“Come on, Syllea. I know you’re back.”
“Go away, Bayth” Syllea curled tighter into the comfort of her bed, shoving her face further into her pillows. “Tell them I can’t make it.”
A great weight settled on the bed. A hand touched her shoulder. No one said anything for a long while.
And then Syllea moved her hand onto Bayth’s. The floodgates opened again, and this time Syllea let herself be pulled up by her best friend, into a hug. She cried into Bayth’s shoulder, as Bayth patted her on the back.
After a while, Bayth asked, “You ready to meet the chieftains?”
“… I threatened grandpa. I knew it was the wrong thing to do— But he!” Syllea sniffled, then released Bayth. She stared into the dry eyes of her best friend, and said, “I told him about Erick’s Worldly Path. It was a necessity, because of what the Path is—” She breathed. She said, “You remember. You remember how it was. And grandpa he… I told him to stay away from it all. To minimize interaction.”
Bayth said, “And then your grandfather decided to do the exact opposite of your suggestion.” She got up off of the bed, and extended a hand. “So let’s go yell at him.”
“… Okay.”
Syllea dried her tears, then took Bayth’s hand. With a yank and an undignified yelp, Syllea came right out of her blanket cocoon. A few spells later and she was presentable.
She brushed her hair back with her hands, then said, “Thank you, Bayth, for being there for me.”
“You’ve done the same for me.” Bayth said, “I’m sorry about your brother.”
“I’m not.” Syllea said, “He’s alive. He’s under some Fate-cursed path— Or ‘blessed’, I guess. Though that spell certainly does seem like a curse, to me. Whatever the case, Omaz can repent for a decade or four, and that will be good enough. Better than being dead.”
Bayth’s calm face turned a bit harder. “It would be easier if he were dead. If he shows around Treehome, he might get dead. I heard they caught his trail after Erick sent him away, but he lost his trackers.”
“… It would be easier if he were dead.” Syllea said, “But… I can’t… I can’t, Bayth. I just can’t.”
“You won’t, and that’s different.” Bayth said, “Omaz has used your knowledge and your magics in order to kill citizens of Treehome. He’s given knowledge to the Enemy. He’s a danger to us all. And you ‘won’t’. Not you ‘can’t’. You’ve done the hard shit before, and we both might need to do it again.”
“I… I know… But…” Syllea breathed in. She grimaced, then brushed away another tear.
Bayth changed the topic, saying, “So Erick did by himself what took five teams of five each, last time.”
“Oh gods in green.” Syllea groaned, desiring the warmth and comfort of her bed again. But she resisted that siren’s call, then said, “I owe him big, don’t I?”
Bayth shrugged. “Not really. Best not to get too much more involved with his Path.”
“Well. Yes. That is true, too.” She huffed. “So! I’m thinking I really like the idea of punching grandpa in the face. Yes. Let’s go do that.”
Bayth smiled. “Better not let him see it coming, or else he’ll start talking all about ‘acceptable losses’.”
“… Good idea.”
Twenty minutes later, Syllea greeted her grandfather in the hallway between two offices. And then she punched him in the face. Peron sat up and cupped his jaw, both in surprise, and in pain. His jaw was broken.
Syllea declared to her Chieftain and everyone else within earshot, “When I tell you important shit, grandpa! Don’t do the opposite of what I say!” And then she walked away.
- - - -
In a large room chosen for the occasion, with a number of chairs and a table appropriate to the party’s size, there were a handful of people. All of them knew each other. No one was sitting down, for this was a meeting of friends.
Mephistopheles greeted another with a happy tone, slapping his hand into the other man’s, saying, “So you made it out, ya big fucker?”
Toruke grabbed Mephistopheles’ hand and shook it, saying, “Of course I made it out ya flamboyant fern.”
“Not so flamboyant these days.” Mephistopheles stepped back and put his hands on the lapels of his nice suit, saying, “I’m trying to be respectable.”
“Yes yes. Fine fine. You two can fuck later.” Zaraanka demanded, “What about Edolphis? Did he survive? I’ve been waiting all day for him to show up!”
Toruke broke the news fast. “Probably dead in the crossfire. Sorry, Zaraanka. I heard he was planning on offering himself up to Erick for his Blessing, but if no one has heard of him by now, then he’s dead.”
A pall descended upon the gathering.
“… Damn. A real pity.” Zaraanka said, “I will miss his deep voice. I think that was what finally brought me out of my fugue. Reminded me of my father, I think.”
Deckari said, “He helped me when I was having trouble with the guards. He ran interference. Saved my life twice, I think.”
Mephistopheles said, “And probably organized those guards against you, too.”
Zaraanka slapped Mephistopheles on the shoulder, saying, “He's dead. Be kind.”
“He played every side,” Toruke said. “If he had done what he wanted to do, then our little group would be known. A lot of our people would be known.”
“I understand that.” Zaraanka waved them off, holding back her emotions, as she sniffled, and said, “It’s… It’s fine. I only knew him for what I thought he was. He was a good man to me.” She added, “But… It’s just as well if he did not survive. The Cult has no place like it used to have, here in Candlepoint. Probably for the best that he went to the Darkness and didn’t leave us with a mess to clean up.”
“Exactly,” Mephistopheles said. “We’re already cleaning up, getting many people to leave the Cult. We don’t need even more complications.”
Deckari, surprised, asked, “You are?”
Toruke said, “I’m leaving the Cult. Going to try my hand at that [Reincarnation] thing. The commune was a wakeup call.”
“What?” Deckari looked to Toruke. “You're leaving?!”
“You should think about renouncing your vows, too, Deckari. The world has come a long way since you came into Candlepoint with those former ‘friends’ of yours,” Mephistopheles said.
“Melemizargo has been nothing but good to me.” Deckari defended, “He’s a world of better to deal with compared to all the rest of them.”
Zaraanka said, “There’s a purpose to leaving the Cult, though. We’re all out of it. Not a single person in charge in Candlepoint is a part of the Cult anymore. We simply cannot be, for we’re meeting envoys from other nations now, and they all bring truthstones.”
Mephistopheles nodded, saying, “Clinging to the Darkness was a survival tactic that has outgrown its usefulness. That’s what I’m telling people. And it’s true, so that helps.”
Deckari said, “No… I can’t. I… No.” He decided, then said, “I don’t need to be in public office.”
Zaraanka said, “We can’t be seen with you, then.”
“You’re already not.” Deckari said, “That’s why we meet like this.”
“Less meetings than this, after today.” Mephistopheles said, “I’ve greeted a few converts besides yourselves today and told them all the same. Most have listened. You should too.”
Toruke said, “I need to not be a shadeling.”
Zaraanka and Mephistopheles nodded in understanding.
“After all that work you put in for those fruits?” Deckari asked, slightly offended, “After everything Melemizargo has done for us?”
“Yes.” Toruke said, “I’ll always be grateful, and I might still light some candles in some closets, but I’m done with this monsterized life. I don’t think food tastes as good as it used to taste. I’ll miss the easy leveling but I learned enough tricks from the Cult that I can level well the next time.”
“We can actually feed you proper rads, Toruke. Those taste really good. Better than the 5-pointers you got at the commune. You don’t have to turn back to orcol if you don’t want to, and it’s not a guaranteed thing.” Zaraanka said, “Join my Guild. Fight with us out there.” She saw Toruke’s face fall a fraction, and changed her tact, “Or give up your newfound freedom and power. Your choice— Oh! Yeah! I almost forgot. Before you do give up your shadeling life, you have to come by the pools! Both of you. Archmage Flatt set up this Shadow-shifted [Kaleidoscopic Radiance]. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, and it’s like a balm for the soul for any shadeling. Every single one of our wanderers is healed!”
Toruke whistled low and small. “Now that is interesting.”
Deckari said, “See! The Darkness takes care of us better than the other gods ever could.”
Mephistopheles said, “You’re gonna have to cut that talk out, Deckari. Even when we’re alone.” He added, “I’ve seen a lot of people join the Shadows before, but you’re just… You just went right for it. Sorry your life was so shitty before.”
“… It wasn’t that bad.” Deckari said, “I just didn’t know that it was that bad until I saw the Dark. This world is messed up. The Script enrages the monsters. The monsters kill the people. The people harm the monsters and each other in the process of the struggle for life. It’s all such a vicious cycle that cannot be undone with the methods we have available to us. The next world will be better, and I plan to be there when those [Gate]s finally open. Shadelings are immortal. Orcols are not. It's simple math, for me.”
Mephistopheles turned serious for a moment, saying, “Those were the words we said to pull you in, but know this: The Shades and the Brightwater and Ar’Kendrithyst and even Melemizargo… They were all insane and dangerous. Beyond dangerous. The Dark is comforting, until it isn’t. Until it prods you to new growth and new depths that you weren’t ready to travel. Hopefully your own prodding will not be nearly as vicious as our own.”
Zaraaka nodded, saying, “You’ve only been in this life for a few months, Deckari. We know what we’re talking about.”
“With all due respect,” Deckari said, “You do not. You are a human and an incani. The Red Woman is not… She is not a good god. You do not know what the alternative is for me.” He looked to Toruke, saying, “And I find it hard to believe that you want to go back to that.”
Mephistopheles hummed small, then almost said something.
Zaraanka frowned. She held herself back from speaking, too.
Toruke said, “I’ll miss being able to control my Rage. But I don’t need that power, either. Power leads to just as many problems as it solves. Whatever worlds Erick feels like germinating, I hope that we can try the Old Ways, and nothing more. No Points, nor Levels, nor Health or Mana.”
Zaraanka said, “I would like a few spells. [Cleanse], [Mend], [Telekinesis].”
“Just give me the ability to grow an Elemental Body to full strength,” Deckari said, “Like they used to be able to. I can get everything I need for myself, from there.”
Toruke said, “[Stoneshape] and [Grow] for me. Housing and food is all I need.”
With a glint in his eyes, Mephistopheles asked, “Do you two want to go see Yggdrasil?”
Deckari laughed, then asked, “Oh my Dark God! Can we?! Really?”
Toruke’s eyes went wide. “Can we?”
Zaraanka smiled, saying, “From afar, yes. But you have to treat him like a real Arbor. His power is locked away, but he will undoubtedly remember everything that happens to him.”
“Eh?” Skeptically, Toruke asked, “They’re more dreamlike in their early years, right? Will he actually remember anything?”
“Come on, Toruke!” Deckari said, “He’s a World Tree! Even if his power is locked away, he will remember everything, no doubt.”
“Dreams leave lasting impressions, and Melemizargo is out there every day. All the more reasons not to do anything but watch from a great distance.” Mephistopheles looked to Deckari again, and asked, “And where’s your book, anyway? You never went anywhere without that thing.”
“It’s still here.” Deckari held a hand up. Shadows swirled in his hand, turning into a tome that was black as night, with a binding crusted over in opals. He flicked his hand again, and the book vanished. “Any chance you can get me into Archmage Flatt’s personal library so I can copy everything?”
Mephistopheles said, “No. Don’t ever ask that again.”
Zaraanka shook her head. “There are some boundaries you should respect, Deckari. Erick’s approval is literally the only thing that is keeping us from falling to the [Grand Fireball]s of the rest of the world.”
“Okay!” Deckari held up his hands in mock surrender, saying, “Heard and understood! But I had to ask, you know.”
“You didn’t have to,” Mephistopheles said.
Toruke frowned, then said, “I want to meet Yggdrasil, and then I want to try for a [Reincarnation].”
Deckari said, “You should get a Greater Elemental Body before you do that, Toruke.” He turned a hand to water, and then the other to stone, saying, “They’re very useful.” He dropped the spells, saying, “Once you give up the [Shadowblend] of your shadeling self, then it’s gonna be a lot more dangerous to get the Elemental Essences you need.”
Mephistopheles said, “He’s right about that.”
Zaraanka said, “We’re working on plans for a Stone Dungeon. A Water Dungeon, too. We’ve already got alchemists trying to make [Polymorph] potions.”
Toruke frowned. “Eating slime cores, eh?”
“It’s the best way.” Zaraanka said, “No wasted materials on making armor.”
“No Shadow Dungeon?” Deckari asked. “I was hoping to get [Shadowalk].”
“Shadow slimes spawn around here, sometimes. We get them every day in the Shadow-shifted [Kaleidoscopic Radiance] room.” Zaraanka said, “But we’re not expanding that room. Maybe not ever.”
“Too controversial. We’ve already had people try to [Dispel] it on us, but we put up protections after that first attempt nearly knocked the thing out. It came back, though.” Mephistopheles said, “We got lots of time to talk about all of that, if you drop this necessity of being a Cultist out in the open. We do not need that around here.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Deckari said, “I can tone it down. I can hide.”
“Not hiding, Deckari.” Mephistopheles said, “Renouncing.”
Deckari frowned.
Toruke asked, “How did you even get past that Mind Mage? You’ve been in this longer than I have, by a long while.”
Mephistopheles said, “We heard about that, and I’d like to know that answer as well.”
“Mind Mages are usually the deaths of us,” Zaraanka said, “I’m surprised he let so many of us through.”
“He did label every single Cultist. That was no small thing.” Toruke said, “But you’re right. the usual killing didn’t happen.”
Mephistopheles said, “Slip is watching you guys. Be careful. If you’re staying in this, Deckari, I can’t be seen with you ever again. I mean that.”
“Me either,” Zaraanka said.
“Dark Gods, I didn’t know it was that bad. Yet another reason to formally leave the Cult.” Toruke turned to the younger orcol, saying, “Poi should have clocked you, easy.”
Deckari said, “Poi knew. He knew everything. Your guardmaster, Slip, even called me out, saying that he has me 'in his book'. He said that that way on purpose. But I’m no killer and I never want to be, despite the needs of the moment back there in that battle… And other times. I think he let me off easy.” He asked, “How’d you get through Treehome’s interviews, Toruke? I knew if I went that way, I was setting myself up for automatic failure.”
Toruke digested that, then said, “I got through the same as anyone who managed to get through. I had the good fortune to never have killed in the name of Melemizargo, and I plan to keep it that way.”
Mephistopheles said, “Then I might have room in my administration for you, Toruke.”
“Good. Thank you. I could use a job.”
Zaraanka said, “I could use some more people to hunt mimics, Deckari, but I can’t be seen with you if you pursue this path.”
“Fair enough. Maybe I’ll take up farming. Or help with those dungeons?” Deckari said, “But let’s go see Yggdrasil, for now. Or, should I go on my own?”
“Probably both of you go on your own.” Mephistopheles said, “Don’t get too close.”
Zaraanka said, “Be seeing you! And welcome back to Candlepoint.”
The room, which was not actually a room at all, dissolved into shadow and nothing, as the people therein departed, each already doing their own thing, in a different part of Candlepoint.
… Most everyone departed.
Melemizargo said, “That’s the one to watch.”
Justine, completely out of her depth but still treading water, said the only thing she could say, “Okay.”
“I have plans for him.”
Koyabez asked, “And what plans are those?”
“The only plans I’ve ever had: To expand the cosmos and to bring life and magic to all, of course.”
“That’s not as assuring as you think it is, old friend. Perhaps you should take a step back for a while. Center yourself around a few good mortals.”
“… Perhaps.” Melemizargo sighed, and the world sighed with him. “Perhaps.”
- - - -
Erick sat back in his chair in his hotel room to watch the light fade across the Forest to the north. Reds became purples, becoming dark blues, full of stars. The moons were out there somewhere, perhaps to the west, but they were out of sight, and not that bright. Though they were getting there. The only real brightness out there came from O’kabil’s pale silver light, and the light of civilization from the silver buildings down below, and from under the green canopies out ahead.
Treehome looked much the same as it had when Erick first arrived. Though the city had suffered a wide-scale attack, the Cult and the opportunists had been caught or killed. Very few actually got away, especially when Koropo asked Erick to help find those who had escaped, and Erick had obliged.
That was only an hour ago. Erick had just finished with that job.
He looked down at his hands. They were clean, but he imagined the blood on them, and that thought would not go away. So he grabbed a blueweed cigarette and lit the thing. It was not enough. So he put together a pot of soul-tea, and that helped calm his nerves more than anything.
Jane stepped next to him.
Erick smiled to see his daughter beside him. He offered her the blunt.
She took it, took a drag, then handed it back, saying, “This is pretty amazing, dad.”
He knew she was talking about something else, but he said, “It’s good blueweed, yeah.” To keep the conversation off of difficult topics, he barreled ahead, saying, “And that dress looks great on you. I think everyone took you girls a bit more seriously with those getups. I should have dressed up, too.”
“Hmm.” She sat down on a nearby chair, saying, “If you want to deflect, we can do that.”
“I’d like to, yes.” Erick said, “For now, at least.”
“… Okay. What do you want for dinner?”
“I want you to decide.”
“Then I’ll do that.” Jane got up, then went to the kitchen to look over menus, adding, “Don’t get too wasted!”
“Sure thing.”
What Erick didn’t say, though, was that even four of those blueweed sticks wouldn’t even take the edge off. Not today. Not right now. He was wired, frazzled, and a whole mess of other emotions that he barely could categorize, let alone understand.
So he let his mind wander while he waited for dinner to show.
He considered the spells he had seen today.
He planned out magic.
He wondered just how much he was going to be blamed for enabling Treehome to solve some of their long-standing problems. If it got bad, he’d talk with Silverite. She’d know what to expect, and he could trust her judgment, for sure.
… Maybe he should talk with her, anyway. She had been the Mayor of Spur for centuries, after all, and those centuries had been filled with powerful people. No doubt there were other archmages with similar problems—
Ah. No. That was probably untrue. Maybe in a small way, Silverite had experience with this, but even she hadn’t seen the destruction of the Clergy in her previous centuries. She had even tried and then failed to kill them all, herself.
Erick wondered if part of Silverite hated him for what he had been able to do, that she could not.
He let his mind wander again.
As he sipped his tea, he saw his soul heal, just a bit. It wasn’t much. He had certainly set back some of his healing, for sure. Maybe by a few days. Maybe longer. Long enough to plan some better spells to combat all that he had seen, and to make some better plans to ensure that he wouldn’t be used like this again...
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
But… But Erick liked being useful to others. He liked helping. He liked being that guy that solved problems, and maybe monsters and murderers were a bit out of his previous wheelhouse, but he was getting there. Had his desire to help led to some of the day’s deaths and side effects? Yes. Undoubtedly. But… But a lot of good was done, too.
Acceptable losses, perhaps?
Perhaps.
Erick decided he would continue to work with Treehome in the future, but he would definitely have a private conversation with Peron about his desire to throw Erick under the bus about the day’s events. Maybe Syllea would have to be present for that conversation, too. Maybe one more? But who?
Before he knew it, dinner had arrived.
Dinner was good. Great, actually. Much better than any other meal served at the hotel. Beef tips that melted in the mouth, with a red wine sauce made with berries and nuts. Small, savory muffins. Mashed root vegetables that were close to potatoes, but they were not potatoes. They were ‘whiteroot’. Erick smiled upon hearing of that vegetable. Sirocco Zago had spoken of white root back when Erick introduced potatoes. And now he finally got a chance to try them. They were good. A bit like a smoother, maybe glutenous potato. Lots of cheese in the white root, though, so maybe the taste was not genuine white root, but everything was better with cheese.
Kiri spoke of Koropo approaching her while Erick was hunting down escapees. Koropo had seen her Sunny, and asked after her capabilities. She had told him that Sunny was not at the level of Ophiel, but only because Kiri herself was not up there, either. Kiri offered to help clear out monsters, just like Koropo had been edging toward, and her help had been accepted. She would be worked into the system they came up with, when they came up with it. Sunny was ready for some action, for sure.
Erick was glad for that.
Jane spoke about that Kordon guy, the one who had escorted the three girls to the commune. He was apparently a higher ranked guard than others, with ample adventuring experience, and would likely also be joining the effort to clear out the Forest of Moon Reachers and Deathsoul Shrooms. Jane was eager to show him up again when she did the same. He barely understood his [Radiant Ash Body], though she allowed that perhaps she didn’t understand his Elemental Body, either.
“What would make a person want to get Radiant Ash?” Jane said, “I don’t understand that combination at all.”
Kiri said, “Shadow, Fire, and Light. For blending in to the Forest when you want, and for burning it down when you don’t?”
“He was good at that.” Teressa said, “Hid rather well when he wanted, and the incorporeality of Ash lends itself well to defense versus physical attacks. Most monsters are most dangerous due to their physical attacks.”
“Probably cheaper to use than [Prismatic Body], too.” Jane said, “But cheap is not powerful. The monsters could barely hit him, but he also couldn’t hurt them as much as he needed to, either. Now. If he were a [Polymorph]ed lava ooze with [Radiant Ash Body], then that might be something. Not enough adventurers do the [Polymorph] thing.”
“That’s because it’s disgusting, Jane.” Kiri smirked. “You’re an ooze or a spider half the time! Eww!”
Erick chuckled, saying, “I have a hard enough time being a light slime.” He shivered. “I keep thinking that someone will try and splat me for the Experience.”
“It’s not that bad!” Jane flexed her aura and armor appeared, like a ghostly imprint in the manasphere. She said, “And this [Mutable Aegis] means that I’m never without armor, so there’s little chance of anyone mistaking me for a real monster. And if they do, then I can just tell them to lay off. I’m getting better with adding vocal cords to my Familiar Forms.” She dismissed her coalescing aura.
Erick asked, “How is your Class going, anyway? Did you knock out all those quests you were talking about?”
“I have indeed!” Jane smiled. “Fully Classed up! I’m actually hunting for more Familiar Forms…” She looked to struggle with something for half a second, before just plowing ahead, saying, “While you were cleaning up the escapees today with Warchief Koropo Ikabobbi, some people from that District must have found out that I’m a Polymage, and they invited me to Ikabobbi’s ‘Polymorph Emporium’. It’s this exclusive place, and I think they’re trying to get in good with you, but, would you like to go see some monsters? Maybe you can find something interesting that’s not a little light slime? I don’t think they’ll have anything I want, and they’re certainly out of my price range, but they’re supposed to be the largest monster sellers on Glaquin with a lot of monsters with rare abilities. The only larger auction houses are down in Nergal, in Eidolon.”
“I can pay for whatever—”
Jane interrupted, “I don’t want you to pay. I would like to go see the monsters with you, though, if you want to go.”
Kiri offered, “There’s some nice magical history museums in Nosier’s District that would be nice to see, too. If nothing else happens, I think those would be a nice distraction, too.”
Teressa said, “My Auntie wants to cook for us again.”
Erick smiled. Then he looked to Poi, asking, “What’s your offer for cheering me up?”
“The Mind Mages have some therapists ready to go to Candlepoint, and here, if needed.”
Erick laughed. “That’s a good offer, too!” He looked around the table, saying, “But I’m okay, guys. Well. No. I’m not. But I will be. And this is fine. This is the world we live in, and the one we get to make better tomorrow through the actions we take today. This is fine. This is just what power means. I will eventually be okay with this, but… Thank you. All of you. Jane, Kiri, Teressa. Poi. You’re all looking out for me, but I have not done nearly enough looking out for you—”
“That is simply untrue.” Poi said, “And it’s weird that you think that way.”
“If anything, you need to try doing less, dad.” Jane said, “I agree with Poi.”
“Yes.” Kiri said, “Completely agree. Let’s do less, okay?”
Erick looked to Teressa, expecting something.
Teressa surprised him, by saying, “I appreciate the idea of burning down the entire Forest and starting over. I want to help with this however I can. It’d be like a [Cleanse] on a massive scale.”
Erick laughed, then said, “I do love that [Cleanse] spell!”
“Oh!” Jane’s eyes went wide. “Could you shift a [Cleanse] into erasing the Forest?”
Kiri said, “Oh gods no! Don’t try to mess with [Cleanse]. That’s one of the first lessons they teach in Arcanaeum. I think I’ve said this before?”
“I’ve heard it before.” Jane said, “But so what? You can have multiple useful versions of [Cleanse], can’t you?”
Teressa said, “Probably don’t mess with [Cleanse]. It doesn’t happen in Spur a lot, but there's people who try it every so often. Mostly incani who really hate humans, or the other way around. Just last week, some incani from the Wasteland tossed a [Cleanse] over himself and clipped a human in the process. Half the guy vanished, instantly.”
Erick winced, as did Kiri and Jane.
Poi hummed disapproval.
Teressa said, “The human survived, thankfully. The incani was exiled and his blood taken to mark him as a permanent exile. Guy didn’t even act sorry. Said something about the Converter Angel, and how all humans were guilty.” She added, “That bit there almost got him executed instead of exiled.”
Erick hummed.
Kiri brought the conversation back from that cliff, saying, “They told horror stories in the dorms about people trying to work [Cleanse] into something more deadly. Those stories were like campfire monster stories. One day, the students were just practicing magic, and the next day they didn't show. Go to their rooms and what do you find, but a sphere of annihilated space, perfectly cut into the surrounding stone like someone had scooped out that part of the world.” She added, “And everything was perfectly clean.”
Jane giggled. “No way.”
“Yes way!” Kiri said, all serious, “It happens.”
Jane lost her giggle. “Okay. Well. Then never mind the mutated [Cleanse] idea.”
Erick thought about [Cleanse], and wondered about Elemental Destruction. There was something to that, wasn’t there.
Kiri said, “Anyway. Don’t mess with [Cleanse]. Much better to just burn down the trees.”
“Some of the trees just get angry if you try to burn them,” Teressa said, with a hint of dark humor. “And then they start clawing.”
- - - -
A small knock echoed from the door to the hotel room.
Poi was already there at the door well before the knock came, while Jane, Teressa, and Kiri were making themselves scarce in a separate room on the second floor. Erick waited in the center of the main room, down below. A pot of tea steamed on the table between a few chairs, while chocolate chip cookies sat cooling on a tray.
Poi opened the door, and said, “Welcome, Chieftain Yura O’kabil.”
“Hello, Mister Fulisade.”
The elderly orcol on the other side was dressed rather nice, in more or less the same silver robes of before, but with a wrap of white fur around her neck that draped down her front and back. To her side, stood another woman; the orcol-body of the Holy O’kabil, wearing her normal Mist Rabbit fur coat like it was a thin, draping cloud. O’kabil held a large, paper-wrapped package in the air to her side.
“Welcome, Holy O’kabil.” Poi stepped to the side. “You’ve been granted Prismatic permissions, Chieftain. Please come on in.”
Yura smirked as she touched the wall of dense air that delineated the threshold, and her hand went right through. She nodded, said, “Thanks for the invitation,” and stepped inside.
“Hello, Yura!” Erick stood up, saying, “Hello, O’kabil.”
Yura huffed a laugh, saying, “You’re right. He is cheeky.”
“I made some cookies for us.” Erick asked, “Have you tried the chocolate I made, yet?”
O’kabil floated the paper bag at her side as she strode past Poi, keeping in line with Yura, saying, “This is that Mist Rabbit comforter that was ordered.” She placed the bag on an empty chair, breathed in, then breathed out, seeming to relax. She said, “It was rude of them not to be done sooner and in line with my promises, but it is what it is.”
Erick nodded, saying, “I’m sure my daughter will love it. Thank you, O’kabil.” He gestured to the chairs, the tea, and the cookies, saying, “Please. Come. Sit.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Yura took her seat first, saying, “The tea smells lovely.”
O’kabil sat down, saying, “Let us discuss the matter of the day, and then move on to the matters of the morrow. I will begin—”
Yura poured herself some tea before Erick could move fast enough, and then she poured him some.
“—by saying that the Arbors of Treehome are thankful for the quick response, and for the removal of the shadelings from the area—”
Yura brought out a silver flask and poured some potent-smelling alcohol into her cup, before breathing deep, and then taking a deep swallow from the flask. It was only after her slug of alcohol that she sipped the tea, and softly said, “Good tea.”
“—for it will be much easier to deal with those shadelings when they are somewhere else. We are all thankful for the removal of the Cult, and though we did suffer some loss of life and some unfortunate and unknowable betrayals in the process of that event, the loss of life was well below projected numbers.” O’kabil finished with, “Chieftain Peron has already received a broken jaw from Syllea for his role in turning your Worldly Path into such a confrontational event. We are prepared to offer recompense if you should fail in achieving [Gate], including a lifelong commitment to reconstructing that ancient magic through excavation of Gates in the Forest, and otherwise.”
Erick, tense, said, “I was wondering if Peron did that on purpose. So Syllea told him?”
Yura flipped a cigarette out of a small silver box, lit it with a spark of magic, and held it in her hands. Erick smelled blueweed. Yura said, “Syllea told him, and then when he brushed her off because he didn’t understand, she told him what the Worldly Path meant. And thus we come to the day’s events. I was only informed about what he planned while you were out hunting for criminals, yesterday. I hadn’t found out about what the Worldly Path actually meant until after the stars started falling. I finally managed to harangue O’kabil here into spilling some old secrets, after you ended the day’s minor war and sent Omaz off with a brand upon his soul.”
“We Arbors know more than you, which is not a fault, but a simple truth. We deemed the possible outcomes worth the risk. This is why most no one was informed until after the event.” O’kabil said. “It’s not often that Fate rushes across the land with as much of a boon following in its wake.”
Yura spoke with smoke on her breath, saying, “I would be enacting laws against allowing known Worldly Path people into Treehome, but I have been informed that doing so would likely draw more harm than good.” She took another drag of her cigarette. “For one, such a law would inform people of what the Worldly Path meant, and that would just get more and more people attempting to walk it.”
Erick reached over and opened the small box with his own blueweed cigarettes. He lit one, offering it to O’kabil, who took it. Then he lit another for himself. After a moment of everyone sitting there, just smoking, Erick asked, “Do you think it’s going to get worse?”
O’kabil said, “Teleportation magic was blocked in Ar’Kendrithyst, for Shadow’s Feast. You gained the Worldly Path Quest long before that day. Part of the ceremony for joining the Feast is learning how to walk with the magic. They even call it a Journey into Darkness.” O’kabil put into words a thought that Erick had considered but didn’t want to touch, as she said, “You started your Worldly Path well before you came to us, and it started with the destruction of the Dark Clergy. That was a momentous first step. A very large first step. Then, you came here, and destroyed the Cult hiding in our shadows. In both cases you rescued those you could, and damned those who deserved such an outcome. I would wish you good luck going forward, but Fate and Ritual has you in its grasp, and luck will twist you to its ends no matter how much I were to assist, just as sure as the gods do watch over us all. So tread carefully, and make good decisions.”
“Right now, I’m considering getting wasted on booze and drugs.” Partially sarcastic, Erick asked, “Is that a good decision?”
“Nothing wrong with taking a day off after you fundamentally shift the power of a large part of the world.” Yura said, “You could try a month, too. No rush.”
“I tried a Worldly Path that was just a vacation, but then this happened.”
Yura smirked, asking, “Did you, though? Did you, really? You came in here and almost immediately floated the idea of hunting a few monsters to extinction.” She added, “We can blame Peron for shifting your focus toward the Cult, but he’s not wholly to blame. Not with those first steps you took on your Path. Perhaps Peron was ensorcelled by your Path as well. We were all waiting on that stage for you to throw the day’s events at his feet, but it was a good thing you didn’t, for Peron was certainly ready to throw some facts right back in your face.”
Erick frowned, then he took another drag. He breathed out blue smoke, as he said, “I’d prefer less confrontation, but then there’s that Converter Angel waiting for me out there.”
“Don’t let that monster be your final step on your Path.” O’kabil said, “But first, there is the duty to discharge the promises made to us regarding the hunt of the Moon Reachers and Deathsoul Shrooms. Treehome needs a unifying event after the day’s attack, and such a hunt will be that unifying event.”
“And that won’t be yet another bad step?”
“Today’s events were not bad, Erick.” O’kabil said, “Acceptable losses, and a cleansing unlike any other. These were good outcomes.”
Reluctantly, Yura said, “Continuing with the plan to eliminate a few monster species is an acceptable risk considering the possible gains.”
“Very well. When are we going to start that?”
“A few days after the new year.” Yura said, “We need time to get the proper word out, to organize the hunt itself, and to control any problems regarding today’s outcomes. We’re considering anywhere between five to six days from now.”
Erick joked, “You probably had other things going on before I came here, eh?”
Yura said, “Taxes are starting up again, then there is a land distribution problem with a new family joining O’kabil. Some problems in our border with Steel-Branch—”
O’kabil continued, “Farming troubles in the south. Trade breakdown between the local Mage Guild office and the Enchanter’s Block regarding the value of rads and training—”
“A labor dispute between several young scions and some transient tribes. A problem with the Distributed Treehome Merchants, but the DTM is continually full of problems, so that’s not really anything new.” With a hint of anger clouding her voice, Yura said, “Always somehow pressing, too.”
“A case of variant parasite roaches in one of the apartment buildings. That problem seems to move around instead of actually being solved, and it has vexed me most angrily.” O’kabil took a long drag of her blunt, then said, “Then there’s that problem with a variant blueweed known as redweed circulating among the transient tribes to the south, hyping them up to unwarranted violence.”
Yura spoke with smoke on her breath, too, saying, “That redweed problem might clear up on its own. We’re pretty sure that the Cult was the main force behind that issue.” She added, “We do like to blame a lot of the problems of this world on the Cult, and they usually deserve that blame, but sometimes they don’t. We’ll know soon enough if we have to dig deeper into that problem if the redweed doesn’t disappear on its own.”
O’kabil said, “The usual, really.”
Erick nodded. Then he took up the small tray of cookies, and offered them out, saying, “Have you tried chocolate, yet? These are just sugar cookies with chocolate in them, but I have some bars of chocolate to try, too, if you wish.”
Yura smiled softly, as she took a cookie, saying, “Thank you.”
O’kabil also took a cookie, as did Erick. He took a bite of his first, as was probably custom, or something. He wasn’t sure. Yura and O’kabil only took a bite of theirs after Erick went first. And then Yura started in on what Erick suspected was her actual reason for coming here. The older woman pointed right at the record player, with its bright silver horn and felt-topped turntable.
“So what is that?” She hid her excitement by adding, “And these chocolate cookies are rather good.”
O’kabil took another cookie, but her eyes were locked on the shiny record player.
Erick smiled. And then he got up, grabbed the record player, and began explaining.
It wasn’t long after he demonstrated his creation by playing a record of the nonsense song that he, Kiri, and Ophiel had made, that Yura spoke of old bands that she dearly missed that were just not around anymore. She loved the idea of magic that did not decay, or rather, physical objects that did not decay, so she was in love with the record player. She had a few recording crystals that had lost fidelity over the years, and she wondered if Erick could solve that problem in a more permanent fashion. And could she get a record player, too? She could work on making [Control Machine] herself, or hire someone for such a task; those were just foibles in the idea of a record player to be managed.
Erick said, “Let’s try copying some music over to a record. Got a few crystals that you don’t mind wasting toward the attempt?”
With a gleam in her eye, Yura said, “I’m sure I could find something for a suitable experiment.”
O’kabil produced a crystal from a pocket, or more realistically, from plucking the crystal out from some other part of her Domain and then bringing it here.
With a similar gleam in her eyes as Yura’s, O’kabil said, “Here’s one. Let’s try this one.”
When the music started, Jane, and Kiri came out of their room and made themselves even more scarce. Kordon had invited Jane out for a night of drinking, and Kiri piled on to that suggestion as fast as she could. The two of them would be meeting him and one of his friends, Gweko at a bar over at Arbor Ikabobbi. Poi and Teressa stayed behind, of course, but after a small back-and-forth, Erick discovered that Teressa had been invited out, too.
Erick sent Teressa after his daughter, citing the need for multiple layers of protection for a night on the town, but mostly understanding that Teressa wanted to go, but was unwilling to abandon her post. Erick also cited that he was perfectly fine staying home and making music with Yura and O’kabil, and that Teressa need not be there for that.
With the house emptied of distractions, except for Poi, who even turned in early, Erick finished out the experimental copying of old music to new material. For the rest of the evening, he just listened to music with two nice old ladies while smoking blunts and sipping alcohol. The sound from Erick’s record player was almost as good as the crystal recordings, too.
Erick asked after Treehome.
Yura and O’kabil spoke of their homeland.
O’kabil asked after Erick’s homeland.
Erick spoke of Earth in a far off manner. He smiled, as he spoke of a world vastly different from Veird, where magic was probably not existent, or at least not there in any real quantity, and where the record players were much, much better, and made with electricity and wires, instead of solid-state objects.
O’kabil put on a song crystal made by a current band. That band was still recording their songs every so often and selling them to interested parties who could fund such an extravagant expense. The song reminded Erick of monks singing in a Tibetan monastery, with airy voices and ringing metal bowls. It was nice, but O’kabil seemed to find it really nice. The mist around her began to glow silver. The boughs of the tree above began to flicker with faint light. It was a holy experience that Erick was glad to have.
“That’s her favorite music,” Yura whispered.
“They’re good,” O’kabil said, smiling for the first time of the night.
Erick felt buoyed by the music and by the misty manasphere all around him, as though he was lifted up and touched by something greater than himself. It was a good feeling.
And his soul healed just a little bit.
- - - -
The next day, there was much organization done well out of Erick’s sight.
Erick read books and played around with magic, but didn’t do much besides plan and experiment.
He did manage to make a new record player that worked marginally better than his first one, as well as construct a record recorder that worked much, much better than his first iteration of the device. Splitting recording and playing into different devices seemed like an obvious necessity, in retrospect, but like a Shade once said to him: ‘Too bad [Future Sight] isn’t as good as Rear-sight’.
He even managed to work a bit on his own mana sense, working toward [Witness] and [Future Sight], but he had to stop after a while, and move on to something else. So he moved back to his music players.
With a bit of experimentation with his current spells, he managed to make a soundless space in a part of the room, somewhat suspended from the floor, and almost completely cut off from all exterior vibrations. He had discovered that small vibrations in the floor and in the air were accounting for a loss of fidelity on his recordings.
Subsequent recordings in that still space, surrounded by a bubble of [Stillness] and not actually intersected by that [Stillness], produced much better records than before. He tried the same with a [Hermetic Seal], shaped to the space, and found that both spells worked about as good as each other. Further refinement would require more experimentation.
He presented a new record player to O’kabil that evening, along with a few records made from a few ‘throw-away’ song crystals she had left in his care.
An hour later, she immediately gave him some of her ancient, most precious song crystals. She was present for those recordings, for there was no way that she would miss those last songs if the recording turned out bad, or if the crystals broke halfway through.
One of the four crystals did break halfway through. O’kabil sighed, as small silver tears rolled down her face.
Three survived, and O’kabil was overjoyed to have permanent copies of her music.
That night, and for the entire night, the Holy O’kabil glowed with a sad, happy, bright light, her mists filled with joy while a long lost and nearly forgotten song flowed through her boughs. If one listened really, really closely, they might have heard voices hundreds of years old, singing songs that had not been sung for just as long.
The next day, Erick had requests for record players from four different Arbors, including Wyrmrest, Nosier, Home, and Rottundra. The day after that, there were even more requests.
He might not have been making magic, but making music was certainly a nice distraction.
- - - -
The last day of the Triumph of Light came and went.
Two days later, into the first of the year, Erick woke up and checked his Status because he had felt a change. It took him a while to understand what had shifted, or even why he had felt the need to check his Status at all. But there it was, at the top of the blue box. He was 49.
His new birthday was the second of the year.
Two more days later would mark Erick and Jane’s first year on Veird. The Fourth of the First. A few weeks from then would mark the start of Particle Magic joining the Script. Things and events were coming down the line, and Erick needed to be ready for them, but for now, it was still vacation time.
He got up to make breakfast, but Jane was already up and making that breakfast, chopping up potatoes and onions just like Erick had planned and set out the night before.
“Hey, honey!” Erick asked, “How’d your night go?”
Jane winced upon hearing Erick’s voice. She mumbled, “It went fine.” Frowning, but speaking as calmly as she could, she said, “Kordon can’t hunt for shit without overpowering the target—” She paused. She said, “No. That’s unfair. He's pretty damn good. I’m just…” She sighed. She asked, “Did you turn 49 today?”
As Jane began speaking Erick was worried, rather deeply, that Kordon had done something wrong to his daughter, and if so, then he was going to have to bring the wrath of several gods and his own archmage power down on that boy’s head. But this was not about that! This was just about birthdays…
Erick almost smiled, but then he stopped.
This was not about boy troubles. Jane was upset about something much worse.
Was today her birthday, too? Or had that not come yet? Had she had her birthday yesterday, and she wasn’t willing to bring it up until today? Oh. Shit. Had he missed her birthday?
But!
If he had, then Jane’s mother lied to both of them about when Jane was born. They were supposed to be on the same day. That’s how it had always been.
Oh. This could be bad. That could be very bad.
Best to pull that bandaid off fast!
Extremely seriously, Erick said, “The Status says 49.”
Instantly, Jane relaxed. She set down the knife she was using to chop potatoes, and sniffled. She said, “I just got 23.” She laughed, then said, “At least That Woman didn’t lie about that!”
Erick went over and hugged his daughter. “Happy birthday, Jane.”
“Happy birthday, Dad.”
“So what kind of cake do you want?”
“Chocolate.”
- - - -
All over the world, news of the events of Ar’Kendrithyst and then Treehome spread as fast as [Telepathy] could connect people, which was pretty darn fast. The people in power spoke of what would happen next. They asked each other of plans, and counter-plans.
What if Erick comes here next?
Would he even tell us if he did?
Barely anyone understood the significance of the Worldly Path, but even fewer heard that Erick was on that Path.
Look now to a rather contained part of the world, and yet the most not-contained part of Veird at all, where plans are held like prepared guillotines and words are wielded like hidden daggers full of poison. The two presences here understand the Worldly Path, and know enough to know what it means.
Two people who hate each other stand across from each other in a small ocean cave, where the Elites of the Headmaster come to get quests and take [Gate]s to other parts of the Veird’s surface. These two people represent the opposite sides of the two largest forces of good and other-good in the world, though neither side could ever see each other in that way. To each other, the other side is pure evil. On the rare charitable days between them, they merely regard their counterparts as deluded sycophants to their own misguided causes.
This is one of those rare days.
One of the people is a shirtless, muscular man of dark skin, with eyes and a body that glows pale gold. His kilt is made of knives, while a pale-gold sword hovers behind his back, sized to his whole, slightly floating body. His name is Oteril.
The other is an incani woman of red skin, wearing a slick black dress. She glows with a different sort of inner radiance, that is more like a dark, red gloom. Her eyes are fiery rubies, while a disk of red light hovers behind her head and back. Her name is Aviza.
Time passes.
With no one there to quest, and no one having shown up in the last hour, Aviza decided to speak nicely to her counterpart, saying, “Why not take your Converter home?”
Oteril had gone through this discussion before, and so gave his usual response to almost all of Aviza’s ‘requests’ for less war, “As soon as you demons rescind your dark power, and let that power vanish into the Void, we will step back from war on all fronts. We are not the untrustworthy ones, here. You are.”
Aviza said, “We’ll have to kill her, then, you know. It’s just a matter of time.”
“How do you know it’s a ‘her’?”
Another hour passed in silence.
Aviza said, “If you go after Erick, then we will have to respond in kind. With our own archmages.”
“He’s plotting to clear out the entirety of the Forest of Glaquin from multiple monster threats. Why would we want to interrupt that? Why would you want to interrupt that?”
Another hour passed in silence.
Aviza, slightly angry, said, “Step lightly, Angel.”
“Die in the Depths, Demon.”
“Why do you want us to rescind the power we took from the demons? Oh yeah. Because it used to be yours. Emphasis on ‘used to be’. Well Heaven ain’t all yours anymore, Angel, so suck off a dragon and choke on the lava.”
Oteril narrowed his golden eyes, saying, “You don’t have a spark of the Heavens. You have a spark of the Depths. The Abyss. The Unending Far. It twists you into mockeries of yourself and you are deluded enough to call this taint a form of power. You are misguided, as are all the demons that have ever come before you, for there is nothing Good about where you have built your houses.” He said, “In the name of all that is Good and Holy and Right, I pray you to seek reason. Give up your hold on the Fragmented Horror of the Old Demons and become something better than what you were forced to be.”
“Caizoa is about ready to tackle that Converter Angel. Maybe we can capture that old girl and get a backdoor into Celes. Wouldn’t that be nice.”
Oteril flinched as though struck. He went silent.
Aviza smiled, knowing that she had drawn blood.