When the sisters finished their hug, Liat waved toward Fomoria.
He didn’t hesitate a moment.
“It’s been too long.”
“You seem happy.”
Her voice was weak, ready to break into tears once more at a moment's notice.
“I’ve come to accept the things that I can change, I have the strength to change what I can, and I’m still working on the wisdom to know which is which.”
“That isn’t right. You don’t sound like yourself.”
“Well, it was a something from the Reinoan Holy Book.”
“That’s not what I mean… what’s wrong?”
“Yara, you can tell her if you want.”
“I think we both need to agree.”
“You don’t want to talk about it, I can feel that.”
Yara’s stomach was in knots, she hadn’t really accepted the fact yet, and seeing her sister in such a state wasn’t helpful.
“We can’t have children. Fomoria and I.”
Yet she pushed through.
“Why?”
“I don’t… we don’t know. Marigold told me that Aarde said we can’t have children together because I’m Golden, and he is Fomorian.”
Liat reached for Yara again, but she stepped back.
“I just have to accept it, like Fomoria. I don’t want to cry about it anymore.
You should give her a check up like you wanted. I’m going to just sit.”
The first thing that he noticed was that her soul was relatively healthy, but her mind was damaged.
Not her ability to think, she had suffered no brain damage, but her ethereal mind, the upstream of her soul.
The threads connecting her to the crossroads, which all people, psychic or not, were connected to.
He recalled what he knew about what the gods of Aarde actually did.
They worked as filters, and when people did certain things, using their words and hands along with intent and knowledge, the gods accepted these rituals and caused magic to be cast.
Across the world at any moment thousands of these requests were being sent and then filled out, and the process was automatic, no gods were looking at each spellcast and deciding yes or no.
Yet, ultimately, some of that mana was coming directly from the soul and being used to manipulate the atmospheric mana, which was Aarde’s.
“Try to cast a spell.”
“Which one.”
“Any of them. A simple light might be best though.”
She said the words and made the signs, but nothing happened outwardly.
“And once more.”
This time, he focused more on her mind than her soul.
“Hmm… try something that you can do with a simple gesture, signless and chantless.”
Rather than nothing, her light came out as nearly imperceptible, a gentle and dim glow at the tip of her finger.
“Interesting. Let me try…”
The instant he began to repair one of the frayed threads that connected her mind and soul, a foreboding feeling overcame him; he continued regardless.
His legs gave out and his soul felt drained, though it bothered him little.
“Yara, please grab a vial of tonic, I believe I’ve used everything inside of me.”
It couldn’t possibly be that easy, he thought, that he could so easily find the threads that connected Aarde to people, and then sever it.
At least, that was the working theory.
The other possibility was that severing those threads which numbered in the thousands and which even slightly unfraying took nearly everything he had in him, would just instantly kill him even if he could do it and because the mind is linked with the soul, perhaps it would be final death.
When Fomoria had a few minutes to process the tonic, rapidly metabolizing it into mana, he got back up from the seat Yara moved him to.
“Try that signless spell again.”
Liat did as asked, and this time the light was ever so slightly more noticeable.
As he looked at her, body, mind, soul, he also spoke with her, learned of Sam’s death, suggested work for her, and gained an understanding of what being severed meant while consuming bottle after bottle of tonic brought in from Kor.
He drank one more, and delved into himself.
In the past, he viewed the connection between the mind and soul as a single line, and that was presently what he saw.
Yet now he knew that this single line was truly a cord, woven so tightly that even looking for it he couldn’t see where the ones that he assumed were his began and the ones that he believed came from Aarde ended.
Her eyes began to droop, she was feeling better, and with lesser pain meant an easier rest.
“Yara, I’m going to see Ava, do you want to come?”
“I’ll stay with her.”
He kissed her before leaving.
Ava had been waiting, and when Fomoria knocked, she had a pit in her stomach.
The instant she opened the door, she tried to speak, but Fomoria went for a hug instead.
“Alright, let’s start.”
“I’m sorr-”
“No need to apologize. I know what I’ve done, and I know we’ve lived different lives, so you don’t understand things from my point of view.”
Both indignity and guilt came over her.
“I need to show you something, let’s just put a pin in this until then, alright?”
She took a deep breath and let it go.
“Good. Lie down, place your hands on your stomach, roll up your sleeves, and make a hole over your stomach so your hands can rest on your skin.”
She moved to her bed and did as asked.
When Fomoria peered into her soul, or rather, the area where her soul was, he also saw Lugh’s soul orbiting along with hers.
“Lugh, can you hear me?”
“YES! YES!”
“Good, now, just go with the flow, don’t resist what I’m going to do.
Ava, this is going to hurt, my pain relieving spells are more for physical pain.”
“What are you-”
Fomoria began to slowly plunge his hand through her skin, and the natural response of the fused being was to reinforce the area.
Fomoria grabbed at the metal both physically and spiritually, and began to pull.
It was difficult, as if he was ripping apart magnets.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
The longer Lugh remained in her, the closer the orbiting souls became, the more her flesh became their flesh.
Fomoria had to be careful, the skin and muscle around her stomach was entirely metallic, and it clung to her.
Guards rushed into the room upon hearing the screams.
“WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE?”
With another set of hands, Fomoria put up a veil over Ava.
“You don’t have authority here, remove yourselves from the room while I perform this surgery.”
“YOU-”
Fomoria’s head turned 180 degrees to look at the men.
“I will not ask a second time.”
The guards themselves were there with the royals, but were not royal guards, and would not last more than a handful of moments against someone of Fomoria’s ferocity.
The men shivered in the sight of the predator, and the nearby golems understood in their primitive minds that they should save these men who were listed as soft allies.
It took only a few minutes, but it felt like hours to Ava, who was, in a sense, giving birth.
When Fomoria felt Lugh’s soul fully leave his sister, he gave one final pull.
It seemed somewhat unkind, but he quickly tossed Lugh to the side and began to heal Ava.
Physically it was simple, her stomach had a hole in it, and her intestines had similar damage.
Spiritually, her soul had become used to orbiting alongside Lugh, and now needed to come to a stop.
He started applying pressure on her soul, and though it was not physical, the energy being let loose was not unlike that of a spinning ball, and across his body patches of skin were torn from him as his soul attempted to reverse the spin and slow hers.
Fomoria knelt on the floor, only one arm was left on his body, his jaw was gone, and his body let off steam due to the energy being let out by his sigil.
Ava had passed out, Lugh had not yet woken.
New muscles, dark as a starless night, wove themselves, shadows reaching around the room grabbed the chunks of flesh and put them back on his body.
Fomoria stood and let out a hot breath, whole again.
Once more, an Other arrived via a void gate with a large tonic.
“If you continue like this, we are going to need to talk about shifting food production towards the manufacture of tonic beyond what we do now.”
When Fomoria spoke, he had a deeper, distant voice, caused by the void flesh replacing parts of his vocal cords.
“Check with Mercedes, find out if we can double production.”
“Very well.”
Even the Other found Fomoria unsettling in his current state, a patchwork of pale and pitch skin and bone, a strange look in his eyes.
The new Others, the ones that had been made since Fomoria learned about Aarde telling him who he could and couldn’t have a child with, were noticeably happier, calmer, but those that interacted with them felt something was off.
It has been said that a cold fury is far more terrifying than an open rage.
Before Fomoria left, not even telling Yara that he was going or for how long, he placed Lugh with Ava, giving him an adamant claw, giving her a tonic, and cleaning the room of his remaining pieces.
Messages came through, but the first he wanted to deal with was Hirum.
There was little wait, he was nearly rushed into the office.
“Does it work?”
“Yes. I would like to bring you to the spire.”
“The one inside the veil or outside?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Hirum hesitated, but went along with him.
Looking over the edge, it was clear that they were outside of the veil.
“It isn’t much different than inside.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that before. There is somebody I would like you to meet, provided he is available.”
“Before that, I’ve seen enough to believe that your magic is real, and now I only need scrolls to be provided with some level of information so we have physical proof showcasing the existence of this.”
“No.”
“I-”
“I don’t care about the title of archmage, but I do want that land. I cannot trust the existence of my mental relays to you, as you’ve clearly shown by the loss of the golem armor scrolls which have extended the civil war, scrolls which were not even granted to you in the first place. Clearly you are willing to independently verify and replicate magic which was not yours. So, these spires, and the relays high above them, exist as physical evidence of my magic existing. If you refuse to grant me the title, I will take the spire and move it to the Reinoan coast.”
Hirum scoffed, not only at the gall, but the ridiculousness.
“The Reinoans would never let your island get anywhere near their borders.”
“That would be the case if not for an alliance between Titania and Aarde. I wasn’t given the details, but The Darkness acted as the mediator. I could send you back and you could speak with Fragile Peace to confirm this.”
Hirum was taken aback by the news, but he wryly chuckled.
“Then we will need to give you a name. I will not think of one on the spot, I would like to come together with a few other archmagi.”
“Very well. I have received word that my friend is ready to meet you, if you have the time.”
“I shall see him.”
Out of a void gate stepped Romulus, and with him, Bartholomew.
Hirum knew in an instant that they were the Goliaths which Fomoria had once described to him, but he found their skin quite odd.
Romulus was closer to a Golden skintone, but Bartholomew was darker, a tone that did not exist in the species inside the veil. Not to mention the way that he wore his hair, braided into thick ropes.
“I did not realize Romulus would come with you.”
Bartholomew didn’t look away, but Fomoria could feel his being contrite.
“He requested to come with me when he heard about our meeting.”
“Hmm… Hirum, meet the King of Lith, Romulus, and my friend, Bartholomew.
Romulus, what are you doing here?”
“I ask that you be mindful of your tone.”
Fomoria’s pupils quivered as he tried to prevent showing his aggression.
“No. You came into a meeting intended to be between Hirum and Bartholomew without asking me at all, don’t speak about rudeness after what you’ve done.”
Romulus towered over all of them there, they could hear his heartbeat and the tension of his muscles as he flexed.
“Yes, I suppose you are right. You are Hirum, the leader of a magical academy.”
“The Grand Academy, no greater place of learning exists in the world.”
“The Imperial Academies would surely argue otherwise. What is the cost of attendance?”
“We are the magical academy, you are anti-magic.”
“With the help of young Fomoria, we have gone past that restriction.”
Romulus lit a fireball in his massive seven fingered hand.
“We currently have a few empty spots, but we can’t let you bring more than a dozen Goliaths, provided you can give a reason for me to allow you to take those spots, and that you can follow our rules.”
“We don’t exist within the veil, we are anti-magic that has lifted that restriction, we-”
“Let me correct you, Fomoria lifted that restriction, you did not. Unique is not an inherent good.
If you would like, I could let you make an appointment, but as Fomoria said, this meeting was not to be between you and I. A secretary could answer your questions and ascertain your suitability for-”
Hirum had no desire to play politics, not anymore, and not with someone who he had thought had an issue with entitlement, who only barely held back his anger.
“A secretary? I am-”
“Titles do not matter, only talent. Each year roughly 5000 new students are added to the academy, of them, 1000 make it through the full four years, not counting the one year students who are grown men and women interested in specific subjects. Prove that you have any good reason to be granted access or don’t bother me any longer.”
Romulus narrowed his eyes and puffed out his chest, but when Hirum’s tattoos began to glow more brightly, instinct questioned the viability of fighting him.
“Then it would be best for an appointment to be set. I assume it would be little issue for you to bring messages back and forth, Emperor Fomoria?”
It was not lost on any present the change in tone when he wanted something from Fomoria.
“There is no need, this place here will let you communicate through the veil. Hirum, should I bring your secretary here so they can connect amulets with the king?”
“My amulet is linked with hers, she screens all my calls before they reach me anyway.”
Fomoria tilted his head to the side in that birdlike way and his eyes slit.
Hirum’s tattoos glowed as he felt Fomoria’s desire.
“I must look into how you do that.”
“I have faith that you can learn to do so, but I would be willing to negotiate the information.”
“No need.”
He straightened his head and his eyes returned to a rounded pupil.
“Before you all leave, since I do have another appointment, I was bringing Bartholomew here to suggest that he might attend the academy for at least a year as a trial run to push the Goliath magic, since it has shown to be more on the level of an adolescent than an adult mage.
Bartholomew, I intended you to bring this news back to Romulus, who would then ask for more of your kind to enter the academy, I suppose this is the outcome I wished for anyway. Goodbye.”
For the Goliaths, a normal gate, for Hirum, a void gate.
Each could tell by the end that something was very off about him, but they kept quiet for now, thinking it was just normal abnormality.
Fomoria’s last appointment for the day came through the gate begging, dragged by the marshall of her lands.
“That isn’t befitting a queen. You remember what I told your predecessor?”
“Please, I’m trying, I-”
“Shh… I know, but please, answer the question.”
“You, you told him about defenestration, right before you tossed him out of his window.”
“Close, but that was my window. There are nations which I am allied with, and nations which I have subjugated. When that king failed, not out of lacking time, but out of an attempt to subvert my charter, your nation went from an ally to a subject.”
The former advisor who had been forced into the role of ruler hesitated when Fomoria offered a hand.
“Come, stand.”
He brought her close to the edge, though she tried to avoid it.
“What do you see? Not much with your eyes closed.”
“If you’re going to kill me, just do it. I did everything that I could.”
“I said something very important before, think, figure out what it was.”
The woman kept her eyes closed, thinking of the few words they shared.
“I don’t know.”
“The last ruler failed because he was actively working against me, but you have truly given your all in trying to reform your nation. Yet you still ran out of time, you couldn’t do it. Why is that?”
“When I push too hard, my people keep ending up dead. I have to move slowly, suss out who my enemies really are.”
“I will be providing a few of my spies, and the ones in training. This will be considered a learning experience for them, since my heads of spycraft will begin to die of old age before terribly long.
They will assist you in figuring out who is behind the deaths.”
“And my replacement?”
“You have done what you can, and you have shown prudence in trying to protect your people from acts of violence even though it meant upsetting me, possibly costing your own life. That is a noble act, and if you would like, I would rather you remain as queen, and that your nation returns to an allied status.”
Finally, she opened her eyes, and saw the beauty of being so high up.
“Yes, I would be glad for your help.”
“Thank you. You may now return home, my people will meet you there momentarily.”
Fomoria went inside the spire to the throne room, sitting for a time.
The last of the three messages for him was from Roland, Magne invited Yara and him to dinner.