Ethan and Tomo spent most of the walk back to the city developing an appropriate training routine. Every morning, and every night possible, he would train with weapons, with movement and agility, and with when to use each ability. Tomo kept trying to hammer home that there would always be countless decisions and variables in combat, and to focus on those moments, the rest of the battle needed to be second nature–muscle memory.
The pair walked down the streets of Corvale on the way to the palace, having just said goodbye to Glenn. Apparently Ethan could be on his own after a certain time in the day, given that the city wasn’t making any more stops until morning. Tomo was explaining the different factors that controlled a Bonded’s power growth as they strolled through the market.
“There are three factors you must be aware of. Remember that above all, your power is not just your own, rather it comes from the strength of your Bonds.”
“Right, that’s why I need to make sure you guys rank up as well,” Ethan said, eyeing some clothing at the local tailor.
“Far more than that. You have already gained fragments of progress from using your abilities, which is one of the paths of growth. You must continue to do as you have done, learning to fight in your way. You are, afterall, ultimately an amalgam of several different Affinities, as well as your own Soul Rune.”
Ethan’s curiosity was piqued. “But there’s more than that?”
“Much more. The second path is to learn to fight as your Familiars do. It is this path that holds Bonded back the most.”
“Wait, so I have to fight like a two headed hydra serpent? How the hell do I do that?” Ethan asked.
“I do not know. That brings us to the third path, which will inform the other two. You must commune with your Familiars. Each day you will spend time in meditation, seeking to touch minds with those you have Bonded, that they might gift you their experience, and guide you on your path.”
Ethan was considering that when he came to a sudden halt. They were walking down the street that led past the Church, and there were people gathering outside the large building. Priests were ushering everyone inside, and Ethan approached curiously.
“The short sermon is about to begin,” a skinny, balding man was saying. His white robes looked pristine, especially next to the many commoners wearing brown and gray. “Tonight we speak of this world’s birth, and of the Goddess who gave us life. Join us, and let your faith bloom anew.”
Ethan shrugged. “Valanor said I should take in a sermon or two,” he said, then looked at his demon companion. “Can you go into a church? You won’t burst into flames or anything?”
“I am no less holy than any on Nexum,” Tomo replied, and Ethan could only nod in appreciation.
“Holier than I am, I’m sure. Let’s go check it out.” Despite his words, Tomo faded from sight as they entered the building, though Ethan could still feel the Familiar guarding him in the Astral.
The Church was as he remembered it, but with the sun setting it was lit with far more candles. It gave the interior of the building a more gothic look, as the flickering flames cast shadows across the statues and art that represented the faith. Still, it lacked the surreal feeling Ethan got in churches back home. Something about the stained glass and sacrificial theme that this one lacked.
He joined the other attendees on the benches, which were quickly filled to capacity. High Priestess Abigail appeared then with several other robed members of the clergy, and moved to assemble in front of the waiting crowd. Surprisingly, Abigail moved toward the back of the group, and began drawing out Runes on a clear portion of the floor, obviously made for that purpose.
It was another Priest who stepped up to the dais, oddly positioned off to one side. The large statue of the Goddess still dominated the room, rising up behind the assembled priests, so Ethan figured the focus was in the right place. At last the new Priest began to address the assembled people.
“Greetings, Children of the Goddess, and thank you for joining us for the Dusk sermon. I am Dedicant James, and I have the honor of speaking to you all tonight.” He was a younger man, with a shaved head, dark skin, and the pointed ears that marked elven blood. He liked to make expansive gestures with his hands as he spoke.
“As you know, we gather at Dusk to celebrate the birth of this world as we know it, for Dusk is when the tale began,” as if on queue, a scene exploded to life above the High Priestess, the runes creating something like a magic hologram of remarkable detail. It was a celestial scene, and Ethan was surprised to recognize his own solar system, the familiar sun burning in the center, though the image faded away beyond Earth.
“We know not, and speak not of where the Gods came from, we know only that the sun was setting on their last great work, and so they sought out another world to bestow their gifts.” Earth began to glow then, clearly the focus of the display.
“The world they found was already teeming with life, but it was limited. They had nothing to lift them beyond their own primal natures, and so the Gods stepped in. The Three began their great works, each touching the world with their power, and casting its reflection out into the cosmos.” Suddenly the image warped, and there were three Earths.
They weren’t proper planets orbiting the way Ethan understood them, rather, as the planets grew larger–as if a camera were zooming in–it seemed more like an artist’s depiction. It looked like one planet, copied three times, layered over top of one another somehow, though the image shifted them away slightly so they were more easily seen. The Priest continued.
“The first was gifted at Dusk, and Potentia was born. A world of pure power and possibility. It would grant its people anything they desired, if only they could master it. If only they could master themselves.” The first Earth began to shift in the image, the seas drying, the greens fading, and soon it resembled Mars. Ethan shuddered involuntarily at the memories that stirred.
“We know only too well how badly they failed,” the Priest said in a stage whisper. “The power mastered them instead, and the creatures of that world were warped and mutated into the demons that have taken so much from us. Their people are long gone.” The image of Potentia kept shifting and shriveling, making the world look increasingly like the hellscape Ethan knew it to be.
Finally the image shifted to the middle planet, and his interest grew. Just what do they know about Earth? “The second world was gifted at Twilight, and Machina was born. The second God’s will was not to test the people of this world as they were on its sister-planets, and so the threats were small. No monsters roamed, and there were no traces of magic at all.”
Ethan leaned forward, watching his own world, green and majestic in the floating display. “This was a world of law, and constancy, and their great gift was an external one. Given time and ingenuity, they could master this world with tools and marvelous creations. But again, they failed.” Ethan raised an eyebrow, ready to be personally offended.
“With no true threats to unite them, the people of Machina saw enemies only in one another, and they clashed endlessly. Time and time again their progress was halted or destroyed by their wars, leaving nothing but ashes and ruins in their wake. Their technologies failed them, their histories were lost, and now even the name of their own God is but myth.”
Ethan stared in confusion, the image of the world he knew was transformed by explosions and fires and vague destructive imagery, until it was depicted nearly as barren as Potentia. “They call their world Terra, now, and are lost beyond hope.” Ethan looked at the ruined husk of the world he’d grown up on, considering.
A nagging doubt popped into his mind. I don’t know enough about the rift that brought me here, was it possible that it had moved me through time as well as space? Am I looking at the future of my own world, dead and gone? But something felt wrong about that. Earth had many, many, problems, but this felt too easy.
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It wasn’t some instinctual or hopeful belief that Earth and his family were still out there. It wasn’t simply an ephemeral feeling. It was the people, giving this sermon. He saw in them the same tacit acceptance of words they’d been taught, the same unwavering belief in something none had ever seen before. He recognized it, sensing the familiar certainty of those who believed they had all the answers, never questioning.
Ethan only became more convinced as the sermon continued. “And so, as Dawn broke anew, our great Goddess bestowed the final gift. She looked at the other worlds, and saw their flaws. Potentia, driven mad with its own power. Machina, destroyed from within. She saw them and knew what her world needed.”
The final world dominated the image now, and while its beauty was remarkable, it too experienced drastic changes. He recognized the general shapes of the continents, but dramatic shifts kept occurring, and the climates were strangely localized, and unchanging. As the Priest spoke, Ethan struggled to hear the words, the world’s transformations gripping him.
First there were the mountains. He’d long wondered about Viridus, and its protective shield of towering rock, but apparently it was far from unique. Similar walls burst to life across the planet, creating natural barriers between territories. Those territories transformed next.
All of Northern Canada was pure white, looking more like antarctica. Africa was a single, massive dessert, except for the East Coast which appeared to be a sprawling jungle. Several places, including sections of East Asia and South America were just burning, volcanic deathlands. Ethan tried to listen to the Priest, hoping to understand what had happened to this world.
“Our Goddess looked at those failed worlds, and vowed to learn from her siblings’ mistakes. In Potentia she saw the value of power, and possibility. In Machina she saw the value of growth, and the desire to overcome. But she also saw what a drive for individual power would bring, and how a lack of external threats would turn people on one another.”
The priest threw his hands out dramatically, and the image of Nexum exploded with warm, holy light. “And so Nexum was given monsters to unite us, magic to protect us, but also a great gift to hold our world together: the Bond. Our power only comes from connection, from mastering the world around us by making it part of ourselves.”
The lights began to fade, and the image died away with it. “We all know how this tale ends,” he looked out at the crowd, his countenance growing serious. “The rifts.” The people gathered began to mutter and moan, clearly distressed. “Yes, the rifts are here, proof that those other, broken and ruined worlds seek what we have. They know that they are lost, and we represent an escape from their misery.”
He gestured fervently at the statue behind him. “For that reason, the Goddess is with us still! She lends us her power that we may remain united, Bonded together against those that would take our world from us. As with every Dusk sermon, we will demonstrate that power tonight. Who here comes to be healed?”
Ethan’s eyes widened as he suddenly realized why this service was so full, despite what must be a thousandth retelling of their origins. The priests were shuffling around at the front, making a path to the Goddess’s statue, as a dozen or so people moved forward. The priest spoke again as the line was formed.
“Move forward, and pray, Children. Pray that our Goddess may see fit to heal you this night. Know that if she does so, it will come with a test of your faith. Stand firm, Children! It is only by standing where others would fall that we show our dedication to the Goddess who protects us.”
Ethan examined those in line, [Apollo’s Gaze] making their maladies as easy to read as any book. They were all in serious conditions. Diseases and afflictions that would be fatal given time, or injuries so crippling as to be impossible to heal without surgery and medicine this world lacked. He watched a man with a burly physique approach the statue first.
His hands had been ravaged by burns, and the bones shattered. “Goddess, please hear me,” he said, loud enough to echo through the Church. “There was an accident in the forge, and my hands were crushed beneath hot metal. I can’t work again, and I can’t provide for our Kingdom, or for my family. Please, in your wisdom, see me worthy of another chance!” Ethan leaned forward, not sure what to expect.
There was a long pause before the statue began to glow softly, and the moment it did the man burst into tears, falling forward onto his knees, and raising his mangled hands before him. The warm, golden light seemed to reach out, encompassing the man’s entire body. He shook, and cried harder, but appeared to struggle to remain still.
Ethan’s enhanced vision showed him what might truly be a miracle. The bones reformed and reknit, cracking and popping back into place until his ruined extremities resembled hands once more. The skin was next, smoothing and regenerating until it was as unscarred as that of a baby. Ethan let out a long breath, only now realizing how much he’d doubted they could perform actual healing. But his eyebrows dropped when the process wasn’t complete.
The man was clearly the blacksmith he claimed to be, a massive wall of muscle from pounding at steel for years. But…he was shrinking. Before Ethan’s eyes, his muscles drained away as if being deflated. He shook and quivered throughout the process, which lasted many minutes past his actual healing.
When the light finally faded, a priest helped him to his feet, and he looked like an entirely different person when he did. His clothes hung from his slight frame, and he was gaunt and malnourished. He seemed to weigh half what he had only moments before. Ethan was convinced something went wrong, but when he turned to the crowd he was smiling broadly, and everyone cheered and clapped with obvious joy.
The man was guided away, stumbling and shaking as the next petitioner came forward. This time it was a woman who clearly had some sort of local illness. Ethan’s vision couldn’t identify the specific malady, but he could see her body wasting away, as well as what treatments should work. He wished he could try [Hand of Apollo] and witness the results.
Instead, he watched the whole process repeat, and again she was healed by the statue. Ethan was looking at her with even greater curiosity. The woman appeared to be in her thirties, with the black hair common to the area, but she was already very thin. He was wondering if the process would actually kill the woman, draining her small body as she kneeled before the statue.
Ethan’s mouth fell open when he saw what was happening. The woman’s slight frame wasn’t changed, instead gray streaks began to form in her hair. Before his eyes her skin wrinkled, and her spine bent. When she stood back up she was clearly healthier, but appeared to have given up as much as two decades of her life in exchange. What the hell kind of Goddess is this?
Ethan sat in stunned silence for the next hour as each person approached the statue. Interestingly, several people were turned away, two of whom were already old and frail. When the service ended, people crowded around the healed, touching them and calling them ‘blessed’ and ‘holy’. The three who were turned away creeped from the Church, ignored.
Ethan stood up, quietly exiting the Church and picking one of the sick to follow–an older man with no visible signs of illness. He had something shockingly similar to tuberculosis, and coughed into a cloth as he struggled home. Ethan moved quietly behind the man, even using [Trick of the Light] to ensure he wouldn’t be seen.
The man eventually went into a small wooden home in the commoner housing district. Ethan quietly scaled the building, then slipped inside. The house was thankfully empty, despite there being several beds, and it wasn’t long before the coughing man slowly made it up the stairs to collapse into his blankets.
Ethan waited in the darkness of the small home. He’d managed to climb into the rafters, and was looking down at the sparsely furnished bedroom. Judging by how small the other two beds were, he suspected the man either had children, or grandchildren. Hopefully they’d known not to be around someone this sick, and likely contagious.
When the wheezing snores became rhythmic, Ethan lightly dropped to the ground, his boots proving their value once again. He stalked up to the bed, and reached out. Why wouldn’t the Goddess heal him? he wondered. Is he somehow beyond help, or just too weak for the ‘test of faith’?
Ethan gently laid his right hand on the man, [Hand of Apollo]’s power flowing into the sick man. Tuberculosis was quite treatable, and the skill emulated its work at a speed only magic could accomplish. In moments the man’s breathing was easier, and color returned to his face. Ethan was back out the window and onto the streets again in under a minute.
Tomo’s spectral form was next to him a moment later. “Do you not fear the Church’s reprisal in this?” the demon asked.
“No,” Ethan said absently. He felt overwhelmed by everything he’d learned this night. “The man will wake up, only knowing that he went to the Church last night and feels better this morning. No one has any reason to connect it to me, even if something did come to light. Besides…I needed to know.”
“Needed to know what?” asked Tomo, and Ethan shook his head.
“That man was curable. Easily by the standards of my world, and certainly without some terrible cost.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning,” Ethan said with a sigh, “Either my skill–which came from this world’s magic–is somehow more powerful than the Goddess, or…”
“Or…?” the demon prompted again.
“Or the Church is doing something very dark. They’re ripping away peoples’ lives. The question is: why?”