"The human you seek is somewhere within this city!"
The Vania patriarch held the pink slipper tightly, his wrinkled bony fingers clenching the object as if trying to keep it from flying away. Indeed, the slipper glowed softly, yanking at the mage’s arm as if with a life of its own, twisting left and right, squirming as it pointed towards the port ahead.
Ilana looked upon the mage with a tender smile, reaching out to grab the slipper while she held a pearl of aether in her other hand. Carefully extracting the mana out of the aether, she empowered her blessings directly. It was a rather dangerous thing as an overloaded blessing could prove fatal, but it had become increasingly necessary. Every passing day, her connection to her blessing grew fainter, as if water were escaping between her fingers. The high priestess dared not imagine what it would mean to not be fateless, but also to no longer carry proof of the devotion she held for the Weaver.
Seeking out Liam Carter’s fate would be fruitless and a waste of resources, and a part of Ilana warned her that attempting it again might only worsen her condition. Thus, she focused on those whose fates she had closely watched since getting on the boat. The sailors and the Yulvenir dog were showing signs of the corruption of fatelessness, but their threads still held for now.
So she tugged upon them, using them as anchors to look upon that which lay ahead.
A familiar milky whiteness spread across her vision, and the world around her spun, changing to someplace else.
> She was in a crowd, surrounded by hundreds of people, faceless, clamoring, dancing, singing, a grand celebration. The only distinguishable trait was a set of gates, with guards wearing the Doeta sigil of a giant claw upon their uniforms. Yet theirs was altered, the emblem showing a geometrical flower within the pincer’s grasp.
>
> There was a shout, and a void swept across the crowd. Ilana quickly averted her gaze, sensing without seeing as the blackness passed over everyone like a furious screen of smoke, swirling through the gate and past the guards. “Wait!” A voice cried out from the crowd. Eyes looked into Ilana and through her, eyes with black sclera and white irises, they were the eyes of the Yulvenir dark-elf, the woman moving through Ilana and reaching out towards the guards.
>
> The gates slammed shut.
The high-priestess gasped, pulling away from the vision. Her head throbbed to the rhythm of her racing heart. She was sure she’d caught a glimpse of her target, the smoke, the blackness, they who had no fate… questions bubbled within her mind. Why had she just now seen a sign of his existence? Liam Carter was as fateless as her, yet why…
No, this wasn’t enough. She needed answers, a path ahead. Ilana pushed past the throbbing in her temples and absorbed more mana from the aether, casting her powers once more, changing the target she wished to latch onto.
> Ilana stood within a room, a study. Black blood splattered the walls and floor; something lay against one of the walls, a blackness in the shape of a human woman. It was near impossible to make out any details of her figure, only the emblem upon a table, the claw and the geometric flower.
>
> The figure trembled, holding her stomach as more blackness poured out of her.
>
> Doors slammed open, and a wall of noise slammed against Ilana with the force of a raging storm. Everything around her began to distort and swirl, the very floor beneath her feet giving way to nothingness as a single word was cried out in a voice that made the universe tremble.
>
> “AISHA!”
Ilana canceled the spell just as her mind exploded in agony. The elf’s vision was swimming, the boat, the sea, everything was woozy and out of focus. Ilana reached to her lips, noticing moistness, blood.
Someone spoke to her, but her ears were ringing too loudly.
“Oh Weaver, please guide my hand,” she whispered, reaching into her pouch to pull out a single die. “Let this servant carry out your will.” Dropping it, she watched as it came to a stop at one.
Gritting her teeth, she ignored the movement around her as she clutched what remained of the aether and absorbed it, unleashing her blessing one more time, feeling its presence burn within her body.
> It was a singular still image, a painting that lay in front of her eyes. In it, there was a crowd, and in front of the crowd, there was a raised platform.
>
> Two figures prominently stood upon the platform.
>
> The first was a volar man, with rich blue scaled skin and dressed just as richly as only a noble of the Caliphate would. The man had four rings, each of them sporting sigils from the Sultanate, each one a sign of his position as an Emir, and someone who carried the blessings of the Warrior. He stood tall and proud, strong and unafraid, greeting the crowd and blind to the monster next to him.
>
> It was a creature in the shape of a mortal. A dark abomination of fangs and darkness, an impossible existence made of infinite eyes and just as many mouths. Each of its pupils was aimed directly at the Emir, fangs and claws poised to claim his life in an instant.
>
> And then the painting moved, each of the terrible eyes on the monster turning to look at Ilana directly. A dark chuckle rumbled through the monster as it stepped out of the painting and towards her. “Just a matter of time,” it spoke with a terrible voice.
>
> Above them, the sky darkened, a giant beak swallowed the sun, plunging the world into eternal darkness.
With a scream, Ilana came back to reality, drenched in sweat and tasting her own blood. Her limbs thrashed against the grip of a dozen others. Men and women pinning her down to the deck of the ship.
It was only once they were certain that she’d returned to her senses that they slowly let go, but it would be several more minutes before Ilana could even form a thought, the terror of the infinite darkness burning inside of her whenever she closed her eyes. It would be another hour before she’d regain enough of herself to process that the others were still paying attention to her.
“We must hurry,” she spoke hoarsely, taking the offered waterskin. “This city… it is in grave danger.”
----------------------------------------
Bunny waited until Liam was gone before she took her human form again, her gaze lingering on the street he had departed, her head still tingling from the feeling of his fingers. Thinking about the little meal, her face flushed. "He treats me like a child," she spoke through her mind, pouting, rubbing her cheeks and willing her stubborn skin to stop erratically growing hotter.
If she wasn't careful, the turban would catch fire... again.
"That is because you act like one," Wolf materialized, taking the form of a small dog and hopping onto Bunny's arms. "You at least prepared what we need?"
Bunny scoffed. "Of course I did. Origin wouldn't let me propose a half-baked plan."
"Which is what you would usually do," the hunter smirked a little. "It appears Liam has been a good influence on you."
Bunny didn't answer, fighting to keep her long fuzzy ears from escaping the turban... again.
Though her form was technically that of a human, she had gone out of her way to keep her original ears as best she could. They were a piece of her original form that she had retained mostly for aesthetics, and maybe also because she had wanted to show them off... but that might be best for another time.
Walking through the streets, Wolf ignored the stares, pretending to be asleep (as if an aspect ever needed sleep), while Bunny luxuriated in the attention. It was a nice change of pace; here, in this city of mortals, she wasn't ignored, she wasn't a nuisance, her appearance made her exotic, and her power made her important.
If only Liam would get over his hang-ups, she would show him everything she was capable of.
Taking over the city wouldn't be too hard for her; all she would need to do would be to march up to the Emir's place and bash his head in. But going around killing everyone who disagreed with her would just get the pantheon to look their way and send an aspect of their own. And as strong as Bunny was compared to a mortal, she knew that her Origin was incredibly weak. It meant Bunny was cheap, almost to the point of being expendable.
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The knowledge hadn't bothered her; she was an aspect, her whole purpose was to be made and destroyed at the convenience of Origin. She was, after all, an extension of the Goddess's divinity, and in her destruction, she would merely reform as part of the whole. The concept of continuous existence held no meaning to Bunny, as Origin could remake her at any time, exactly as she was now.
But lately, the thought of reintegrating made her uncomfortable.
Just a tiny bit.
Would Origin truly ever make her again? Would she spend resources to reform Bunny rather than anyone else? In the jungle, it wasn't such an expense because there was no risk of loss of divinity; Bunny would always be within reach of her domain. But with her changing the location of her domain and moving her remaining relic around, Bunny could easily be deemed a liability to create... or even to allow to keep going.
The worst possible fate for an aspect would be if their Origin chose to discard everything that they were.
Wolf peered up at her, sensing Bunny's distraught state. "You've been floating to avoid tripping; your focus on your bodily movements has slackened. A few mortals almost caught it."
Bunny reflected her annoyance by tightening her jaw. "It won't happen again." She pushed away the useless speculation. She was an aspect, and even if she was never made exactly as she was now, surely there would be parts of her that would be useful.
Besides, she knew a few juicy secrets Liam had shared with her, secrets of the world that Origin had never known. There was no way the bitchy boss would discard her completely.
Regaining a bit of her confidence and now better focused on her path ahead, Bunny continued making her way down into the poorer parts of the city. There was a distinct aura of fear hanging around that had not been present that morning, and Bunny preened a little at the dissatisfied look on Wolf's aura. The hunter preferred keeping things quiet and discreet; she'd been made for that purpose, after all. But Origin had given Bunny the go-ahead, and thus she was the one calling the shots for the first time in either of their existences.
Discreetly blasting her aura of smugness was about as close as she'd probably get to rubbing the canine's snout in it.
She didn't push her aura too strongly, though; that would freak out the mortals… again.
There were so many things she'd never learned from the memories given to her by Origin. Everything was a new, fun experience! If only she could've been allowed to visit a mortal population center sooner…
"We're here!" She cheerily declared with her warbly air-vibrating words, opening the door to a small house, ignoring the scent of blood and floating over the red puddle, making sure to lock the door behind herself.
"You were sloppy," Wolf chastised, switching to spoken words now that there were no mortals to hear… well, none they had to be concerned about. The huntress's aura curled with distaste as she regarded their surroundings. "A monster would've been cleaner."
"This is why Origin put me in charge; the point wasn't to be clean," Bunny rolled her eyes, traipsing down to the cellar, feet never touching the ground.
Wolf grumbled, looking around. "Enlighten me."
"Notice how there's a lot of old death and pain hanging around? They controlled the other gangs through violence and fear," she opened the door, a lone figure twitched, eyes opening wide, screaming into the cloth gag. The large mortal wriggled, desperately trying to escape. "I spoke to them in their language."
"Is this the one?" Wolf glanced down at the prisoner. "It's a man."
"He meets the criteria," Bunny shrugged. "A physically fit mortal, one that won't be missed. I could've spent more time looking for a better-looking one, but we don't have that much time, and you do need to acclimatize."
"A female would allow us to grow closer to the Emir… and this one's essence is disgusting to even look at."
"Starting a relationship with the Emir would mean you would have to spend more time away from guard duty," she scratched the canine between the ears, much to her fellow aspect's added annoyance. "The goal is to convince him to send mortals to the jungle; no need to extend things past that, unless you don't like your current protection assignment."
"Hm… fine."
The dog leapt from Bunny's arms, its body shimmering as it lost all physicality, her aura piercing into the mortal's and overwhelming it. The volar man screamed, twitching, wriggling, and convulsing. His aura spasmed, bent, and shattered, his eyes eroding as blackness replaced them, the metaphysical aspects of his existence being consumed and replaced by the aspect.
"Be sure to dress yourself once you're done with your meal."
Bunny stepped outside, closing the door behind her.
With a happy little tune, she began to clean up the place, erasing the traces of the violence that had transpired. After Wolf was done assuming her new identity, Bunny would contact her new group of "eager followers" and arrange things so that not just the first place would be guaranteed, but all top twenty.
Tampering with the race would've been way harder if the fat cats hadn't already fixed it beforehand.
By the time the race finished, their favored mortal would be the richest mortal in the city.
"Try to beat THAT, xx6969gangstalife6969xx! We’ll see who's the best friend then!"
----------------------------------------
Aisha al-Hakim sat in her study, surrounded by scrolls of parchment and books made of fine paper. The Amil of Doeta pored over the latest batch of permit requests, at least a dozen of them, each and every one given out by some merchant or craftsman that was too important for her to just toss away.
If it were in her hands, she would have had the first few executed just to teach the others a lesson. But she wasn’t the Emir. Worse, many of the names she was looking at were of people who were close with the Emir. This meant they had priority over already approved permits, and they knew it.
It was the exact reason why they had sent their permit requests late. By requesting the exact spots the competition had already settled into, they could kick them out. The whole thing was a treacherous cut-throat approach to guarantee a heavy loss for their competitors.
This year, the sleazeballs had actually tried to make a smart move. “They probably heard about it from that jeweler who came a month ago,” Aisha muttered to herself, remembering the rotund dwarf and his sticky fingers.
Their plan did have one problem, namely, that they had never bothered to gain Aisha’s favor, a lesson that their competition had actually learned. So it was that, with a stroke of her quill and a stamp of her seal, the Amil amusedly folded the letters into a separate pile.
Picking up a small bell and ringing it twice, a servant hurriedly entered, bowing low. “Please call the muhtasib.”
The servant hesitated. “Should I send a messenger to meet tomorrow?”
“No. Right now,” Aisha leaned back against her seat. “Do inform him it is urgent.”
“At once, my sayyida.”
Turning to a different task, Aisha kept the permits within reach as she waited. Fortunately, she did not have to wait for long, and a rotund man with a large turban stepped into her study, breath short and heavy. The muhtasib was the man in charge of inspecting the bazaar, and the volar was about as deplorable as the merchants that were about to receive some well-earned comeuppance.
“You called, my Amil?” He bowed.
“I did, these permit requests came to my desk a few hours ago,” she handed them over. “Please make sure that they are informed that they’ve been approved.”
The man bristled, his face turning a shade redder at the indignity of being used as a mere messenger. The anger, however, froze once he looked at the papers. “There… is something wrong with these documents.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Aisha feigned ignorance with an amused smile.
“They are approved for next year’s festival.”
“Then it is no mistake, the deadline for permit requests for this year closed a week ago, and the window for requests for next year opened…” She glanced out the window for a moment. “At sunset.”
“But-!” His attempted retort died short when he met her cold glare. The man stiffened, then bowed, aware that there was no room for him to toe the line. “They will be informed at once, my Amil.”
If the merchants and artisans were smart, they would take their loss and learn from their mistake. If, instead, they were fools, then they would attempt to complain to the Emir, at which point they would learn that she did not answer to the Emir, but to the Vizier himself. It didn’t mean that the ruler of Doeta couldn’t punish her in some way, but it would be impossible for him to do so to a degree that would prevent Aisha from crushing the miserable sycophants to dust.
“He who controls the coin, controls the world,” she whispered her father’s adage.
With nothing better to do at this late hour, she signaled the servants to turn off the oil-wicks and left her study. She was feeling slightly restless, not quite ready to go to her chambers yet, wandering around her estate and enjoying the cool night breeze. The guards had small bonfires near the gate, illuminating the estate’s entrance, giving off the impression that they had a need for it. Meanwhile, the perimeter was patrolled by a carefully selected group of draxanis, their ability to see in the dark making them invaluable to Aisha.
As she strolled through the gardens, she spotted a lone figure standing near one of the pools. She would’ve suspected an intruder if not for the calmness of the guards currently keeping watch. Knowing it could only be one person, Aisha slipped on her ring of divination and appraisal, unable to resist activating its effect.
The spell carved into the gold band paled in comparison to the actual spell. She was staring at him as if through a muddy lens with tears in her eyes, noticing the odd glow of mana that he gave off. Yet she remembered it vividly, how his right arm was covered in the swirls of a roaring sea while the rest of his body was dotted by glowing freckles that pulsed to his heartbeat.
Secretly and silently, she watched, unsure why she found herself unable to step closer.
The minutes bled by quickly, and the enchantment ran out, yet Aisha remained there, watching the man named Liam as if she were some foolish girl and hating herself for it. Even without the spell, she could imagine the blotches of color upon his body so vividly it was as if she’d looked upon the sun for too long, and now there were spots in her eyes. A starry sky contained within the shape of a mortal, when the skies within the Great Claw were only ever illuminated by the light of potted rust-moss.
All too soon, he turned to return to his quarters, entirely unaware of her presence. The Amil chided herself as she headed off to her own quarters.
This was very unlike her. She was the Amil; she’d killed people to reach her position, and she’d killed even more to keep it. A cunning mind, rigorous self-control, and ruthlessness had seen her succeed where others had failed.
And now this.
First, she invited him as a guest when she’d intended to drill him about how he’d gotten his hands on her father’s belongings, and then she’d avoided her guest as if she were somehow ashamed.
Yet the more she’d seen, the surer she became.
Her father had tried to add this man to his collection and failed. Now he'd come, no doubt learning of their connection and seeking compensation or retribution.
It was a disaster waiting to happen.
It seemed her father, even in death, had left her another mess to clean.