku’s little Gail at least will have the option for children, and they can return slowly. If they mess up again, I’ll toss them out, and they can stay gone.”
“Where am I going to end up when I leave here?”
Nicholaus sighed and motioned to the door behind him. “Without your Domain offsetting your state, the curse will send you to Culerzic. Please stay. You can get word to them you’re okay.”
“The planar lock?”
“Not leaving as a new Celestial means it starts from your manifestation on the Plane,”
Amdirlain smiled tightly and knocked back her drink in one gulp. “I’d best get going then. I heard there was a plane in the Abyss that celestials cleansed a region of?”
”Might I ask what you planned to do, eventually? I heard you sent a message out with Rasha about your concerns.”
“If I get destroyed there, the Plane plays catch with my Soul, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, trapped underground unless you gestated like one of the Nox.”
Tilting her head for dramatic effect, Amdirlain thoughtfully tapped her chin. “Then maybe I should lie low and practice my skills.”
“It would be time well spent, but why is it I don’t believe you?”
Amdirlain stopped to put a hand on Nicholaus’ shoulder. “She loved you, that I know.”
“We could make another realm somewhere else,” offered Nicholaus before Amdirlain could lift her hand.
“While I appreciate the offer, I don’t abandon friends, Nicholaus. Plus, this realm was intended to hold beings of power to account, and Balnérith has a bill to settle.”
Nicholaus smiled at her sadly, and his music turned anxious. “I had to try. With coming here, you lost the key to her wards. You’ll have to find another way, or gain strength to break them open.”
“I’m planning to go for option two.”
Amdirlain headed through the door and started along the passage beyond it. It was another grey-white corridor, and the door clicked shut with a sense of finality. With it closed, darkness covered her like a heavy blanket, despite True Sight. Resonance at least made it clear the path ahead was open, but the notes of the stone door and air faded away. A pace at a time, the corridor steadily sealed behind her.
Quickening notes ahead warned her of the Portal, but the transition wasn’t pleasant. Her first contact with it felt like putrid mud oozed around her, and suddenly immense pressure clamped hard into place. The second step had her wings sprouting from her back, and her height doubled. Her third left the dress remnants behind and finished her shift in location.
Her feet sank into the loose rock that coated the depression in which she’d appeared. Before her, the edges of a shallow depression framed the black cloud laced with rancid clots of energy. Stretched to the horizon, the impaled damned of the Blood Fields of the Dretch screamed for mercy.
Even if she hadn’t previous experience with their nature, the malicious tones within the closest Songs made it clear.
As she looked over the loose pebbles and powdered rock beneath her feet, Amdirlain took in the bronze-gold skin of her bare legs. The surrounding depression looked like an artillery strike had struck the cliff face but gave her no sign of what caused it. Scrying herself took but a thought, and though she was taller, her Fallen form remained unchanged.
The one factor that had changed was her height, now four metres. The arc of her wings rose higher still, but the feathers were the same mix of dried blood with their shafts a gold core. Electric-blue hair framed her sharp elven features and cascaded down her back. Her eyes were a solid deep amber, and her bow lips twitched in genuine pleasure as she took in the smooth scarless skin across her form.
Spying an approaching Succubus patrol, she moved on with her preparations. A Fallen would attract too much attention from demon lords competing for an alliance or to remove a threat. Amdirlain checked the pros and cons of various disguises off in her mind, but those able to detect the accumulation of demonic shards tipped the balance. And it even fit lying low, given the sheer disregard demons held for their half-breed kindred.
She pushed an image of an Alu-Demon at Protean. With that, she shrank back to 180 cm, and though her new form kept the fine elven features, there were plenty of changes. The Power bleached skin to ivory, shortened hair suddenly didn’t touch her shoulders, and it matched her lips’ inky black. The final touch was her eyes that suddenly matched freshly spilled blood.
Inventory opened effortlessly, and Amdirlain took some small satisfaction in having the bracelet of shadow vines back on her wrist. When it had finished enfolding her in new clothing, she teleported above the clouds to the lurkers’ plateau.