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[>>Now replaying: Log 1.37.15.α - C://XV/The Devil/Lightbearer]
Date: 8.9.175 AA / 4404 LTC
Location: The Bunker at Haven-Of-Progress // Zephyro’s Domain
//15 - The Devil - Upright: obsession, addiction, oppression, dependency, excess, powerlessness, limitat&/&%//
[>>DATA CORRUPTED]
E1 %She will.%
E2 %She won’t.%
E3 %Why not?%
E2 %One, because the Mage Lords killed her, and two, because of who she was.%
E1 %She’s not dead.%
E2 %No one has seen her for more than 150 years. She’s dead.%
E3 %Why did the Mage Lords hate her so much?%
E2 %Because she killed the Emperor of peace.%
E3 %No, before that. She was a hero, right?%
With nothing but the whisper of a moonlit desert wind, the silver sickle descended and sliced straight through the wolf’s center. The radiant edge continued without slowing, only coming to a gentle rest when it met the ground. It was oddly satisfying to look at, comfortable almost, like sinking into a soft bed after an honest day’s work.
But when the quiet energy finally came to a full stop, its hidden violence was made apparent. A massive wave of force erupted from where blade met stone. The resulting violent gust of air buffeted my face, and sent my coat whipping around me. For a second, the pressure was so strong, it make it hard to breathe.
The wolf whined, but despite the white-hot wound running straight through its middle, it still struggled forward. Even so, the Feral’s movements slowed. It opened its mouth as if to howl, but only a high-pitched whine emerged. When it tried to take another step, its body fell away to either side with the sound of wet flesh hitting a cutting board.
“Fucking hell…” I hissed.
That should have been that, but as with everything else in this nightmarish reality, the Feral wasn’t bound by things like reason or mercy. Both halves of the corpse twitched and began to crackle with red-tipped lightning, and in the span of a second they contorted in impossible angles to form two separate, even more disfigured animals.
The Vizier, however, was prepared. Glitching violently into cyan fractals, he raised a gauntleted hand and snapped his fingers. Their crack was loud enough to shatter my horrified silence. A lone star appeared high above us, pulsing with brilliant light. Before the two wolves had any chance to react, the star erupted into a single blazing beam of light that hit both Ferals at once with earth-shaking force.
I braced myself against the wall behind me as the vibrations rocked my body and had to turn away from the glare, but from the corners of my eyes I saw Zephyro remained standing, focusing intently on the bright light smiting our enemies.
…and then it was over. The silver glare disappeared as if turned off with the flick of a switch. Logic exploded into the air, hovering in the air like dandelion seeds and showering the alley in a calm, blue light.
For a moment I thought I saw something small and dark escape into the alley in a flash of red energy, but I was still half blinded by Zephyro’s attack, so I couldn’t be sure. Either way, the danger had passed, and that was good enough.
Zephyro stepped through the cyan cloud, sheathing his sword as the Logic parted around him like mist, cloaking him in fluorescent cyan radiance.
I pushed myself off the wall, still breathing hard, but couldn’t quite get up. Zephyro offered me a hand, but I shook my head, paused and steadied my breathing. Only when I was certain I wouldn’t collapse immediately, I took a deeper breath, pulling in the Logic left behind by the wolf.
It flowed like silk and hummed a deep, reassuring baritone.
{INCOMING LOGIC - 202 LB}
{AVAILABLE LOGIC - 202 LB}
“Are you hurt, Sultana?” Zephyro asked while cyan energy streamed around him to pour into me. As the light faded, it revealed that the Vizier hadn’t escaped the battle unscathed, either. His face was red with dried blood, rivulets running from his eyes, nose and mouth all the way to his chin.
He caught me staring, grimaced, and haphazardly wiped his face with the back of his hand.
Feeling a bit sheepish, I shook my head. “Fine,” I said, still out of breath. “Just gotta wait for my CPU to cool down a little, then we can go.”
{CPU Load: 21%}
{Core Temp: 79° C}
{[Arx, Saint’s Embrace] IS NOW ACTIVE.}
I almost laughed. Arx… I was pretty sure that was what saved me when the wolf smacked me off the roof. In a way, it made a certain, weird kind of sense. A firewall worked by monitoring incoming requests, but everything in here was digital, which meant every attack was a cyberattack.
I decided to sit and wait for just a second longer, resting my elbows on my knees and my forehead on my palms. My rage had slowly ebbed away while Zephyro and I spoke, leaving me more exhausted than before. It was still there, though. A fire sweltering in the hearth, ready whenever I needed it.
It would be soon, I knew. I only hoped that when the time came, I could keep it under control.
> Patti and I are sitting on a bench, somewhere in Uldyn Castle.
>
> Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
>
> She has her hand on my back, pushes a lock of hair out of my face.
> I am holding a letter in my shaking hands, torn between rolling it up to keep the memory, or rip it to pieces.
> “Focus, Sam. Stay with me. I know it hurts, but you can do it. Just breathe, slow on the exhale…”
I wiped the corners of my eyes.
Fuck!
Fuck.
Fuck, Patti.
Why did you have to fucking go and fucking die?
After wiping my eyes again, I looked up, barely keeping the shakes out of my breathing. Zephyro had moved a few steps back, checking the empty street for threats. It reminded me that there were still enemies out there, and that I didn’t have time to sit in the dirt and fucking sniffle.
I was the Torchbearer. The Torchbearer didn’t sniffle.
“Any news about the Shackled?” I said, voice carefully controlled as I pushed myself to my feet.
“Humans came in and stopped their feasting. They commanded the Shackled to destroy my last cameras soon after.”
“So, they’re more organized now?”
“It appears so, Sultana.”
“Fuck.” I said.
“Indeed, Sultana.” Zephyro said in his usual, even voice. “We have even more reason to hurry. Besides, after you announced our presence like you just did, it won’t be long until the next pack of Ferals comes to investigate.”
Something about the way he said it flipped a switch in me, and suddenly I felt very cold, and then very hot as the Torch ignited in my hand.
And with that, my anger sparked, roaring in my ears. I let it burn in my eyes as I stared at the Vizier. “Would you have rather I died?” it took me a moment before I could press those words through trembling lips.
“Of course not, Sultana,” Zephyro said, not nearly as taken aback as earlier. He was starting to disrespect me. “I was just stating a fact. You are not to blame for the actions of these Hyenas Al-La'eenin".”
My anger told me to let it out, to lash out again.
But didn’t I just say I wanted to keep it under control?
> Patti is holding my hands and my entire world has shrunken down to her.
> “Who do you want to be, Sam?”
I still couldn’t answer that question.
So, as if that memory had been the drop that broke the damn, I cried instead. They were angry tears, flowing quietly from narrowed eyes and over clenched teeth. I didn’t want to cry like a goddamn little girl, didn’t want to be this weak and vulnerable, but it helped. At least a little. It was definitely better than being goddamn angry all the time.
Fuck, but it helped.
I just wished Chris was here, or Patti, or Stax, or Lorelye, any one of my friends, really. Or all of them at once, just one more time. Even fucking Olre, like he had been before Patti died.
Zephyro came closer, reaching out, but I shied away from his touch.
“Sorry,” I said, after releasing a shuddering breath. “It’s nothing personal, I just…”
“As you say, Sultana.”
“You said you were scared of me, earlier, right?” I asked.
“Indeed, Sultana,” Zephyro replied in that frustratingly self-assured way of his.
I needed to wipe that smile off his face, to restore that balance of power. For reasons I didn’t understand, the more time I spent with Zephyro, the more trapped I felt, and the more the Vizier showed his goddamn compassion, the worse the feeling got. In an instant, all I wanted was for him to stay as far away as possible, and so I prepared to tell him that he was right to be afraid, and list all of the horrible things I had done.
“I wasn’t always like this,” I said instead, unable to stop the words from barreling out. As I struggled to keep my mouth shut, I played with the button on my Torch, and finally, it clicked off, its flames dying away. With a deep sigh, I ran my free hand over my face and through my hair, still surprised to see it was black.
In the end, I lost my struggle with silence, and gave in. “Before I realized I had a Gift, I was just scared and lonely, but then I discovered the Wish. Then I was scared and lonely and powerful, which is not a good combination,” I said. I blurted out the words at first, then got slower and slower. “Not a good combination at all…”
Zephyro wore a quiet smile, but didn’t interrupt me, even though I wished he would because this all felt so damn silly and dangerous at the same time.
“I quickly learned that being angry was better than being scared, because it keeps you going, you know?”
“Indeed, Sultana. But as hot as wrath burns, it consumes you, too.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” I said, words searing. I immediately caught myself again, grimacing. “Sorry, I… fuck, I don’t know what else to do.”
“What helped you in the past, Sultana? The tales speak of your fury, but you couldn’t have come as far as you did with rage alone.”
I nodded slowly, staring into the distance.
> Stax and I are done sparring for the day. We’re sitting on one of the benches placed in the training yard of Wexler Castle, and I am contemplating resting my head on his shoulder. He said I did well, and so I’m in a good mood, but then he has to go and ruin my mood by saying something stupid.
> “You fight like mad, Sam.”
> “Thank you,” I reply with a grin.
> He smiles back, but shakes his head. “I didn’t mean that as a compliment. You have a lot of power, and you fight like possessed, but there is no grace, no poise.”
> “Well fucking excuse me. We can’t all be ballerinas, Stax.”
> “What is a ballerina?” he asks, and I grunt in annoyance, but answer anyhow.
> “Where I come from, there are these women who do this elaborate, very dainty sort of dance called ballet.”
> “So it’s precise?”
> “I guess.”
> His smile widens, because of course he would be interested in something that’s both a dance and precise.
> “No, I can’t teach you,” I pre-empt his question.
> “A shame. It would be good if you could. It would make it easier to learn how to fight properly.”
> “Uh-huh.” Sure.
> “Fighting is about precision. About being in control. When you fight, you let your anger drive you.”
> I snort derisively “What else should I fight with? Compassion and kind words?”
> He chuckles. “No, no. But you need to start using the anger instead of letting it use you. Ask yourself: Who would you rather be? A weapon, or the one who wields it?”
> The answer is easy. “The wielder, of course. The weapon just does whatever who’s in charge makes it do.”
> “Between you and the Anger, who is the wielder, and who is the weapon, Sam?”
With a deep breath, I let the memory go. It took me another moment before I could reply to Zephyro, and when I did, my voice was far more somber.
“I had my friends. They kept me on the straight and narrow and always knew how to calm me down or think about things in a different way. Oh, and I had power armor,” I added with a derisive smirk. “It’s easy to stay calm when you’re wearing half a ton of servo-powered magitech that projects an antithaumaturgic forcefield. That is, until you get a brutal reminder that you can’t be everywhere at once.”
“Ah,” Zephyro said and nodded knowingly. He was looking at me like one of those teachers who cares too much about their students and doesn’t know what to do with that one. The one who grew up in a violent household.
It was clear he knew what I meant, but I forced myself to say it anyway.
“Yeah. Just because I am invulnerable, doesn’t mean the people I care about are, too.”
Zephyro stood silent, arms crossed, gaze as grieflost as mine had been just a minute ago.
“But,” I said, “I guess you know what that’s like.”
“Indeed, Sultana,” Zephyro said, expression still distant. He stood strong, head high, and yet I knew he must be struggling as much if not more than me. There still was a certain sadness in his eyes that I probably understood better than most. It wasn’t hard to imagine what they were seeing. His city on fire, his people getting slaughtered by wild beasts and faceless soldiers alike. Those who survived would get enslaved unless he brought a very angry woman to his palace so that she… I still didn’t know what I had to do, but I knew then and there that I would do it. If not for myself, then for Zephyro at least.
No one deserved to feel like he had to be feeling now.
“You want to keep going?” I asked, my voice surprisingly firm.
“Are you feeling better, Sultana?” he asked back as if that was the only thing that mattered.
I wanted to lie, to say I had myself under control again, but I couldn’t. There was too much inside me to fix in a single conversation, and there was still a long way to go before I would even begin feeling alright. I just hoped it wouldn’t get worse before it got better. I thought of Underbrook, and there was a twinge in my heart.
“No,” I finally replied, surprising myself by telling the truth. “I’m not okay, and I’m still in pain.”
I looked up and watched another star vanishing into the darkness, then I returned my attention to Zephyro. “But pain is the price of progress.”
He smiled wanly, but by the time he turned to meet my gaze, he was brimming with conviction. Just that one quick look told me that he fully believed I was the saint the Adherents claimed I was; A woman who would single-handedly save his entire people, and not a scared, lonely girl getting crushed by the sum of their expectations.