It was an odd, gut-wrenching experience for Liam to look upon High Priestess Ilana and try to understand her. He had written her character, word for word, as a politician and a moderate, a voice of reason, a calm and pragmatic woman despite how deeply she believed in Thalgrim. The elfin woman who now stood before him was no longer that person; something deep had changed. Her eyes were wild, full of fury, her hands shook as she glared down at him, lips curled into a snarl.
There was some part of him that empathized with her; this was a path he had sent her down, that brief meeting in Al-Zahra, his words, his little stream of harmless thoughts, all of it snowballing into a woman pushed and transformed into this ugly thing.
Now he was cornered; they needed a way out, and the only path ahead he could see would involve getting under her skin. “You want me dead, I get it,” he spoke, ignoring the knots roiling inside, pretending this was all some sort of joke. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, it seems. But I have to ask, after you kill me, how do you plan to off yourself? I’m betting on poison. You’re too squeamish to just plunge a dagger into your chest… also, noodly priestess arms.”
Getting his face smashed around did wonders; the swelling on his lips and brow made his expression impossible to read. Without it, Ilana would’ve likely caught on to his nervousness, his hesitation, the cold panic he was keeping at bay.
“Liam, what are you—” Aisha’s words were halted by Ilana raising a hand.
“Do not listen to him, he is a demon,” the High Priestess stepped closer, brandishing a short sword that had been hidden within her robes, glaring at Liam. “Are you happy? Knowing that I spread your disease as I hunted you down? That I’ve condemned so many mortal lives because of your corruption?”
“Am I arching my brow right now? I think my face is a bit too swollen to arch my brows right now,” Liam grimaced inwardly. He didn’t want to think what Thalgrim would do to mortals whose fates were diminished. Perhaps she’d leave them be, but the deity wouldn’t really think twice about killing them the moment it became convenient to do so.
Mortals were just tiny specks of dust.
Liam just happened to be a radioactive particle that was messing things up.
“The Weaver will make a point to hunt everyone down, I’m sure,” he was in an awkward position, it would be impossible to break free from the ropes tying his hands if not for how sharp the divine knife was. Even then, it was proving to be taking far longer than he would’ve wanted. “Though why is Aisha here? The Weaver wouldn’t have told you to bring her unless she’s been secretly fantasizing about killing me.”
That got him the reaction he’d been looking for.
That tiny little hesitation, fear that was hastily hidden underneath a flare of anger, the High Priestess taking a step closer. “You—”
“Do you even understand what it means to destroy fate at a fundamental level? Do you know how impossible that should be?” He cut her off to goad her further. As a High Priestess, there were very few people who’d dare to show such blatant disrespect for her authority. The condescension was an extra cherry on top. “I honestly don’t know how it works out. No wonder that control freak chose to personally hunt me down.”
Ilana frowned, glaring, another step closer. “Do not speak of—”
“Oh, stuff it. If you don’t like me talking, then just gut me already and let’s end this. In the meantime, I might as well just think out loud.” The knife had nearly chewed through the rope, his brain was whirling with every possible way this could go from bad to worse. “Here’s a riddle for you, did your divinations predict that the Weaver was going to pick a Champion before next summer? Do you want to guess who would’ve taken the spot? Not you, ha, no, too bureaucratic. Thalgrim would’ve picked the Sultan… though I guess that’s no longer an option, seeing how I must have derailed a lot of her plans.”
Ilana had been caught half a step closer, eyes widening in shock and sudden apprehension. She knew his words were true, the enchanted truth detection on her verified that Liam believed every word. And why wouldn’t he?
Every fiber of Liam’s body coiled as he took the opportunity. Hands free, he lunged forward, thrusting his dagger. Liam made sure the divine tool was active, aware of the nasty trap hidden within the High Priestess' left sleeve. If she acknowledged the knife, then with a single instinctive swipe of her arm, he'd be dead.
Instead, her eyes had gone down to his hands, and that hesitation prolonged itself as her mind's attention slid past the weapon in his hands. Everything had come together to buy him half a second. It proved to be enough to keep her from completely dodging; the elf had barely taken half a step out of the way when the divine tool made contact with her blue robes.
There was a flash of blinding light from that exact spot, and Ilana vanished as if she'd never been there.
With nothing in his way to stop him, Liam stumbled past the spot, nearly falling over. He quickly spun around, knife in hand, glaring as another flash of light heralded the return of the High Priestess. The elf was surprised, hand patting her stomach where the knife could've pierced her.
“Of course, you’re geared up.” He kept his tone light, amused, even if he was panicking again within. Liam was keenly aware that Aisha was directly behind him; she could take him out at any moment. His only hope was that she wouldn’t. “How much of what you’ve got on you is from Thalgrim and how much from the bazaar anyway?”
Ilana used her left hand to smooth her robe, fingers tracing the golden three-point Celtic knot. “I have enough to know you have a tool affecting my attention right now.” She'd tried looking at his knife-wielding hand but focused on his face instead.
As if she was trying to read him.
“You’ve got a telepathic tool on you?” He barked out a forced laugh, ignoring the thumping inside his chest. “Didn’t you learn your lesson with your lessons in atheism?” This was bad. Ilana didn’t need to read his thoughts; a powerful but simplistic telepathy tool would make it possible to read intent devoid of words or translation. Such an item could potentially even punch straight through lower-end protections. “Would you like me to give you more details?”
“Your lunacy led me astray for a time, but I found my path again.” She raised her sword-wielding hand, revealing several rings on her fingers. “Not that I will fall for that trick again; this one doesn’t come with a translation function.”
Liam did not look over his shoulders, keeping his gaze firmly on the High Priestess, tightly gripping the knife. The elf would no doubt jump him the instant he looked away. Ilana wasn’t exactly a star fighter; in a sense, she was as much a patient opportunist as he was.
It was like walking on a tightrope. Ilana was a zealot, but she’d spent all her life ensuring she was an important zealot. Despite her determination, deep down, she didn’t want to die. He couldn’t corner her, not without risking her becoming desperate and jumping at the opportunity. But at the same time, Liam had to bluff, pretend he was the one in control of the situation, enough so to make her hesitate.
To make her fall into old habits. To stall, to talk, to pinch out information and “figure him out.”
“We can work together, Amil.” The elf turned her attention to Ilana, and Liam swore inwardly. “You are right to doubt your feelings; this demon is not strong physically, but he twists the minds and hearts of others. You just witnessed how he tricked me, even when I was aware of his ploys.”
Liam tensed but didn’t move, didn’t pry his eyes away from the elf. Yet he couldn’t help but be acutely aware of every sound Aisha made behind him. Her breath hitched, her voice tight as her clothes rustled, and she moved closer.
“I need to know.” She spoke in a whisper, her hand grasping his shoulder tightly. “Can you buy me time?”
A wave of relief washed over him, but he didn’t move, didn’t show, and kept himself as non-reactive as possible. He had to pretend this had been his plan all along, that there had never been any doubt. “I can,” he said. “Though she won’t attack, her technique is ill-suited for offense.” It was a bluff, a necessary one.
Even with “being passable,” Liam didn’t stand a chance. He had no armor, only had a knife, and lacked proper combat experience. Meanwhile, she had better reach and better gear. The wire would tear through anyone that didn’t have the skill to handle it, the only reason she wasn’t pressing her advantage was that hesitation.
He might not have had a telepathic ring, but he was inside her head. He could see it in her eyes, that question gnawing at her: What did Liam know that she didn’t?
A lot, it turns out.
“The real threat is in her left sleeve.” He spoke calmly, giving a plastic smirk. “Enchanted wire, it can easily cut through just about anything that’s not metal. Dearest Ilana loves to pretend she only has a sword, fighting defensively, until she finds the chance to strike with her secret weapon.” At her widening eyes, he pushed his role forward, making a loud and derisive snort. “It’s a crappy weapon if it’s not a surprise. Anyone with any level of experience can just tangle it in their blade and then run her through with it.”
That had probably bought them a minute or two.
“How do you know this?” Liam had not been expecting Aisha to be the one to pose the question.
Which put him a bit on the spot; he couldn’t just bluff his way into pretending he spotted it or deduced it, not while Ilana had truth-detectors on her. A prickling sensation on the back of his right arm told him there was currently mana condensing in the air. Aisha was extracting mana from the aether to cast a spell.
How to answer without sounding insane or like a downright demon-worshipper?
Wait.
Did he even need to sound sane?
“I wrote her into existence.”
Though it wasn’t all the truth, not when she now owned some sort of phasing amulet he’d never given her character. Mostly because it would’ve proven useless during her work.
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“The fact that none of it is a lie is very confusing,” Aisha admitted openly, which looked like a shared sentiment with the High Priestess. “Can you erase her, then?”
“A part of me really wishes I could. But another is glad I can’t.” An honest answer, and one that came with baggage.
Much to his relief, the tiny back and forth had brought the High Priestess’ attention, the woman staring him down rather than attacking. It was clear she felt the threat of the spell Aisha was preparing was not one to be concerned about. The only thing Ilana could be thinking about was confidence in her protective gear, or… no. “Aisha, don’t make anything big, she wants to disrupt the spell and kill us all from the backlash.” No, that was the wrong way of thinking; she wanted all three of them dead, including herself. “But if you make something she’s sure will end her, she’ll just attempt to disrupt you and ensure the backlash kills all three of us.”
The point wasn’t to actually give instructions to Aisha; she’d undoubtedly already decided on what to cast. But putting the words out into the open increased the pressure on Ilana.
“I wouldn’t trust you to die without confirming it first,” the High Priestess spat, wriggling her left arm and allowing a length of metal wire to extend towards the floor. “She will cast her spell and fail, and then I will kill you both.”
“So the protective enchantment displaces you for long enough for the threat to pass, and then you bounce back in.” Liam didn’t like that he wasn’t certain about the exact nature and details of the item. It couldn’t be a divine tool, not unless Thalgrim had gone out of her way to make a new one, but displacement was complicated. Something from the church’s warehouse in Al-Zahra? It seemed like an issue about timing. Was the enchantment automatic or did it need conscious thought?
It remained the variable that could make this hopeful turnabout into their last moments alive.
The air in the room felt charged, neither party making any moves towards the other. Liam suspected that Ilana wasn’t confident in her chances of survival if she attacked Aisha and caused a backlash. That wouldn’t be a problem for her if she could fully control when the phasing activated.
The silence was stretching out too far.
“You know, this is kind of awkward, just waiting for the spell to finish, thinking of ways we can murder one another…” Liam shifted his weight, focused on preparing another distraction.
He pretended to be calm, as if his mind wasn’t running through every possible action the elf might take. The human hid the slight shaking of his hands by reaching out to grip one of the books on the shelves. His target of choice was a small bundle of parchment, kept together by string, and with two wooden planks serving as covers.
“Why not ask some questions? I am curious about a few things myself; no doubt the feeling is mutual.” With a little forceful chuckle, he pretended to read the contents of the book. “I’d really like to know the situation in Al-Zahra when you left. Anything important going on? It’s hard to get news this close to the Caliphate’s border.”
Ilana did not answer; her gaze remained fixed on Aisha.
“You know, if you get your way, all three of us die anyway.” He ignored the weight in the room as best he could, flipping through pages of ledgers. The knife in his hand felt heavier than it actually was. “But once you kill us, nothing’s really stopping you from just writing one last heartfelt letter for the Weaver, right? Just leave something for her to read before you drink your poison like a good little girl.” He wanted to taunt her, but also to tempt her. Something to catch her honest interest. “It’s not like she can see what’s going on in here right now; that coin you used cut us off from everything, even Gods. Might as well ask, see what you can get out of me. You still have that truth-detection; you’ll know if I’m lying.”
That made her stir; Ilana spared a glance his way, her frown deepening before she locked back onto Aisha. “I’ll answer if you tell me how it is that you destroy fate.” Her constant focus could only mean she was keeping her telepathic enchantment locked on the mage. Probably to be extra sure of the spell’s nature as well as when it would be let loose. “And how to unmake it.”
Liam nodded along, earnestly pondering the question a bit. “I’m not entirely sure, so this is mostly conjecture. I think it might have something to do with how fate is not a fundamental force back where I come from.” Glancing over his shoulder at Aisha, she was looking at her spell fiercely, but she spared a moment to meet his gaze. “I’m from very, very far away,” he told her with a soft voice, turning back to the High Priestess, who was glaring daggers. “Mortals in this place are a bit different from mortals there. Here most of the sentient races are the product of intelligent design, got your pieces all nice and tweaked to fit. Meanwhile, human women in my world have this thing called period cramps, and it’s honestly low-key evolution-imposed torture.”
“You’re not answering the question,” Ilana growled, the wire in her hand impatiently twitching as if it were alive.
“One, I answered the first part of your question. Two, I’m meandering because being locked in a room with a murderous zealot is nerve-wracking,” he declared, letting out a laugh that was a bit too nervous, clamping the booklet shut. “But to answer the second part… This is, again, speculation. Fate operates a bit like an equation; it tries to balance itself out. But the only thing zero can equal is another zero; the only way to resolve fate is through its own eradication, otherwise the imbalance becomes a domino.” Liam gave her an apologetic smile. “I guess I can see why you hate me. If our encounter had resolved differently, your fate might not have been completely erased. I messed up.”
“I don’t want your apologies or your false pity, I want answers!” she snarled, the wire beginning to twitch threateningly. “Tell me how to cure it. Tell me how to return to Thalgrim’s Weave!”
Liam flinched at the heat that came from her words. In the end, it all boiled down to how readily Thalgrim had thrown Ilana aside and turned her into a sacrificial pawn. The woman had lost everything, all because she had met him, obeying orders, unknowing of the danger. Now here she stood, looking at her own death in the eyes, be it by their hands or her own, win or lose, she wasn’t coming out of this room alive.
He bit his lip. The path ahead was so clear, even if he hesitated.
Deep breath.
“Seeing how all fate didn’t disappear the moment I set foot into this world, this isn’t a false-vacuum situation,” he confessed plainly, trying to keep the ball rolling. “It should be possible to regain your lost fate.”
“Do not speak in riddles,” Ilana growled, her full attention now on him.
Liam spared a glance over his shoulder at Aisha. The spell had finished, the mage’s fingers danced as she sought to keep it from activating. Their gazes met, and she mouthed a single word.
‘Right.’
“Tell me about Al-Zahra first, and I will finish my answer, as plainly as I can,” he promised the High Priestess, whose attention was now entirely on him.
“The temples of the Weaver closed their doors, their relics discreetly smuggled out, the believers spreading out in accordance with Thalgrim's instructions,” her voice strained, the elf clenched her weapons. “The failed assassination on the Yulvenir patriarch was the perfect cover, no one was paying attention to us. I was ordered to follow along with one of their clan dogs before things could resolve,” Ilana made a gesture at him with her chin. “Now answer.”
“I… see…” He chewed on what she’d told him.
For Thalgrim to have extracted her own relics from the Caliphate capital... The Goddess of Fate had potentially lost a very important thread connecting her to the Merchant God, one she’d been cultivating for several thousand years. It was not just a sign the Weaver had gone full paranoid, but that every other player in this game had made their choice.
And now it was his turn.
“The only instance where fate is static is when it’s used in a spell or enchantment of some kind,” meeting Ilana’s gaze, he spoke the truth as best he knew it, seeing her hang on his every word. But it was a puppet-show. “You’re alive, Ilana, it would take time, but you should be able to rebuild. Fate is stubborn, it doesn’t like to just remain unresolved, little fateful interactions over a decade or two could potentially see yours come back.” Tightening his grip on the book and knife, he gave her a hard stare. “But you know exactly how murder affects fate, if you murder me you won’t be carrying one null fate over your head, but two.”
In the end, he couldn’t avoid giving her the chance to walk away, even when he knew it would likely come back to bite him a hundred times worse. Through swollen eyes, he quietly pleaded with the elf, looking for the signs.
Just drop the sword, dammit.
But she didn’t.
The elf was leaning forward. “There has to be another way.”
Deep breath.
“There is a way to get it back immediately.”
It was a lie. A lie her enchantments caught, Ilana’s face contorted as confusion led to panic, a thousand doubts, was it truly a lie or was her enchantment compromised? Why lie? It was as if she’d short-circuited.
That was when Liam threw the book.
Everything happened in a flash. Ilana stumbled back in shock, lashing at the book with the wire, but missing as it smacked her across the face. The High Priestess tripped, and Liam jumped to the right as he broke out into a full sprint towards the elf.
Behind him, a blast of cold air burst out, Aisha’s spell unleashed as several dozen spikes the size of his forearm flew past his shoulder and straight at Ilana. Within the span of a single one of his steps, the ice attack had reached the High Priestess. The elf had no room to dodge, maneuver, or block. The most she’d managed was to flail her wire-wielding arm, cutting only one of the projectiles.
It wasn’t enough.
Yet the moment the ice had reached her, very nearly piercing through, she vanished in a flash of white light.
Liam was already halfway across the room, boots hammering against the wood as he ran as hard as he could, counting seconds, the image of the exact position she’d been occupying burned into his mind. The instant the last ice spike had passed through the area Ilana had been at, she reappeared.
Just in time for Liam to lurch at her.
He pinned her wire-wielding arm to the ground with his right, summoning every ounce of power within him to unleash electricity through his arm. Ilana’s scream choked as her whole body tensed, eyes widening in horror. With the book having successfully smacked her, and the stream of electricity pinning her in place, Liam was now sure her phase-based protections were against magical projectiles and other fast-traveling, magic-empowered objects. It was for this very reason that, when his left hand came down on her, this time the divine dagger was deactivated.
The supernaturally sharp blade struck against an invisible wall mere inches over the elf’s throat. It was as if he’d just struck a piece of granite, his arm faltering as the weapon nearly bounced out of his grasp. A blue shimmer spread from the point of impact, encasing her in translucent, glass-like armor, forcefully separating his hand from her arm.
With the paralyzing electricity gone, Ilana thrashed, she punched at his knife-wielding arm, snapping bone; she headbutted his shoulder, and kicked, all at once, all in a panic. Every action done more out of instinct than logic, unthinking of the fact of how much stronger the shimmering armor made her.
Liam screamed, bones broke, and her attack was joined by a shockwave of raw telekinetic force that sent him flying across the room. He felt as if he’d been hit by a truck. Several trucks. He landed in a roll, smacking against the desk, his left arm numb and almost unresponsive, his left shoulder at a very odd and unhealthy angle.
“Liam!” Aisha tried to rush towards him, but noticed the High Priestess was standing up.
“Fucking… titan-armor,” he groaned, his head spinning. “It’ll shatter in a minute, get away!”
Ilana did not give them time to do much else; she rushed at them as soon as she’d regained her footing, and Aisha did the most incredibly stupid thing she could have: She got in the elf’s way.
A flare of golden light exploded out of the three rings Aisha wore, forming a wall in front of her. A barrier that was, perhaps, meant to handle some projectile, maybe an attack from a fortunate would-be assassin. It had clearly not been made to handle the strength of someone empowered by the same sort of enchantment a paladin would bring to a fight against a demon.
All Ilana had needed to do to shatter it was punch it once with her wire-wielding fist, and then take a swing with her sword. The blade met flesh, cutting deep into Aisha’s stomach; the woman had barely moved away just enough that she’d not been cut in half.
Liam heard himself scream as Aisha was thrown aside and Ilana bulled through, straight at him, murder in her eyes.
Yet something else caught his attention, something black and shimmering that trembled on the ground. Liam barely had the mind to acknowledge something was influencing his thoughts as his eyes were drawn to a black wooden box. The cube trembled as it appeared magnetically drawn to the knife in his hand; his own hand moved to pull them closer.
Just like magnets, once both objects were close enough, they jumped at one another. The knife’s blade sank into a tiny slit, both objects floating in front of his chest as if held by strings.
The box began to vibrate violently, exploding in a cloud of black mist that engulfed him.
In a swirl of power and a wild roar, an armored Imani leapt out towards the High Priestess.