“I don’t know anything about the Lord of Dungeons,” Elder Jinsa continued. “Not directly, at least. Which is very odd; or so it seems to me. Well, there is one thing that I know; the Lord of Dungeons favors dungeons. Every Dungeon Master I know has been given a choice about how to manage their dungeons and most of them aren’t happy about it. Well, Liiric is thrilled, but he would be. He always let his dungeons run free as much as possible. Now he has half the other Dungeon Masters asking him for advice and the other half want to stick a knife in him because they think he’s the Lord of Dungeons. Which he isn’t.”
Serenity blinked in surprise. He hadn’t intentionally done anything that would change how dungeons worked on Berinath, but it seemed like he’d had an effect anyway. That made some sort of sense; he’d been acknowledged as the Lord of Dungeons here, after all. His first guess was that he’d probably somehow triggered the same limitations on these dungeons as he had on the one he’d freed on Asihanya. Serenity wondered if the same thing would happen on the worlds he held as Sovereign. He probably wouldn’t know that any time soon; none of Earth, Tzintkra, or Lyka/Aeon had robust systems of Dungeon Masters, unlike Asihanya and apparently Berinath.
Elder Jinsa shook her head slowly. “Liiric looks likely to reach a higher Tier that I expected and faster as well. I suppose the approval of a Holy One whose domain includes your Path would do that. So that’s something, but it’s still far less than I’d have expected to know about a new Holy One.”
Elder Jinsa looked at Serenity expectantly, as if she wanted something from him. Serenity shifted uncomfortably, but he was not going to talk about that subject at all.
It wasn’t like he was going to be able to keep the information quiet; Ita was here. If she wasn’t already out talking to people about the Lord of Dungeons, it was because she was still asleep. It was late enough that that seemed unlikely. The fact that she was going to talk didn’t mean he had to.
Elder Jinsa nodded slowly. “Well enough, that’s not why I asked you here after all. One or both of you is the Eyes that Shifted Time. The Dreaming Tree was not very clear about what that meant, simply that you saw something and changed it. It was something important enough to resonate through Time, something that wasn’t simply an ordinary variation, but the Dreaming Tree couldn’t tell me what it was other than that it changed the passing of Echa. There was no new Holy One until you changed Time.”
“I think this one’s on you, Serenity.” Rissa smiled gently. “You’re the one that saw the future and changed it.”
Serenity frowned at her. She was the seer, not him!
She was probably right, but that didn’t make him happy to have it pointed out. He’d come back in time, not just seen it. A vision would have hurt less; he thought he’d have preferred it, even though he’d have been able to accomplish far less. He’d still have been able to save Rissa and probably his parents. Things would have stuck closer to the timeline he remembered, too.
He probably wouldn’t have been able to save Gaia. He definitely wouldn’t have been able to save Raz and Aki and Ita. Blaze would still be wandering from planet to planet, instructing where he could and spending most of his time healing.
Okay, maybe Blaze’s life wouldn’t be all that different. At least he was among friends instead of strangers now. That was worth something, wasn’t it?
He wouldn’t have been able to rescue Ekari and her mother or help relieve the siege on Zon or help free Tzintkra. The Earthlings kidnapped by the Church of Aeons would still be slaves on Zon or sacrifices and experimental subjects on Lyka. It was a lot when he looked back; the past few years were eventful.
Maybe the pain was worth it. It was definitely worth something, at least.
“I guess I am. That wasn’t what I was trying to change, though.” Serenity frowned. “I didn’t mean to change anything on Berinath. Well, except for the ridiculous policy about undead, but that wasn’t because of anything I saw about the future. I wouldn’t count on me ever seeing the future again, either; you know that’s not part of my Skill set.”
Rissa chuckled lightly and leaned against Serenity. “That’s what you have me for. You’re still a help when I go to the Timestream. That expedition on Lyka, to the trees … I don’t think I’d have gotten half as much out of it without you, and that’s even without the Valkyrie’s attack.”
“You were attacked by a Valkyrie?” Elder Jinsa latched onto Rissa’s reference immediately. “In the Timestream? And you survived?”
Rissa shrugged. “Serenity saved me. He’s good at fighting, even on unusual ground, and while he’s no Seer, he can feel Time well enough to fight with it.”
Serenity gave Rissa a puzzled look. It wasn’t that hard; the woman didn’t really know how to fight someone who wasn’t defenseless. Had Rissa seen it differently from how Serenity saw it? He couldn’t remember if they’d ever talked about the imagery of the fight. They’d talked about the trees, so he’d figured they saw the same things.
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“A fulcrum who can fight.” Elder Jinsa turned her attention to Serenity. “Most are deliberately not taught to fight, did you know that? It makes their directions easier to control, or so the people who find them think. I find that it makes for weak fulcrums. Obedient, often, but prone to snapping rather than turning the universe on its side. The Valkyries are taught to fight but only with a sword given to them by their rulers; without it, they’re useless.”
“Even with it, she didn’t seem that good in a fight.” Serenity shook his head. “If she’s no good without it, she should be prepared to have people try to disarm her.”
“Ah, but who needs to be good with a sword when everyone submits at the mere threat and the sword can erase things from Time itself?” Elder Jinsa snorted. “It is a good thing that a Tree is not as vulnerable as a person. The Dreaming Tree has been attacked by Valkyries more than once, but they are unable to harm it. The Mimir do not like Berinath, but until recently I did not think they would dare act against us.”
Even Serenity could tell that was meant as a statement to make him ask what she meant. Being able to tell that didn’t mean it didn’t work. “Until recently?”
Elder Jinsa nodded. “You heard the prophecy, didn’t you?”
Serenity nodded. He wasn’t sure about the connection.
Elder Jinsa flipped another two pages, then read from her notebook. “Norn-twisted fate laughs as youth’s safety brings joy for the mother and dread from all else. Death’s kind hand can halt the trade yet the price is peace and that will not be paid.”
She looked up hopefully, but Serenity just shook his head. He still didn’t know what she was talking about. It was a prophecy and he was no interpreter of prophecy.
Elder Jinsa frowned at the two of them. “You should know this; you’re walking in their arena. The Mimir are the rulers of the Norns. Valkyries are their warriors. They call anyone who can see or affect the flow of time a Norn if they approve of them; if they don’t, they send their Valkyries. Therefore, Norn-twisted fate is…” She made a gesture with her hand as if telling Serenity to go on or move faster.
Serenity didn’t need the push. “...something they’ve changed. How did you attract their anger?”
Elder Jinsa barked a laugh. “Who knows? They’ve never been happy with the Dreaming Tree; they don’t like anyone they don’t control. They’d rather see the world burn than not control it.”
That was an uncomfortable thought, all too close to what they seemed to want when they tried to kill Rissa to “restore” the past that Serenity changed.
If they succeeded, Serenity would make certain they didn’t profit from it. Scorched wasteland sounded good, but perhaps he’d simply assassinate the people who made the decision. Perhaps.
“You don’t like them either,” the elder commented. “That makes a lot of sense. I never did ask; why did they attack you?”
“Serenity changed the past by saving my life. They wanted to kill me to put things back on track. It wouldn’t have worked.” Rissa summarized it as well as Serenity could have, maybe better. “We’ve wandered all over the place. Why did you send for us? It can’t just have been to warn us that the Mimir want to destroy you, too.”
“The Dreaming Tree wants to take you into its Dream. For you, I think that means the Timestream. I don’t understand what it wants to show you, but it wants to show you something. For myself … I would like some help with the prophecy. I don’t understand it more than knowing who the Norns are.” Elder Jinsa flipped her notebook to a blank page. “If you have any thoughts, even ones you’re not certain about, I’d like to know.”
Rissa and Serenity looked at each other for a long moment before Rissa turned back towards the Elder. “I don’t understand enough to help much. I can guess that Death’s kind hand is a person, but I don’t know how the price being peace works, why it wouldn’t be paid, or what that person can do.”
Elder Jinsa looked surprised. “I thought it meant that we would have to kill either the mother or the youth, that Death’s kind hand was a euphemism for making it a gentle death. If Death’s kind hand is a person, that makes peace as a price more likely but-”
The elder froze and looked up at the ceiling of the room. It was a long, frozen moment before she looked down. “No, it can’t be. That couldn’t be. Even if it would make so much sense.”
“What?” Serenity could tell Elder Jinsa had made a connection that he didn’t have the cultural background for. It probably had something to do with why peace was too much; Serenity was generally fond of peace. There were times when war was necessary, but he preferred to avoid it when it wasn’t.
“Tzintkra. The only way that makes sense is if the required peace is with Tzintkra to get someone here. Death’s kind hand, whoever that is.” Elder Jinsa lifted a hand helplessly. “Peace with Tzintkra will never happen. We will never make peace with the people who destroyed everything and made us flee here.”
“Not even with the Shining Caverns, the people who hid underground from the storms of Death on the surface?” Serenity knew he was extrapolating, but he also knew that what he said was almost certainly close to the truth. It wasn’t that far away from what he’d heard; storms of Death mana were probably the least of the consequences for the kind of destruction and misused magic he’d heard about.
“There were no survivors. There couldn’t have been.” Elder Jinsa said it with confidence. “When I was a child, you could still see Death rage across the planet. The signs have stilled since then, mostly, but that only means it is dead; nothing is there.”
“I’ve been there,” Serenity informed Elder Jinsa. “There’s a thriving city hidden underground. Most residents are from offworld but not all. I might be able to get someone to visit if you need it. Or you could visit Tzintkra.” Serenity still remembered Rakyn, Desinka’s father. He’d mentioned something about his family being native, which made him the best evidence Serenity had. Stojan Tasi was also native, but Serenity wasn’t sure he wanted to bring a dhampir to Berinath.