As I take a glance at the four Draconiacs entering, an odd thought occurs to me. I make certain my mental wavelengths are private, shrouded from everyone, though Lady Kinzul can probably still sense them. I’ve seen very few metallic Draconiacs. Tairkul was trying to prevent herself from saying the word metallic, tying it to the thoughts of “other.”
Curious, I ask Kinzul, “My Lady, Kinzul, were Aymestuh and Dmitriv metallic Draconiacs?”
Kinzul’s response isn’t exactly laconic, but near, as she queries in response, “Yes, why?”
I gnaw on my lip as I flash Kinzul a glance so that she knows I’m not just passing idle curiosities. Her mind sharpens to attention as I privately telepathically explain, “We might not have gotten only useless information after all. Do you know the concept of othering? To segment off a group, to pick out a difference, and use that to cast them out, shun them, to turn the majority of the group against them. I don’t see a lot of metallic Draconiacs around here, and Tairkul was trying desperately to not say the word metallic, and it was couched in unbridled hatred, tied strongly to her concept of ‘other.’”
Lady Kinzul flashes with anger so intense that everyone in the room pales, before she calms herself to privately ask, “Was this the only information you gleaned, my Schism?”
I concentrate, and dive into a moment between moments, stretching out time, seeking the non, seeking the absence of time. When I arrive in my private thinkspace, I try to play back the interrogation, as precisely as I can. What clues were there? Paint the pictures.
On one hand, there was Yisstendahl, who had clearly aided the assassins, quite possibly the two that Errissa slew during our interrogation. He had granted them some boon that granted them temporary magics in some fashion or another. It’s likely that that boon would have been wearing down, and gone within a week of his death, but they acted mere hours after he died.
On another hand, there were other silhouettes. Some seemed equal, two or more accomplices. There was a clue, something leading up to things. Something not from the interrogation. Aymestuh was complaining that her power was weakening for a week leading up to it. Could someone have caused that effect deliberately, so that she wouldn’t see the upcoming attack? I assume it was the same with Dmitriv, the Scholar, who would have normally interpreted all of Aims’s paintings and other portents. If his mental faculties were compromised in the same way her powers were, and they were simply waiting for the—.
They had a time. They knew when Aymestuh’s and Dmitriv’s powers would have been the weakest. That was the time they were told to act. Tairkul admitted she was on orders to act at that specific time. Undoubtedly someone set up the weakening of Seer’s and Scholar’s Latents in advance. A slow acting poison? Multiple doses? Something subtle-enough that it might have even started long before the week where Aims started to notice her powers waning.
Retrocognition and genre senses are saying yes. Someone on the inside, one of ours, put pieces in play, that got Aims repeatedly into contact with something that would slowly, temporarily dampen her Latent. It likely would have begun losing effect within hours after the allotted time. They had a short window, but they knew when it would be, and they capitalized on it.
Without our Seer and Scholar, we’re all that much easier to infiltrate now. Kinzul is trusting, and welcomes all as refugees. She’s not stupid though, she probably has volunteers vetting people and keeping an eye on newcomers for a month or two after they settle in. Terrorzin has had years to set this up though. He’s been sending his shock troops to come lay claim to clutches, every time eggs were laid when his scrying pool found one out. If Kinzul offered any resistance, the mothers would have been killed. While he was doing all that, he could have been playing a longer game, getting sleeper agents in place. Hell’s bells.
F^&*! Okay, think, what other clues were there? There was the word that started with the syllable dam. There were the seven silhouettes at the top of a hierarchy. Wait. What if it wasn’t Terrorzin? Crap. What if we have another faction at play? Retrocognition puts odds at about sixty five percent minimum chance that there’s either another faction, or an eighty five percent minimum chance that there’s a subfaction within Terrorzin’s group.
Okay, take the information out to Kinzul, condense, summarize, get her opinion on the other clue, because some of it might require context. You didn’t think about metallic being in the context of dragons and Draconiacs for example, until now. Lady Kinzul has a lot more context to parse the information from, so I should have given this to her sooner, but better late than never. Releasing my hold on the absence of time, the moment between moments, I snap back to reality. Whoops, keep my balance, gravity is a thing. Telekinesis helps with that.
Continuing our conversation, in answer to Kinzul’s question about more information, telepathically in private I ask, “Lady Kinzul, would any of the following words mean anything to you? Damascus, damage, damaged, damager, damages, damp, dampen, damper, dampener, damnation—.”
Lady Kinzul seethes with rage, interrupting my flow of thought as her mind latches onto the word and extends it by one letter, “Damnations.”
I mentally facepalm. Induul was talking about them. Seven of them, seven silhouettes at the top of a hierarchy. I affirm, “Yes, that sounds likely, based on my Retrocognition, what I picked up in Tairkul’s mind made me realize she’d been given a time to attack, when Aims’s and Dmitriv’s powers would be the weakest, having been weakened by someone on the inside. It made me realize we have a subfaction in play within Terrorzin’s group, that have their own motivations, likely the othering of metallic dragonkin, possibly wiping them out.”
Lady Kinzul shouts aloud, “Those red-eyed beasts!”
Realizing what empowered Terrorzin, what took Kinzul’s first love from her, I crumple into despair, into terror and torment. A panic attack hits me as hard as any ever had before. I find myself colliding with the ground, painfully, my head bounces on the carpeted stone floor. My vision tunnels to a point, and my pulse pounds so hard in my ears that a freight train could be chugging through my skull. My mind plays back every horrific vision, hallucination, and event that ever caused me pain and panic.
The red-eyes, the Celestial Emperor, hounding me across time and space through multiple lifetimes. Their, *His* existence stretches into all points in the past, affecting things on grand scales to set things up that when my life begins, he has powerful pieces in place to try to wipe me out. I’m eaten, spat, beaten, torn, slashed, stabbed, poisoned, exploded, burned, fried, frozen, drowned, electrocuted, broken, shattered, and tattered, unendingly, relentlessly. It never stops. It will never stop. I will never be free of the destiny set in place where he will torment me, and try to destroy me. I can’t begin to fathom the obsession. I almost can’t fathom the absolute hatred, except that I hold him in the same loathsome regard. He empowers, and perhaps controls, The Damnations. Seven of the most powerful dragons on Rayileklia. No wonder Terrorzin has been cowed.
I wish I could say it was love that pulled me back from the brink of endless despair. I wish I could say it was the calling of my beloved best buddy Lil, or the worry of my Lady, Kinzul. I wish I could say it was the concern from the acquaintances, soon to be bonded friends. I wish I could say it was something other than explosive, unending wrath.
The instant I return, with the tiny shred of sanity I have left, I commandingly shout, “F-flee!”
Lil knows what’s about to happen, so takes off instantly, trusting his mother to follow suit, and Kinzul begins transforming immediately and whisks everyone else in the room out, not a question asked, nor a moment’s hesitation. The wrath boils up inside me, and I can’t control or stop it as it unleashes my Honoris Causa. The resulting backlash as my hatred pumps nearly all of my dragonforce into the void that expresses itself feels as if I’m simultaneously in a black hole, and the center of an explosion.
Though I don’t hear a sound within this void, I know I must be screaming, because my throat is hoarse. My tears of rage seem to disintegrate as they’re whisked away from my face. Some tiny part of me, trapped far, far below the rage, the wrath, struggles to pull in what’s left of my dragonforce, trying to survive. It seems that part of me, like everything else, is tied in some way to an endless void, the non, nothing itself. Being so deep within me, its call tugs at and restrains my Honoris Causa, slowly withdrawing it from the room, and back into me. The wrathful incident’s resulting devastation within the den, looks as if a black hole drew everything in as an explosion occurred. The floor and ceiling are now slightly concave.
Resting on my knees, I weep into my palms, bent over nearly double. My sobs and wails of anguish and anger give way to one another in cycles, though my throat is torn to shreds from the screaming within the void. Voices check on me telepathically, concernedly.
Lady Kinzul attempts to apologize, “I am beyond utterly filled with sorrow. I did not think that my outburst might let so much of my anger flow into you my Schism.”
Shaking my head, I respond, “No. It didn’t. This was all me. This has cost lives before. I’ve killed Lady Kinzul. Not just people that I was certain deserved it. Some that I wasn’t so sure. Some who might have been able to be redeemed, had I given them the chance. I couldn’t stop myself. I took those lives and never gave them the chance, for the danger they posed to my family. I will without a doubt, protect my family to a fault. I will slay the bastards who’ve set these events into motion. You may desire revenge my Lady, but I will be the one who carries it out at your will.”
There is hesitation across our mental wavelength. Kinzul doesn’t want to admonish me, but she doesn’t want to feed the flames either, or encourage a reckless attack on some of the most powerful beings. Instead, Kinzul asks, “Is it safe to return, my Schism?”
Nodding wordlessly, though she can’t see me, I sit slumped, and await her return, knowing she can sense my intent. It’s only moments that pass, but for that short while, I feel so alone, and I feel a rattle in my bones. I don’t know how to apologize for this. I don’t know how I would have come back from this, if any of them had been slain or injured. Luni is My Anchor for this exact reason. To help ground me, to help me cage the demon that dwells within me.
I slowly sigh as my breathing becomes normalized. I wear my shame plainly on my face as Kinzul arrives with Miraina, and the four adult Draconiacs in tow. Lil, in the draconic form he used to flee swiftly, rushes to my side, and begins nuzzling me.
Aktixas, pronouncing his “At”s like “Ot”s, and his “Azz” like “Ozz”, and so on, is the first to speak, “Thot wos impressive Schism. I’m more sold thon eve’ about your title. Not thot I hod any doubt of my Lady’s wisdom.”
There are several smirks from the other adult Draconiacs, and nods of agreement. I just try not to sigh outwardly, so that I don’t deflect the praise and come off like an ass. Working my way around, to pick up broken half barrels of sap, and to collect smears of pre-prepared gem-dust paste, I try to flash a half smile at Aktixas for the praise. I almost chuckle at the fact that all the gems I had out are now pulverized to the finest of dust, nearly atomized. It’ll be the highest quality, for the deepest layered enchantments.
I also almost chuckle as I witness Lady Kinzul setting down a single untarnished barrel of sap, with several pots that had closed lids sitting atop it. She must have snagged it on the way out with her tail, and either she has ancillary powers like Teuila, that reduce g forces and wind friction and the like, or she has impossibly impeccable tail control, or the pots were stuck to the barrel with sap, and their lids were stuck shut.
Thankfully, the dimensional pouch at my hip is connected to my hyperdimensional haversack, and both are undamaged, as the haversack contains the majority of the gems. I’m glad I brought such a high volume of gems, and kept as many in reserve as I did. Between what Lady Kinzul managed to save, and what’s salvageable in the den, we haven’t really lost much other than a few minutes. Well, also the furniture. Fabric-dust has settled in the corners of the room, along the crevices along each wall. Splinters and fragments of wooden legs and arms of tables and chairs mingle in complex messes. The stone furniture, what there was of it, is cracked, shattered, and resting along the walls as well.
I start to feebly apologize, “Lady Kinzul, I am so, so sorry for the destruction in your den. I don’t know how to make this up to you in the moment. I—.”
Kinzul interrupts me, absolving me, “My Schism, you both trusted, and protected your allies and loved ones from a dangerous foe. You have nothing to be sorry for. We shall retire to my less public den to finish your spellwork. I dare say, the looks on the faces of the arrivals after this will be entertaining indeed.”
I can’t help snorting a laugh, despite how awful I feel. Partly because Kinzul basically admitted I’m my own dangerous foe, but also the humorous nature of her parting statement. Lady Kinzul wraps me up in an embrace and begins to guide me, and the rest of us, three doors down one hallway, to a smaller, cozier study. It doesn’t have quite enough furniture to accommodate all of us, but we can take turns standing while the ones who are actively having runework done on them utilize the furniture if necessary for them to hold still.
We basically leave a trail of supplies from the den towards the study, so that new arrivals will know where to go if we haven’t finished in time. We’re intending to greet them in the den though. I would not let Iylynila come to an empty, obviously exploded den, where she expected to find her mother and me. That would be absolutely horrid. I’d prefer not to do it to anyone else either, but, well, Illy and I—. Cough. Lady Kinzul eyes me with a smirk at my train of thought, and I do my best to avoid eye contact while blushing heatedly.
Geskae fully disrobes first, immediately after I cast the telepathic bond spell, and I’m too drained emotionally to bother being embarrassed about catching sight of her full, reflective-silver-scaled, five foot two, slightly stocky, strong reptilian form. She isn’t a mammal, so it’s not quite as immodest as it could be, though there are hints, curves in places that suggest femininity in humanoids like one might expect in a twenty-four’ish year old human woman. She has gentle, pale brown eyes that offer me a compassionate gaze, taking pity on me for what she’d witnessed.
Geskae’s dialect is the pinnacle of perfect etiquette. Her word choices are prim, and proper, careful, yet enunciated perfectly, without pause. Hearing her flirt with her partner, Aaront, while my hands are upon her doing runework sets me at ease. The two are confident in their connection, and happily in love it seems. Their lack of human-society modesty probably helps me the most of everything over the last two days in getting over the events of my panic attack at the shop stall.
Aaront stands over a full foot taller than Geskae, his, um, lover? I’m not certain the term for Draconiac romantic partners. I might ask someone that later. Aaront is slightly rounded, with dove-white scales, and yellow eyes full of both subsets of woe and sorrow, as well as joy and hope. His six foot three inch form and barrel chest allow for plenty of surface area to apply runes to. I’m surprised that his speech is a bit breathy and wheezy, but he’s probably got a massive set of lungs on him. Apparently Geskae and Aaront are frequent champions at strategy games similar to chess, held within Mount Solace.
It’s neat to learn their hobbies, and that people do have something more to do around here other than errands, eating, and sleeping. I know that most of the Draconiacs and kobolds take turns serving each other meals and such, so that no one has to work all the time.
Shrulniz, like Illy suggested, is slender and gray. They have the sort of androgyny about them that, well, it catches my eyes I guess. I mean, they definitely catch my eye, I just don’t know if there’s a better term for my sort of attraction, since I’m non-biologic, and an aro ace. Being a reptile makes the androgynous appearance a bit easier to pull off perhaps. Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen enough Draconiac faces to determine their most masculine and feminine traits, but when I do see a new face, it feels obvious. Hopefully I don’t misgender anyone though. I’d feel like a dick. It’s why I was going to ask Prinrin, due to her sort of tomboyish androgyny with her open-backed vest tunic-like attire, and athletic, toned, petite frame, but she beat me to it. I’ve got no idea how she saw that specific thought on my face, but she did.
Shrulniz does lock their sky-blue eyes with mine frequently during our current application of runes, but they don’t speak much, if at all. What is it with the three slender gray dragonkin that I know, not speaking much, or straight up being mute? Ah I feel like a dick for that thought line. That’s overgeneralizing. Now I feel gross about myself, like an ass. Stupid brain, stupid Reggie. That thought was so rude you punk. I know I know. I— maybe should have put up the walls against passive reception of my inner monologue at some point.
Ugh, everyone’s been hearing my brain taking in physical descriptions of themselves. I want to facepalm hard enough to slam my head into a wall and pass out. There’s light chuckling at my train of thought, at least everyone is taking it good naturedly. Pawn looks antsy, like she wants to be running around doing errands, making use of her Latent, which, she probably does. Sadly I can’t really speed this up any, and we’ve got I think two more groups to do before I can let her go.
I begin apologizing, “Sorry for keeping you all day Pawn, I really appreciate you taking on this big job for us. It’s a massive help for lady Kinzul and me to be able to rely on someone so earnest who’s such an exceptional member of the Order to boot.”
Miraina beams with pride, and stops fidgeting, instead sitting in Lady Kinzul’s lap, lightly swinging her legs in a very familiar kicking fashion. Pawn holds a finger up to do the shush motion at my train of thought, and I agree. She’s quite an astute young lady.
Aktixas is muscular, bare except a loincloth, rope-belt, and his macuahuitl, and grinning as my brain fills in its description of him. I really should have put the walls up before getting around to people. He’s an incredibly handsome Draconiac, I don’t think I’ve seen another that’s got similar rigid brown scales with as sharp of curves and lines to them. Or heck, any other brown-scaled Draconiacs at all. Unlike some of the other Draconiacs that have ridges, or horns, atop their head, Aktixas has both, and it makes him look a bit like a triceratops with the two above his brows, and the small horny protrusion upon his nose-tip. I’m going to go die of embarrassment now. At least there’s a round of chuckling.
Lil, Pawn, and Lady Kinzul all request my application of runes upon them to be affectionate again, so I endeavor to make sure that I’ll massage them what little I’m able to during the runecrafting.
Shrulniz, sounding dejected, perhaps playfully so, telepathically asks, “That was an option?”
There’s hearty chuckling in response from Aktixas, Geskae, and Aaront who give me playful glares of accusation for having forgotten to make the offer. They’re playing it up humorously though, since they know I was still reeling from the angstsplosion from earlier, so they’re letting it slide. Hm, oddly enough, sharing in affection seems to be keeping my dangerously low dragonforce from dwindling any further after that explosion. I mean, I could certainly get behind jokingly suggesting to my inner circle that we have to love up on each other twenty four seven to keep me alive. Kinzul chuckles at my thought process, but Lil simply offers to do exactly that suggestion.
I love my best buddy so much. He’s so pure, and sweet. Right, maybe I should erect some telepathic passive-blocking walls now for this group too. I’d have liked to have gotten to know them a bit better during our time-slot, but they’re forgiving, seeing as they saw me literally explode with anger not so long ago. We all hug as they take their leave though, every single one of us bare-chested, except Lady Kinzul and Pawn, who are both wearing open-backed dresses for the runic applications.
Alright, up next should be Elshon, Prent, Burshis, and Nietru. Hopefully the poly-trio of Prent, Burshis, and Nietru are doing okay. Lil said they have some jealousy and balancing to manage. I'm grateful our inner circle lacks that.