How!?

I would shrug—

No, shut up, tell me how. I want to speak with something! Fucking anything! I want to use words, not commands and silent expressions.

I—

You’ve had your fun. You’ve laughed at me, insulted me… you know the only reason I don’t ignore you outright? Because I need to speak with another being. You provide the smallest drip-feed of social stimulation to make me not go fucking insane — and now I have a chance to actually open dialogue with someone else. You’re stopping me. Fucking tell me how.

I can’t. I honestly think I would but—

Then leave. I’ll figure it out on my own.

It doesn’t respond. Caau turns his attention to the message.

[ A Lunar-blooded’s Avatar wishes to speak with you. ]

Accept?

Avatar? Not a champion… the others were called champions. It’s not a dialect or regional thing — there’s a difference. What? What is it?

Caau tests if Arden can hear him, hear his commands. He can’t. Perhaps because he’s too busy in a staring match with the wraith… but he doubts it. No… he just can’t be heard.

Maybe… I can ask the avatar? With the golems?

Caau takes back control of the guardians, the lock that had them in Arden’s control now gone. A combat lock? They can’t be changed in combat?

Either way, he makes them collect together in front of the Avatar. The wraith doesn’t move. How the fuck do I communicate? How do I accept? I can’t just press the accept button with my mind like before — there’s something I need to do.

Would just a rudimentary form of communication work?

Guardians! Spell… hello in the ground.

They start to shuffle, moving in each other’s way, contorting themselves.

What are you doing? Spell Hello, but with the stone in the ground; not your damned bodies!

They get down on their knees, Sapphire and Quartz using their picks to loosen the stone as Onyx — single-handed and pickaxeless by combat — and Granite — pickaxeless by choice, it would seem — pull along the stone. Eventually, a word begins to form.

[ You have accepted Communication ]

Caau’s heart lights up with joy… but he feels a presence recede in the back of his mind. Even so, another comes to join him.

The wraith speaks directly into his mind.

“Who are you?”

I am Caau. A small obelisk nearby. We need food and water for—

“Do you speak?”

His heart drops. She can’t hear him. Caau seizes the annoyance, directing all of the guardians to point at Arden, whose head jolts back in surprise.

“You cannot speak, then… but you can command these… guardians? You would have me speak with a peon?” She sighs, a cold, tired sigh. “Very well.”

Arden stomps with heavy feet, until he stands looking up at the towering wraith. No fear flickers across his face. Nothing but calm reaches the muscles to twitch them involuntarily. It is as though he stares at a blank wall.

The wraith speaks once more, and the voice is no longer in his mind. “You are the speaker for your master?” she asks. Arden shrugs. “I do not think there is another way.”

“Very well. You want—“ her voice is cut off as a near-corpse slips from the cart. It is horrifically ugly, as though rotting whilst still alive. Two eyes of a widely different proportion, a concave chest that makes the wheezing breaths sound like hollow roars. Legs twist inwards as they kick towards Arden.

Arden steps — but the Avatar is quicker. He feels Arden’s pure spike of anger shred through him when the priestess touches the girl. Only to fade when it is a mother’s embrace. “Oh, my child. What has been done to you? My child, my child. Who has disfigured you so?”

Child? There’s not a chance he randomly got the mother’s actual fucking child, is there? How the hell are wraiths even made? If goblins are made by eating human flesh…? Is there a similar process for wraiths?

The administrator, if she is still around, does not respond. Caau knows she would respond there. Normally.

Was I... a fool?

Arden stops his march towards the priestess. “Your child? Is this… yours?”

The priestess does not speak. Instead, she holds her palm above the child. A moment later, water — the clearest Caau has ever seen — drips from her long, gangly fingertips and into the girl’s mouth. It does not heal her… the priestess does not have that power, it would seem.

Another hand grows from the lunar avatar’s side, growing and growing until it covers the cart. Water rains down, flowing in little streams to those who require it. Of all the mouths, it goes to twelve.

There are at least thirty in the cart.

The women-wraith stands, clutching the child skillfully, calmly, lovingly, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “It is no more my child than any who are here. This is a sanctuary not unlike your human ones. The ones you have killed were ones who wished to hide from the world. Because they are terrible creatures. This is a place for those who repent their immortality. Who wish for a better life. For a way to return.”

The looks down upon the girl. “I do not know how this has happened… but an Abyssal has corrupted her. There are no less than three curses upon her. One of stench… one of disgust… and one of heart. Lunar power has the ability to scrub this from her, but not with the resources I have.”

Arden takes a step forward. “Thank you for watering those still alive,” he glances at the cart, seeing a few souls writhing around. “Even if nothing can be done for the others. What resource would you require?”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The wraith, surprisingly, smiles. “More than you could hope to give. Do you seek to kill me? I have spent so long keeping the Lunar-blood aloft… that I am no longer sure if I can fight. If you wish to kill us, you may do so. There is food, but not much. The Immortal Plane is not one of abundant resources. Thus the realm war.”

Arden holds out a hand, palm flat, facing her. “I will do no such thing. I will take enough food so that my people do not perish, and then I will depart. I will try to find a cure for her.”

The lunar-priestess shakes her head. “We will depart to the Lunar Realm. It will be an arduous journey… but there is an absolute way to save her. I—“

“Absolutely not. I have your bearing as a mother, but that does not mean I will let you take her. There is too much I do not know.”

“Fine, then. If you wish the girl to die, you could not pick a better choice.”

“I do not. My master has placed me in command of communication… and I must do what I think is right. I am sorry, master, if this is information you do not wish divulged.” He speaks, and Caau’s heart sinks. What the hell is he about to do? You stupid brat!

“I know the location of a as-of-yet built-upon Sanctuary.” He speaks, letting the words hang in the air. The lunar-priestess scoffs.

“And what? You think that can save her?”

Arden shakes his head. “I am suggesting you come with me. That we build out the Sanctuary… together?”

The priestess stares at him for a long while… before she begins to laugh. “You would allow us to corrupt your own Sanctuary? I suppose you are little more than a boy after all.”

Arden stomps his foot, creating a small crater in the stone. “I am a boy still. But I am something else. I am what is owed to all creatures that do not wish to harm others. You require safety, and I know a place you can get it. What else would you suggest I do? You would cross the entire rest of the immortal plane, through the entire Natural plane, and then, what? You are not a lunar-blooded, you are not a lunite. You are an immortal.”

The words seem tinged with something. Conviction isn’t the right word, but it might be the closest.

“I know the old histories. I am not supposed to, but my mother was an Arcanist. She found some of the old secrets — and instilled them into me. An Abyssal once tried to take them, until I was saved. I know that once, it was the Lunar Realm that hung in the sky — not the Solar. That once it was allied with the Celestials. As such, I know the compatibility between the energies. It is not impossible.”

The priestess looks at the moon. “You would suggest… to me… an immortal — a wraith, an enemy! — to move my precious master to a Sanctuary? I do not understand you. I do not understand your master’s actions. Was this always the plan but it could simply not communicate?”

“I do not know.” He speaks resolutely. And truthfully. “But I proclaimed that I would allow none to be hurt again. That includes the immortals, if they allow it. Living will be difficult… but a substantial benefit to the world. If we can show that we can live together, without being at each other’s throats, imagine what we could do?”

Just how high is this kid’s charisma?

Wait…

This is my fault, isn’t it? I gave him those crystallised reactions… are those rare? More importantly, are they powerful?

Where before the Administrator might have chimed in… the soundscape of Caau’s mind is absent. He had though he would be able to communicate with the lunar-priestess. As it seems… he might have a new visitor in his Sanctuary… a ’Lunar-blooded.’

He tires to focus on Arden… but the same information is repeated. He can’t see stats yet, if they even have them.

“I imagine… there is a condition?”

Arden shakes his head. “There is not. Only that you help excavate the sanctuary, hunt or grow food — if that is even possible — and do anything, within reason, that my master commands.”

“What? You want… the lunar-blooded… to become a follower? Are you kidding?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I do not expect that. I did not even think that were something possible.”

She thinks for a moment. “I am not so sure either. Nor will it matter...” Her eyes turn to sorrow. “I have not been forthcoming. I did not wish to return to the lunar realm to save the girl… but to save my master.”

The priestess looks up at it. “It is dead. Now it only has echoes. It stopped speaking a long while ago. I do not know if… it can be revived. But you are right. Whilst we would be accepted to the lunar-realm… we would not make it. Ameior and Vastus-Graskull are no longer the defenders they need to be. Especially if they are taken from the instillation.”

Arden puts out a palm. “Then it seems you have two choices. Death… or friendship.”

She looks at the girl… and takes his hand.

—

Mekka-Mekka, da smallest gobbo!

Mekka-mekka scours the cave. He’s so hungry. The big mean boss stole all of the food again! Big, fat, stinky boss. But he’s so big… Mekka-Mekka can’t do anything! Sat in there, that nice safe place. Mekka-mekka’s cave got stolen by a bigger goblin. It’s not fair! It’s not fair!

He pulls his mouth from the ground, no longer hoovering up the smallest scraps from the floor. His nose sniffs. It smells like…? What does it smell like? Something he’s never smelt before?

There’s a wall… that wasn’t there before! He scuttles up to it.

The sight is magnificent. A bouquet of items — real swords, armours… no more wrapping his teeth to his fist! He runs in, not caring for to check for enemies. It’s not worth it. Either he gets something or he dies!

A small spark of flame makes him jump… but it doesn’t repeat. His ears prick — something is coming! A lot of something! He snatches up the biggest, strongest thing he can carry and scarpers away!

He won’t be the weakest gobbo! Not with this!

—

It takes two days for the guardians, Arden, the priestess, and the recovered — and willing — humans to scrap the entire Lunar Sanctum from head to toe and bring all of it to the front of the Lunar Sanctum… and then four days and two entire trips back and forth to get it all securely…

A goblin comes through the opening, spotting the big pile of unattended loot on the ground. Swords, armour, comsumables — everything — all right there for the taking.

And all Caau can do is [ Spark I ]. It looks for a single second… then nabs a sword and scuttles off. It’s not one of the more refined, humanoid goblins dotted within the Lunar Sanctum, it’s one of the free-standing immortals, coated in horrible, unclean skin and even dirtier scraps of clothing.

Pretty sure I saw some teeth on it too. Ugh.

A second later, he checks through the eyes of Arden — and the wall is in sight. The one constructed by Quartz and Onyx.

I’m going to have to make it bigger… aren’t I? These people… Will. Not. Fit.

There’s a good deal of them. The majority of the humans still reside within the cart, anxiously looking at the goblins around them in anticipatory stares. As if they can move with how close to death they were.

The corpses were disposed off. Caau watched Arden dig eighteen individual graves. Twelve survivors… eighteen graves. If the boy is affected by it… he doesn’t show it. Have I created a psychopath? I certainly hope not.

Though what kind of psychopath could convince all these people to get along? They aren’t drinking buddies… but they aren’t tearing each other apart.

The vampire and the werewolf both stalk at the back. Caau gets the feeling they are not happy… but the moon hangs above them, chained to them.

So… it is ’stationary’, is it, Administrator? What other lies have you spoken?

Caau waits. She doesn’t come back. She doesn’t speak.

It’s lonely now. They weren’t friends or anything — and it’s not like she didn’t have it coming. But he’d retake that particular exam, if he could.

The moon flickers in front of him. One by one, they touch his surface — and enter inside. Then it stops. One of the goblin touches the surface, but it doesn’t go in. He looks through the void-eye in only to see they’re packed like sardines.

[ Sanctuary — 10 Occupants ]

[ Maximum Capacity Reached. Expand Sanctuary Obelisk to grow internal compartments. ]

[ You have reached 10 Occupants! Next Threshold: 10/20 ]

Oh, what the hell do I get for occupation?

A way... to excavate myself!?

Oh that would be perfect!

He directs the Golems to dig at his base — to excavate him — and hopefully show the problem. The Lunar priestess, now shrunk to a reasonable size-- the taller-than-Arden-look was bravado, it seems -- bends to touches his surface.

“It’s you… isn’t it?”

He can’t answer. But he has the golem nod. “I thought so. I’ve spent enough time around Blooded to know one by the aura. A celestial-blooded sanctuary? How does that happen?”

Wait… the Sanctuaries aren’t inherently Celestial?

What?

I thought… at the very least… I’d be able to communicate with them.

What if they are? It’s just not know?

Does that mean there are many, many like me? Trapped in useless forms?

Except… I managed to get my key.

How lucky am I? What if I didn’t manage to get my key?

What if they didn’t?

Suddenly… he feels very cold. The corrupted sanctuary… is it a corpse, then? Or is it like him… only locked away, screaming into the void as immortals live inside it?

If he could shudder, he'd do it a thousand times.

It is not a good feeling.