Serenity felt a little dazed as he pulled back from his consultation with Death.
He’d never had Death reach out to him with a question before. He hadn’t even realized she could. He was grateful that she’d given him the option to turn her down even though it seemed fairly urgent.
He’d accepted, of course. He would have needed to be somewhere a lot more dangerous to not help when Death asked for advice.
A glance at Senkovar told Serenity that perhaps he should have said more than “One moment, a friend needs my advice” before he sat down on the ground. The old man was still staring at Serenity. He also seemed a bit pale. “Senkovar? Is something wrong?”
Senkovar snorted and seemed to relax a little. He still seemed tenser than he had when the day started. “You’re back. Never, ever do that when other people are around. I’m not sure what you did, but don’t do it in front of anyone you don’t trust with your life.”
“I was gone?” Serenity wasn’t sure what had just happened. No, that wasn’t right; he knew exactly what had just happened. What he didn’t know was what Senkovar saw. “That can’t be right. What did you see?”
Senkovar seemed to tense a little more, but he still answered. “You froze but your aura didn’t. It merged with something that both is you and isn’t at the same time. I’ve tried not to ask, but I’m not sure how much longer I can ignore it.”
Serenity waited for Senkovar to continue, but the silence stretched uncomfortably. “I don’t know what you expect me to say.”
Senkovar huffed and a small grin crossed his face. “I don’t know why I was worried.”
What?
Some of Serenity’s confusion must have shown on his face.
Senkovar seemed amused as he nodded at Serenity. “I’ve met gods before. You’re far too low Tier for the usual ascensions, yet you’re having no trouble with it even though Echa flooded you with Faith and what belief the dryads have will flow to you. You don’t even notice it, do you?”
“Not usually?” Serenity didn’t understand the connection.
Senkovar nodded. “Your Asura heritage, most likely. Our ancestors used Faith far more than most. With the Voice, the practice is mostly lost other than those who call themselves gods, yet few species handle Faith as well as the Asura did. I’d guess your mother’s heritage plays a role as well, but I know far less of the angels’ abilities.”
“What do you know of my mother’s heritage?” The words came out before Serenity had a chance to think about them, but even after he said them he wasn’t upset that he had. If there was something he should know, he didn’t want it hidden.
Senkovar gave a minute nod. “Only what your father was able to tell me, that Dalmoti called your mother an angel in his letter. It didn’t mean much to your father, but it means something very specific to me and would have meant the same to Dalmoti. Angels … there were two species on our home planet. It became uninhabitable and we fled to Suratiz. Angels were the other species; I do not know where they went. All I know is that they vanished from books and stories, at about the same time the Asura became the Suras. We lost our wings, yet you have them and your mother carried the blood of angels.”
Even if Serenity hadn’t remembered the letter, the fact that Aide immediately brought up the text made it clear Senkovar was leaving something out.
Make your own mark, found your own Family. Do not depend on my past, for it is a broken thing, unable to bear its own weight and the sins of its past. You are already doing that with the sweet angel you are bringing home; however forbidden that love might be in my past, I hope that it works out for you. I believe in you and in your Bethany as well. You have my blessing for what little that is worth.
Serenity quickly skimmed the wording and confirmed what his memory said. “The letter said the love was forbidden.”
Senkovar nodded. “It was. I don’t know why; I’m too young to remember the angels. All I was ever told was that we shouldn’t allow our desire for wings to make us try to claim them in another.”
That made very little sense to Serenity.
Senkovar chuckled. “I can see your doubt, but it’s the only answer I have. It’s a proverb, a common saying that may have lost meaning with time. For all I know, it may not have even applied to angels originally.”
Serenity frowned at Senkovar. He wasn’t certain what the other man was laughing at.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Anyway, the important thing is that you are still you; you’re not being overwhelmed by your new power or the demands of the Faith being sent to you. I’ve seen that; it’s horrifying. All too much like the aura you projected a moment ago.” Senkovar tilted his head and frowned at Serenity. “You are going to give me a better explanation than a friend asked you for help, aren’t you?”
Serenity wasn’t sure how much there was to say; a friend had asked for help and he’d gone. The aura was easily explained, though. “The friend who asked is Death.”
“Death isn’t-” Senkovar stopped himself. “You mean the literal Death? Death Itself has Incarnated?”
Serenity nodded.
Senkovar let out a long sigh and seemed to deflate a little. He looked older than Serenity remembered him looking in the past. “Well, that certainly explains why a Death Mage is so powerful, even with a high Affinity. If you know the Incarnate enough to call them a friend, they can help you learn the Concept and how to use the Affinity. Heh, if you weren’t a god yourself you’d likely be a priest of Death. Can you still channel Death’s power?”
Serenity wasn’t sure if he should correct Senkovar’s misunderstanding or not. He didn’t know Death’s Incarnate, he was Death’s Incarnate. Maybe it was better to leave that alone. He could still answer Senkovar’s last question, as long as he answered about Death rather than Death’s Incarnate. “I’ve never needed to channel her power; I have enough of my own.”
Senkovar nodded and a little of his lost vitality seemed to return to him. “That’s probably for the best. It could harm you if you did; I’d rather not find out the hard way. You only have one child so far, after all!”
“If that was meant to be a joke, it wasn’t funny,” Serenity growled at Senkovar. Death would never hurt him if she could avoid it. Beyond that, implying that Death would prevent procreation was an example of the worst sort of assumptions, that death and the creation of life were inherently opposed. They were firmly connected, yes, but not exclusively in opposition.
Senkovar shook his head slowly but this time the grin didn’t leave his face. “No sense of humor in the younger generations. Well, since you aren’t going to turn into a mindless killer and you aren’t interested in laughing, why don’t you start the last check of the dome?”
Serenity blinked. That was why they were here, wasn’t it? He’d almost forgotten. It completely vanished from his mind when first Death asked for help then Senkovar overreacted to his absence.
He would definitely try to get somewhere private before he accepted Death’s request in the future, though. Senkovar’s reaction made it clear that that was important.
It took several hours to look over everything, but as far as Serenity could tell everything was ready.
The trees that would maintain the dome in the future were still short, but they were there. The atmosphere was breathable, at least for a few people (or a lot as long as it didn’t last long). In the long term, the trees needed to grow more before they could support a large population indefinitely. The soil was healthy, rich, and properly watered, even if it didn’t have the full range of insect life it should yet. The stream was confined to its area and stocked with algae and very small fish; the dryads would add more variety in time, just like they’d add more to the dome itself.
The dome’s main node was available, if very limited in functionality. It couldn’t yet form a portal, but it would likely be able to in a few months. The dungeon was almost ready to open; it needed more people nearby for some time, but it was already cleaning up the ancient traces of malformed stale magic from the area. Serenity suspected that the dungeon might well help the portal functionality when it did finally open.
The last thing he checked was the updated circle. It no longer depended on Echa’s rune to somehow force an undead being to lose their Death Vital Affinity so that it could be replaced with a Life Vital Affinity. Serenity hated that particular implementation to begin with; the fact that it probably wouldn’t work anymore now that Echa was gone only made it easier to justify dismantling it.
The new ritual used a far gentler method, reminding the being of who and what they had once been. It would take longer and required actual commitment from the person undergoing the conversion, but it was far less likely to accidentally outright kill the person undergoing conversion. It also had one rather large benefit that Serenity was fairly certain the dryads had assumed their old setup had when it actually didn’t: it stripped away several different forms of mind control that primarily affected undead. It might well also strip some forms that didn’t affect undead, if they had been applied since a major change to a person, but that wasn’t the ritual’s point. It was simply a useful side effect that Serenity had elected to keep.
“I think it’s ready,” Serenity finally reported to Senkovar.
Senkovar nodded. “I’ve checked everything except your circle, as well. It is. Well done; I’d be happy to take you on as an apprentice.”
Serenity chuckled at that. The other man had promised that as a Quest reward, but seemed to have already started the training. “Even without visiting Suratiz?”
Whatever Senkovar’s reply would have been, it remained unsaid as the doorway that blocked the entrance from the tunnel into the new dome area opened. Senkovar and Serenity both turned towards it, only to see a short procession led by Elder Lizven. Directly behind the elder was a pair of guards, then four guards carrying a stretcher, then another two guards. A form lay unmoving on the stretcher.
Serenity had the sinking feeling that his rune had already been tested and worked. He’d more than half hoped that wouldn’t happen while he was still on Berinath.
Serenity searched the stretcher with his eyes. It didn’t take long for him to find a wooden version of his rune clutched in the hands of the man who lay on the stretcher. That surprised him; they’d clearly worked quickly if they already had functional copies, even if they were made of wood. He’d only handed over the samples ten days earlier.
Elder Lizven seemed startled when she saw them, but other than a hitch in her step there was no other sign of her surprise. “Serenity? I’m glad you’re here. Are you willing to perform the ritual, show us how it’s supposed to be done?”