Valerian’s steps shattered and tore through the piles of holograph tablets and paper pages. He tried to ignore the crashing sounds behind him, but he couldn’t push them out of his mind. As if he suddenly had an extra set of eyes at the back of his head, he could see shelves being knocked over by something in the growing darkness. Through brief glimpses in the orange lighting, purplish tendrils propelled the thing forwards, extinguishing the light around it as it advanced. And it was gaining on him fast.
Seeing both forwards and backwards wasn’t doing poor Valerian any favours. He couldn’t tell what direction he was running in. Then as if it couldn't get any worse, his vision was filled with the sight of that thing running towards him. He was incapable of stopping, nor turning or running backwards. Even so, a part of him knew that it would have been futile - that’s what sealed the deal for him. Time seemed to slow as he ran towards it until it felt as if he was a minor Chronocycle away from colliding with it. Its entire form flashed with ultraviolet; a faceless giant, with many writhing protrusions like wings, hunched over with its hat’s point poised at him like a sharp beak.
“You're no son of mine.”
A short scream escaped his throat.
Then he fell to the side. He didn't know how it happened. At least he didn't collide with that thing.
Stumbling through the shelves and rolling through books, papers and tablets, he found himself in a secluded space. It was lit by a few thoughts and feelings, some of those opened up showing him the Magister Bellaxus lying unconscious, looking as if he were trying to shield the Tribunus. Another showing the small slip of a Teleportare stone poking out from the Tribunus’ pocket. This was one of many hidden compartments created in his mind to hide away things that needed to remain hidden. As a Corvus, it was one of the first things he was taught to make.
Finally, some peace and quiet.
He knew he was dreaming. Everything he observed had all the classic hallmarks of a nightmare. He was just powerless to wake from it. Any attempt to open his eyes to Tirra would deplete what little Focus he had regained - no thanks to that damned Daimonic mind-trap spell that drained any Focus that went past a very low threshold. At least he had enough energy in him to be lucid.
Barely so. I suppose that’s better than not being lucid at all. Magus… What have I gotten myself into?
The surface of his Mindscape had been ransacked and as a result of it, there were less thoughts around to throw him into long tangents. Memories of some minor Chronocycles before he was trapped in his own mind were hazy and confused but he did remember crawling over the bodies of his sleeping brothers and sisters and arms. He remembered reaching the Magister Bellaxus and the Tribunus. But whether his spell to wake them reached them remained to be seen.
As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t remain in hiding for long. He could sense something wriggling and poking around the surface of his mind, trying to burrow deeper but finding no purchase. How it made him shiver! This Daimon that was really trying its best to possess him - at least that's what he assumed it was doing. Other than that, he had certainly fed it a good helping of fear.
Thankfully, it hadn’t breached. He didn’t feel as though he were losing any control over his mind. The fact that this place still reassembled the library that he was familiar with was more than enough proof of that, even if it were in disarray. All entrances leading to his deeper parts of his mind were locked up tight and hidden. Again, it was another bit of compulsory learning that only members of house Corvus were privy to - though that didn’t stop him from sharing what he knew with his closest friends. Well, he did try to explain it the best he could but he had a feeling he was annoying them…
Ah, I’m thinking in tangents again. Wait. Does this mean the Daimon’s given up?
That was certainly a possibility. Maybe it was safe to come out of hiding. With limited Focus, his awareness of his own mind had been greatly reduced. The landscape of the surface layer of his Mindscape had changed drastically thanks to that rampaging Daimon, so he couldn’t teleport as easily between thoughts.
At least, there was one thing that remained the same: the edge of his mind. At least there, he could see the Princidaimon’s spell.
Maybe… Maybe I can study it and find a counterspell. Damnare! Of all the things I could have forgotten, why did it have to be the counterspell?
That final memory of him shattering past the spell to enter someone else’s mind came into view. He was sure he had entered the Magister Bellaxus’ mind; that was his intention. It was a wonder how he managed to do it so quickly but then again, he made similar miracles happen during his exams.
As he pictured the edge of his Mindscape, it appeared before him. He climbed out of the small tunnel of books and found a huge wall of partly- transparent ultraviolet; the Daimonic Mind Trap spell surrounded the whole of his mind. He couldn’t get out and nothing could get in. Beyond it, he saw the faint trace of other minds, all locked up the same way and the overwhelming presence of that same monster that chased him in his nightmares.
Long tendrils of ultraviolet, like probing fingers, seemed to be stuck in all of those minds. A leviathan of squiggles that pushed themselves into places so vulnerable to most beings of Magus. He felt his skin crawl - a scent most satisfying for the creature. But he had to stifle that fear, lest he attract that nightmarish thing to himself again.
Studying the wall before him was… Challenging to say the least. It seemed impossible to study - a messy soup of symbols. Overlaying. Moving with no rhyme or reason. Or at least it seemed that way. A failed attempt at a counterspell would take all of his remaining Focus and pull him back into the nightmare. Each failure would cost him time before he’d be completely possessed.
How in Kaeva did I manage to figure it out earlier…?
Whilst lost in his thoughts, he felt that crawling feeling on his skin intensify. It was too much for him to ignore. So, he made the mistake of looking down.
Numerous violet worms wriggled up his cloak. They crawled under his lamellar. Inside his boots. In his-
He let out a blood-curdling scream. His hands slapped and brushed them off but they just kept coming. The whole ground was covered in those worms. As his fear grew, he sank deeper. Arising from the mass was the Princidaimon. Or at least, a part of it. For a moment he saw how the rest of it extended beyond the ultraviolet wall and moved freely, just like the other protrusions that poked into the other minds. A faint, crackling shimmer surrounded where its form touched the spell.
A tablet resurfaced from the mass of worms; he remembered a flash when he broke through into the Magister’s mind. He waded through the worms, scarcely catching the memory before it was lost to the Daimon’s destructive influence again. The Princidaimon extended its wings and dove upward like a writhing wave. Clutching the memory tightly, Valerian braced for its descent.
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The bodies of Daimons littered the marble floors and several dozen more fell as the legion advanced through Lidantium’s Magisterium - the centrepiece of every Scholar’s District. There were no casualties since they had left the Crafts District; it seemed that the legion had seen the worst of it. Pavonikos didn’t want to celebrate too early, but they couldn’t deny that spirits were high in this instance. And they were only rising higher with every civilian they rescued along the way.
Each Cohort split apart and rejoined for each section of the Collegium. They scoured each room, cleansing it of Daimons and finding survivors hiding within Haven Shields. Students, Scholars and other faculty of D'Luminarii were saved then left behind to wait in a designated safe zone - the Duelling Halls.
Before the 1st Cohort left the room to rejoin the others, Pavonikos stopped in their tracks. There was that voice again, quieter now but unmistakably it was the same voice that had been trying to warn them since the legion secured the Craft’s District. They had brushed it off as a prank earlier. If it was a prank then the person behind it was very perseverant. And this really wasn’t the time or place. They glanced at the other soldiers as they left the room, looking for any signs of mischief.
“What’s the matter, Tribunus?”
Pavonikos turned to see the Magister Bellaxus standing beside them. He wasn’t the prankster - the voice he heard was too light and unassertive. Still, it never did hurt to ask.
“Did you say something to me, Magister?”
Laevinus shook his head.
“I’ve been hearing a voice, Magister. It’s been bothering me. I wanted to ask if you had heard the same thing for some time.”
Laevinus arched a brow, “I can’t say that I have. Where did you hear this voice?”
Pavonikos told him the details and relayed what the voice sounded like. Laevinus’ face went serious.
“It must be a hallucination. A Daimon trick, perhaps. Pay it no mind, Tribunus.”
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Pavonikos nodded as he watched the rest of the 1st and 13th trickle out of the room. For a moment, they lingered. That message seemed important but he couldn’t tell what it meant.
They were already awake.
The words were beginning to create a strange uncertainty that he didn’t need. The Magister was right. They were beginning to think that this was some Daimon trick intended to make them doubt themselves. So, they put that voice aside in their mind. They wouldn’t entertain it anymore, no matter how much it called to them.
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Valerian crawled back to the edge of his Mindscape once more. He had lost count of how many times he had come to this point before being thrown back. But he always made sure to keep a memory with him before it was destroyed by the Princidaimon. In his arms, he had a sizeable number of books and tablets from those experiences. Most importantly was a memory that he had to sneak deep into one of the hidden layers of his mind to recall.
Activating the tablet, he was met with images of the battle in the Craft’s District. He remembered how that behemoth of a Caputidaimon was brought to its knees as it passed through the Golden Dome. It seemed that its own shield was shattered the moment it breached past the dome. The whole thing seemed very similar to how the Princidaimon can move in and out of its own Mind Trap spell - which behaved similarly to a shield, keeping things in and specific things out. The shield that encompassed the Princidaimon seemed strong enough to disrupt its own shields without completely shattering it.
But he did shatter the spell before. He just couldn’t remember what counterspell he used to do it.
It was impossible for him to fully study the Mind Trap spell; he didn’t need to understand it fully to break it last time so he looked to what he already knew. What did he understand about the spell in his moments of extreme stress that led to that breakthrough? If he could remember that then perhaps he’d remember the counterspell.
He had studied specialist spells that behaved similarly to the thing encasing his mind. A Royan one had been created with the specific purpose of locking people in dreams like this one had. Others were used to completely shielding themselves from other minds. And he had heard of a few Kyrusian spells that had been used by the Neqarii that drained the Focus of others to subdue them. Perhaps a combination of their counterspells would work. Something to disrupt the Mind Trap enough to shatter it completely.
But there was just one problem. To come up with such a counterspell would completely drain him.He could feel the Daimons burrowing into him and their attacks were increasing in frequency. And there was no knowing if the spell would work.
“Come on… Just this once…”
A weakly shimmering combination of rings formed and adjoined together. He did his best to translate what he had learned from the Neqarii texts and wove them together with the rest of the Ludcetan script that formed the intricacies of the spell. The rings rotated and interlocked into a 3 dimensional shape, just stable enough to hold together.
With an imagined deep breath, he pushed the finished spell into the shield. The counterspell spun violently, trying its best to break the Princiaimon’s spell. There was a bright flash. It took a while for his vision to clear.
But the spell remained.
Disregarding whether the Daimons sensed him or not, Valerian cried out and threw his fists upon the shield. After that brief bout of madness, Valerian sunk to his knees and pressed his hands upon the shield. Self doubt returned once again. He could hear those voices reaffirming just how useless he was.
“A disappointment of a Corvus…” whispered the worms that engulfed him once more.
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The Princidaimon lay dead at their feet. Pavonikos stood in astonishment, gold-nacreous eyes still aglow with the killing spell.
The legion fought fiercely with all their might, but all it took to down the monster was the light of Paradis. Pavonikos had trained hard to attain ancient knowledge, but it was only now that they wielded the pure knowledge of Magus as a glaive, right when everyone needed it the most. That very glaive pierced through its defenses, disrupted its spells and severed it at the stem of its brain, striking it off from all of Magus’ five faces.
Most would have been proud of themselves for such an impressive deed but Pavonikos didn’t know what to feel. The tap of a hand on their shoulder snapped them out of their daze.
“It's over, Tribunus.”
Laevinus’ words sounded surreal in their ears. As if emerging from underwater, their ears were then filled with joyous frenzy from the legion. Pavonikos couldn’t help but be swept up by it all.
Lidantium was saved. That was something to celebrate.
After taking some time to process it all, Laevinus ordered his men:
“Legionarii, we march for home.”
Words Pavonikos was relieved to hear.
As they streamed out of the Magisterium, they were met with huge crowds of survivors; they had all emerged from their hiding spots to thank their saviours. It was like the ending scene to an epic theatre play. The city of Euphonies was filled with music once again as they were leaving and they were met with more music as they walked through the Praeterium Gates and into Lumis. Home at last.
Celebrations extended all across Ludceta over their victory. At the heart of Lumis, Pavonikos found themself sat beside their father amongst all the other High Magisters on a table overlooking the entire city. The Magisterium sang their praises to the brave soldiers. Men and women reunited with their loved ones. Nothing overjoyed Pavonikos more than seeing peace finally being restored.
So why did they feel so drained?
“I’m proud of you, Floriana.”
The younger Pavonikos blinked in confusion. The words had certainly come from their father’s mouth. How had he known…? But the genuine look on his face brought Pavonikos overflowing with joy.
And yet, it all seemed too easy to be real.
Beneath their happiness, there lingered a sense that something was amiss. Something they couldn’t quite place.
“... please, wake up…”
There it was again. That voice came back a little louder, germinating that small seed of doubt. Pavonikos looked around to find its source. It repeated itself, loud enough to hear clearly even under the music. They got up from their seat.
“Where are you going, Floriana?”
Pavonikos stopped in place. They weren’t really sure themselves.
“I’m just going out for a bit of fresh air.”
Their father didn’t seem to think much of it. He raised a cup and simply told them to come back soon before they missed the Light-Dancers and the Cornucopia Ceremony. Pavonikos walked away and their smile fell into a look of uncertainty. They wandered past the crowds, picking up the faint voice in their head again with their eyes open to Roya.
“... in danger…”
“Where are you?”
“... wake up…”
“Why do you keep saying that? I’m already awake!”
With hurried steps, they followed the voice. They could hear it much clearly as it led them through the winding streets to an oddly barren part of Lumis. But these streets didn’t look like Lumis. The Craft’s District of Lumis should have been bustling with more performers and partygoers. But it was barren and bereft of any structures or stalls.
Pavonikos could hear it much clearly with each advancing step and there was that same presence they felt before. Like an overwhelming sensation of fear in their head. They could have sworn that they had felt this sensation before. It was powerful. Suffocating. But they couldn’t quite place where they had felt it before.
The voice was so loud that it filled their entire head. The source of it was nowhere to be seen but it sounded so close. Pavonikos grabbed at their ears and threw their head down to block it all out.
When they opened their eyes, they discovered that the source had been right below them. Right in the centre of the Architect’s Sector, there were several rings, weakly glowing and rotating with Ludcetan script. Written at the centre of the spell was the message that plagued them ever since leaving the Craft’s District. Based on the pinkish-coloration and its structure, Pavonikos recognised it as a Royan spell. But that couldn’t have been possible. All Royan spells dissipate out of their respective realm, especially in the realm of elements.
Unless this place wasn’t Tirra.
Upon touching the spell, their whole world seemed to unveil. Pavonikos’ mind was flooded with memories. They remembered that battle. The Princidaimon. How they failed to stop it. Their Mindscape quivered with fear, shifting into that terrible scene. Lumis became the ruins of Lidantium. Piles upon piles of bodies surrounded them. Pavonikos looked up to find that same Princidaimon burrowing into their Mindscape, feeding off of their joy. With the dream lifted from their eyes, Pavonikos could feel it accessing their memories, trying to learn everything it could about them. And with each bit of information it gathered, more of the Tribunus’ mental shields broke down.
Pavonikos needed to think fast. They didn’t know how long they had left before the Princidaimon would taste their change in emotion and they only had a limited amount of Focus to use.
Royan spells could only ward away these Daimons. But if he wanted to get rid of them once and for all and avoid getting possessed, they needed to take drastic measures.
Paradis was knowledge and its light could be summoned throughout any of the realms. And here in Roya, even with the smallest bit of Focus its power was strongest, but highly destructive. Releasing that much knowledge within their own mind would surely burn their own essence.
But, if it meant preventing a powerful Daimon from using their knowledge to harm others, Pavonikos was willing to scramble and scorch their own mind to do so.
They formed a small spell; a single circle marked with the symbol of Paradis. From it, a tiny ball of light flashed quietly. A miniature Morningstar.
The Princidaimon retracted its head, looking directly at the thing.
Light quickly flooded the entirety of Pavonikos’ Mindscape. Engulfed in pure knowledge, the Princidaimon shrieked with signals of pure agony. It thrashed about, looking for an exit. Too little, too late. Too much knowledge made parts of it erupt into small globules. Only a slither of it made it out.
When the light faded, a large gash was left in Pavonikos’ mind. Confusion and exhaustion overtook Pavonikos, but they remained standing, looking up for a brief few moments. Before they fell back into their dream, they blearily glimpsed a few more tendrils of ultraviolet approaching.
Music returned to their ears. How pleasant. They didn't want to miss the rest of the celebrations.