Chapter 35—Magic

It all started when humanity wondered what the Luster was. Some thousand, or maybe millions of years ago—some amount of time Micaela couldn't conceive—someone with more questions than they'd ever find answers, looked upon the strange light and asked themselves what it was they saw. Others followed, here and there in the corners of the world, surrounded by lights of different colors—seeds of wisdom they only had to sow. Someone asked what the Luster was, and the strange lights said back, “Whatever you want me to be.”

That wasn’t quite right but they might as well have been the words. Luster was the parent that always had an answer to the how and why. It could always fulfill young dreams. It made the word “impossible” a lie. So, why wouldn’t humanity become desperate when they heard it no more? Why wouldn’t her kind—more ignorant than she could measure—not think they slighted it? Why wouldn’t they think they had to beg for forgiveness? Of course humanity turned Luster into gods, there had to be someone they could appease. There had to be someone they could offer to, someone to whom a sacrifice could make everything right.

Luster was that and so much more, and to even explain she had to ask.

“So…what’s next?”

“How about we start with what you learned from that little experience?” Khalaf offered, and Micaela let out a long sigh.

“Where do I even start!” She said at full volume, throwing her hands above her head. “It was insane, undeniably insane, and that was the scariest thing I’ve ever dealt with. If you’re telling me Adale isn’t as powerful as the eternal dude, then I’m telling you that I don’t want to fight him. That woman was something else entirely and you’re telling me there is worse!” She dragged her hands down her face.

“Ah, incomprehensible terror. I wonder how that feels.” Khalaf looked at King.

“Beyond all that, did you discern anything we could use?” The number asked, and Micaela huffed.

“Yes. I think, but it's kind of crazy." All of it was crazy when she thought about it, not an ounce existed in the realm of the sane. "Luster is Light, right? Except no, it's not." She shook her head frantically. "It's actually a god, right? Except that's not it either!" She threw her hands up exhaustively. “All right, then it must be the undead memory of the first society! Knowledge. Lessons. The memory of teachers! Etc, so forth, yeah?” She offered her hands emphatically.

“It’s all of that.” King replied.

“It’s all of that!” She shouted again. “It’s all of that and more. It’s light and light is energy. Energy is matter. And matter is everything!” She held her head. “And that means Luster is everything, it’s just about how you use it.” How could one thing be everything? How could she sum that up in a way that made sense? Suddenly, it struck her, and Micaela covered her mouth. “Oh my god, it’s magic.”

Khalaf cackled. “Ah, the other shoe just dropped. Well, what was that thing Clarke said? Sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic?”

“Who?”

“Magic?” King looked at them.

"Of course, you don't know what that is. It’s… It's…" In other words, another way to sum it up.

“It’s laughing in the face of impossibility.” Khalaf grinned as that seemed to work.

“A lot of physics goes into making a plane fly, or putting something in orbit around the world. It took our species a long time to get there, but if we still remembered the Luster, we would have known right away. It would have taught us to fly without planes, all centralized within ourselves. When people like the royal children sprout wings, they’re…” Micaela crossed her arms.

“Driving a car without knowing how all the pieces of it work.” Khalaf offered. Micaela nodded!

“So Refraction is a form of magic then?” King asked.

She shook her head, then wavered her hand. “No, but yes. It’s like lesson one. You have to know how to do things with your Luminance first. All the big stuff, like reviving people isn’t even the next lesson, it’s the next few decades of lessons.” She thought about that for a moment. “Let’s change up our terminology a bit too. Rather than rewriting the memory of life, let’s say Castle Cerulean reignited it, and Cerulean…” Micaela laughed. “They had to steal that knowledge from someone else.”

“From whom?”

“From the sister and the brother, maybe.” Khalaf nodded. “The girl from the lost land.”

“Right! That cool archer! The princess ripped my light out when she caught me, but the archer chick shot me and it all came back. I lost maybe a few seconds, and…” Micaela looked at King. “You basically reignited me too.” She looked at his chest piece, still an unfamiliar symbol. Her eyes hadn’t dwelt on it for too long before, but now something struck her. “That mark let’s you use a certain class of magic. Its like a Crest, automatically changing both Luster and Luminance to follow specific rules. Your armor changes your magic type!”

“Its doing all the math for you.” Khalaf clapped.

“What was Luster to the Second Society?”

King followed her eyes. “Maybe a different form of magic. Fang’s shadows. The Umbra. Corroding the light. Turning us into god coffins so we could live again.” But then, what was Umbra? At this point, could he say he knew? Thinking about what he learned from Assassin and Fang, he made a guess. “Darkness is the absence of Light, right? Well what if that’s how Umbra works? Its grasping the darkness between particles of light.”

“Like being able to grab the water in a ravine! That’s what you grab a hold of when you use the Umbra!” Micaela clapped.

Khalaf replied. “Better yet, it's like feeling all the erosion in a mountain and using it to shape the mountain. If we say Air is the absence of a Mountain, we can get a better idea. Or maybe, the ocean is the absence of land."

“That’s insane. You can scale that up to saying its the absence of everything. Umbra is the power of the Void!”

King wondered about his master and Queen Adale. Why would he need her light at all? “What did she say about it…” He stole her hard work. “Micaela, do you have any of Adale’s memories?”

The woman frowned, "Not like, clearly, but enough you know? I have her Luster now. I have her everything. I just have to ask…?"

“What was her plan against the God Eternal?”

Micaela’s eyes glowed as the knowledge filled her mind. She almost toppled over but caught herself on the wall.

"She was going to reignite his light. Rather than kill him, she was going to take control. Everything once touched by orange would be touched by blue. She was going to usurp him, like…” Did she even have an example?

"The Crimson Prophet." King did, remembering the little moments he had seen before. Starting in the penthouse with an overwhelmed Gray. Then the two blues, so eager for the power they didn't even question turning purple. The Crimson Prophet was copying a god’s plan. Or maybe... following one?

⁘⁛⁘

“If you can read this line it is evident of the truth. The world has grown old and sickly, and some would rather it die than ever let it be something new. If you can read this line, you are chosen. I demand you kill this old and dying world.”

Above Corrosion and the weeping crowd, their multi-colored star was now completely crimson. The prayers rose harder, louder, sorrow too real for the words to escape, and with them came despair as the realization set in. Their god was not coming to save them. There would be no rapture, the worthy would not be spared. They were at the mercy of the Crimson Prophet, and they could see from their pastor's state that mercy was not on this beast's mind.

“God please! I have always been your loyal subject. How could you do this to me!” The man wailed.

“You have never served a God. You have never known a thing you think greater than yourself. You called upon beings with unfamiliar forms and long worshiped the blind and deaf idiot you fattened. You put Apathy on the throne, and now weep that it does not change!”

“To start. You must let go of that dying world. There are far more out there that you need to see. Leave that ruined place behind for now. Go to weaker worlds, and sharpen your fangs on them.”

“It has quickly become clear that you have only witnessed one divine form. It has broken you; forced you to your knees. It has demanded your prayers and yet you still deny it’s dominion.”

“You are no god, Devil!”

“You do not know what devils are!”

A black wound opened above the star. It bled and breathes, letting in dark mist and trickles of viscous fluids. Four arms breached it, grabbing hold of the sky. They pulled a feathered body through to the other side, and it stood, its vulture face pointed down. Despair quickly turned to deep fear, and Corrosion turned the pastor to it.

“That is a devil. Dark as the night its power brings. You will find no light beyond it. You will only find me.”

The pastor's heart raced. His sweat ran cold. The crisis of faith in his mind was coming for his body. Every part of him cracked and came apart.

“Dying worlds always invite in rot. Uncleaned, they fester with illness. It is only when necrosis cannot be reversed that those who could save it would dare to try, suddenly shown that there is no other world waiting for them. In that moment they will seek god as a final answer, and as a god, I choose you.”

“Please… save me from this nightmare.” The Pastor wept.

Corrosion threw him to the ground as it pressed its teeth together in a sneer. The gathering followed their leader’s plea and a beam shot from the star. It crashed into Corrosion’s palm, sparkling like a flare as the prophet clinched its fingers. It held tight as if the light would try to escape, and repeated words recounted from another’s memory.

“Luminance Forge.” A pulse ran up the stream, making the star undulate as it hit it. Pulsing back the other way, it brought the star with it, now a little bigger than Corrosion's head. "Luminance Arm." Another pulse and the star brightened, forcing the people to shield their eyes. "Luminance Amplify." The light twisted in on itself, forming a heart.

The pastor looked up with confusion and terror.

“Shining Heart: Beat.” And it did, the echo of it loud in the people’s minds. Corrosion took a bite.

A ring surrounded it, burning with unreadable glyphs. Threads grew out, puncturing its body, pulling away the light until only a Gray remained. The pale form looked wildly at the people around it, eyes frenzied, mouth opening to howl. The threads lanced into the chestpiece, and the words fell from its lips. It watched with confusion as its hand rose to the object. Crimson marked its palm like blood under the skin. The Gray gnashed, yet could draw no closer. Words not of another came from its mouth.

“Luminance Revive.”

The armor did not simply cover the Gray’s body, it became it, flesh and bone melting away, leaving a lithe black form. As if a flame was set to its back, light spread around its body, leaving everything but torso burning that deep red glow. Within its chest, the light erupted, imprisoned by a true rib cage. Horns ripped out through its forehead pulling along a skull mask to cover everything but its mouth. A true and terrifying grin waited below it. Flaring eyes looked at its hands. It played with a spark on black fingers, then marveled at the muscles as it closed its fist. It had form. It had flesh. It remembered another excerpt from the book.

“I choose you not to tell them of my coming, for the birth of a prophet is prophecy itself. Your first breath shall put the Crimson Forecast in motion, reminding worlds that ghost lurk in old and decrepit places. You shall start this crimson tale anew, only remembering that you must bring destruction. The method is your to choose, but for now, simply follow these designs.”

The vulture leaped from the sky, landing with a boom in front of Corrosion. It looked at the prophet with vacuous eyes, turning its head to let one focus. It hissed like it was clearing its throat then spoke.

“What are you!” The voice was like an autumn wind, high-pitched and howling.

“I am Corrosion," It started, then marveled at its hands again. "The Crimson God of Salvation." It grinned, and the vulture turned its beak up.

“I am not needed here." It leaped back through the hole.

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Silence fell over the arena, followed by roaring cheers as people jumped from their seats. They hugged their neighbors; kissed their lovers, letting their hearts swell with a new lease on life. Corrosion watched and snapped its fingers. At once its audience stopped, each one turning red eyes forward. One by one the people morphed, taking on one of its different forms. The one from the penthouse. The one that stood over the purple girl’s body. The one that sacrificed the blues. The one that brought darkness to Castle Cerulean. None stood with an ounce of Corrosion's intelligence but wore its visage with absolute ease.

“Go. Devour this world.”

They roared and howled, leaping, flying, skittering from the arena. That just left the pastor and the brothers, and the sight they saw left eyes big and wide.

“Why! You said you were a God of Salvation!” The pastor cried.

“I am.” Corrosion looked at him. “But not for you. When this world has breathed its last breath, a new one shall take its place. An age beyond salvation can only be feed for the future.”

“You were a demon all along! I should have never turned from god.” The pastor truly wept this time, voice breaking as his chest heaved.

“You never knew god!” The younger brother barked.

“None of us did!” The older brother stomped over, grabbing the man by his collar. “If you knew god and did your job right, none of this would have happened! Instead, you tried to kill us when we noticed something was wrong. You claimed to see sinners, but played blind to your own damn sins!”

“You two brought that thing here!” The pastor hissed. “If you just followed the teachings, none of this would have happened.”

The older brother's hand pulled back and the pastor braced himself for the hit. Before the fist could fly, however, Corrosion grabbed his arm. The brother turned his glare on the former prophet, stopping only as he saw two twinkles at its fingers.

“Let us see who makes the better world.” Corrosion dropped one in his hand and another on the Pastor. The brother’s eyes turned red while the light seared the pastor’s chest. “But know that when this world grows sickly. The Crimson Prophets will return.”

“You’re not staying?” The older brother asked.

“No. Salvation is not needed here.”

"Then where?" The younger asked.

Corrosion’s finger rose to the sky, and as their eyes followed it, the Crimson God took flight…

⁘⁛⁘

Khalaf cackled. “I see! Then with what we've learned about the armor, we could say Corrosion is its getting itself prepared. From the moment he found that book he has been at it, huh? He’s been going from a Lustrous Lord to a god himself. Savior, huh?” Khalaf laughed again. “I suppose if you’re saving the world, it doesn’t matter how you go about it.”

“But how would he know any of the things we’ve learned?” Micaela shook her head. “It’s not like he was hanging out with us.”

“He wouldn’t have to. He’d just have to find someone who was with me. Right, Khalaf?” King looked at Micaela.

“This sounds like it’s counting against my probation, so I’m going to let you know right now that I didn’t tell that thing anything. I didn’t even meet it until we all linked up!”

“But you did meet his archer.” Khalaf offered. “And what stops magic that can reignite your life from projecting it outward?”

“Oh my god! Are you saying she saved me just to get my memories?”

“Maybe not only for your memories, but they likely came in handy.” Khalaf snickered. Micaela moped.

"That's fine, Micaela." King shook his head. "If Corrosion can use the Luminance band to become a god then we know how far these things can take us. We have all the pieces we need to complete New Dawn's plans." He thought about Ace for a moment, and how he could still use the bands. "We might be able to push forward the Dark Disciple plan too." He smiled but thought of Fang. It took him back to his master, and why he might have needed the light.

Fang didn’t need to sacrifice her Luminance to use Umbra, she just had to be willing to throw the band away. Her body didn’t use it, so why would his master need the light?

“What if my master didn’t need Adale for power, but for the Spear of Hell? We know that it ripped the God Eternal apart, but what if it can do more? Gupta said that the spear was breaking from the moment it first appeared.”

Khalaf nodded. “It definitely was. I remember pieces breaking off. People thought it'd destroy the buildings, but it didn't even leave rubble."

“What if New Dawn didn’t summon the spear the right way? Or just couldn’t?”

“So you think your master was trying to bring a new spear into the world?”

“Yes. And I think when we see it break we’re seeing the fall of devils. Gupta also said it, reignited the war of Heaven and Hell. With a poorly summoned spear we can’t win. Every devil that attempts and falls, takes a piece with it. The Calling wasn’t just for us disciples it was for…” King’s eyes widened.

Micaela seized his pause. “That matches up with some of Adale's memories actually. Seems like she made sure not to draw devilish attention by making sure her people lived happily. She even seemed to know you were coming at a point. Heck, she knew when any soul was getting closer to her light." She paused as she noticed his face. "What is it?"

“It called for anything that could use the power of the Spear. Anyone who would match the might of the God Eternal. Wound him. Damage his light. It reignited the war of Heaven and Hell."

“What does that mean and why does it sound horrible?”

“Because wars are fought against another.”

Suddenly, light poured in from cracks above their heads…

⁘⁛⁘

Celine waited cautiously above Fang’s still body. Considering her mother’s warning, she was expecting another trick. She’d never let Brigid hear it, but she knew her sister was strong. If she ever needed proof for their mother’s vision, seeing her defeated was it. There had to be another scheme waiting if this girl had managed to beat her.

And yet…

The body didn’t move. It didn’t twitch, or sigh. It didn’t spasm one last time as the life left her for good. Fang was truly dead, and the Princess laughed at herself and her mother.

“All that for someone like this?” Celine thought about the fear in the woman’s eyes. She laughed again, but her smile sunk into a sneer. “This is as far as mother’s visions can go, hmm? She sees dark forces and shadows and thinks its the end of the world. This is where mother stands, and father didn’t stand much further.” She thought of him with that hole in his chest. “Both of them have been holding Cerulean back with their cowardice and caution.”

She turned on her heels, stomping toward the waiting Gray. It tried to fight free of the swords pinning it to the floor, but did nothing more than worthless thrashing. It felt crude, and yet she could feel the power flowing into it, following the baiting shimmer of her lights. This thing was far from glorious, but it was proving Francis right. Her new strengths proved him right too. Maybe she could have beaten Fang without them, but they had made it miles easier. Her parents were holding Cerulean back, but where was Francis standing? Could it be that he stood much further ahead? Could it be that he saw Cerulean as something she couldn’t even imagine? Could she use him to help Cerulean reach its rightful place?

“No!” Cried the Gray, and she glared at it.

“I have never heard one of you say another phrase and despite my luck, the new one is no better. Are you all just made to be annoying?”

“No!” The Gray cried again. The Princess studied it this time.

The blue fissures cracking its flesh had grown deep enough to turn to canyons. Light flowed through them like upstream rivers, rushing to a surging lake in its chest. The power was so potent she could feel it in the air. It felt more than ready to be taken back, and yet its face kept her still. It was shifting...molding...soft clay kneading and bulging into different features. Like a fickle sculptor was trashing ideas, each feature formed a different person, masculine, feminine; thin, and thick. Each one stared with wide-eyes—terror the only true constant in the piece.

They wept, “No! No! No!”

Celine swallowed. “Why are you afraid?”

They screamed, “No! No! No!”

Celine shuddered. “What does a battery have to fear?”

Maybe this was enough? Maybe it was time that she left? Rapier in hand, she lunged to cap off this power. For a moment, an orange ray bathed it. She tried to kick back as if it were an attack, but found she couldn’t move. A hand was holding her rapier, and wasn’t giving it an inch.

“Rejoice.” A voice boomed. “For I have received thine offering.” Another hand reached around to grab the Gray’s chest.

“No!” It cried one last time as it was rip in two, body splitting like a porcelain statue.

The shards whipped into a twister, spinning gray winds around a blazing blue core. Those winds traced a strong figure standing above the floor. As they took color, Celine took alarm. The thing in front of her made her chest tighten, body like a nebula with a head of flowing flames. Dust flowed off it like an opened cape, flashing the blue core at the center of an orange statuesque form.

It looked at Fang’s body.

“And thou hast slain this foul and wretched fiend. Thy actions have earned thee place by my side.”

Celine caught herself and sneered again. “I’ve had my fill of false gods for this day. I won’t be allowing another!” She broke her blade and guided a new one together. The stab came fast and stopped an inch from his finger.

“False?” It waved its hand. Celine felt the crash before she noticing she flew, pain spreading up her back as she hit a glass wall.

She was dazed, but realized she wasn’t holding her sword.

“The truth is known.” Her assailant burned it away in his hand. “Have ye not all been warned of worshiping false idols?” With a flash her neck was in that same hand, fingers burning against her light. “Where is this idol now? Where is this god worshiped over me?” Steam rose from his eyes as they met hers.

Celine tried to speak, but it was like her words were catching flame in her throat.

“Not here? Is this pretender not omnipresent? Can his light not offer thee salvation?”

She couldn’t control her own light, let alone see the Arbiter’s. With this orange terror looming before her, it seemed the light could only shine one way. If she had to choose this fury over the love of the god she knew, she’d sooner turn to darkness first. If the Arbiter’s light truly couldn’t save her, she’d ask the darkness what it had to offer instead.

As if it heard her, it answered.

"Through this Dark Burial old birth is discarded. For this rebirth, I pledge a new name. She is Empress and she is Fang. She shall guide all in the next era. Her Devil name shall be, Empress Fang…”

A whirlpool swirled beneath Fang’s body, dragging her beneath the surface. As if it pulled him too, the being dropped Celine, whirling and raining meteor blades. They broke against the churning tides, turning into a stardust mist. A giant sword formed above his head and shattered as it stabbed the hardening swirl. A shadow hung under those tides, its body changing shape.

Bracers knitted together around its arms as wings and a tail stretched out from its back. A horned tiara weaved around its head with a blue spark at its center. Something liquid fell from its hips—a waterfall waist cape skirt, surging powerfully behind. The shadow rose, filling the air in front of them. No, not just a shadow, but Fang, revived from the dead with the being’s light in the ebbs of her skirt.

The Princess might have thought this was the trick she feared before if this demon hadn’t been so quick to attack. Whatever this thing was, Celine was afraid of it, and it was afraid of this girl. The deliberation in its eyes as they met Fang’s was the proof her mother’s vision needed. If she had any doubt Fang was a threat, the tension in the air was suffocating it now.

It made her sick.

“I will not be saved by you!” She roared as she pulled herself and a blade together. She did not wait for the demon to acknowledge her, but readied her blade still.

“Insolence.” The Being said, almost bored.

“This is what I warned you about.” Fang said and Celine bore her teeth. “This is the God Eternal.”

“The God Eternal!” Celine almost laughed. Though, she did look at him again.

She would not soon call him a god, but she knew his power was above normal demons. A King of Demons then? That, she could accept. Whether this girl or another called it a God would never convince her it stood above the Arbiter. The Arbiter was only weakened, on a different day this would be no fight. On a different day, she might not have said what she said next.

“I suppose you get what you want then. We have to work together.”

“What can an infidel and a sinner hope to achieve alone?” The being hissed.

“Alone?” Fang looked at it. “All that lurks in the dark stands by my side. I call upon them now. Come for the Thief. Come for the Glutton. Come for the God that calls itself Eternal. Come to me and test the thickness of its hide.” A dark star rose to her hand. “Come to me.” She said, and in the darkness some sought to answer.

A portal whirled beside King’s group and they strode through.

A portal whirled beside Ace and he made the leap.

Corrosion did not see a portal but he did here the call, rushing past countless hells to the God waiting above.

They all arrived together, but did not immediately forget each other in front of their foe. Corrosion hissed. Ace clenched his fist. King looked at his allies and Micaela quivered before the God Eternal.

Khalaf laughed, “Looks like its time for a party!”

Micaela squeaked. “I’m not a party girl, can I go home!” A retinue of shadows rose around her—guards promising to shield her life. “Yay…” She murmured and Fang directed all eyes toward the God Eternal.

“We have our differences, and we have unfinished fights. Let’s put them all aside for now, and take this tyrant down.”

“Insolence.” The God said. “Ye shalt know eternal damnation.”

[Chapter 35 ends…]