It was a sphere. Someone had shaped a perfectly transparent, crystal into a ball with the image of some strange kind of squid clinging to it. It was well made; the sculpted tentacles seemed to be clutching tightly to its surface. Whoever carved or sculpted it had been incredibly skilled. Their work had an almost organic appearance.

There was obviously more at work here than mundane craftsmanship though. Strange colors and shapes rose from its depths when it was touched, drifting about inside and drawing odd patterns that drew the eye in. The texture of the ball would constantly change as well. Holding It felt strange, with the solid crystal abruptly changing to feel like it was slimy, rough, or like it was covered in scales. It was also quite durable, a fact discovered by multiple people who reflexively dropped it when the crystal ball seemed to lick their fingers and flash with an evil colored light.

Magus Paracelsus had acquired the crystal ball by coincidence early on in his career. He kept the thing mostly as a trophy. The artifact was obviously supernatural, but potentially eldritch. The magus wasn’t foolish enough to use something so dangerous as anything more than a conversation piece.

He was famous among the magical community for posturing and pretending to be a wise sage and philosopher, there were even rumors that he’d changed his name just to seem more magical. He wasn’t nearly as enlightened as he acted, but he was a very skilled magic-user.

And right now, he was more desperate than he had ever been in his life.

The magus’s only daughter had somehow managed to remove the wards around the crystal ball and had taken it from its case. Paracelsus wasn’t sure what happened afterward, since whatever the artifact had done rendered her unable to speak or write.

Magus Paracelsus was a skilled alchemist and had a great deal of influence in the magical community. If it was a normal curse or magical affliction then he would have cured his precious daughter within a week. Unfortunately, his suspicions of the crystal ball’s eldritch origins had proven all too real; nothing he tried helped her.

Prudence was clever and a quick learner. She had also inherited her mother’s fair, round face and blonde hair, which suited her much better than her father’s dirty brown hair and sallow features would have. Between her good looks, intelligence, and fortunate circumstances she was perfectly set up to be a vain brat. That didn’t matter to Paracelsus though, he spoiled his baby girl as much as he could.

Now her arrogance and her father’s indulgent parenting style had led to a disaster. A teenager’s tendency to assume they know everything is bad enough normally, but combined with artifacts of eldritch power and you had a catastrophe waiting to happen. She had overestimated her magical prowess and decided to solve the mystery of the strange, greenish-blue orb that her father had deliberately avoided studying. It stole her voice, and seemed to hinder her ability to understand others as well.

Most of Paracelsus’s colleagues were sympathetic, although a few uncharitable ones enjoyed seeing him brought low. None of that mattered to the magus though, since he was far too upset about the plight of his daughter. He normally cared for his public image to the point of obsession. That was discarded too; his inability to save his little girl had left him humbled. In his desperation he reached out to people he would never have approached normally.

He contacted warlocks and cultists.

To magic users, the supernatural wasn’t particularly strange or unnatural. It had its own rules and laws, just like science. Magic users utilized it the same way an electrician used electricity or a blacksmith, fire. To men and women that understood it, making simple magic spells and artifacts was no different than baking a cake. They did have their own taboos though, and one of them was the eldritch.

The eldritch and their powers were incomprehensible. Even to magic users it was unnatural. It was like they didn’t play by the same rules as the rest of the world did. The scale varied, but all eldritch were existences that violated the laws of reality. Very few magic users were willing to mess with something so dangerous.

The ones that did meddle with eldritch forces were cultists and warlocks. Cultists were ‘only’ humans that summoned and made contracts with eldritch beings while warlocks were also magic users as well. Both were dangerous to themselves and others. Warlocks usually had access to normal magics, which were safer and more predictable. Cultists didn’t have that safer option, and that made them more dangerous. Either way, both types dabbled in things they could not understand, which endangered others as well as themselves.

For Magus Paracelsus to resort to asking these people for aid was quite the scandal. Warlocks and cultists were shunned at the very least and hunted down if at all possible. It was disgraceful for an upstanding member of the magical community to rely on such villains. Though it wasn’t like he was the only one to do so. Corruption exists everywhere and many ‘upstanding’ mages secretly relied on a warlock or some cult. Even so, a scandal is a scandal, and the man’s spotless, if a bit pretentious, reputation was irreversibly soiled.

Either way, Magus Paracelsus now was hosting a large number of famous cult leaders and warlocks in his own home. It was rather like a mayor inviting the town’s gang leaders to his house for dinner.

The magus’ request had drawn in quite a large number of people. There were over a dozen different groups represented here. A little over half of them wore the traditional robes of mages or witches. Between their outfits and the obviously magical accessories covering their bodies it was apparent that they were warlocks. The rest wore relatively mundane clothes. The man wearing an expensive-looking suit had the twitching and squirming tattoo of some kind of spider on his neck. He was almost certainly a highly ranked member of the Cult of the Living Ink.

The others weren’t so easily identifiable, not surprising since most cults did their best to stay hidden. Both Paracelsus and his guests were relieved to see that the Acolytes of Mars hadn’t been interested enough to send a representative. Most of the others wore similarly formal attire. The only exception was a scruffy looking man in a trenchcoat. Normally he would have been turned away at the door, but Paracelsus was in no position to turn away anyone with the slightest chance of helping.

They had been brought into the main hall of the mansion’s guest wing. A magus’s mansion was their fortress, so such places were constructed quite uniquely, and this one was no different. The mansion had layers of defenses, some as magical as guardian spirits and others as mundane as thick walls and solid doors. The guest wing in particular was separated from the rest of the mansion, magically speaking. Paracelsus had little to worry about these guests attacking him now that they were in the building; the walls were covered in reasons why that would be a bad idea.

Most of the defenses of the guest hall were decorations. Elaborate crystal chandeliers, artistic sculptures, exotic wall hangings, beautiful candelabras, antlers mounted on the wall, and more. Disguising the magical defenses in the guest wing was considered good manners. The guests pretended they weren’t armed to the teeth as well. Neither side really trusted the other, so this was the best compromise these paranoid men and women could manage.

Right now the guests were examining the crystal ball and to a lesser extent, the magus’s daughter. The fifteen-year-old girl was having a terrible time. Losing her ability to communicate with others was quite traumatizing. To make things worse, now a bunch of strangers coming into her home and either treating her as part of the furniture or practically poking at her. She was upset and wasn’t shy about showing it.

The group was spending most of their time around the crystal ball. It was the reason they were here in the first place. Only a few made a serious attempt at figuring out the girl’s condition. Rather than trying to help an afflicted child, those men and women were trying to earn a favor from a highly ranked magus. Many also coveted the orb, hoping to figure out its secret and harness its powers. Only one seemed to be trying to actually help without any ulterior motives.

Ethan Bridges had coincidentally heard about the girl’s condition and invited himself in. At the moment he was trying to observe her condition without seeming too creepy. Unfortunately, she wasn’t being very cooperative, and he wasn’t exactly a doctor.

Paracelsus’s daughter was hoping for a cure, but frustration had made her resent every failed attempt. Ethan pulled up a chair next to her and tried to talk to her as she ignored him.

“Does anything tingle or itch?”

Prudence would not even meet his eyes as he kept asking a series of yes or no questions. In the background, a man swore and dropped the crystal ball before looking sheepish and mentioning something about tongues. The two looked at the group, Ethan chuckled under his breath, while the girl’s mouth twitched. She glanced at him for a moment before going back to pretending he didn’t exist.

After a bit of thought, Ethan let out an exaggerated sigh and reached into his trenchcoat. A handful of odd-looking red fruit covered with hair-like filaments.

“Rambutan?”

He offered one to the sulking teen before peeling off the odd rind on another and popping the white fruit into his mouth. The teenager hadn’t eaten the exotic fruit before, so her curiosity drew her out of her shell. He set out a pile on the coffee table and indicated she was free to take as many as she wants. She eventually gave up and grabbed one. The two silently enjoyed the fresh fruit while watching the cultists and warlocks jostling over the orb.

Magus Paracelsus was pacing around the outer edges of the group. The bags under his eyes made him look even worse than usual as he fidgeted and fretted. If these men and women failed then he would be out of options. He did his best not to act impatient but he couldn’t help hovering.

When he turned to look at Prudence and he saw his little girl sitting next to the scruffy stranger eating something strange his fear transformed into anger. He hissed at his daughter before glaring at Ethan.

“What are you doing!?”

The only response Prudence could make was a glare, so the magus focused completely on Ethan. He glared at the man, quivering in frustration. Ethan’s only response was to shrug and offer the magus one of the plump looking fruits.

“What? They are perfectly safe. I got them from a farmer’s market in Vietnam yesterday.“

Paracelsus scowled at the offering hand till Ethan sighed and leaned back. He peeled open the rambutan and ate the fruit, spitting the seed into the empty peel and setting it on a growing pile. He reached into his trench coat once more and brought out more food. This time it was a plate of still steaming nachos. They obviously weren’t the cheap stuff, and they couldn’t have fit inside his pockets. It looked like it had been made minutes ago as well. The enticing scent of melted cheese and Mexican spices filled the room.

“How about some of this? It comes from this little joint in texas. They have to be the world’s best nachos, at least in my opinion.”

Magus Paracelsus was about to start bellowing when the sight of the nachos made him pause. The shabby-looking man’s stunt was the best proof of his powers that the magus could have asked for. Warping space was one thing, but time was nearly impossible to affect, even for the most powerful mages. If he wanted to make a spatial pocket it would take him half a year and tens of thousands of dollars. Even then it wouldn’t last forever, much less stop time. If this man was literally teleporting around the world for mere snacks and keeping them fresh inside a spatial pocket then he was much more powerful than he looked.

The magus stared at him. A wisp of hope bloomed through the cloud of anxiety, fear, and frustration in his heart. Ethan misunderstood Paracelsus’ odd expression and waved him towards a chair. He looked more at home in the man’s house than the mage did.

“Look, I know you are concerned, but fretting about and making a fuss will only make things worse. Sit down and get some food in you. Having a bite to eat will make you feel better; then we can really start figuring out the problem.”

The three of them snacked on the nachos. Paracelsus picked absentmindedly at the admittedly tasty food. He had been suspicious of poison at first, but the painstakingly created defenses placed on the house, his daughter, and himself should be able to handle nearly anything. He wouldn’t have invited such a dangerous group into his home otherwise. The food did end up helping take the edge off his near hysteria.

Prudence hadn’t been as wary about the dangers of accepting a stranger’s food at first. When her father shouted she realized how careless she was being. She doubled down and kept eating though, defiantly lashing out at her father with yet another terrible decision. Luckily, this one didn’t have the consequences her recent string of choices had. She just enjoyed some very good nachos and managed to vent some of her frustrated feelings.

Compared to the father and daughter, Ethan was much more relaxed. He didn’t have a secret agenda or a hidden scheme. He just wanted to help. If he was utterly frank he would admit he was a little curious as well, but curing the girl’s affliction was his top priority. He hadn’t even realized how his offering of food might be perceived; he just liked food and thought it would calm them down.

A few of the cultists turned away from the eldritch orb when the smell wafted through the air. They glared at their host and his lack of hospitality. fortunately, Paracelsus’ butler had been watching from the sidelines and chose to bring out some hors d'oeuvres. Very few of the guests bothered to sample the food since they weren’t actually hungry. Most of them had just been offended by the perceived slight. They all were people of high status or considered themselves so. Ethan was the only one in the room who never put stock in human etiquette.

The plate of nachos had been heaped quite high. There was plenty for the three to enjoy. Even if the others ate lightly Ethan could eat as much as he wanted. He wasn’t that socially inept though, so as soon as he felt that the two were calmer he wiped off his hands on a napkin and turned to face the magus.

“Alright, I was asking your daughter a few questions about how she became mute, but in retrospect, that may not have been the most productive use of my time.”

He turned to Prudence and shrugged apologetically. Facing her father again, he continued.

“There are plenty of eldritch beings and phenomena that could take away a person’s ability to speak. I haven’t gotten a good look at the artifact yet, but I can still narrow it down for you. As for curing it? That depends on the cause.”

Ethan had a self-assured tone that caught the magus off guard. He wasn’t very experienced with talking to cultists or warlocks, but the man before him was nothing like the other ‘experts’ on eldritch that had answered his call for help. They had all acted very arrogantly, but every single one was very careful not to make a guarantee of any kind of success. It had made sense, overconfident cultists would end up dead sooner or later.

Paracelsus also noticed the scruffy cultist seemed completely confident he could identify the source of the issue. It was another important distinction. Cults and warlocks tended to specialize in rituals revolving around a specific being or dimension. You needed a lot of knowledge to successfully carry out even the simplest eldritch rituals. Even when they ‘kept to the script’ they couldn’t be a hundred percent certain it would be successful. The most successful cults were the ones that didn’t overreach themselves and concentrated on researching only one type of eldritch ritual.

Having a large number of disposable recruits to compensate for the high turnover rate helped as well. Researching the eldritch left most humans a gibbering mess. That wasn’t even counting the startlingly high mortality rate that came with actually performing those rituals. Most cults could not afford to lose that many loyal followers, so they became experts in a single field and concentrated all their efforts there.

The magus sat there, lost in thought as Ethan waited for a reply. He wasn’t aware of Paracelsus’ train of thought, he just wondered if this unresponsiveness ran in the family. When the man finally shook out of his absent-minded state Ethan began his casual interrogation.

“Alright, first things first; can your daughter make any noise at all?”

“Yes. She doesn’t anymore since she’s embarrassed at how she sounds like she is deaf. I think other than being self-conscious nothing is stopping her.”

Ethan sighed in relief.

“Good, the worst-case scenario was that her actual voice was taken. If it was just her ability to speak then we have more hope.”

“I’m sorry, but what?”

“Hmm? Oh. You see, there are some eldritch that can ‘take’ things without altering the physical source. They manipulate the effect without affecting the cause. You might get your sight stolen without having anything wrong with your eyes. Or you might lose your voice even though nothing has happened to your body.”

Paracelsus shifted uncomfortably. As a magus, the idea of manipulating the world in such a way sounded unnatural. Magic was all about cause and effect. The ability to pervert such a fundamental law of the universe was one of the reasons eldritch were so feared in the first place.

Ethan ignored him and continued. He shifted between pointing at his throat and tapped his head.

“If the voice is fine then she must have lost her ability to speak the language. It might be gone, replaced or blocked off. As long as we find out the specifics we can see about fixing it.”

“How are we supposed to find out something like that?”

“I won’t be able to give you a good answer till I get a better look at the artifact. It also may be the key to turning her back, but you shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

Magus Paracelsus barely heard Ethan’s last words. He’d already put all his hopes in the man before him. By comparison, his other guests were just hindrances. He didn’t exactly drive them off, but the abrupt way he walked up to take the artifact off their hands betrayed his feelings to the cultists and warlocks. To men and women as arrogant and prideful as them, this was quite the insult. The glares at both their host and the shabby looking wannabe quickly went from merely offended to vaguely dangerous.

Paracelsus hadn’t noticed their glares yet, and Ethan only glanced at the nasty expressions before turning back to look at the artifact. Prudence saw the evil, squid adorned orb and flinched before trying to subtly scoot further down the couch. After whatever had happened to her, she wasn’t comfortable being too close to the thing.

Ethan didn’t pick it up right away. He settled for poking it and muttering mostly to himself.

“Well, it’s not some foreign material, at least not completely. As far as I can tell the crystal used is quartz, but that’s not much of a surprise. It was shaped with… Oh, that’s interesting!”

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“What?”

The magus leaned forward nervously as the man in front of him picked up the artifact and began turning it over and over. Even the warlocks and cultists temporarily forgot their grudge as they watch Ethan like hawks. Under their gaze, Ethan pulled out a simple-looking magnifying glass and held it over one of the quartz tentacles.

“It wasn’t carved, it’s artificial. You can’t really see it that well thanks to the forced refraction making the inner layers invisible, but there are carefully oriented inclusions of tourmaline and rutile. This isn’t something humans are capable of making.”

Ethan leaned over and let the magus see. The insides of the orb were magnified a startling number of times by the rather average looking tool. Just beneath the surface was a tangle of needle-like formations of shining gold and jet black. Each straight thread was as thin as spider silk and thousands of each color were arranged in mesmerizingly beautiful patterns. When the magnifying glass was pulled away, all that could be seen was utterly flawless, quartz crystal.

“The design is too lifelike for me to tell who made it by the art style, but the fact that it’s a cephalopod narrows it down quite a bit. Not many oceanic civilizations could make something like this.”

Everyone in the room was quiet now. Many of the cultists were sure that he was just a swindler, but even they thought he sounded quite impressive. A few, like the member of the Cult of the Living Ink, stared at Ethan with a speculative look. To them, Ethan’s knowledge wasn’t just implausible, it was suspicious. He obviously wasn’t some badly dressed wannabe cultist, but who or what was he?

They decided to put aside their malicious intentions until they knew for sure what Ethan was. Attacking him in a high ranking magus’s home was a bad idea, but if the ‘man’ before them was something disguising itself as a mere human then assaulting it would be the height of stupidity.

Ethan was far too focused on the relief of the squid-like being to notice the variety of changing expressions on his audience. He shifted it upside down and looked at the smooth underside of the kaleidoscopic crystal ball.

“Let’s see, the controls are… Here!”

He righted the orb and held his fingers underneath it, deftly manipulating what seemed to be nonexistent buttons or dials. The group watched as the randomly shifting colors and shapes reacted abruptly. The chaos suddenly gave way to an orderly rhythm, controlled in some way by the unkempt man’s twisting hand movements. The texture changed visibly, rough waves of rippling crystal flowed across the artifact in pulsing waves. The way the orb wobbling in his hands and the regular surging pattern flowing across it made the squid seem to come alive. The sculpture began to squirm and writhe while throbbing like a beating heart. It was incredibly unnerving, even to the jaded men and women who had seen things that would break normal men.

Magus Paracelsus looked up from the mesmerizing horror when he heard a soft noise from his daughter. She had curled up on the couch in fear. The tiniest of whimpers escaped her lips as she screwed her eyes shut. The man’s heart almost broke and he shot from his seat to embrace his teenage daughter. Prudence clung to her father, gripping the front of his thick robes like a child as he wrapped her up in his arms.

Neither of them looked at the orb anymore, which meant they were the only ones that missed the artifact’s activation.

Light seemed to flash in reverse, getting sucked out of the bystander’s eyeballs and into the artifact. The colors fluctuated violently, then the cultists and warlocks winced and swore as the orb shone in something indescribable. Their heads throbbed with nasty developing headaches as they forced themselves to look away. Colors that they had never seen before and shapes that made no sense floated in their vision even after they closed their eyes.

As they blinked away the impossible images that had been burned into their vision, a younger-looking warlock in dark blue robes barked out a rebuke.

“**** it man! Warn us before you do that!”

Everyone turned to Ethan, then reluctantly looked at the artifact. Their fears of more painful sights turned out to be unfounded; it was abnormally still and normal looking. Aside from the twisting shapes and colors that meandered about its surface, the only hint that it was ‘active’ was the way the squid was still pulsing and animated. Ethan stared steadily at it with a casual focus, like he was messing with his smartphone.

The cultist with the living tattoo leaned forward, his mouth opened to speak, but felt a chill run up his back. Reflected in Ethan’s eyes were the alien geometries and unearthly colors that had shone out from the orb earlier. Even indirectly, the sight was painful. The cultist felt nauseated as his brain rejected the impossibility shining out of Ethan’s eyes.

Prudence stared at the man who seemed to be playing with the artifact that had caused her so much grief. She couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of awe. Paracelsus looked between his daughter and the man before them. He knew how much it took to impress his daughter. His little girl had grown up around magic, yet the sight of the man before them fiddling with that artifact like he was solving a Rubik's cube was shocking to her.

They watched the man in front of them quietly. After a moment Ethan, shifted his fingers purposefully and the writhing, pulse of life the orb exuded calmed down into its previous level of inscrutable dormancy. Ethan set the squid adorned sphere down and leaned back.

“Well well, that was a surprise.”

No one spoke. They just stared at the man before them with a thousand questions they hesitated to ask. Many of the cultists and warlocks were now certain that Ethan wasn’t human though. As far as they were concerned the spectacle just now was proof. Ethan looked around, taking in the expressions for a moment. He pat the orb gently and grinned at Paracelsus.

“This is a book.”

Everyone’s first instinct was to wonder if Ethan was an idiot. Perhaps he had been driven insane after all. He looked perfectly sound of mind though, so they could only wait for his explanation to be sure. Cupping the heavy orb without lifting it, he indicated the sculpture of the squid.

“This image, it depicts a member of a race of special beings. They don’t have a spoken language, at least not the way we do, but other sapients call them the X’ekic’qletii.”

The clicking and squealing of the noise the man made sounded sort of like a dolphin with laryngitis, a bit like a fish screaming in a castanet factory, and nothing like what a human should be capable of. Ethan had enunciated the name without hesitation though; as far as they could tell he had pronounced it perfectly.

“The name is derived from the Fomorian language. They called the race Xe’ekicse: ‘the shifting colors’ and C’iqlet’ii: ‘deepest thinkers’. Someone with a shallow understanding of the language combined the two names and eventually it was reduced to X’ekic’qletii.”

Ethan’s audience stared blankly as he smiled. He found the etymology of the name interesting. They, on the other hand, were in no state of mind to appreciate something like that.

“Anyway, the X’ekic’qletii are a rather interesting race. Their bodies are three dimensional like us, but their minds and senses are four-dimensional. Their sciences are the main reason why people refer them to them as eldritch.”

Ethan gestured at the orb.

“X’eklic’qletii are biologically similar to cuttlefish. They communicate through changing their skin. They can manipulate the color, texture, reflectivity, and even generate bioluminescence however they choose. As you might have guessed, super-intelligent beings with such a complex method of communication can’t convey the necessary details with normal writing. That’s why this book is designed this way. It has a massive amount of information compressed to unbelievable levels. Of course, the way it forces all that information into the reader’s brain, regardless of whether it actually fits, has side effects.”

Paracelsus flinched at that. Ethan looked at the magus reassuringly.

“Your daughter is actually quite lucky. She could have suffered quite worse than she actually did. Forced perception of fourth-dimensional information can leave you a vegetable with too much exposure. She must have dropped it before she read too much.”

Everyone stared at the so-called ‘book’ on the coffee table. Getting so much knowledge about an artifact so easily was rare for them. Most cultists and warlocks only knew the effects of whatever strange, eldritch item they might have, usually through notes made by previous owners. A cultist in the back suddenly blinked and questioned the strange man before them.

“Wait, how were you fine?”

Ethan shrugged casually.

“I know a little over a thousand languages. Some are a lot harder than X’eklic’qletii. Trust me, once you’ve learned a nonlinear language with a poetic grammar structure spoken by a race with seven mouths, well... Other languages just aren’t a challenge.”

All he got was a mix of incredulous looks. He misunderstood them yet again.

“A thousand languages isn’t as impressive as it sounds; some of them are quite easy. The Abyssal language has only three hundred and seventy-two words, with about half being different variations on the word ‘eat’.”

Most of Ethan’s audience flinched at the mention of Abyssals. Paracelsus didn’t care though, Prudence and her affliction was all that mattered to him. He shifted restlessly while trying to avoid glaring at Ethan when he went off-topic. Luckily, Ethan seemed to realize how impatient he was getting, so he shifted back to the matter at hand.

“...Anyway, I can take your daughter to see an X’eklic’qletii that happens to live on earth. If everything goes well, they should be able to undo the damage she suffered. If not, there’s always the hard way, although that will take longer.”

Paracelsus stood up. He wanted to leave immediately, but he hesitated. He couldn’t exactly drop everything and leave, especially with his guests here.

The cultists and warlocks were slightly unsatisfied. They had come to either earn a favor from a rich and powerful mage or the chance of obtaining an eldritch artifact. The man from the Cult of Living Ink stared carefully at Ethan, hesitating. After a moment, he came to a decision.

“Sir, I’m afraid we never got your name.”

The tattooed cultist kept his tone perfectly polite. Most people would have no idea what was actually going through his head. Ethan seemed not to notice either, since he answered the man rather casually.

“Hmm? Oh, sorry. My name is Ethan Bridges, pleased to meet you.”

About two-thirds of Paracelsus’s guests froze when they heard that name. The magus and his daughter looked about, puzzled at their reaction. When the motionless cultists and warlocks finally started moving again they were acting alarmingly aggressive.

The man from the Cult of Living Ink demonstrated his group’s infamous ability when the tattoos hidden under his clothes pulled free of his flesh. The spider tattoo on his neck came to life and swelled into a massive tarantula. This suit tore across his back as well; scythes wielded by skeletal arms cut themselves free and loomed intimidatingly over the man’s shoulders.

Another cultist pulled out a glass ball that looked almost like a fist-sized fishbowl with an odd cap. Within the odd item was the frozen figure of some unnatural figure. It looked like a viperfish, but even shrunken down it had an obviously unearthly aura. The cultist gripped the cap in the same manner of a man preparing to pull the pin from a grenade.

More and more cultists and warlocks prepared weapons and spells. Sleeves were pulled back to reveal burning glyphs seared into flesh, eye sockets dripped fluid that formed into floating eyes, effigies of horrible looking creatures were unveiled, and more. It was like a demonstration of all the depraved sources of power they had access to. They were glaring at each other and Ethan, mentally working out their chances of surviving the potential fight brewing. Paracelsus’s eyes narrowed in anger.

“That is enough.”

The hall actually shook from that last word. The walls shook and the windows rattled despite the fact that he hadn’t spoken very loudly. The men and women looked away from each other and stared at the magus. The room was buzzing with power, and they finally realized how bad an idea starting a fight here truly was.

All of the ‘decorations’ and much of the furniture had reacted to their host’s will. A few merely created barriers, but it was obvious that many of the disguised artifacts were for killing or crippling. The chandelier was especially intimidating. The array of prisms hummed with an ominous but musical sound. More than a few of the cultists noted how unnervingly sharp the singing crystals looked as their glassy points swung to aim at them.

And that was just one of the magical artifacts out of dozens. The obscene amount of money and time that must have gone into making it all was worth it though, because the crowd of dangerous cultists put away their weapons and snuffed out their spells. Every one of them had to admit that here, in the center of Paracelsus’s power, none of them would survive trying to make an attack.

The room was dead silent, except for the crunching sound of Ethan snacking on the nachos once again. The other guests tried to look at him out of the corner of their eyes while watching their infuriated host. Ethan’s lack of concern made the more paranoid of them worried.

Paracelsus was breathing sharply while glaring at his guests. They carefully watched him try to get his anger under control. After everything that happened, the magus was seconds away from losing his temper. Despite their arrogance, they did realize that they were at fault. That was why they weren’t particularly offended by his tone when he finally spoke.

“Thank you for your help. I am very grateful that all of you were willing to come here on such notice for the sake of my daughter.”

A few of them had the decency to wince, but most simply left in a huff. When the last of them finally had gone the magus relaxed and turned to look at his daughter. Prudence was staring at him wide-eyed; she had never seen her father so venomously angry before.

Once he was sure his daughter was fine, the magus sat back down and looked expectantly at Ethan. He watched the man shove one more stack of nachos into his mouth and scribble something onto a notepad he’d pulled from his trench coat. After swallowing most of the mouthful he handed the paper to Paracelsus.

“Fhis- excuse me, This has the date and location we can meet up before we head to meet the X’eklic’qletii that lives on earth. It’s underwater, but I can prepare for that. The list on the paper is some items to pay the locals. You don’t have Fomorian currency, so bartering is your only option. The book you have will probably be enough to convince the X’eklic’qletii to help, so bring that too.”

“Wait, underwater? Are you talking about Atlantis?”

Ethan stood up, brushed some crumbs off his shirt, and snorted at the magus’s question.

“Atlantis is a tourist trap, we are headed to Ux’scinhlektui.”

He spoke dramatically, though the effect was ruined by the stains around his mouth.

After Ethan said goodbye Paracelsus took a look at the list. The magus was surprised at first since the items were mostly food. It didn’t take him long to understand the reasons for each item though. Aside from most of them being high end, they weren’t things that could be cultivated or raised underwater. In a city at the bottom of the ocean, even essentials like wheat flour would have to be imported.

Of course, jamon iberico de bellota was expensive no matter where you lived. Looking through the rest of the list, Paracelsus was glad to be a multi-millionaire. Coupe grade spanish saffron was annoying enough to get a hold of, but obtaining an entire kilo of it was going to be difficult in a short time frame.

Paracelsus didn’t waste time; he had about a week to obtain everything on the list, so he couldn’t afford to wait. He had his phone out and was making calls before Ethan had left the property.

As for Ethan, he had a few things to take care of too. He needed to prepare for three people’s extended stay underwater. It wasn’t like scuba gear would be enough either, considering how incredibly deep Ux’scinhlektui was. It would also be a good idea to alert people that he was coming. Ethan would need to make a couple appointments before he could bring a high ranking mage in front of someone as important as a X’eklic’qletii.

But before all that, he needed to dissuade the cultists and warlocks that wanted to capture him and pry the secrets of the eldritch out of his skull.

It was true that Ethan could simply teleport away. He wasn’t going to do that though. Ethan would make plenty of excuses, like acting as a deterrent to prevent future problems. That wasn’t the real reason though. In reality, Ethan secretly held a lot of disdain for cultists and warlocks. He wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to humiliate them.

Once he was well away from the magus’s property he stopped and rolled his shoulders.

He was standing in the middle of the empty street. It had been quite bright when he’d first arrived, but that short meeting at Paracelsus’s mansion had given the sun enough time to drop below the horizon. This time of year it got dark rather early. The street lights illuminated the area well enough though, and Ethan’s steaming breath was easily visible in the harsh, artificial light. He let out a long sigh and watched the billow of mist hang in the air for a moment before speaking to the empty surroundings.

“‘The wish to acquire more is admittedly a very natural and common thing; and when men succeed in this they are always praised rather than condemned. But when they lack the ability to do so and yet want to acquire more at all costs, they deserve condemnation.’”

Ethan didn’t speak particularly loudly, but the sound of his voice carried well in the cold, dry air. He chuckled lightly.

“Niccolo Machiavelli. An incredibly smart man, though his reputation in modern times has become rather tarnished.”

The air around Ethan rippled and pulled apart like someone was opening invisible curtains. A ring of space folded aside to reveal almost all of the men and women who had been at the mansion earlier. The eldritch spells and weapons were revealed once more. A barrier sprang into being around their target appeared, reinforced by unearthly glyphs and runes. The cultists and warlocks had worked together to make an inescapable trap.

They had obviously made a truce. Although their alliance was an uneasy one, they would at least refrain from backstabbing one another till after they had captured Ethan. The cultist of Living Ink seemed to act as the spokesperson. He sneered at Ethan from outside the glowing orange dome.

“And? Are you trying to claim we will be condemned for trying to capture you? It’s too late for that. You are already trapped.”

Ethan shook his head. Those who could see his annoyingly patronizing face twitched in anger.

“No. All of you got too greedy long before today. For whatever reason, you pursued knowledge classified as ‘eldritch’ in hopes of gaining power. What you didn’t realize was that the fact that you consider it eldritch in the first place betrays how ill-equipped you are.”

Actual irritation appeared on his face. The patronizing expression was overtaken by disgust as Ethan continued, ranting.

“You parrot languages you don’t understand to sign contracts you can’t read and wield powers you can’t comprehend. To make matters worse you act arrogantly, as if your misused gift makes you special. It’s beyond unsightly.”

Ethan’s verbal attack hit its mark. The faces of everyone in the group were twisted in anger, with a few of them practically snarling at him. One of them raised a floating ball of grey fire and sent it towards Ethan. The tattooed cultist flinched and shouted in alarm, but Ethan reached out and snagged it out of the air. Instead of being burning him to nothingness, the fire sat peacefully in his palm.

“This is the perfect example. You’ve been given a handful of nihil fire, a flame that can burn anything, and you only know how to use it to burn everything. It’s like an untrained monkey trying to fly a fighter jet.”

The man from the Cult of the Living Ink tried to calm everyone down, but it was too late. At first, he’d been worried that one of them might kill their valuable target, but now he was more afraid of Ethan taking advantage of the chaos and escaping. They had let their emotions cloud their thoughts and stopped cooperating.

The warlock with glyphs seared onto their skin held out an ornate wooden totem. The symbols on their arm made a painful sounding sizzling sound as the activated the magic item. A half dozen glowing balls of light shot out from the carved wood and took their arcing flight towards where Ethan stood.

Despite being targeted, Ethan didn’t seem to react. The reason quickly became apparent when the projectiles passed through him like he wasn’t there and splashed harmlessly against the opposite side of the barrier. Most of the group were shocked and confused. The cultist whose eyes seemed to be melting and flowing out from their sockets snapped at the warlock.

“Where do you think you are aiming!?”

Ethan gave a twisted grin at the man.

“Don’t blame them; you are the only one who can actually see my position.”

“Illusion?”

“...Really? How pathetic. I would think someone contracted with Argu Panoptes would be so ignorant. What you are looking at is the phenomena of dimensional refraction. I won’t bother trying to explain it properly, since the lot of you obviously can’t comprehend the fourth dimension, but you can think of it as me being ‘just below the surface’ of this dimensional ‘layer’.”

Ethan’s declaration was met with impotent glares. One after another the cultists and warlocks tried their luck. They brought out their best, filling the dome with purple lightning, sparkling droplets of blood, and ominous-looking smoke. There was nowhere within the dome that was safe. That didn’t seem to matter though; Ethan hadn’t been touched by any of it.

The group grit their teeth and glared daggers at Ethan. The man responded by yawning theatrically and idly tossing the grey flame in his hand up and down. He was about to continue mocking his ‘captors’ when one interrupted him with a triumphant smirk.

“Fine, so you can hide by shifting dimensions or whatever. But what if your opponent can swim through dimensions like water?”

The cultist pulled out the ‘fish grenade’ that he’d revealed in Paracelsus’s home. With only a hint of hesitation he pulled it open and threw it hurriedly through the barrier. The object left behind a rippling glow that spread outward from where it went through. Before the ball hit the ground the alien fishlike creature trapped within stirred, then the glass prison around it shattered in a burst of light.

A long, evil-looking, deep-sea fish swam out from the cloud of smoke that the glass left behind. The man-sized monstrosity slowly worked a jaw full of horrible teeth. Each tooth was a long glassy shard, and the creature had what seemed to be hundreds of them. Its slender body was similar to an eel’s, but it had large, glittering scales that glowed with a muted blue light. The terrifying fish looked about with oversized, bulbous eyes.

The silvery-white eyes focused on the fish’s former jailer first. At first, it floated harmlessly. Then, with a whiplike speed, the fish lunged for the cultist. It slammed teeth first against the barrier with a shower of sparks. Everyone nearby flinched at the impact, but the dome held.

Only one cult actively used creatures from the abyss. The Fishers of the Abyss were considered the terrorists of the eldritch world. They couldn’t control abyssals, so they resorted to summoning and sealing the ravenous in stasis, then using them to coerce others. Their disregard for collateral damage made them infamous. No cultist was a saint, but the Fishers of the Abyss lacked subtlety in a way that drew even more animosity than normal.

It didn’t take long for the fish creature to realize it couldn’t get past the barrier. It immediately turned towards the other being trapped with it and charged once again. It zipped towards Ethan like greased lightning. He had been ready though, and flicked at the top of the ball of grey flames, sending a few dull sparks into the path of the abyssal. The monster hit the sparks and careened off course, wreathed in colorless fire.

The abyssal spasmed, its body writhing and practically tying itself in knots as the flames licked at every inch of its body. A few cultists and warlocks winced. They hadn’t known Nihil fire’s actual name, but its effects were infamous. Whatever it touched, no matter what it was, would be burnt to nothingness. It didn’t matter whether it was protected with spells or kept in an oxygenless room; the grey flame wouldn’t even leave ashes behind.

There were limitations to how much it could burn. That was the only reason the planet hadn’t been burnt to nothingness centuries ago. The amount that the flame could burn was dictated by its original size. That said, a few sparks were more than enough to reduce a human to nothing more than a memory.

They waited for the abyssal to disappear. However, seconds passed with no changes. The fish monster kept writhing without stopping. The keener eyed noticed that it didn’t even appear to have any burns. Eventually, the tongues of dull flame disappeared, revealing the glowing scales of the abyssal once more. The fish-like monster was totally unharmed.

Ethan sneered at the cultists and warlocks as the abyssal drifted peacefully about him. He actually began to stroke the toothy creature with his free hand. The grey flame’s original owner was absolutely flabbergasted.

“Wha-”

Ethan rolled his eyes at the sputtering cultist.

“I already told you; this flame can burn anything. All I did was burn the hunger and aggression from this fellow.”

The same thought ran through everyone’s mind. ‘That’s impossible.’ Despite what Ethan said, the cultists and warlocks weren’t completely ignorant. At the very least they knew a bit more about abyssals than the average man. One thing they all understood was that an abyssal, from the smallest krill-like abyssal shrimp to the great void sharks, could never be satiated. They were hunger given form, living voracity made flesh. To take that away, this couldn’t even be called an abyssal anymore.

Ethan marched up to the dome with the former abyssal drifting along behind him like a puppy. He pinched another piece of flame free from the tongue of fire waving in his palm. He made an idle toss, sending that fingernail-sized wisp towards the magical dome imprisoning him.

The man from the Cult of Living Ink flinched as the grey fire flew at his face and splashed against the barrier. The vaguely orange light was overtaken by the dull, colorless flames that crawled across the surface like mold. In a few seconds, the magical prison was covered in eldritch fire and Ethan could no longer be seen.

The men and women surrounding the barrier backed away. The flames didn’t give off heat or light, but the light the fire produced had this nihilistic hunger that was instinctively intimidating. After burning for what felt like minutes, the fire finally used up its fuel and extinguished itself. The grey, flickering dome popped and disappeared like a soap bubble, leaving behind nothing but a charred ring on the street. The cultists and warlocks jumped in shock when it came down; Ethan and the fish creature were gone.

They panicked at first, scrambling to use whatever techniques they had to find his location. Many of them were yelling at the cultist with the eyes of Argus. He shook his head sending the disgusting eye droplets spraying about. The droplets formed new, smaller eyes that floated about, but they weren’t able to spot anything new either.

Eventually, they went their separate ways, sullenly wandering off. They would pretend that this day hadn’t happened, but each of them had added yet another grudge to their respective mental lists. Ethan hardly cared about that. He’d simply left because he had made his point, and if he was honest, he had gotten bored with them.

Ethan had escaped as soon as the dimensional interference of the magic barrier had gone down. A single step brought him hundreds of miles away to a rocky ocean shore. The former abyssal had been drawn with him, and now it was floating peacefully over his lap as he sat on a boulder and stared at the moonlit waves.

The sea was calm, letting the moon’s wavering reflection display its subtle beauty. Ethan stared at it for a while as he stroked the fish creature that had looped itself around him. The sharp-looking dorsal fin was surprisingly soft, and Ethan’s gentle petting smoothed it down quite easily. The former abyssal seemed quite pleased with the attention as it relaxed sleepily in the man’s arms. Ethan’s expression was less calm though.

Every time he looked down at the monstrous fish sleeping in his lap a guilty look appeared in his eyes. The thing was, the cultists’ belief about an abyssal’s nature was true. The ravenous need to eat was a fundamental part of what an abyssal was. An abyssal could go without eating, for years in some cases, but its hunger couldn’t be sated. What Ethan had done would kill the creature in his arms soon enough.

He sat there in the dark with the stars twinkling overhead. He sat and waited, stroking the abyssal, which lay in his arms and slowly drifted off. An hour later it was dead. Ethan pulled himself to his feet and scooped up the limp corpse. When he heaved the long body into the water, it immediately started to dissolve in the brine. Almost immediately small minnows and crabs appeared from their hiding places to enjoy the nutritious soup.

Ethan spent a few minutes watching nature reclaim the abyssal’s body before sighing and walking up the beach towards a small port town.