Chapter 48 - Instability II

The air thickened the further they walked, becoming a nearly physical presence around them, and the sky was soon completely covered in a dense canopy of tangled branches. Lazar’s grey eyes scanned their surroundings, and he used the end of his halberd to sweep the ground in front of him as he walked, checking for dips and crevices hidden in the layers of shadows.

At some point, the wind had stopped. He could no longer feel the breeze on his back, and without its whistle, only the sounds of their own footsteps rang around them. His eyes narrowed, and he peered upwards. By now, the trees had grown so tall that he could no longer make out their tops.

Lazar tightened his hold on the halberd, letting the cold metal bite into his skin. This was wrong. If the forest truly grew to such a height, they should’ve been able to see it easily from the outside. And yet, when they’d stood at the realm gate, the treeline had appeared relatively uniform. This wasn’t the same place they’d seen.

The seraph felt the end of the halberd hit a liquid, and he stopped, drawing the weapon back. He kept it at a safe distance as he inspected the end. It was hard to make out in the dim light, but a dark, viscous substance slowly dripped down the metal, the consistency too thick to be blood, but too smooth to be mud.

Lazar pulled out a spare cloth and carefully swiped some of the substance off. It reminded him, he realized, of the black liquid that had pooled in certain parts of the Abyss.

His unease grew, and he lowered the end of the halberd back to the ground.

“Ciel.” Lazar spoke quietly, his own voice seeming too loud in the oppressive silence of the forest. “How much can you make out in the darkness?”

The demon glanced in his direction, humming. “Not a lot of details, just some basic shapes.” Golden eyes scanned their surroundings, pausing. “Up ahead. It gets lighter.” She squinted. “I think there’s a gap in the canopy.”

That would be a good direction to head, then.

“Does it still look like we’re in the first plane?”

The flesh eater’s gaze snapped to him, studying the seraph consideringly. Finally, she responded, answering his unspoken question. “It doesn’t look like anywhere I’ve seen in the Abyss.”

Lazar nodded slowly, digesting that information. He exhaled, turning in the direction Ciel had pointed out. “I see.” Logically, it wasn’t possible to pass between realms without the use of the gate. He knew that. Still, the tension in his muscles didn’t dissipate. “Let’s proceed towards the light, then we can get our bearings.”

He heard Ciel hum in agreement, and they continued forward at a steady pace. Lazar avoided the strange liquid, shifting away whenever he felt his halberd brush against it. It seemed the amount was increasing, the pools growing deeper.

Up ahead, the faint dimness shifted into a stronger light that filtered between the trees. Lazar could see where it hit the ground, the hard stone reflecting it and turning a pure white within the circular clearing. The seraph stopped walking at the edge of the gap, just beside a curving tree, and looked up. A chill ran down his spine.

Through the opening in the branches, a cloudless sky beamed down on them, but it wasn’t the pure, light blue gradient they’d seen that morning.

Instead, hints of dark, wine red streaked across like bleeding ink stains, their edges slowly spreading, battling with the cooler hues.

Beneath their feet, the ground rumbled, and one of the trees across the clearing shifted, bubbles surfacing on one side. The bark contorted and stretched, pulling wildly in different directions before it was smoothed into a familiar gleaming spire.

It wasn’t the only one, Lazar realized. The darkness and height of the trees had concealed them, but several of the shadows he’d assumed were trunks had hard, stony surfaces at a second glance. The ground, too, rippled, patches of the first plane’s white moss fading into view, then vanishing, then appearing again. More red splotches bloomed across the sky, only for swirls of blue to push them aside again.

Ciel had been right. This wasn’t the Abyss, but it wasn’t exactly the first plane, either.

A cracking sound rang in his ears, a deep cut forming across the ground. The earth split, one side of the clearing tilting upwards precariously. He heard branches snapping, the crash of a distant tree or spire falling.

“The planes are merging.” Lazar voiced the thought aloud, the words quiet and barely above a whisper. A sharp stone jutted out from the ground, forcing itself through a patch of moss. A second later, it dropped back down, the ground constantly cycling through waves as the two planes clashed with each other.

This wasn’t like a tear. This was something else entirely, something more wholesale and all consuming. From where they stood, Lazar couldn’t see an origin point for it, nor had he ever heard of something like this happening in the past.

The seraph remembered the stark white tear, brimming with the Void’s energy, and the churning in his gut rose. This wasn’t just a period of minor instability; something was very wrong with the Cycle, the Void, and the balance of the planes.

Another crack sounded, and Lazar turned to Ciel.

“We need to leave.” The words came out in a rush.

If the demon responded, the seraph didn’t hear it, because in the next moment the flesh around his forearm rippled, twisting and rising as easily as a wave, morphed into something alien right in front of his eyes.

Lazar didn’t think. He swung his halberd, slicing off the extra appendage as it grew.

Warm blood splattered across his arm, but when the seraph pulled the blade away, the skin looked smooth and uninjured. He heard heavy breaths and realized they were coming from him. A few feet away, an amorphous lump of flesh lay limply on the ground, and Lazar could barely process that it had come from him. Or perhaps that wasn’t entirely accurate. It was a demonic warping, just like what had happened to so many of the animals they’d encountered.

Something grabbed his shoulder, and Lazar heard branches snapping as he was suddenly pulled upwards. He forced himself out of his daze and spun around, digging the blade of the halberd into the tree trunk. He saw Ciel just above him, an extra arm pulling him up behind her as she climbed higher.

The ground split open again, a sharp spire shooting out from it.

The edge of the rock slammed into the tree trunk, and a resounding crack echoed from the impact. The tree shook beneath them, and Lazar jerked around, seeking the closest landing place.

“Right!” he yelled, and as the tree came crashing down, Ciel leapt off, roughly grabbing onto a nearby branch. The seraph jumped just as his current position passed the area, successfully managing to land on the branch as well. He felt splinters digging into his palms, but that was the least of his concerns as he struggled to catch his breath. Above them, the sky continued to swirl, splotches of blue and red mixing erratically.

“Was that arm the only one?”

Ciel pulled herself up, golden eyes scanning him, and Lazar turned to face her. She was talking about the appendage, he realized.

“That was the only one,” he confirmed. From up high, he could just barely make out the cut off flesh on the ground.

“Good.” The demon’s eyes narrowed. “If more morphing happens, slice it off. Doesn’t matter if you have to take off an actual limb with it.”

Lazar slowly nodded, struck by how serious the flesh eater looked. In the time since they’d met, he didn’t think he’d ever seen her with an expression like that. He tightened his hold on the halberd and peered down below. “...I think this area might be out of range,” he said. The odd mixing of realms must be isolated to certain regions.

Ciel hummed. “Maybe. Looks like it’s weaker up high.”

“We need to get back.” Lazar’s eyes scanned the canopy, searching for a path. “If we balance on the branches, we might be able to minimize the effect while we run.”

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“Sounds like a plan.” Ciel shifted, getting to her feet. Lazar did the same, though he paused when the demon didn’t move immediately. Instead, she glanced over at him and jerked a thumb forward.

“You go first.” Her lips pulled into a thin, wry smile. “I’m already a demon. The warping’s got no effect on me.”

The seraph nodded, and after eyeing the neighboring tree, he sprinted forward and used the end of his halberd to vault himself onto the next branch. He landed on his feet, a resounding thump sounding around him, but the branch remained firm beneath his weight.

As soon as he heard Ciel land, Lazar ran forward, not wasting time glancing back. He trusted the demon to keep up, and he could hear the ground splitting again behind them. Cuts opened where he ran past stray branches, and the forest around them grew darker the further they went from the clearing. It still wasn’t safe yet. The sheer scale of these trees was likely a result of the planes colliding as well, or perhaps a side effect.

The two of them continued like that for a while longer, but it was quickly becoming less and less feasible to continue within the canopy, the thickening shadows making it too difficult to see reasonable paths. Lazar gritted his teeth. By then, he could no longer hear the ground splitting, nor could he see the sky anymore, but there was still a possibility of the warping occurring on a lower level. They would have to be quick.

“Ciel, I’m moving to the ground!” he called. He didn’t wait for a response, slowing just enough to dig the blade of the halberd into the tree trunk as support as he leapt and slid down, landing roughly and rolling a few times before he managed to plant his feet down and stand.

The earth shook slightly as Ciel landed behind him, and the two dashed back through the forest, weaving between trees and boulders, leaving the place far behind them. Lazar could feel his muscles straining, his lungs exhausted, but he kept going.

They didn’t stop until the plain pale blue sky was once again visible above a lower canopy, the gaps between the trees open and clear and familiar.

The seraph slowed, breaths ragged, and finally allowed his legs to stop moving. He stumbled a little and gripped a nearby boulder to keep himself upright. His eyes landed on his arm, the blood there beginning to dry and crust over. With a slightly shaky hand, he peeled the flakes back, affirming that the limb was unchanged. His shoulders slumped, and slowly but surely, he felt his heart rate begin to lower again.

“…The planes are colliding,” he muttered to himself. He repeated it again, trying to make sense of it, but the words still didn’t feel quite real.

Ciel huffed. “Guess that explains the weird animals.” She slumped back against a tree trunk, her own breaths heavier than usual. “Mystery solved.”

Lazar struggled to straighten, pushing himself away from the boulder. He reached into his bag, which had miraculously stayed on, and pulled out some of those scrap fabric pieces they’d gathered. He began tying them, not a single one like he did when marking their location, but multiple laid out in a clear line.

“This area isn’t safe,” he said. He remembered running into Madeline that first day here. If a human were to wander into that region by accident, it would be incredibly dangerous.

The seraph stepped back. He didn’t have nearly enough fabric scraps to form a meaningful boundary. His brows furrowed. He had no idea what the nature of the plane overlap was, whether or not it would spread. It would be safest to place a barrier around to contain it.

“We need to tell Alaric,” Lazar said slowly. The man was a deserter from the second plane knights. If anyone knew enough magic to create barriers, he suspected it would be him. “This place needs to be blocked off, ideally with a barrier.”

“He’s gonna ask what we were doing here, you know.”

“We can tell him we’re trying to ascend and came here to train.” It was technically the truth, even if it omitted a few crucial details.

The seraph closed his eyes, focusing his senses. When he opened them again, long, looping strings of essence wove between the branches. He’d noticed they were longer here in the forest, but now, as he took in the tangles of essence, he suspected their knotted forms were also a result of the plane collision.

Plane collision. Something like this had never happened before, that the seraph knew. And yet, how else could he explain that clearing, the red bleeding into blue, the violent lurching of the ground as the Abyss and first plane fought for territory?

Lazar shook his head and exhaled, already beginning to feel his thoughts churn. One thing at a time, he reminded himself. First, they needed to make sure no one came to this area. They could decide what to do after that was done.

Ciel pushed herself away from the tree, her own breaths finally even again. The flesh eater peered past the tied cloths, squinting into the forest that looked so innocuous from here.

“How do you know Alaric knows enough magic to make barriers?” she pointed out.

“I don’t,” Lazar confessed. “I was planning to ask. Since he was a knight, I assumed if anyone knew, it would be him.”

“It probably still wouldn’t be enough.” Ciel straightened, tearing her eyes away from the trees and turning to face him. “Humans do barriers different than seraphs. They’re all physical; it could keep people out, but it wouldn’t stop that shit from spreading.”

Lazar frowned. He’d been worried that would be the case. His gaze shifted, eyeing the area consideringly.

“I suppose,” he said slowly, “I could try.”

Ciel raised an eyebrow at that. “You built up enough soul strength for magic?”

“I’m not sure if I have. I was close the last time I tried,” Lazar explained. He raised a hand. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to at least try before they sought outside help. If he could manage to cast a spell now, that would be taking care of multiple problems at once.

The seraph’s brows furrowed in concentration, and he focused on one of the thinner strands of essence that would be easier to pull. He reached out with his soul, tugging it closer, and it came loose relatively easily.

It was when the silver string was at the tip of his palm, its end hovering just over his chest, that he felt resistance. Lazar inhaled and kept his breaths steady, his body still. Casting magic involved bringing a strand into the soul in order to manipulate its shape into a proper spell, and he urged the essence closer, beckoning it. One end moved forward in a quick, jerking motion, just outside his soul.

Lazar felt his hold on the essence weakening, his grip tenuous. He closed his eyes, blocking out all other senses until there was only himself and the surrounding essence.

With one final push, he yanked on the essence string, and he felt it pass into his soul.

For a brief moment, a familiar warmth filled his chest. It was a soothing feeling, like the afternoon sun. As comforting as a crackling fire, as cozy as an old home. He felt alive in a way he hadn’t since falling, more like himself than he’d been since losing his wings.

And then the essence was pulled further.

The moment shattered.

A piercing pain shot through his chest, and Lazar’s hands flew up, desperately gripping the area. He felt himself fall to his knees, his vision blurring as the pain kept spreading, kept flowing outward, burning and ice cold, until he could think of nothing else. Until he couldn’t hear, couldn’t breath, couldn’t see—

—The fields were even more expansive than he’d expected, the tall grasses easily obscuring him from view. He ran through them, the plants lightly brushing against his skin, until he reached the edge of the floating island.

Standing there, all of Elysium in his view, the sky had never looked so massive, so all consuming. It dwarfed him, and yet, he found he wasn’t afraid of it. He craved the sensation.

For a moment, all he could do was stare, even as he heard distant yells from the manor, the flapping of wings.

He spread his arms out wide to feel more of the wind against him. He let it soothe the wounds on his back, his feet half over the edge, caught between land and sky.

He heard more flapping feathers, this time louder, and his heart rate picked up. If he was lucky, if he turned back now and begged for forgiveness, perhaps—

But the manor was too constricted, with its white pillars cutting the sky into contained pieces. It was pristine and overwhelming, and even the wind felt different there.

He closed his eyes, inhaling and filling his lungs with the clear air. He could stay there, caught beneath that endless blue forever, he thought.

A strange feeling of lightness overtook him. He felt like he was floating. Weightless and invincible. The ground beneath him shifted, and—

—scattering feathers, a whistling in his ear—

—the sensation of falling, distant yells and voices, a name—

—time seemed to slow down and speed up, ephemeral and impossible to grasp—

—a bright red sky—

—warm light, an impact that never came—

—a voice echoing in his ears—

“Child, were you trying to fly?”

Lazar jolted violently back to the present. He wheezed, breaths ragged as he struggled to get enough air. He was on the ground, he realized, his hands clawing at his chest, the lingering pain still coursing through his body. His vision swam, and his ears rang.

He didn’t think. His mind was a jumbled mess, and he forced himself up into a sitting position, hands fumbling with the collar of his shirt. His hands moved practically on instinct, peeling back the fabric until his chest was exposed.

There, dark, inky lines bloomed crookedly out from his fallen mark, jagged and sharp, spreading like branching veins that stretched further out than they had ever reached before.

The mark had expanded.