Jerome stood there stunned. This truly was Achilles?! “Uhm,” he said to focus his thoughts. “I thought you were in trouble.”
“Nothing I can’t fix, Xerae, so hurry along.” she shooed him.
He narrowed his eyes on her. “Dashani was consuming you, Achilles. Light! I have to give you a new name.”
Achilles looked away. Then she pointed at the moving mass of bodies in the sky. “There. That’s where the avatar of my nexus is. This body with you now is just a copy. In a few more hours, Dashani would have completely consumed what I am. But there’s no need to fret. I have already backed up my data in Sanctum.”
“And what if she used what she consumes from you to access Sanctum?”
Achilles went silent. That told him all he needed to know.
“Yeah, let’s get to work, shall we?”
The battle going on in the distance didn’t look like it would be winding down anytime soon. There were so many explosions occurring in the distance that he feared he’d be caught up in them and lose his… soul. Apparently, this was an avatar of his soul.
He didn’t feel any different though. Except he had no core here. No essence.
“Fuck!” he said as realization hit him. “I have no core in this form.”
“You have to leave, Xerae. I’m protecting you as best as I can. But it wouldn’t be long before she finds you.”
Jerome turned around, bringing thoughts of the mind-calming stone to the forefront of his mind. He wasn’t going anywhere until he saved Achilles. Warmth spread throughout his body. A warmth that stayed just underneath his skin. He looked at his hands, noticing that he was glowing mutely for the first time — a white glow.
Achilles gasped in surprise and he smirked. He gave himself a once over. His avatar was putting on a black leather long coat, leather vest, pants, and thigh high boots. It made sense. This was one of his favorite get up. But unfortunately, none of it was enchanted.
“I came here to help you, Achilles. And that’s what I’ll do. Question though; if I get hit, do I die? I mean I’m a soul, right? I don’t have the protection of my body right now.”
Achilles sighed. He needed to give her another name.
“What you are right now is an avatar of your soul, Xerae. And this place, like I said, is the realm of the mind. From your perception, it may look and feel close to the reality you know. That’s because it’s a reflection of what you know… as is your body. But we don’t have time—”
Something bulldozed into her — a glowing mammoth of a creature that appeared out of nowhere. It glowed with a dark purple light like black light. More of them came after him and Jerome leapt out of the way. The warmth inside him spread to the surface of his skin and the glow he was giving off intensified — white, with a blue hue. Just like Achilles had shown him when he was ramming Csala. He quickly turned his thoughts away from that event.
His leap carried him far and he discovered he couldn’t fly here. But the energy thrumming inside him could support his leaps or was it the gravity that was different here? Was there even gravity? Jerome shot after one of the glowing, mammoth creatures. A small one, smaller than the rest in the group but at least ten times his size.
He punched it with a fist and felt his whole avatar nearly shatter. Jerome groaned in pain, pain that reached deep inside him. To a place, he could only call his core. But he made sure to keep his eyes open. The creature he punched was separated from the group. It wailed in pain as well and he noticed the point where his fist contacted the creature was turning into prismatic light. The rest went after Achilles, probably deeming her a greater threat.
Jerome tried to understand the strange energy thrumming through his body. He felt like he recognized it but couldn’t place a finger on it. He tried to take hold of it and direct it like he would essence.
Nothing happened.
Jerome dumped the idea. He didn’t have the time to practice right now. At least the strange energy was still present inside him. He shot toward the wounded creature, which tried to escape. Jerome was having none of that.
Clenching his right fist, he imagined channeling the strange energy to it — which never happened — as he took running leaps toward the creature. Its movement seemed weak and Jerome was gaining on it. Just before he punched it again, something intangible hit him, blasting him sideways.
Jerome tried to look up but his eyes hurt. Purple energy washed over him in such great intensity that he couldn’t even lift himself. Suddenly, it dawned on him where he had felt this strange energy. The mystic kin. Theirs were not as powerful as this though.
But he was losing parts of himself. Jerome could feel it. And see it. Motes of white light were leaving his avatar!
“Xerae! Hold on!” Achilles screamed. “Whatever you do, do not use your psychic energy!”
Too late.
He swirled his psychic energy around him, pushing the energy away. The white energy had receded below the surface of his form but it stirred again, filling him with warmth. Jerome imagined it as a cocoon to protect himself. But he knew it was his psychic energy protecting him. All was in the bid to take control of the energy. He began pushing back the purple energy.
He sensed the creature he had wanted to punch flying toward him. It flew like it was swimming through the air — its gigantic frame twisting every which way, which slowed it down considerably. The thing was as big as a great white. Jerome waited, timing its arrival. Just before it barreled into him, he threw another punch at it. The creature burst into purple goo and splattered the dark ground. The goo was quickly absorbed as though the stain was never there.
Achilles was beside him the next moment. “How do you have access to this energy?”
“I don’t know. And I also can’t control it,” he said. “But it reminds me of the arcane energy the mystic kin wield.”
“That it does.” She handed him a spear. “That is a mental construct. If there was time, I would have taught you how to manipulate your dream aura to construct one.”
“I can now use my dream aura?”
Achilles glared at him. “Every living being potentially can, Xerae. Without access though, that’s impossible. Some are at the level where they can access it but you, Xerae, are not! Which is one of the reasons why you shouldn’t be here!”
“Access. Yes. Thanks. Sorry,” he said apologetically, caressing the spear. He’d never seen Achilles angry like this before. Or he’d never seen Achilles, period. The weapon felt light in his hand. Not what he was used to but it would do for now.
“You shouldn’t have used your psychic energy. Dashani would have picked up your psychic signature by now… or even worse.”
The creatures attacked.
~~~
Csala
“Your imagination and will are key to using your dream aura to construct anything, Csala,” Tialana said as she combed through her red tresses. Her ministrations were so soothing that Csala wanted to just curl up in her embrace and sleep.
They were sitting in a small hole in the ground. Or at least that was what it looked like. The ground was as dark as midnight and she couldn’t figure out what it felt like. A barrier, maybe, but even the texture was alien to her senses.
She had tried to construct a blade but she was too distracted. She leaned against Tialana’s bosom, wanting to remain there forever.
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“You can create illusions, right?” Tialana asked and she hummed in reply. “Well, the process is the same, only more intensive.”
Csala sighed. “I can’t concentrate. Tell me about yourself, please.”
“Oh, where do I start? Have you ever heard the story of Ilyrrah, the fae?”
Csala shook her head.
“What about the rumbling?”
“That, I’ve heard of. It is said two enemies fought and their battle created the continents of Terra Praeta.”
“One of them was Ilyrrah,” Tialana said.
Csala could hear the longing in her voice, which surprised her. “I thought they were fae.”
“Yes, they were,” Tialana said. “And I fell in love with one of them. He’s the reason you have Jerome now.”
“What?” Csala raised herself so she could see Tialana as she spoke.
“I see the cycle repeating itself again,” Tialana said. “Ilyrrah once was the emissary of Mother Nature. He was tasked with stopping the Fae from destroying the world. Even if it meant the extinction of their species. I was beside him nearly the whole time. We loved each other.”
Csala couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Succubi mustn’t—”
“Succubi must not lie with men, else they lose their free will. Yes. I know the laws.” Tialana rolled her eyes.
“It is said that you held your daughter in your arms as you migrated south. Your daughter was this… Ilyrrah’s?”
“Yes, Csala. And from her I have you as a descendant,” Tialana said, giving her a motherly smile.
Csala was too stunned to speak after that.
“That’s why Muna was out to get your body at all cost. You are the only living succubus whose body was compatible with her soul… because you both came from me. She lost her way. But you found Terra Praeta’s new emissary. Just like I found Ilyrrah all those eons ago.
“Listen, Csala. We’ve been deceived and lied to since the beginning. Succubi can have love in their lives. The god who named the planet was the one who created all this mess. For in the working of his power, he doomed us to never wield essence, to be bound like slaves to males — or females in the case of the incubi.
“But there is a way to change all of it.”
Csala searched her eyes, waiting for her to continue. When Tialana said nothing, she asked, “How?”
“Jerome would need to rename the planet.”
“That would kill him!”
“When he is stronger, Csala. For now, you have to do all you can to have him rename you — when he enters the Spirit Realm. It would be good practice for him. I now have a chance to speak with him. And I’ll do right by you. For now, this is all I can tell you. Come. Form your weapon. It’s time to meet up with Jerome.”
~~~
They fought their way out of the group of creatures. The demons had tried to surround them and wear them down but together they were able to defeat every last one of them.
“What were those things anyway?” Jerome asked Achilles as they raced toward the battlefield in the distance. Not that he’d be able to fight; the battle was going on high in the sky, and he couldn’t fly. It would take a miracle to participate in it.
But somewhere up there was Achilles’ real avatar going through hell, probably.
“Dreams, if you’d believe. They are the color of dream aura to your senses, right?” she replied.
Jerome nodded. Achilles kept her gaze on him as they raced toward the battle.
“What?”
Her gaze seemed to bore into him. “What are you going to do when we get there, Jerome? How are you going to reach the battle? As you can see, it’s happening in the sky… and you can’t fly here.”
“I’ll figure something out. I got myself here, didn’t I?”
Achilles said nothing after that. Uncomfortable silence took over the atmosphere. She flew next to him as he took running leaps. It was fast, but not as fast as flying.
The battlefield approached slowly — or at least, underneath it. Achilles rose in altitude, away from him. Leaving him to find his own way. He was glad she hadn’t attempted to help him out. It showed she trusted he was competent enough to get himself there. Plus… his ego would’ve taken a hit if she had.
But now he was left alone to ponder what to do next. Jerome didn’t bother thinking much about it. He applied his psychic energy, using it to power his next jump. He shot into the air like a shell from an artillery, approaching the battle with a single jump.
Jerome’s skull pounded the moment he got close. The chaos of the battle shook the world around him, he felt like his avatar was going to shatter again. His vision blurred as some of the warriors in the air moved faster than he could track; their clash with the army of monsters resulted in vast amounts of energy being displaced. Lightning crackled everywhere around him and explosions rippled across the battlefield, making him concussed.
He shot over the battle, his eyes taking in the scene and Jerome felt his non-existent heart still. With his psychic energy, he changed direction, coming at the creature holding Achilles bound; an octopus-looking creature had its tentacles wrapped around Achilles. If the creatures they had fought were dreams, this was a nightmare! It was hideous to look at; a kraken from myths come alive! One of its giant eyes sighted him and the monsters which had been ignoring him pounced.
The first to reach him was as thin as a blade. Seriously, its limbs and hair were shiny metal blades that cut into his avatar before he knew what was going on. The creature grinned wickedly at him. Jerome reached up with his spear but the blade in his arm was gone, with half his arm with it.
He roared, pushing his psychic energy. The monster burst into prismatic light as he plummeted to the ground. His spear hit him in the face and he quickly grabbed a hold of it. Monsters were fighting off a Fae army who were trying to stop whatever the octopus was doing. Jerome sliced through an unsuspecting monster on his way down.
He was plummeting fast. And the rest of his arm was diffusing, breaking away into motes of white light. Jerome held onto his stomp, his spear to his chest as he raced toward the darkness that was the ground. He didn’t feel pain but he knew he had to do something or he was finished. The strange energy inside him was pulsing in him and spreading warmth so he concentrated on it, closing his eyes.
Jerome heard the screech of a creature that dove down toward him. He kept his eyes closed but his psychic energy active. He tried to reach for the strange energy inside him again to no avail. The creature was close; he could sense it. But this one was different. Denser. Stronger.
He swirled his psychic energy around him, aiming, preparing. He couldn’t miss. With a pulse, he shot it at the creature after him. It left him like a laser, shooting far faster than anything he’d ever shot.
The creature dodged — too bad. Jerome felt himself jerked downward from the kickback of the shot. He opened his eyes in surprise. He missed but he learned something new. The creature pushed off nothing, the space behind it warping slightly as it shot downward faster. Jerome noticed it was like the previous one he destroyed — body, sleek and blade-like. Its limbs were actual blades. A version 2.0, maybe.
He was closer to the ground now, he could sense it. Enough battle had trained him to use his perception on everything around him, every time. Just before it barreled into him, he pushed his psychic energy sideways, moving out of the way. The creature followed as though it could predict his every move. Jerome pushed again, dancing around. He needed to master it… make it like flying. As it was now, he was clumsy in the air. Fast, but clumsy.
Suddenly, the creature pushed off the air again. It was upon him in an instant. Jerome spun his spear, deflecting the bladed arm of the creature. Now that he saw it clearly, it reminded him of the Children of the Mother. Classic.
The spinning of his blade helped to delay the inevitable as he fell — for now. But for how long? He was running out of time. He needed to think; to be creative. He shot a psychic blast at the creature again. It spun in the air, the invisible energy grazing the back of its arm.
Success. Small, though it may be. Dream aura bled off the point of contact. The creature — demon really — roared in rage. That was what he was going to call them. Jerome pushed off the air toward it, impaling it with his spear before it could move out of the way.
They fell. And bounced off the ground, hard. Jerome used the demon to break his fall. But it was a hardy bastard. Even the spear impaling it did little to slow it down. It clawed at him, pulling and trying to bash his head into the ground with its bladed arms. Jerome pulled his spear out of it as they bounced off the ground again. They rolled down a hill as they fought. But with only one hand it was hard to keep a demon with four blades at bay. And it was fast as hell.
The demon impaled him and Jerome felt his insides begin to melt. It hurt like hell. There was no pain compared to it.
“Bastard!” he screamed. He spun his spear to deflect one of the bladed arms but a lower limb stabbed him in the thigh, pinning him to the ground.
“How foolish you are, boy!” it hissed at him in a loud whisper. The voice was feminine, raspy, and filled with contempt.
“Dashani?”
The demon was taken aback at the mention of the name. Jerome had figured it was a clone of the Mother or she was talking through it. He sliced through the limb pinning him down but the creature grabbed him by the neck, lifting him up as its limb fell away.
“I should thank you,” Dashani said. “For delivering yourself to me.”
She slammed him on the ground and Jerome felt the core of his being convulse. He was bleeding light from many different wounds now. His vision was starting to swirl.
“Fuck you,” he croaked out.
Her right bladed arm transformed into a hand and grabbed him by the lapel of his long coat. “With pleasure.”
Her left bladed arm stabbed him in the heart. Pain, unlike anything he’d ever felt, radiated through him. Jerome screamed. He held onto the blade arm wanting to push it out. With his waning strength, all he could do was hang on to it.
Jerome felt the warmth in his core recede to his heart. Or where his heart should be. Where he was stabbed. There was no heartbeat. But there was pain. So much pain. Warmth too, but that was around his heart — his soul, perhaps. The rest of him was going cold; going stiff. He felt so exhausted. He tried to keep his eyelids open to no avail.
“Welcome to the First Heaven, human,” Dashani said. “Your graveyard. You should be honored.”