As Dizzi begins organizing the harpies and laying out our plan, I turn to Fyreneth’s throne. I should be able to finish the remaining stone conversions from here. Connecting to the spell network in the throne now might even help me jumpstart the process once everything is complete.
Are you ready? I ask the Dungeon Core. It’s time to interface with the throne. Since our Map Interface and range now encompasses the entire Fortress, we can remotely alter the state of anything in the entire city, no matter where we are. However, I can only activate spell circles that I’m in direct contact with. But that’s where the Dungeon Core comes in. If I can hook it directly into the throne’s spell network, then thanks to our Pact, I’ll also be able to access the Fortress’s spells from anywhere in the kingdom.
The Core buzzes with excitement. Oh? Is it time? Will it finally have a lair?
I tip my head at this. I’d forgotten that was something the Dungeon Core had asked about before. It had mentioned having a lair in the past, and wanting a new one; the brief impressions I’d received had been of a vast area it had influence over. A spiraling mountain of stone—or had that actually been a city?
“Huh.” I guess in a way, I’ve been working toward exactly what the Core desired. “Yes, I suppose you will have a new lair.”
Yay! The Core vibrates in my mind. When? Now? Can it have its lair now?
“In just a moment,” I say, placing my hand on the stone. Echo? I think. Add the Dungeon Core to my inventory.
[Dungeon Core added to inventory. Slots remaining: 1/1]
The bracelet vanishes from my arm. And disturbingly, the Core and all of its interfaces vanish from my mind. I’d grown so used to its presence that it now feels as if there’s a vast emptiness there. An unsettling quiet. My arm similarly feels strange and bare.
I hold out my hands. Remove the Dungeon Core from my inventory.
[Dungeon Core removed.]
The bracelet blinks back into existence once more, falling into my outstretched hands.
Ahhh! The Dungeon Core cries, its mind swiveling around wildly. What was that?! It got all dark and nothing-y!
“Sorry,” I say to the Core. “But if you’re going to make this your lair, then you’ll no longer be acting as my bracelet.”
It did not like that place. Do not do that again!
“I won’t,” I tell it. “That was a one-time thing. Now…”
I set the spiraled bracelet atop the throne, where the backrest curves forward to cover the face of whoever might be seated there. I mentally nudge the Core, and it ingests my instructions and begins to work. The throne comes alive, crawling over and through the bracelet, weaving it into the circuit of spells that are imprinted into the stone. I step back, not touching the throne or the Core. Yet I can still feel them in my mind as if I’m tapped into the network directly. When the movement stops, the core is woven into the headrest of the throne. If one were to take a seat, it would be positioned over their head, much like a crown.
I grin. “It worked.”
The Core is excited, too. Oh, oh! This is what it wanted! This was what it has been waiting for. Finally! So much space. So much room to stretch its influence. Now it feels at home.
The sentiment surprises me. Does it understand the concept of home? Am I adding a level of interpretation to its abstract thoughts? Or perhaps has it absorbed my own feelings for this place? Because it’s right: we are home.
I smile fondly, patting the ruby stone now embedded in the throne, before taking a seat myself. I close my eyes. Ready to protect our home? I ask.
YES! The words startle me with the strength of their conviction. The Core will not let anything happen to its lair. It belongs to the Core! No one is allowed to take that from it!
I detect the undercurrent of a threat to the Core’s thoughts. I might be worried if it wasn’t on our side. That protective instinct is something we need right now.
Alright then, I think. Let’s finish the rest of the stone conversion. You know what to do after that?
The Core does. It’s not as excited about that part of the plan as I am, but it knows the plan comes with a lot of mana, so it’s willing to indulge.
I chuckle, focusing our attention deep, deep beneath us. “Glad you’re willing to cooperate.” I locate the last few sections of rock Dizzi identified, and with the Core’s help, begin the conversion.
I’m at it for less than ten minutes before a scream rips through my mind.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
I flinch back, slamming my head against the throne. I clamp my hands to my head with a hiss. The Dungeon Core also jumps in alarm, jittery and bouncing around my mind as it searches for the source of my panic.
“Ollie?” I call to him. “Ollie, what’s wrong?”
But the screaming doesn’t stop. I try to calm the Dungeon Core down, but it’s hard to instill a sense of calm in the artifact while the unfiltered panic of a seven-year-old is ping-ponging around my head. I stumble off of the throne, looking wildly about.
“What’s going on?” Dizzi asks. “Are you alright?”
“Somethings wrong with Ollie.”
“What is it?” she asks. “Do you need to go to him?”
“Yes.” It’s taking all my restraint not to sprint from the room now. “Dizzi, the Core knows the plans for the Fortress. It’s ready to execute them as soon as I’m finished with the conversions. But it will need one of us to guide it along the right path. The spells in the throne can be operated independently from the Core’s influence. If I don’t make it back, you have the controls.”
Dizzi looks horrified. “What? Fyre—”
“I believe in you,” I say, already hurrying toward the door. “You’ll do fine!”
Dizzi’s terrified expression is the last I see of her as I dash from the room.
“Ollie?” I call, rushing down the stone halls of the Fortress. “Talk to me. What’s happening?”
“FYRE?” Ollie finally replies, panicked and pained. “FYRE, HELP ME!”
“I’m trying to!” I hurry down through the main palace, and out onto the city streets. I look around the cavern wildly, but there are no dragons flying about. “Ollie, where are you?” I turn to the cavern’s only exit: the passage at the Fortress’s main gates where Mirzayael and her scouts had entered the tunnels. My heart squeezes painfully tight.
His words pour through my mind in a panicked stream of consciousness. “I’M SORRY I WENT IN THE TUNNELS BECAUSE ECHO SAID I COULD HELP YOU BETTER BUT THEN I GOT LOST AND THEN THE BAD GUYS ATTACKED ME PLEASE HELP FYRE HELP QUICK IT HURTS!”
I summon fire to my hands and point them toward the ground. I haven’t had time to practice flying since the Jorrian confrontation. It had been the heat of the moment then—something I wasn’t even sure I could do until I tried. But Ollie needs me now just as much as Mirzayael did then. And this time, I won’t fail.
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[Jet activated.]
My stomach drops through my feet as I rocket into the air. I gasp in a startled, exhilarating breath as I launch myself over the city streets and toward the cave system opening, closing the distance in a matter of seconds. Butterflies light up my chest as I stabilize my flight just in time to land, stumbling before the cave opening. I’m shaking from adrenaline, and can feel my heart thumping fast and loud in my chest.
I can fly. Despite the severity of the situation, the thought still summons a thrill in me. I finally achieved my dream—all it took was death and rebirth, first.
Distantly, a roar rumbles through the cave. I sprint into the tunnel, following the sound.
Don’t be rash, my subconscious whispers in my ear. Stay level headed. Don’t run into a situation unprepared. Get eyes on the scene before engaging.
But Ollie’s in danger, and he’s hurt. I can’t afford to be methodical.
Even so, I can still go about this with as much situational awareness as I can muster.
As I run, I dip my mind into the Dungeon Core’s interface, relieved I can still sense it as keenly from this distance. I knew that should be the case, given the Core’s range is the size of the city itself, but it’s still a relief to find the theory verified. Using the Core’s interface, I focus on the stone passageways outside the Fortress. In a few tunnels, I can feel where the pebbles are being disturbed—people are running through the caves there. But are they friend or foe? Without more information, I can’t risk attacking them, so instead, I avoid them.
Further ahead, massive boulders are rolling around. Cracks splaying through the wall. A battle scene taking place at an oversized scale.
Ollie.
My legs and lungs burn as I run. My brain is spinning a mile a minute. I’m searching all the nearby caves, watching the stones for any sign that someone might be approaching, while at the same time directing the Dungeon Core to continue its work on the Fortress. My mind is split so many different ways, but I can’t stop now. Everyone is counting on me.
When I reach the room that contains the oversized fight, I have to stop myself from skidding out the end of the tunnel and into the chamber ahead. Instead, I press myself to the wall and peek around the corner.
“FYRE!”
“I’m here!” I tell him. “Just give me one—”
A beam of ice blasts through the tunnel, narrowly missing me only because I’d kept close to the wall. I activate a Blaze and keep the fire close to my palm: dim but dense with mana. I run my hand over the ice, burning through a narrow gap that lets me out into the cavern beyond.
It takes me a moment to compute what I’m seeing.
A giant writhing mass of white takes up half the chamber, like living coils of rope in unending motion. Ollie is in there somewhere—I catch glimpses of his claws scratching desperately at his assailant, of his maw biting in panicked snaps. At first I think the thing that’s attacking him is another ice dragon. Until Ollie catches one of the coils in his jaws, which shatters beneath his teeth in a rain of ice.
It’s all ice. A glacier turned colossal snake.
But how? Is it alive? A spell? Either way, one thing is for certain: if I try to get between the two, I’ll be pulverized in an instant. As much as I want to jump into the midst of things and save Ollie this second, I’ll mean nothing to him dead. I need to find a solution to this remotely.
I could throw a Fireball at it or stab it with stone—those would be the most intuitive approaches to take. However, they’re moving too fast, throwing each other from floor to wall and rolling over the top of each other so rapidly, I would almost certainly hit Ollie. What are my other options, then?
I try to get the Dungeon Core to eat away at the icy creature attacking Ollie, first.
[Authority denied,] Echo reports. [The element is Attuned to a different mage.]
Magic, then. And if someone is controlling it, they must not be far.
I cautiously and quickly scan my surroundings: from the Dungeon Core’s interface, I can tell there’s three more tunnels which open onto this cavern, all of them above me. Is there anyone up there? I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing on every pebble, every slight vibration that shakes through the cave. Ollie and the ice serpent slam into a wall, sending shockwaves through the earth, disrupting stone in each of the tunnels I’m monitoring.
Damn, I can’t tell. And I don’t have time to waste trying to suss it out. I’ll need to go see for myself.
“I’m here, Ollie,” I tell him again as I step out into the chamber. “I’m going to help you, don’t worry. Just hang on a little longer!”
Ollie tries to struggle away from the ice serpent, looking around for me, but the creature takes the opportunity to bite into his neck, and Ollie roars, launching a beam of ice through the room and crashing into the ceiling.
“HURRY, FYRE,” Ollie says, yanking his neck free. Streaks of red fleck away as he does so. “HURRY!”
My stomach lurches at the sight, fear quickly turning to anger. I’ll find whoever did this to him, and I’ll make them pay.
I look to the first tunnel opening, two stories above me, and summon a Jet beneath either hand. Spreading my wings, I summon two more jets beneath each of them, then I launch myself into the air.
Just as before I’m filled with terror and an excited thrill, but each of them pale in comparison to the smoldering anger I’m nurturing for Ollie’s assailants. I blast into the opening of the first tunnel, cutting off the fire and stumbling to the floor: empty. I launch a Fireball down the passage anyway. The flame blasts down the hall until it crashes into a wall, snuffing the light out. No one. Alright then. I reignite my flames, and jump back into the air once more.
[Jet spell Level up!] Echo announces. [Jet Level 2: mana consumption reduced by 10%. Flight dynamics precision and control increased by 10%.]
I don’t have much time to celebrate or dig into exactly which variables Echo is referring to there as I rocket toward the next tunnel. Once again I blast through the entrance with a burst of fire, which I quickly extinguish as I land. Another Fireball shows the same thing as the last: the tunnel is empty.
Is it possible they’re remote? Manipulating the spell from a distance, through some type of interface like Torim’s water scrying or the Pact I have with the Dungeon Core? That would be bad. They could be anywhere. Still, I again jump out of the tunnel exit, activating another Jet before gravity can take hold, and fire myself toward the last tunnel.
As I burst into the entryway, two figures let out a cry, falling back. I stumble to a halt as I turn my spell off, both of us equally surprised to abruptly be face-to-face with the enemy. I recover first.
“If you are the mages wielding the ice magic below, I must ask you to immediately desist,” I say. “Failure to do so will be met with a swift show of force.” While I speak, I give both of them a Check, mind racing as I take in every detail available. The man’s holding a white staff. The woman, a sword. Both are garbed in white furs and armor, marked with the Jorria shield and eye.
[Check: Ingrid, level 28 human kni—]
Before Echo can even finish her summary, the man jerks his staff toward me. The tip glows white with energy. I mentally jump for the Dungeon Core, and it immediately reads my intent. The Core gleefully complies, snapping the walls shut around the Jorrians.
In an instant, they’re gone. Two lives snuffed from existence. Two lives taken by my hand.
[EXP threshold met,] Echo happily announces. [Level up!]
[Name: Fyre]
[Species: Harpy]
[Subspecies: Phoenix]
[Class: Psion]
[Level: 22]
[HP: 100/100]
[Mana: 300/300]
[Bonus Mana: 243,927,469]
[Role: The Dark Lord]
A refreshing warmth washes over me with Echo’s announcement, but I don’t have time to dwell on the new stats—or the line I just crossed. I race back to the cavern, activating my Jets as I slow my descent toward Ollie.
“Are you alright?” I call to him verbally as well as mentally.
“OWWWWW,” Ollie moans as he disentangles himself from the ice serpent, now unmoving. He wriggles out of a loop of ice, shattering one of the snake’s coils as he spills out onto the cave floor.
I land before him, sagging in relief. “Thank god.” I’d gotten the right people.
Ollie’s head nuzzles into me, nearly knocking me off my feet. “I WAS SO SCARED! IT CAME OUT OF NOWHERE AND STARTED HURTING ME. IT HURTS, FYRE.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I know.” I wrap my arms around his muzzle in a hug. “Now let’s get back to the palace and get you healed up.”
“BUT WHAT ABOUT YOU?” he asks. “I HAVE TO PROTECT YOU, AND IT’S NOT SAFE YET!”
“Don’t worry about me,” I assure him. “I’ll be fine. Now come on, let’s—”
Ollie’s head jerks from my arms with a roar, and his tail whips around me. I hear a thunk and a crack. When I turn to see what had just happened, I’m met with the sight of the corpse of a Jorrian sliding down the wall.
“OH NO!” Ollie said. “I SMACKED HIM TOO HARD!” He drips his head sadly to me. “IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, I PROMISE! HE WAS JUST SNEAKING UP ON YOU AND I WANTED TO PUSH HIM AWAY.”
“No,” I say, heart hammering in my chest. That was close. Way too close. “That’s okay, Ollie. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“ISN’T HURTING PEOPLE WRONG?” he asks.
I think of the two Jorrians in the tunnel above us. “Not if it’s done to protect someone who can’t protect themself.”
“DO I STILL HAVE TO GO BACK?” he asks. “IT WAS REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE BACK AT THE PALACE.”
And it will only get worse.
I glance back at the broken fragments of the ice snake. It’s not far from the entrance to our kingdom. If Ollie hadn’t been here, it might have made it into the city before anyone had a chance to warn us or stop it. The open passage back to Fyreneth’s Fortress concerns me, but I’m hesitant to seal the entrance with Fyrethians still in the tunnels, in case they needed to retreat.
I turn back to Ollie, eying the ridges on the back of his neck. They wouldn’t make for a terribly stable seat, but I have my Jets that can act as stabilizers. If his Role is going to push him into this conflict regardless, I would feel better about it if I was with him to help. The Dungeon Core is still converting the stone in the background. I can be more useful here than in the palace. Two heads are better than one, after all.
“Actually,” I say, patting Ollie’s neck. “I have a better idea.”