“You saw the attack on the Meet earlier,” the shadow man’s voice was clear to him, though he could still hear the guttural echoes of false sound faintly following every syllable. “A new piece is on the board and, with it, new opportunities. Fear not, your role will not be changed, but you must be protected. Please make ready to accept a new gift.”
Otis stayed kneeling before the cloaked figure, but hurried to remove his bracelets and upper arm cuff. With that, mana flowed out from around him, and the wards that protected him fell away. He knew better than to show hesitation to their benefactor.
He saw the flows of mana twist around him, becoming complicated weaves and patterns that flowed into him at a dizzying pace, like an ocean of color. A feeling of worry and dread sparked inside his heart, but was soon replaced with a feeling of warmth and conviction. This was another test, surely.
Just as earning the undying loyalty of the troops was a test of his charisma and wit; just as the plays for the seat of Ambassador were a test of his cunning and ruthlessness; just as his childhood was a test of his exceptionalism and resourcefulness. Otis was second borne, yes, but he was the first son people thought of when the name Ilmari came up in conversation.
He wasn’t a lowly blacksmith like his siblings, but a man of importance in the community. People sought him out for his wisdom and his grace and his foresight. He was the voice for over a hundred thousand people — a population bigger than most of the hybrid nations.
The mana stopped surging around him, finally settling into invisibility once more, and the shadow man took a step back.
“Thank you for the gift, master,” Otis intoned.
“Serve us well,” the shadow man’s words ringed in his mind like a church bell.
He drew up to his feet in an instant, his focus now entirely set upon a singular goal, and made his way up the stairs. As his two most trusted guards greeted him at the entrance to the undercroft, he reached out and touched them. A whirlwind of mana pounded into their flesh, and they stiffened for only a moment before following behind him.
Otis touched every servant and guard that he passed, causing them to fall into step behind him, as he made his way to the garrison. Some guards rose in alarm at his approach, but were held in place by his legion and soon touched. Every sleeping body was touched. Wordlessly, the legion armed itself with bladed weapons, and departed in groups of three.
Two of the servants removed their upper garments before kneeling in front of Otis. A small group was rearranging the room to allow others to begin etching symbols on the stone floor with chalk. While they worked, Otis began to carve identical symbols into the flesh of the servants in front of him — mana pouring into each sigil as they were completed.
Blood began to pour onto the stone floor, intermingling with the chalk like rainwater flooding a river, as the people who were once drawing symbols were now slicing open their necks. Mana pulsed throughout the room with a discordant resonance — yearning to be completed. With inhuman precision, Otis completed the final cuts on the two servants in front of him.
With no expression of pain or triumph, the two stepped into the blood circle and were immediately engulfed in mana, transforming into white silhouettes of light. As the last of the mana from the shadow man left his body, Otis dropped to his knees.
“Oh, gods…” Otis croaked.
Once, as a child, he had wandered to investigate a gully, like most curious boys his age had done. They were portals to another world, after all, and held an air of mystique and magic that was unlike anything in all of Amuun’s history. He remembered the feeling from being close to it — like a whispering chorus of desire beckoning him to step off a rooftop. Back then, it had scared him and the other boys with its strangeness.
But now, it was like a courtesan’s caress and the feel of gold on his fingertips and the looks of awe from his men all at once.
It was terrifying.
The dread and worry suddenly broke free, twisting his face into regret and shame.
The light coalesced into an image of dead black — a night sky with no stars.
Eyeless faces. Pasty pale skin. Smiles that made your hair stand on end. Fingers that ended in points. Movement like a dancer. Shapely bodies that were absent of humanity.
Sevaral Shoggothi walked past him, some deigned to give his shoulders a loving tap, and Otis shook with silent sobs. There was no realization. It was as though he had always known that this was going to be his fate. He wasn’t anyone important. Just another fool who followed orders. There was no breaking free of the ties that binded you in this world. He was doomed.
A tender touch on his chin, and a sweet smile for his eyes, “Do you want to be free of this place? To cast aside your worries forever more? To be full?”
“I…” Otis didn’t get a chance to finish answering as the Shoggothi pressed its lips to his mouth, its tongue twining his own. Otis was eager for its taste, and felt a lump slide down his throat.
The demon pulled away as Otis coughed up a storm.
“Embrace it as you did me, child. Let your heart join our chorus. Become everything you’ve desired, and more.”
Mana surged. Bone cracked. Otis screamed.
----------------------------------------
_.-*-._.-*-._.-*-._.-*-._.-*-._
Kronus laid sprawled on the marble floor of his cage, looking more like a bored child than a prisoner. He had his right hand raised, lazily trailing through the air, as he muttered to himself.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Dinah banished the wall of air that surrounded him, and the room echoed a few notes of the song he was singing before he abruptly stopped and turned his head to her.
His dark eyes were calm, with a hint of curiosity.
Dinah still couldn’t understand how this man was supposed to be a savior or destroyer.
“I’ll still know if you’re lying when you speak,” she explained, “so choose your words carefully.”
Kronus nodded.
“The worst fate I could imagine,” Dinah swallowed, “would be to forever lose Caesar in the Hollow Expanse.”
“Azazel creates too many portals,” Kronus slowly rose to his feet, “and destabilizes the dimensional equilibrium. The demons come pouring out, and everyone scrambles to seal a giant portal that floods the Imperial Estuary. Caesar is desperately trying to hold them back and commands you to seal the portal, even with him on the other side. Eventually, you do.”
True.
A hollowness formed in the pit of her stomach.
“Why would I do that?” her voice was monotone. “Was there really no other way?”
Kronus stood directly in front of the bars now, shaking his head, “Caesar orders Sermon to make you do it. Because it was either him or the world.”
True.
A wave of pressure moved through her, and she gripped the bars of the prison to keep steady. Of course Sermon would do that. The man cared too much about the Empire. It was like he had nothing else to live for.
“Sermon questions his decision for the rest of his life,” Kronus whispered. “It’s the start of a breakdown for each of the Champions, except Shyanna. That girl basically becomes the last line of defense for the broken remnants of the Empire.”
True.
Dinah raised a hand, “Stop. Let me just…”
“After three hundred years, Caesar finally makes it back. He comes back from an endless hell only to find himself alone. Everyone he’s ever known is lost to him, like always. For a time, he gives up. There’s an emptiness in his heart that he knows he can never fill again. He tries—”
“Stop!” Dinah trapped Kronus in a shell of air, but couldn’t stop the feeling that was sure to follow
True.
She forced herself to take a breath, but choked out a sob instead.
That was Caesar’s fate? Her Caesar was going to be left alone after all of the sacrifices he’d made?
Tears dribbled down her face, and Dinah quickly scrubbed them away.
Breathe, she had to breathe.
It starts with the breath, his voice was soothing, even in memory. The breath is the locus of control for the parts of you that seem uncontrollable.
She exhaled through her mouth, and took a long breath through her nose, followed by a brief inhale at the end.
The calm will come, Dinah focused again. I need you to breathe for me.
Nothing was set in stone. Even her future as the Champion of the Golden Prism, once an inescapable prison, had a way out.
Dinah looked at the man in the cage in front of her.
Kronus had fear in his eyes — no, concern.
Everything he had said had been true, no doubt. He was plain and straightforward. He was prophesized to appear. Ciarlare said that he was likely here because of Caesar in the future. Caesar always thought about the future because it was something he would always have to face. An immortal would eventually meet every Champion and Chosen. Caesar wasn’t selfish, and wouldn’t change his past just to make his life easier.
Caesar would change it for her.
A twisting ache and love and heaviness suddenly gripped Dinah’s heart, and more tears streamed down her face.
Breathe, Dinah focused once more.
She had a clear goal in mind now. In fact, it was the same goal she had always been working toward.
She had to save Caesar.
Save him from his prison of duty. Save him from his loneliness. Save him from this horrid future of hell.
The air swept away from Kronus, and he said nothing.
“Don’t tell me anything more about that future,” Dinah warned, “because it’s not important anymore. We’re not going to let it happen.”
The young man’s eyes lit up, and he gripped the bars while bouncing off his feet, “Yes! Yes, exactly! We can save him, and everyone, Dinah.”
True.
The feeling of unease lessened greatly, though its shadow still hung over her heart, “Explain.”
“Okay, so the equilibrium fluctuates all the time because of how mana flows and is channeled through spellcasters and magic items and everything, but that’s not what makes the portals appear, because then they’d have appeared for, like, all time and everything but they’re obviously only here relatively recently, right? So, though it’s never been totally explained, we just need to build destructive interference around the world, yeah? But we can’t just have a bunch of them everywhere or else they’d cause their own degree of cataclysm like Tesla’s Oscillator and stuff. So, we have to find a balance between enough, like, wards that can cancel out the resonance of the portals and not cause their own mana ruptures and stuff. I mean, that’s just for the demon invasion, but it might just be easier if we group up and go after the rest of the civil war agents, because the influx of mana is what destabilizes everything to begin with, so maybe we stand a better chance—”
“Stop,” Dinah raised a hand.
True.
“Ah,” Kronus deflated. “Sorry.”
“Keep it simple,” Dinah shook her head. After all the prophecies and strange behaviors, this latest display had Dinah convinced. This young man was like all those fresh recruits in the army — eager to fight for a cause he believed in. And all the more eager because he was one of the few that knew for a fact his actions would save the world. Sheesh, no wonder he was a little arrogant. “But don’t forget that we’re only a few people. We can’t do everything and be everywhere. Focus on the next step.”
“Right...” Kronus nodded, and scrubbed his hands through his hair as he thought. After a few seconds of circling around, he turned to her again, “So, I think that the most important thing we can do is secure the Astrological Rituals for our use.”
True.
“I’ve never heard of those,” Dinah said.
Kronus nodded again, “They’re not discovered until after the demon war. They’re used to help against the dragon invasion, but most of the rituals are revealed across time by various people making deals with the Astrum — er, the beings that power the rituals, basically.”
True.
“Okay, then why is that important for us right now?”
“One of the rituals allows us to resurrect someone we have a special bond with,” Kronus explained. “Whether that’s the bonds of friendship, family, or love — as long as you both cherish one another, then you can bring them back. It’ll be our safeguard for you and Caesar — and the other Champions, too.”
True.
The perfect way to save Caesar, and even herself, too? There was no way… was there?
She must have shown something on her face, because Kronus spoke up again, “I know. It sounds too good to be true, but it’s not. I actually already know the ritual, but it takes about twenty four hours to cast, with the right preparation. Otherwise, it would probably take a normal person about a week or so. We can’t cast it without explicit authority by the Astrum to use their power. Though, once granted, they can’t revoke it. They have strict laws and stuff they have to follow.”
True.
Dinah considered his words, “If these Astrum are so great, then why aren’t they helping us now?”
Kronus shrugged, “They have strict laws and stuff. I’m not sure, but I do know they’ll give us their power if we make the right offer. Best of all, once given, then anyone who learns the rituals will be able to use them. I’ll be able to teach all the Champions how to resurrect each other, and we’ll have one less worry to deal with while saving the world.”
True.
“What can we give them to get their power?” Dinah asked. “How do we even reach them to begin with?”
“The answer to both your questions is one and the same,” Kronus pointed to glowing orb at Dinah’s side, “through the Golden Prism.”