The runes, the spells, they’re here! I know them! Rushing to Prinrin’s side, I crank my aura vision spell to the maximum. Dispellation has a ton of fiddly moving parts to utilize properly. On one side, it requires a hundred twenty eight runes to learn the whole thing, on the other, not all runes are needed in any given casting, never more than ninety nine anyway. It depends on whether one is trying to interrupt a high tier magic, or disrupt one already emplaced for starters. For this blight, I only need utilize about forty four runes per spot of blight on Prinrin to guarantee that they’re gone. Let’s see, armpits, behind ears, inner thighs, and tailbone. How did she get hit with seven fully loaded spells of blight? Unless—. Lil, Lu, Kinzul, the Vivant. Seven spells. She took the hit for each and every one of them. Oooo I could throttle this brave little deviant!
Let’s see, forty four, plus a half to quicken it, sixty six, times seven, four hundred sixty two. I’ve used up about two hundred so far already today after returning home from collecting the refugees. Between mastering two runes before I’d even started any of this, and empowering and emplacing the abjuration bookmark, I, well, yes. I should have enough safe S P limit to do this for Prinrin, one way or another.
I’m panting, breathing anxiously, fearfully as I attempt to dispel each of the blights in turn, one after another. We’re letting Prinny thaw out, and thankfully it seems like our efforts to preserve her did stop the spreading of the blighted webs beneath her flesh, or at least slow them down during the time we’d spent working on the ability to save her. Prinrin, pull through gorrammit. Please. Please pull through. I hold Prinrin as tightly as I can despite the weakening of my limbs. My muscles begin to slacken, weary from casting near the edge of my safe limit of S P for the day.
The last blight mark disappears, and I hold my breath, waiting for signs of Prinrin’s life, her recovery. My eyes widen slowly more and more in fear as she remains unconscious. I glance frantically about the room, but everyone avoids my gaze. I’m about to start throttling Prinrin, shaking her, begging her to wake up, if no one can give me a better idea. Miraina beats me to the punch as she inserts herself into the embrace I’ve got Prinrin in.
While shaking Prinrin, crying out in frustration, through tears, Miraina shouts a plea, “Mo-ommmm, wake up! Don’t do this to us, don’t leave!”
When Prinrin smiles with her eyes closed, she clues me in to the fact that she’s eating up the attention of having her daughter and me so close to her. I could slap the little deviant for such a prank. Ooo this woman! I was so worried about her! I loose a sigh of relief but also frustration.
Prinrin thankfully apologizes, “Sorry my dears, was still a bit groggy, and couldn’t resist taking a few moments to enjoy the warmth of your bodies after such a frost. Brrr. Dearie me what a delight to be so loved, to have so many work so hard together for little old me. This runt’s old ticker swells with the joy of it, swells right up I tell you. You’re all such dears, such sweet dears, and I can’t thank you enough. But enough focusing on me, we’ve all got a bonding ceremony to attend to now don’t we my dears? Our sweet Lady Kinzul and Schism my sweet should be wed in no time at all, lickety split.”
At Prinrin’s assertion, my cheeks flush warmly enough to weld tungsten, which she absolutely nuzzles her own face against in order to absorb my warmth. Kinzul, almost demurely, seemingly almost blushing herself, nods in gratitude towards Prinrin. The mixture of reactions from the assembled individuals is a wild ride in and of itself, especially since most of them I’m psychically bonded with.
Funnily enough, Ahliyuri mutters, “We ah, can see ourselves back to the prison. Schism. We’re happy fo—.”
I frown at Ahliyuri and state, “I’ve literally been inside your head for the last almost a month in non-linear time Yuri. You’re family. You’re all family at this point. I’d live, fight, sully my soul, or die for any one of you. You’ve each journeyed along with me and obtained power that normally would take centuries to share. I can’t think of a better way to symbolize bringing you into our family than to share in this ceremony, erm, though I don’t know what it entails, or how intimate it ends up being. Kinzul my love?”
Seeming a bit abashed, Kinzul offers up, “I’d rather hoped that perhaps you had some custom you wished to partake in from your world, since part of our bond is in order to cement our souls mingling on both worlds. If nothing comes to mind, I could mirror what I’d last shared with my love, The Platinum, when he was last reincarnated as a Draconiac.”
My heart catches in my throat. I’m left stunned for several long moments. To step into those shoes. To follow his footsteps, and to share a love with Kinzul in that manner—. My jaw hangs locked slightly low, my mandible joints stiffening as my jaw attempts to quiver. My eyes mist with tears that do not fall. I nod haltingly, trying to keep my gaze locked with Kinzul’s.
Breaking the tension, in an odd turn, Atter offers up, “As much as I’d be honored to partake and witness such an event Schism, Conjugation time is short for those of my clutch that remain viable, and it’s, well, a rather involved process. I need to either find a mate before the eve is through, or, well, hold my brother to an uncomfortable bargain.”
Finding myself blushing for new reasons, I recall a conversation with Boetah, or at least something I’d overheard him mention. I glance between Miraina and Atter for a moment, unsure if I should make the suggestion. Gnawing on my lip, I hesitantly mutter, “Atter, did you meet Boetah during the return trip, or when we were acclimating your refugees on the aerie? Aliased Shield, he’s a Rock who's had a bit of trouble finding a mate, a round, fun-loving fellow, and—.”
The expression on Atter’s face tells me she’s certainly intrigued, and interested in proposing Conjugation with Boetah. Glancing at Miraina, I’m wondering if Pawn would be willing to fetch him, or maybe even to rouse all the Order members, if we’re going to make a big deal out of this. Miraina flashes me a wink, and sets off like a rocket. I guess that answers that question. I wonder if there’s a specific chamber that we should have our bonding ceremony in, or if—.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Prinrin pleads to the gathered, “My Lady, Kinzul my sweet, my dear old friend, it would mean the world to my sweet lad, to see you chase this bit of happiness, for you to—.”
Smiling with wet eyes, Kinzul adopts her regal head-tilt that’s barely a nod as she responds, “Say no more my beloved old friend. Yes, of course, his hoard chamber will be where we adjourn to for our ceremony. Please, you’re all invited, and I’ve instructed Pawn to bring the rest of the Order, even those in the infirmary. They were well-enough when last I checked. I shant invite the greater populace as a whole, it’s still a tad more intimate than being an entirely public event mind you. Spellknight twins, Thunderers, welcome to our family. I’m honored that you accepted our Hero’s mercy.”
The four nearly-strangers gulp at being called out. While they know I’m deadly-powerful from witnessing it firsthand, it’s a different matter to be directly addressed by an ancient being, perhaps the eldest left alive on the planet, whose domain you currently reside in. The four hastily nod in an uneven rhythm, and I try not to chuckle at their expense for their nervousness. Hell, I should be the nervous one. Married, right now, right away, to that very same ancient being?
But she’s not some stranger, some unknowable, elder, ancient being to me. She’s Kinzul the kind. She’s Kinzul the beneficent. She’s Kinzul the nurturer. She’s the Administrator, and Progenitor of the Onyx Dawn, certainly, but she’s a calculating, warm, loving, vastly intelligent, impossibly compassionate woman of unparalleled beauty. I know more of her secrets than perhaps any other living being on the planet at this moment. She’d consented to my learning them, even if she’d earlier lamented my coming to possess those facts. She still has far more secrets than I’ve learned, but even knowing that she has them is something that she hasn’t allowed others to learn yet.
Not only do I know her deeply, but she knows me as well. She’d read my life story, when she was seeking a way to help me while in our shop bunker. She pushed through the boundaries of time, space, and psychic energy and stumbled across my Changeling Fae’s true inner self, and she read the story thereupon, not entirely getting it all the time. My own unreliable narration of my life’s journey sometimes making it difficult for her. She may have had to skip around in the journey, but for the most part, she saw everything that there had been of my life as I experienced it in linear time.
I hardly even notice it as I find us being ushered out of my vault. Gathering a few trinkets, and things I want to try to gift to Kinzul as soon as we’re bonded, I think back at the fact that I’d seen Kinzul roll her fate dice just before we utilized the hivemind in order to get the power to save Prinrin. All three dice came up sixes. Things were eighteen percent more likely to succeed because of fate intervening, because of Kinzul’s direct aid and intervention with a magical artifact that I’d given her. Those eighteen percent might be the only reason any of the hivemind orb time worked out at all. That eighteen percent was granted by one of very few things that didn’t come pre-locked as soulbound to Shellcrackers.
Speaking of locking, I lock the vault behind us, leaving books, librams, folios, scrollcases, and more strewn about the floor. Yisstendahl’s son has the good graces to excuse himself, and return to his civilian life. I could have perhaps extended my trust to him, if I’d subsumed him into the hivemind, but I couldn’t trust someone with that sniveling weaselly look, one that mirrored someone whom I know had betrayed the Order, betrayed Kinzul. I’m even tempted to cast the detect thoughts spell and check into his brain to see how much he knew about the betrayals, but I won’t do it. I’ll try to foster and nurture kindness, compassion, forgiveness, as Kinzul would request of me.
I— probably should have gotten dressed. I facepalm, and struggle to not laugh along with the others who start giggling about my mental state, and physical state of undress. How does no one ever think to be like, “Hey Reggie, you’re pantsless again.”? Blargh. I wonder if—.
Kinzul smirks as she telepathically sends to me, “Worry not my love, if you would be willing to expend the energy, you could be garbed in your Honoris Causa. I will after all be in my true form. Well, as much of it as will fit in the chamber. As for this Fae body of yours that lies beneath your true dragon heart, I’ve something that might suffice. Though I hesitate to offer it. I know you wouldn’t think ill of me, and yet I worry.”
Knowing Kinzul as well as I do, I suspect it’s something that reminds her of The Platinum, and she worries that I might think she’s only using me to try to fill that hole specifically. However, she knows me well enough to know that I harbor no such thoughts. Kinzul smiles my way at my mental monologue. I flash Kinzul a smile of my own, and apparently she instructs Miraina to pick up whatever the item is from her chambers.
Del drops her hammer mid-swing upon seeing our procession leaving Mount Verdimenn, and she raises an eyebrow my way, so I try to quickly, subtly motion for her to join our little gathering. She snags Yer and hustles along behind us. As far as I’m concerned, she’s family. She’s like an eccentric aunt who has one hobby or job that she’s amazing at. Anyway, I’m glad that she’s part of all of this. Having her be here for Yerjhro when he’s at a crossroads with no parents, it must mean everything to him, and for having done that, she means everything to me on some levels.
When Miraina catches up to us, the bundle of platinum fabric in her arms causes my heart to stop and skip several beats. The robe’s tailored in a flowing, ethereal fashion, with a regal, elegant cut. The collar is adorned with scales meticulously crafted with silver and platinum threads, creating a shimmering effect that catches the light.
The robe's sleeves are wide and billowing, draping down to the wrists, reminiscent of wings in mid-flight. The body of the robe is adorned with a myriad of small, geometrically shaped platinum dragon-scale patches sewn onto a foundation of shimmering silk. These patches are arranged in interlocking patterns, and the scales themselves possess a subtle iridescence.
The front of the robe is fastened with a row of clasps, each one intricately designed to resemble a platinum dragon's talon gripping its opposite. Also upon the front of the robe is a soft, silken, furry mantle. As I don it, the hem of the robe falls to my ankles. The robe’s hem is rendered in silver and platinum threadwork against a backdrop of the finest scale-silk fabric. The robe's interior and sleeves hold hundreds of arcane runes that have been embroidered with platinum thread. I can virtually hear the robe humming, emanating with sorcerous power. Was The Platinum some kind of sorcerer like me? What was it that Tiktik called me jokingly? An Absensorcerer, based on a name the kids made up when she’d read them storybooks about ancient heroes.
Shaking her head, Kinzul confirms, “There’s never been a sorcerer quite like you my love. The Platinum was his own special breed as well, but not at all like you or yours. Still, if this garment should in some way empower you, even just with confidence, I’d be glad to have you bear it from now on.”