In a white stone, circular cathedral, kilometers wide and draped in light, there sat a woven cauldron of black metal right in the center, upon a dais that was a series of daises. Black smoke roiled out from the holes in the censer, to form a low carpet of black shadows and smog that rolled down from the daises like water from a fountain.
Kromolok, the Head Inquisitor of the Church of Rozeta, stood beside that cauldron, that ‘Censer of Destruction’. The man was shaped like a white incani, but he was made of metal, of aluminum, or rather, what they called ‘holyite’. Black smoke curled around his legs as it flowed away, down into the cathedral, where it settled upon the white stone floor. As far as Kromolok understood, inside the original Cathedral of Destruction, acolytes and otherwise would ritually clean the cathedral every day, and especially after every burning.
A node network with some [Cleanse]s did the cleaning these days, but those spells weren’t active right now. The ritual of the destruction was important to the functioning of the Censer, and part of that ritual was to let the world be blackened by the passing of great magics, to leave a mark, to let the world know that something powerful had existed, and now it was gone.
Or at least that’s what the copies of prayer sheets Erick had sent along with Tasar had said.
Kromolok was fine with ritual, though.
Here, in this new Cathedral of Destruction, located near the Orrery of Rozeta, in the Splinter Mountains of Nergal, this Censer of Destruction would cleanse the world of a great many ancient evils. The first one was already burning away, vanishing before Kromolok’s eyes, in a way that had been impossible before.
The Mirror of Evil had been a simple hand mirror made of black adamantium. It had been an artifact of profound reflection, creating evil versions of whoever beheld themselves within its depths. There had been many such artifacts that had the same effects as this one, but this one had also been completely impossible to destroy.
And yet, there it was, floating in the center of the Censer’s concentrating weave, flaking away, the grandness of the simple, powerful artifact, wearing away a great evil, Destruction erasing it from existence, and gaining power from that erasing. The Ash and Gloom released by the Censer was little more than a magical nuance of that destruction; an honoring of the magic that had come before. The object wasn’t actually being turned into anything else at all.
Or at least that’s what Kromolok understood of what was happening here.
Simple burning or shattering or any sort of other destructive methods, when used against all of the items that Kromolok would be feeding to this Censer, would simply cause many of those items to move, to save themselves, to kill everyone around them, or whatever other horrors they felt like creating in order to prevent their destruction, or to make sure everyone knew they had been destroyed and to make them sorry about that fact. The things destined for this pit were Wizard artifacts, or even more dangerous things crafted by a person’s final Death Curse, or the sacrifice of others. All of the items Kromolok planned to feed to the Censer were different, but in many ways, they were the same.
A veritable train of artifacts would be arriving in the coming days and weeks, each one guarded and secured by countless magics, each one of them a danger to the world around them.
Kromolok’s smile widened as the Evil Mirror suddenly cracked, a line appearing upon the black surface, as it hovered there in the Censer of Destruction. It was breaking, but the Evil Mirror fought against that breaking, as it always did. It cried out, black adamantium forming faces and arms and reaching claws and beating wings, trying to fly away, to escape. But Destruction flared harder. The Censer vibrated deeper. And the Mirror cracked more and more. There was no escape.
Kromolok watched the whole thing.
He watched as an artifact rescued from the Dark did what none of the wrought or any of the archmages for the last 580 years had been able to do; disintegrate this damned Mirror to nothing, and make sure it stayed that way. One time, this damned Mirror had seemed to break when Archmage Riivo, of Archmage’s Rest, had tried a novel spell against it, but the Mirror had just abandoned its adamantium form at the time and [Teleport]ed all of its magical effects and existence into a plain mirror a thousand kilometers away, whereupon that new mirror had transformed into adamantium. And then, it had continued to destroy and kill using evil copies of people.
This Evil Mirror was not the only item that was capable of doing that.
A lot of the most evil sorts of artifacts were actually more like bombs, with no real good way to dispose of them at all.
But this Censer… This changed a lot.
“It works well,” Rozeta said, as she stepped out of the ether, to stand next to Kromolok.
“It does,” Kromolok said, “We can close tens of Forgotten Campaigns, for good.”
“The Love Arrow. The Contract Machine. The Balanced Ledger.” Rozeta was happy as she said, “The Pirate’s Coin. All of it can leave, and never return.”
Kromolok smiled, joking, “Whatever will our Forgotten Guards do with all their free time?”
“Figure out whatever anti-memetic magic is happening around this Sundering search, and then find out how to combat it.”
Komolok’s good mood soured. Back to business that fast, eh? Kromolok pivoted, as he always did. “We haven’t noticed any anti-memes, but to hear the circumstances surrounding the Sundering Search from Poi and Erick does give us pause. We’re not sure what to do except to support their search.”
Rozeta said, “I know. Which is why we’re expanding operations.”
Kromolok did not like the sound of that, because she wasn’t angling toward sending wrought to Erick, to help him with the search, directly. She had already vetoed all of that sort of action, for Erick was to do as Erick was to do, and the Geodes were to simply prepare for the coming storm; the Prophesied Storm. But now they were expanding operations? Because Erick’s search was proving fruitful?
… Of course things were changing now that Erick’s search was proving fruitful. Until now, every suggestion of ‘targets to find in the Dark’ and every talk of the gods and Relevant Entities had been merely talk. Nothing real. Nothing actionable.
“The first thing to do is send some of your people to the Wake Up House, to speak with the people Erick took from the Cathedral of Destruction. I want this Censer running at peak efficiency, and those people would be the best to do that. The second thing—” Rozeta gestured to the side. “—Is to attack this Sundering search from other angles.”
Twin disturbances stepped through the smoke. They resolved into legs, and then into a pale pink and green dress, with a white corset. Fairy Moon, looking like a pastel human girl of no more than 20, stood before Kromolok and Rozeta, as though she was an equal to either of them. Technically, she was. She was the Queen of the Fae. Maybe even above them, though that was blasphemy, and not quite true either.
And besides that, Fairy Moon had also been… mostly a good neighbor since the Dragon Exodus.
Perhaps surprisingly, she had become an even better neighbor after Rozeta relaxed the Script, and released 10 of her cousins from containment. Nowadays, a Fairy Moon sighting was rare, and almost always in the accompaniment of one of those cousins, for she was spending almost all her time with them, and not bothering anyone else. Kromolok was very glad that that particular prognostication about letting loose 10 more fae had turned out to be true.
Rozeta said, “Hello, Fairy Moon. Welcome.”
Kromolok was diplomatic, as he said, “Greetings, Fairy Moon.”
“Greetings and greatness, Razing Rozeta and Killer Kromolok.”
Kromolok did not frown, but it was a close thing.
Rozeta was completely unbothered.
Fairy Moon continued, “This Sundering Search requires a revision of vision and a venturing into other ocular states of self. I invite and implore the Inquisition to come calling upon Ar’Cosmos and our creation of a Sundering Search separate and similar to Erick’s entries into the Deeper Dark. But outward and onward, rather than inward and invasive.” She glanced down at the Censer’s insides as the Evil Mirror finished burning up, and the final floating bits of black metal melted into smoke and nothing. And then Fairy Moon took out a ring of gold and magic. She tossed it into the Censer, where it instantly started burning in a way that didn’t involve fire or flame at all. She nodded. Then she said to Kromolok and Rozeta, “Erick is ensconced in the Dreaming Dark for the foreseeable future. He has his ways. We will have ours. We must secure a speculative soaring above the Script. We must contact the council of Other Fae, who live in this New Cosmology.”
A lot of things had happened rather fast right there. Kromolok ignored the ring; it was dying in Destruction, and did not need his due diligence. Kromolok did notice the Fae Magic that had maybe unintentionally ensorcelled the area. After he scattered that Fae Magic, he actually looked at the ring. It was dying. It was fine. The Censer worked as advertised.
And then Kromolok focused on how Fairy Moon was speaking of Other Fae. New Cosmology fairies were a myth as far as he knew. If they were real, then Kromolok should have seen them before now, but he had not. So: a myth.
Rozeta instantly said, “Go ahead and contact them if you wish, but I will not help you with that. I have tried already, and aside from planars we have had no contact with the outside Cosmology, and those contacts have been one-way trips to here, as far as I have always known. As for what we agreed—”
Fairy Moon did not like Rozeta’s words. Before she could move on, the Queen of the Fae instantly turned almost childish, “We cannot be companionless in this cosmology! We are anything but singular in this space!” She accused, “You just killed and canceled them when they craned their consciousness into this cavernous cave, you cynics of conjuring!”
Rozeta glared, saying, “The Script accepts all magic, Fairy Moon; we did not ‘cancel’ anyone. Even if one of them did fall here, I would know, and they would be transformed to fit the land, and we would deal with the aftermath at that point in time. If they were True Fae then they might have been captured by the Script, but I doubt that, and I am almost 100% positive that I would have recognized that action if it had happened. But it hasn’t.
“There have been no New Cosmology fae here on Veird, or anywhere else, as far as I know.
“The simple fact is that mana moves as mana moves, this universe is BIG, and neither you nor I understand how mana moves in this universe quite yet. But we’re getting there. Now will you agree to the agreements I thought we already made before I invited you to come here and see the Censer? To see Erick’s accomplishments?” Rozeta gestured to the Censer, “An opportunity you used to destroy a ring, I might add, which you were not invited to do.”
Fairy Moon broke in small ways. She softly said, “We must prepare for and pamper them as the primest guests when they do deign to grace this languished land.” She stared at Rozeta and Kromolok, saying, “I need to know that you understand this Truest Truth.”
Rozeta was not convinced.
Kromolok wasn’t convinced, either.
Fairy Moon saw that she wasn’t winning any hearts today, but her message had been given. After a moment of dread, she moved on, “If there is an anti-meme about the Sundering Source, then it might be visible when vantage is taken from atop Fairy. I invite the Inquisition to do a full Anti-Meme investigation within Furthest Fairy. Perhaps, through cooperation with our cooperative creations, we might uncover the ultimate reason why my Daughter’s Decree of Creation collapsed so completely.”
Kromolok did not appreciate any of that; that notion that a fae made the Old Cosmology. Rozeta seemed particularly angry, too, at the fae’s assertion that the entire Old Cosmology was just a painting of the Dark with a spot of Light that was Xoat. Fairy Moon seemed to always be talking about that these days, but only when people in power were listening. Kromolok felt that perhaps the Old Fae was making up for lost time.
As for an Anti-Meme investigation?…
Kromolok said, “I accept your invitation on my Inquisition’s own terms.”
Fairy Moon nodded, then she stepped away, vanishing into Springtime, her voice carrying with her, “You can find your own way to our lovely lands. See you soon.”
And now it was just Kromolok and Rozeta, standing beside the Censer.
Fairy Moon’s gold ring was still ‘burning’ in the center of the multi-meter wide black cauldron.
“What is that ring, anyway?” Kromolok asked.
“I’ve no idea. Probably a wedding ring. Lotta magic. Nothing more than that…” Rozeta paused as she stared at the golden ring. “No souls. Hard to see, though; that’s the real Censer of Destruction.”
“Could it be the ring she used to wed the men she married and then killed?” Kromolok asked, “Like she’s Destroying that part of her life?”
“As safe a guess as any.”
- - - -
The Wake Up House had a bunch of different names, but all of them were accepted, just like the people themselves were accepted. It also wasn’t just one location. The main location was about 1500 kilometers directly north of Candlepoint, while there were also major offices directly inside Candlepoint. It was to the main offices by the mountains where Erick brought his newest reincarnated people.
The main building was almost literally a palatial estate, just south of snow capped mountains that reached up to the sky. The recently-tamed Not-Crystal forest sprawled out in every direction, trees and grasses and otherwise growing upon land that had once been desert as far as the eye could see, except for those mountains, where massive stoneworks had been erected to separate the desert from the mountains. If one rose high in the sky, to overlook the trees that dotted the land, they could even see that stonework endeavor, where the mountains had been made into cliffs, to drop straight down into a sea of sand, filled with crystal mimics.
But now the mimics were gone, corralled to a different thousand kilometer ring encircling Ar’Kendrithyst.
Now, the Crystal Forest was much more forest, and filled with settlements here and there.
The Wake Up House was perhaps the largest of those settlements in this area. There was the main estate, which was like a halfway house, a college campus, and a cosmopolitan village all in one. A lot of people, after they went through here, opted to make a go of it somewhere close by. The Crystal Forest was absolutely prime real estate, and it was all free for the taking. Mostly. Erick had secured around a 500 kilometer diameter space south of the mountains for the Wake Up House.
People needed some nice, calm space in order to come to terms with their new bodies, after all.
Erick arrived through a ring of lightning directly into the receiving courtyard of the main house.
Poi was already there, waiting for him and for Debby, and for all the people flying through on Erick’s power. If Poi hadn’t been there to get things started, Erick was sure that the two doctors on call would have been reading books and waiting for something to happen. Three nurses standing to the side would have been in the same position, and probably playing cards, as they often did. They would have acted fast, though, if something came through. Which it had.
This was a style of care that Erick had stolen from Oceanside, along with some of Oceanside’s own emergency staff, because Oceanside was no longer the center for emergency care that it had once been; not with [Teleport] made impossible for the last eleven years. The emergency team here was well versed in working odd hours and with Erick’s presence, though, because Erick worked directly with a lot of them. With little direction necessary except for a basic command of ‘They’re code red, so armored rooms’, the team got to work, and soon, others came out of the house, taking in Erick’s nine new arrivals. Within minutes, the new people were set up in waking rooms.
Armored ones.
[True Resurrection] would not have rid them of soul-imbued magic, but [Reincarnation] certainly did. Even so, Erick didn’t want to take chances. That desire to not take chances was obvious to all, and soon, the director was there to greet him. But the time was somewhere around 7 pm.
“Shouldn’t you be off having dinner with your new wife, Magnin?” Erick said, smiling a little as he teased the director, as the two of them walked down the hallway, just inside the Red Wing.
Magnin was a young human demi in appearance, with very faint violet features to mark him as touched by incani blood. He looked similar to Zolan, but still different. He was actually a contemporary of Zolan’s, for he was around 135 years old. Unlike Erick’s Castellan of House Benevolence, who was an eternal bachelor it seemed, Magnin had gotten married several months ago. It had been a beautiful wedding.
Magnin smiled as he said, “Soon as Poi came around, Araleel put the roast under [Ward] and went to check the defenses around here to make sure they’re fully active.” And then he got down to business. “You haven’t called for a code red in a while.”
The Red Wing was just like all the other wings of the Wake Up House, but its [Ward]s and defenses were a lot more strict than other locations. Even if the people Erick had taken from the Dark could cast magic, most of it should be shut down… Hopefully.
Erick explained his concern, “I took these people from the Dark, like taking shadelings out of their fugue state prematurely. They were going to die otherwise. If they were who they were in their previous lives, I have no doubt that they could have stopped me. They were guarding something very, very precious…
“They’re probably good people, but they’ve been through a lot. Events like this will likely happen again, Magnin. This time was unexpected…” Erick stopped at the door to the first room. Shalia, the former smoke elf, rested on a soft bed with soft pillows, inside a rather nice room with soft chairs, and with a big window that gave a nice view of the outside world. All of it was cleverly made of rather damned strong materials, and a lot of it was secured to the floor. “But I probably should have expected this. It’ll happen again.”
“We’ll take care of them, Erick; you leave that to us.”
Erick smiled. “I know you will. I trust you.” Erick breathed in. He gestured back the way they came. “Let’s have an overview meeting, Magnin.” And then he nodded to Poi, saying, “You can start waking them up.”
Poi flicked power outward and his [Sleep] spells dissolved… Or rather, the [Sleep] spells cast by Poi’s other [Hive Mind]ed self started to dissolve. At that thought, Poi gave Erick a Look. Right, right; okay. They were the same person.
Poi nodded.
Erick said to Magnin, “They’re probably going to try and accrete right away, which might monsterize them. That’s the main reason for the code red.”
Magnin paused. “… They don’t know that that is a bad idea? Untrained accretion?”
“They’re very trained, Magnin, but trained under a very different set of rules. Anyway, let’s talk about the Wake Up House, starting with the most recent returners.” Erick asked, “How are things?”
In the hallway, guards and otherwise were on the case.
Magnin began, “Rather normal. The people from Riam are starting to get along with others, but that’s rather normal considering the directions of their [Reincarnation]s, though we are having yet another upsurge in worshiping of you, which I am having some difficulty dismantling. I might need to ask the Xoatists to step in and convince the Riamites to leave to seek their fortunes elsewhere.”
Erick didn’t cringe nearly as much as he usually did when talking of worship and Xoatism. “Approved. Whatever you need to do.”
Magnin noticed Erick’s change in demeanor, and let it pass unmentioned. “On that note, we have around 740 people asking for different [Reincarnation]s.”
“Oh. Okay. That many? Sure—” Erick had a sudden thought. “Are any of them from the recent groups? From Storm’s Edge and the Glittering Depths, I mean. Not from last week’s [Reincarnation] day.”
Magnin took a half second to gather his thoughts, then he said, “There have been a few from those groups. Which people in particular are you worried about?”
Erick was already using Ophiel to scope out the records office. A few things stood out to him, but since those records were purposefully kept vague, Magnin would be the one to ask about all that. So that’s what Erick did. “The Artillery Archmage from Riam; Terrance Nightenflit. If any of the Aroidos decided to stick around, or if they’re back. Oozy Stormcaller, also from Storm’s Edge.”
They stopped at a common room and sat down.
Magnin began, “As an overview, Terrance is doing well, but he’s having a lot of difficulty with mana in this New Cosmology. I believe he wants a stronger body than the one he requested; he’s among the ones requesting a different [Reincarnation]. There are a few Aroidos around here but none of them are on the re-[Reincarnation] list unless that changed recently.” And then Magnin paused, and tried to deliver some bad information in a calm way, “Oozy does not want a new [Reincarnation]. He is having trouble interacting with people, though.”
“Ah. Yes. I figured he would,” Erick said, feeling slightly nervous himself. “That [Reincarnation] didn’t go how I expected it to go. Has he filled out new paperwork? I don’t see it in the records office.”
“He wants to talk to you directly. I don’t believe he wants a new body.”
Erick nodded. “What else is happening?”
Magnin spoke for a while.
And Erick ironed out many small issues here and there, all across the land, as the 9 rescues from the Cathedral of Destruction woke up in the Red Wing. Some of them panicked. Some of them relaxed, and prayed to gods. Some of them stared at screens, amazed that they were in a land with a manaminer.
Two people tried to accrete.
Erick had to cut short his talks with Magnin to deal with those suddenly-monsterized people, as they took in the mana all around them. That situation got out of hand rather fast, with a whole lot of yelling up and down the Red Wing, and a bunch of nurses and doctors and guards having to go back through the whole group of new arrivals, to inform them once again that it was bad to accrete outside of proper methodology.
Erick didn’t get involved too much with all that; not yet, anyway.
Because suddenly he had appointments with various Relevant Entities about stuff they wanted rescued from the Dark. It seemed that Erick’s small foray out of the Dark, and the proof of his capability to bring out items from the past into this reality, had knocked loose about a hundred bee nests, and all of them needed attention.
He’d get to the 9 rescues from the Dark tomorrow. They could use a day or so of rest to come to grips with their new lives, and the Script.
- - - -
Erick sat in a nice sort of meeting room, but not too nice. The chairs were functional and appropriate to the people who were showing up, in order, but they were all a secure sort of functional. There was no gilding on these chairs, tables, and walls. This was by choice. The impression Erick was giving by these choices was that he was a working man, doing working man’s work. There was a time and place for ostentation, to display power and wealth, but now was not that time.
Zolan, the Castellan of House Benevolence, walked back into the room. He shut the doors behind him.
“Okay. So. That went well.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Erick laughed. “Tiktik was on his best behavior today.”
“Hmm. Yeah.” Zolan looked the stone floor over, making a show of looking for the great divots that Tiktik had carved into the eternal stonewood. “Can’t even tell he was in here.”
Erick chuckled. “There’s not much to expect out of the God of the Wild’s avatars, except that they will be wild.”
“Sorry for abandoning you halfway through.”
“Not a problem, Zolan. It’s not your responsibility to keep me safe, but I thank you for your time spent in these conversations anyway, for your knowledge of all these people and events.”
Zolan smiled softly. “Will you actually be able to get the Life Seed for Fangorl?”
“Doubtful, but I can try.” Erick said, “There’s nothing wrong with trying for ancient artifacts. Every single one makes Veird more robust; stronger.” Erick moved on, “So next?”
“That would be Lynkari, of the demons.”
“… Ah.”
Erick had gone through 17 of these appointments so far. Most of them had been from paladins of various gods coming to Erick to deliver the words of those gods, or other Relevant Entities. Not every god was a major power like Koyabez or Rozeta, able to manifest a body on demand. The lesser gods, like Fangorl of the Wilds, or even Sumtir, the God of Righteous War, sent paladins. All of them wanted something from him, or rather, from the Old Cosmology. Some of them wanted something to make them more powerful, like in Fangorl’s case, or they wanted something that they had lost, and which Erick agreed to look for, like with Sumtir asking for the Shield of Faith, which was a defensive artifact of war.
And now, before Erick knew it, it was time for the final few meetings of the day. The more dangerous ones. Or at least Erick assumed they would be the more dangerous ones.
The Demons, of Hell.
And then the Angels, of Celes.
There had been a whole argument over who was going to be able to talk to Erick first, but then Erick suggested a coin toss and the demons won the coin toss, but not before both sides tried to interfere in the fate of that toss. Erick was rather sure that the envoy from the Angels had been trying to use actual Fate Magic to influence the toss, too, but then she bled from the nose instead, the Script shutting her down. Erick ignored that extreme breach of propriety, for the demons had tried to do something similar but with very subtle Particle Magic. Erick shut that attempt down himself.
In the end, the demons probably won the toss, and Erick left it like that.
“Is Lynkari sending an envoy again?” Erick asked, “Or do I need to actually go summon her?”
“Different envoys for both the angels and the demons; those first ones fell out of favor when their tricks were exposed.” Zolan said, “The demon envoy is at the Wall, at Centerpoint, awaiting your [Gate].” And then Zolan walked to the wall, to stand to the side for the meeting.
Erick did some searching with Ophiel upon the Wall that separated and delineated the Crystal Forest from the Wastelands. Both of those areas used to be filled with dangers and poisons of different kinds, with desert on the east and toxic marshes on the west. But now, there was farmland on the west, and the east held forests from there, all the way to Candlepoint and beyond. The Wall itself looked a lot less war-torn and spartan than it used to look, too. Now there was greenery and nicety.
Erick found the envoy standing upon the grey Wall, at Centerpoint, in the center of a presentation space that was almost a pedestal fit for a dragon. The archmage stood there, having just gotten up from her chair, her aides telling her that it was time for the meeting. Erick knew her, and he was glad to see she was doing well enough, though it was odd to see her tagged for this sort of thing.
Peatrice Shallowhammer was an incani Stone Archmage, wearing purple and gold, the colors of the Magisters of the Wasteland’s Magisterium. She spotted Ophiel, and did a bow that looked pained. She wasn’t an old woman, but she was certainly not a young woman, either. Maybe she would be asking for a [Reincarnation] today? The option was open for her; Erick had already explained long before now. She had always forgone that option.
Erick opened the [Gate] in front of her. The other end opened in the doorway to his plain office at House Benevolence.
“Hello, Peatrice,” Erick said, welcoming her into the space.
Peatrice took another slightly-strained bow, then she straightened and walked into the room. She bowed again, and then lifted, saying, “Greetings, Wizard Flatt.”
Erick closed the [Gate] and filled the room with a [Hasted Shelter]. They’d have plenty of time to talk, now. “Please have a seat, Peatrice, and tell me what ails you before we get to this artifact search.”
Peatrice tensed a fraction, but she was well-practiced in not showing her true feelings so Erick only understood 40% of what was wrong with her. She was having physical trouble. Soul trouble, too, by the look of it, though souls were, by their very nature, gaseous and 80% undefinable, so all Erick could really see were a series of old fixes constructed in order to bridge and heal old curses. They were wounds from the Converter Angel, over a decade ago. She had mostly healed herself, well before Lapis was involved in that issue. She had refused all other assistance since then…
Before Peatrice had the chance to say that nothing was wrong, as she usually did—
Erick flatly said, “Your old wounds are acting up.”
Peatrice took a moment to sit down in her provided chair. She sighed a little, and then said, “They are acting up, and it’s nothing to be concerned about. I’m here today to discuss ancient artifacts, and I would much prefer to go over those.”
“… Fine.” Erick set aside his desire to help Peatrice individually, to focus on the greater good. “What artifacts are you interested in? Keep in mind that only the largest artifacts are possible, as in stuff that changed the course of worlds, or stuff that left such a deep mana impression that they were used for literal millennia. And, so you know, we’ll only have one chance to get one item.”
Back in the dungeon, Solomon had done a test, trying to get the gate to link with the Cathedral of Destruction again. It had failed, producing a connection to disordered dreams. Erick hadn’t tried himself, but he would when he got back.
It was better to tell people that this wasn’t a sure thing.
Peatrice sat tall, saying, “We are aware of the limitations and warnings. With that in mind, and knowing that you have rescued people from the Dark, we are less interested in artifacts, and more interested in people, since that seems more of a sure thing considering what we have heard. In particular, there is an ancient Angel who once tried to work with the Old Demons to end the Forever War in a stretch of the Old Cosmology known as the Bisection. His name is Avandrasolaro. We believe he died due to carelessness in his old age, though he lived to around 30,000 before an assassination attempt took him. The Bisection survived another 500 years past his death, but it fractured and created a whole new front to the Forever War, maybe 180,000 years ago. The numbers are not exact; they are practically apocryphal.”
Erick had been inclined to say ‘no’ and to stop Peatrice the very second she said ‘person’, but he listened instead. Something like joy flowed through his body as he heard her request. Tempering his hope, Erick said, “A request like this will require confirmation from various Relevant Entities, but you already know that if this pans out, then I’ll try to rescue Avandrasolaro. How do you see that working out for you?”
“Hopefully, he will be able to provide a bridge between the Demons and the Angels to break the Forever War. Honestly, this war already should have been broken when all the Old Demons died in the Incani Uprising against them, but that took us a hundred years, and we were forced to commit atrocities against the Angels while we were still slaves to the Old Demons. Because of that, the Angels continued their aggression against us.” Peatrice added, “The Old Demons certainly wished for that sort of hatred to continue, so they certainly didn’t help matters with how they treated us. Their death throes are still felt to this day. But maybe, with Avandrasolaro’s help, and with his well-known disposition against the Forever War… We can bridge the gap between what could be, and what is.”
“I’m surprised this is the formal request of the Demons, Peatrice. I’m very happy. But I’m also surprised.”
Peatrice nodded. “We have a few more requests that are more in line with what you might expect; poisoned chalices, and such. But I felt like presenting the best option first.”
Erick smiled a little. Now that was more like it. “Go ahead.”
“If you will pardon the formality that is required to deal properly on behalf of my ancestors, and their distaste of the Angels— Ah hem,” Peatrice cleared her throat, and took on an air of pretend imperiousness, saying, “To begin with, let me remind you, if you will allow, that you reformed the Shades through the destruction of their worst members. Nothing was achievable against them without the murder of Bulgan, and Tania Webwalker, and all the other malcontents. We ask for the same sort of power to use against the Angels, eliminate the worst of them, in the hopes that we might achieve a similar sort of peace and cooperation. The first object that might help us achieve this is the Vile Needle…”
Peatrice gave her presentation, as she was required to do in order to fulfill the parameters of her Demon Contract. When she passed, she would likely become a high-ranking demon, and Erick would be seeing a lot more of her in this specific sort of way. But for now, she was merely incani, and thus she was ‘low on the totem pole’ of demonic existence.
Which was why Erick didn’t blow up at her for her unreasonable requests; she was just a speaker right now. The Demons all knew that he would at least hear them out, too, and so they exploited that about him, forcing him to hear their propaganda.
It was whatever.
They got a chance to air their greatest grievances, and Erick got to know a little bit about the lay of the land between Angel and Demon and their Veirdly counterparts.
Eventually, Peatrice got to the end of her requests, and Erick got to the end of his denials of those requests.
Erick asked, “The request for Avandrasolaro… Was that from one of the Houses of Hell, or from you?”
Peatrice said, “From the House of Blood-on-Hell. They’re trying to woo you into a Contract, of course, as all of them are, but they’re falling on hard times right now. If you should succeed with the rescue of Avandrasolaro then Blood-on-Hell will either be devoured by its contemporaries or rise to new heights to rival Demon King Dinnamoth. Hopefully they can thread that lake of intrigue and fire, but we don’t actually know until it happens.” She added, “They expended almost all their political capital to get you that target, too, so they’re hoping this gambit elevates their House into extreme levels of power. But since I am not allied with their house, and am actually in House Dinnamoth, I feel socially compelled to tell you that Blood-on-Hell used to be a very big proponent of the Quiet War, until you took office and made their normal operations unworkable.”
“Well… Who hasn’t been a big part of the Quiet War?” Erick asked, rhetorically. “I’m all about second chances, anyway.”
Peatrice nodded. “Which is what Blood-on-Hell is counting on.”
The meeting was basically over, so Erick tried one last time, “Are you sure you don’t want to take a [Reincarnation]? I can clean up all of those soul wounds from the Converter Angel, and all of the fixes you implemented to solve those wounds.”
Peatrice stood, saying, “Thank you, but no thank you, Wizard Flatt. I plan on living forever when I die, so that I may help my descendants for generations upon generations to come, alongside my ancestors who would do the same.”
Erick did not stand. He just dismissed the bubble of Time all around the room, saying, “Zolan will assist you with final words. It was good to see you again, Peatrice.”
“And you as well, Wizard Flatt.”
Zolan led the way out of the door, saying, “This way please, Archmage Peatrice.”
After a good ten minutes of some final paperworks between Zolan and Peatrice, Erick opened another [Gate] and Peatrice went home.
Zolan came back inside, asking, “Will you actually go after that angel?”
“A very large possibility, Zolan. I’ll need to do some digging, of course, to prove that story. I’ve never heard of Avandrasolaro, and it sounds like a dragon name to me, but I’m sure Koyabez would know more.” Erick said, “But moving on.”
Zolan nodded. “The envoy of the Angels is Kalimo Brighthand. I don’t think you’ve met him.”
“I have not.”
“You won’t like him.”
“… That doesn’t bode well.”
Kalimo turned out to be a Classed Paladin of the Holy Host of Angels, who lived in Greensoil as an Inquisitor in the northern provinces. Zolan had been right. Erick did not like the man. He was self-righteous, damning all demons with every other sentence out of his mouth, and halfway toward demanding concessions out of Erick due to the actions of ‘Ashes’ a month ago, in the Glittering Depths.
“It doesn't matter if he was your dragon,” Kalimo said, “He was a demon plant, just like all the rest of them. But you didn’t know, so it was forgivable at the time. You will rectify these transgressions, though.”
Erick maintained dignity in the face of Kalimo’s unreasonable demands.
Kalimo occasionally touched upon various artifacts of power here and there, but he seemed to be ‘negging’ Erick about it every time he spoke of this or that, adding, “But you wouldn’t give that to us anyway, because you’re a spineless ruler, bowing to demons whenever they send their slaves at you.”
“Okay,” Erick said, and that was all he said.
Kalimo got red in the face, and got even more angry.
… It was kinda entertaining, actually. That was why Erick allowed it to go on for so long. The man spoke of actual injustices done by the demons, of course, like the Daydropper and the almost-Breach-Demon, and various murders here and there. The man was clearly passionate about his hatred.
When Kalimo finished, Erick almost wanted to tell him that he wasn’t getting anything at all.
But instead, Erick said, “I wish the Angels and Demons would stop feuding. Do you think that is possible in this lifetime?”
“Absolutely not! Never! Not until they all die.” Kalimo said, “They embrace Vile sources of power, and that stuff is poison to all people. That is the base problem we have with them, and they will never forgo that power, and so, like how you killed the Shades to make the world a better place, we must kill the Demons, and then all the incani, too. The Script must be remade!”
Erick sighed a little. “Elemental Vile is just another Element, like the Angel’s own Exalted.”
“They are nothing alike!”
Kalimo wasn’t going to listen to reason, because of course he wasn’t. Those types never did. So Erick played the part of a polite king who was a part of Polite Society, like all good kings, and closed out the conversation with the Paladin as early as he could. Erick eventually managed to send Kalimo on his way, back to Tower Town; back to Kiri’s home town.
And then Erick said to Zolan, “Please find out what the fuck that was all about. That man was intentionally trying to set me off the whole time he was here.”
“I have a few theories, from Greensoil trying to publicly shame you via non-cooperation to any of their requests, to the Angels deciding to pull out from this endeavor when the Demons got first Bolt at you.” Zolan said, “I’ll have better answers for you soon.”
“Thank you.”
And that was it for the day.
Erick had to go talk to Kiri though, to get her opinion on Kalimo.
“Oh my gods, Erick,” Kiri said, while her couatl [Familiar] Sunny flickered in colors upon Kiri’s neck, to mirror her mirth. “You actually managed to have a talk with one of those Inquisitors from Tower Town?” Kiri laughed. “They won’t even talk to me! Especially now.”
“I’ve never spoken with them before now.” Erick said, “It was not a very productive conversation.”
“I bet not!”
Erick smiled. “So how are things going at the House? With the Gate Network?”
“Oh… you know… Pretty good.” Kiri took a moment to decide something, and then she said, “I could use your help with this one thing…”
Erick spent three hours solving a small pile of international and Underworld-to-Surface problems.
And then he went back home, to the Cloud Castle to have dinner with the family; with Teressa, her husband, Poi, his sister Rizala, her husband, and also Debby, who he brought back from the Wake Up House to meet everyone. Kiri and Debby had some quiet conversations outside of Erick’s direct oversight, because it was rude to spy all the time. The whole evening was a little awkward with Debby, but Poi had already explained everything quite well.
Halfway through dinner, Rizala was fully on board with the copies of Jane and Erick, and asked, “Well why not invite all of them over?”
Erick smiled and did just that.
Soon, Solomon, Jane, Abigail, Beth, Candice, and Emily, were all at the House. The house was not full at all, but it was about halfway there.
And Erick loved it, a whole lot.
6 daughters!
A ‘brother’!
All of his family he managed to find on Veird.
It was wonderful.
- - - -
Erick walked down the hall of the Red Wing at the Wake Up House. The sun was halfway toward noon, light slanting down from the upper windows, casting shadows into the cool air. Everything was calm. Last night had been a hell of a time for most of these new residents of Veird, but sleep and good food had done a lot to calm the lot of them. Talking helped. Erick had temporarily installed a communications system between the rooms, inside the rooms and linked to each other and to the node network of the house. It was just some basic magic, hooked into effective-permanency effects, but knowing that their friends were alive had done a lot of good for them.
… Of course, not all of their friends had survived. In fact… Most of their worlds were gone. All that was left for these nine people were each other, and the Censer which Erick had stolen.
Magnin had explained their predicaments to them a few times already, at Erick’s behest. But now, Erick was here. He would be talking to them, in order. Starting with Shalia Moonglow, the former smoke elf. She was their commander when the actual commander wasn’t present. Erick didn’t know a whole lot more besides that, though; they could only overhear so much, because the people knew they were being spied upon.
Erick went to Shalia’s door and knocked. “Greetings, Shalia Moonglow.”
Shalia was inside whispering to the speaker spellwork, but some of her mana sense must have returned, because she saw Erick coming when he was about 10 meters away. She was on the other side of the door, three meters away watching it, by the time Erick came by. She saw him through the window of the door. She stared with dark eyes. “Hello, Wizard Flatt. Are we to be kept in detainment for much longer?”
Erick unlocked the door and opened it, saying, “I would prefer not to. We got your Censer up and running, by the way. I hear that we’ve rid Veird of a few hundred incredibly dangerous artifacts since yesterday.”
Down the hall, five people were pressed against their windows, watching, while the other three were listening to their speaker boxes, which broadcast Erick’s voice from Shalia’s room to all the others.
Shalia was unsure how to take this news.
But the priest down the way started yelling, “You idiots! You don’t even know what you’re doing! You might end up releasing something!”
Erick made a decision that he didn’t have to talk to all of them individually. He flicked his aura at the guy’s door down the way, opening it up. “Would you be interested in making sure we’re doing it right?”
The priest, who was named Gorgi, did not step out of his room. He stared at the open door like it was a mouth to hell, as he shouted, “The Dark take you for what you did to us!”
Erick unlatched every single door. Some people stepped out. Some remained inside.
Erick spoke, “You’ve all been dealt an incredibly difficult fate. You were dead, and now you are not. But from your perspectives, you were alive, and we stole you from your homes. I’m sorry for that. I’m also sorry for all of your bodies, for we had to act fast in order to get them made, to prevent you from passing on into the mana. None of you would have gone to the gods you wished to go to, for many of those gods are dead. The God of Destruction simply does not exist anymore; he wasn’t allowed onto Veird during the Sundering for fear of what he might do. From my understanding with some talks with some gods in the last 12 hours, the God of Destruction was reveling in the death of all worlds anyway.
“Aloeth no longer exists,” Erick said to Shalia, and the other elf, a man by the name of Jiloatho. “Aloethag is the Goddess of Beauty and Brutality, and she is goddess to the orcols these days, and elves are murdered on sight for fear of Aloethag reverting. You two have probably been contacted by her already. But know this: you will not become elves under my hand, for I will not invite that sort of split into this world.
“All alvani do not exist anymore, and the normal Gods of the Angels are gone. About 25 years post Sundering, the Old Demons killed all the halves that managed to make it here, and changed the Script so that the children of Angels and humans no longer happen. Now, only Demons and humans produce offspring. Those would be the incani you have heard about. Those incani overthrew the Old Demons long ago. Now it’s just incani-as-Demons versus humans-as-Angels in the Forever War, which is something that still exists —much to most everyone’s chagrin— for reasons of continued atrocities on both sides.
“But that’s all history. Important history that you should know, but not too important for you right now.
“I implore you all to do some soul searching while you are here at the Wake Up House.” Erick added, “But before we get to that, I know only one of you actually filled out your [Reincarnation] paperwork, while the rest of you tore it up in anger, thinking you were defying me.
“Know now that I want to let you go and for you to do your own lives as soon as possible. If you want a new body, you can leave messages with the director, or his staff. To a certain extent, you are owed what you want, for it is not an easy thing to be transported to a new world, and to leave everything behind.
“Believe me, I know what that is like.”
A moment passed.
A woman began crying, a man held back sobs.
Erick said, “The Red Wing of the Wake Up House is open to you now. With time, and proving yourself as not a danger, you will be allowed to leave this area, and take up more normal residencies. Now. Gorolik? Would you like to have that [Reincarnation] now?”
A man standing by his door, the Gorolik in question, froze in complete fear.
Erick said, “I can hit every single one of those targets, if that is what you wish. Or, you can write out some new paperwork and we’ll do that new version later.”
“… I’ll write some other paperwork.”
Erick would have a private conversation with him about all that at a later date. There was nothing too untoward about his requests, but they were all made in clear defiance of what a normal person would want, based on normal societal conventions. But maybe he really did want to be an Old Dragonkin with wings and two sets of arms and a bunch of stuff going on down below. He had been a human, though, before he came through the gate in the dungeon. A simple human. Erick always asked people twice and sometimes three times if they desired switches far beyond their original bodies, and Erick had suspected that Gorolik had filled his paperwork with defiance.
It was good to see that Erick’s suspicions had been correct.
Most people when they got bodies like that and they actually wore them around for a little while rapidly decided that they did not like being that different from other people.
Erick said, “Then that is fine. Talk to you all later. Good day.”
Erick vanished through a [Gate], rapidly closing it behind him. The staff would watch over those 9 people now; Erick had done enough for them for today. It was time to visit other people.
- - - -
Oozy Stormcaller was the former king of Storm’s Edge before he had been transformed into an ooze by a Shade and then locked away in the castle’s dungeon for a few centuries. It wasn’t till a few decades ago that Oozy had been rescued by the people who had become his family, and taken to Seafoam Manor and raised as a person again. Sometimes blood oozes developed sentience if they lived long enough, and Oozy had regained some of his original sentience, but he was no longer the king of Storm’s Edge at all. His family was gone now, too.
He seemed to be adjusting… Somewhat well.
Oozy was painting a picture in all-red pigments under an apple tree, trying to capture the scenery of the plains and scattered forest ahead, under the bright sun above. But in all red. It was weird.
It was fine.
Erick stepped down onto the hill near him while he was cleaning his brush. “Greetings, Oozy.”
Oozy startled. Which was why Erick waited till he was cleaning his brush. And then Oozy looked upon Erick and smiled wide. He got up and stood, his eyes yellow rimmed in red, like two suns with dark spots in the center, while his hair was bright red and short. He had freckles now, and he was still rather skinny, but in a healthy sort of way. He seemed happier than the last time Erick had seen him, and in all of Goldie’s investigations of the man he had been no more or less than a normal person.
No secret trysts with evil powers. No known affiliations or outreaches to any sorts of organizations. Nothing. He mostly painted and lived a small life. There was, quite frankly, a lot of friction between him and many other people, but he had been an ooze for centuries, so of course interactions would be weird.
Oozy seemed to be okay as he called out, “Wizard Flatt! Hello again!”
Erick returned the smile, asking, “How are you, Oozy? I heard you wanted to talk to me directly? Also that you’ve been having trouble getting along with others.” A bit stronger, Erick said, “I heard you assaulted a man, and his brother.”
Oozy had been excited, and then he got less excited. “Ahh… Well. Yes. Those guys were… I’m not sure what came over me. I think they said something bad about Storm’s Edge, or the others that came through from there, and… I honestly forgot most of that night.”
“Well they’re alive, and you won’t do it again, will you?”
“I didn’t want to fight them… It… sort of happened.”
“That’s what all the others have said, too, and I believe you.”
Oozy relaxed. And then he frowned a little, “I think I do not get along with normal people. I keep… I tried to eat a slice of cake with the side of my face once weeks ago and a man at the cafeteria… It became a harsh sort of joke among them.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you, Oozy.” Erick asked, “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? About your difficulty fitting in?”
Oozy made himself stand strong, and then he said, “I think… I can’t stay here any longer. It has been fantastic. But I want to go on a pilgrimage. Around the world, to find myself.”
Well… There was nothing wrong with that. Most people left the Wake Up House after some months of getting used to their new bodies. The staff made sure that the people were comfortable with their bodies before they left, so that they didn’t have regrets later when they were beyond Erick’s easy help. But some people left the area after only a few days, completely forgoing the standard body-adjustment period. That was their prerogative, though; Erick wouldn’t hold people against their will unless he needed to.
“That’s fine, but for you, I must give you a warning.” Erick said, “Once you leave here and get back into the world, I can’t protect you anymore. You’re on your own out there, Oozy. Sink or swim.”
Oozy seemed to beam with hope, as he said, “Thank you, Wizard Flatt.”
Erick nodded. “Where do you think you’ll go?”
“Well… I’ve been having dreams of storms. It was my namesake… Stormcaller.” Oozy held up a hand and red sparks gathered in his palm. “I want to see what that means. I want to see what connection I have to Sininindi— Or rather, what connection I used to have, and if there’s anything there anymore.” He dropped his hand. “I feel very storm-tossed, Wizard Flatt. I have lost my sea legs. I want to be better. Maybe actually gain some levels, or something. I want to find my footing.”
Red lightning in hand, eh?
Erick felt a little weird in that moment, but only because he was hyper-sensitized to Lightning Magics right now. They were searching for the Sundering, after all. But sometimes Lightning Magics were just Lightning Magics. Some other times, though, Lightning Magics had divine sources, and Sininindi was directly watching over Oozy, for he was the last of the Stormcallers.
So it didn’t surprise Erick at all to see what he saw next.
High above the land, a spark of gold lightning scattered from one lonely cloud to another, while a breeze rushed across the Crystal Forest, the sound of shaking leaves seeming almost like rain, drowning out the sound of the lightning. It hadn’t been a big bolt, nor had it been a big wind.
Erick and Ophiel were perhaps the only people who noticed the lightning and who knew what it meant, for it occurred behind Oozy, and Oozy did not have any of the sensing abilities that Erick enjoyed.
Erick made a decision. He said, “I wish you luck in finding yourself, Oozy. You’ll get the same graduating care package as anyone else, so be sure to collect that before you leave.”
Oozy smiled brightly. “I will! Thank you for everything, Wizard Flatt!”
“You’re welcome, Oozy. I’m glad I could help.”