Originally uploaded Mar 12, 2023

Vago Pov

I floated, in a trance. The relic radiating a brilliant light blue as it floated in front of me. That old archaevoist was a utter fool. Only hoarding rare and interesting things for his own amusement and collection.

Stooping so low as to steal from our own kind. Directly from a stasis realm where all of its inhabitants were still in hibernation. I did pondered if I should notify the awakened council of his escapades, but I voted against it. If those nosy bureaucrats got involved this relic would likely spend the rest of eternity in a locked vault, collecting dust.

Either that, or the council takes several decades or centuries to make a proper decision. That was par for the course with us ascended Djinn, time was not something we lacked.

Heck, there was even a play retelling the stories of the Great Scouring and our last-ditch attempt at a counterattack that when performed in its entirety, was 3 days long. With the performers and audience barely requiring sustenance or sleep.

While I had prepared precautions in case of any interference, I would rather not waste any more time than I had to.

I regained focus, closing my eyes as I left the raw data of the universe around me flood my brain. The mana, the aether, all intertwined, all playing around and against each other. In a intricate dance. The relic in front of me was glowing bright, like the sun.

Well I wasn't directly staring at it of course, only reading and feeling the aether it gave off in my mind. I could sense it, the strength and purity of it. The massive amount of power it held. A tool crafted and refined by our ancestors for countless millennia. I didn't even truly know if it was a Djinn made artifact. Nevertheless we were the race that could fully understand it.

And that bastard museum hoarder wanted it as decoration. Neoth, the lord of Sullamance, the archaevoist of the Prismatic Galleries. He was a old acquaintance. Being a museum curator even before our transference and ascension. Hunched over as he always was pouring over old scripts or documents. His infusion with aether only seemed to dial up his collector habits by a million.

No longer satisfied with his collection, which was the largest of any Djinn gallery in known history. He embarked on collecting and displaying all of the material world. That hopeless fool, always so fixated on the past.

When our connection with the very fabric of reality allowed us to do so much more. Right on cue the orb began glowing even brighter, as if it heard me. I could feel the runes and glyphs all over my skin glow, as my skin got warmer and warmer. To the point it began to feel as if my very skin was on fire.

But I could feel it, the ancient relic passed on by countless generations answering my call. It began to morph and change, as if it was alive. The aether emitted from it was unlike anything I have felt before. I could feel the backlash and stress of aether on my body. But I knew I was so close, if my hypothesis is correct, with this relic's help our race might have another chance.

My concentration was broken by an alert. As my entire meditation chamber began blaring like a siren. My connection to the greater universe and relic disappeared, all now a fleeting feeling.

I opened my eyes with a groan, calculating the time I have just been forced to waste. It had taken me several decades to get so close and to be yanked back out.

I turn my head as a panel of aether appears right before my face. Flashing red to grab my attention, as if I could miss it with a deafening sirens.

I begin reading the contents of the message, no doubt sent by another member of our kind. And I couldn't help but scoff.

"That old bastard actually got the council involved in this." I thought out loud. As I dropped my feet to touch the ground. Summoning my Staff of Time, I reluctantly begin to embark.

While our race has been greatly reduced in numbers and power, only further weakened by a faulty hibernation system. There were members of our race who ranked high enough that have awakened with most of their mental facilities still intact. Who have banded together to form a council of sorts to regulate and protect the rest of our kind before we fully reanimate them.

With a flick of my wrist a small portal shimmered to life. With our realms we have forged being more dense with atmospheric aether such a feat was easy even without any tools or artifacts.

Before stepping in I take a deep sigh, while as immortal aether powered beings us Djinn did not lack time. So any political discord or bickering could take years to finish. And I'd rather not waste my time with the pointless bureaucratic system. But if I fail to show myself I have no doubt they will send their personal forced after me.

Finally making up my mind I step into the portal.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

***

Neoth Pov

"Are you sure he'll come?" Executioner Filliaus asked, still sharpening her scythe. A tool infused with vivum type aetheric arts, capable of dealing blows directly to a being's soul. Giving them a true death.

"If he doesn't then he isn't as smart as we give him credit." Highlord Oliurk replied, as he tapped at the armrest of his seat. Producing an annoying clicking sound. Originally a metalworker, through certain connections as well as some underhanded methods he rose to be the Highlord of his realm. Smart and crude enough to cover his tracks, leaving little evidence to convict him.

Oliurk's long grey hair flowed like waterfalls over his shoulders. He had a larger build, no doubt honed by his years working as a metal forger. The stress and hardships of his previous occupation were written plainly on his body and face.

"Will you stop that!?" Erurda yelled, she was the youngest of the council, brought to the her position not because of her talents but her lineage and connections. Hailing from a wealthy household, holding much of the power within their own realm, it would be a wrong to say the previous Highlord had any political power at all.

Despite this, with her aggressive personality she would constantly butt heads with older and more experienced members of high society. And it was certain her and Oliurk would begin arguing again. It was a mystery how she survived so long as a member of those pacifist cowards.

How entertaining it was, for we have gained power over the cosmos, yet when push comes to shove we all return to our basal instincts like animals. Barking and roaring at each other.

Watching all of this was Varactor, observing silently from his seat, which was positioned higher above than the rest. Wearing large crimson robes and a hooded cloak of the same color, which obscured most of his mangled and deformed body. He was the most eccentric and unpredictable of the council. Replacing many of his own body parts and internal organs with machinery and relics, he was once fully flesh and blood, living as a once in a generation prodigy scholar. When his time came, rather than embracing death and returning to the aether, he instead rejected the limitations of mortal flesh. Most would consider him insane, but his mind wasn't something you could ignore. And with his studies he pushed the boundaries of technology and magic, blending them together.

Little by little he replaced his own frail body. It was difficult to even tell if he is the same scholar from all those years ago. But his mind was a scary thing indeed, whether that be raw processing speed or the wealth of knowledge he held. Even that old chronomancer would be no match in a battle of wits.

'Ah, speak of the devil.' I thought, sensing the disturbance of aether in the round council room. A small purple portal rippled and appeared before us, and out stepped the that old time wizard.

Donning a emerald cloak with a golden headdress, resembling some kind of snake. His eyes glowed a subtle forest green, with not a very amused look plastered all over his face.

"So nice of you to finally join us." I jested, spreading my arms open in a mock welcoming gesture. I might be old, even ancient by some standards, but that didn't mean I couldn't have fun.

The old chronomancer only gave me a passing glance, but I could just hear this annoyance and frustration. As he bowed his head in respect to the council, we all knew it was for show. His great disdain for any sort of bureaucracy was apparent. Even refusing to join any other realm, despite the great offers he no doubt would receive for his services.

"May we please begin? I have some urgent business I must attend to." Vago politely asked, trying not to give me chance to prolong this any further than it probably will be.

"Lord Neoth has accused of inter-faction thievery, Chronomancer Vago. How do you plead?" Varactor's words echoed throughout the council chambers. His voice heavily altered by his mechanical augmentations.

Vago quickly bowed his head once again, and began to speak.

"My lords, I assure you I have justifications for this case."

"So you confess to thievery?" I could sense Oliurk eyebrows raise at his statement. Now curious, both he and Eruda put a hold on their debate.

"And your reasons being?" Filliaus asked, leaning on her scythe. With an eager gleam in her void-like eyes.

"Our venerable Lord General... the emperor has tasked me in retrieving this artifact." Vago answered, his voice shaking as he spoke of the warlord turned emperor.

And the rest of the room reacted in a similar fashion, some shock, some fear, some excitement.

"Do you have proof?" I asked, feeling a cold chill at the mention of that tyrant. If this matter truly involved him I doubt the council would side with me.

"Indeed, Lord Neoth." Vago coldly replied. But I should just feel him taunting me, as if I had just walked straight into his trap. From his cloak he retrieve a small round disc. Pale purple in color. From it emitted a strong physic and aetheric presence. Far greater than any artifact or relic I have seen. And within was an encoded message. It was the imperial insignia.

A metal limb emerged from Lord Varactor's cloak. A spindly long metal arm, ending in three sharp finger-like jointed points. The mechanical limb gently plucked the insignia from Vago's hands. And brought it up to its operator's face. I could hear the gears and other machinery click and spin as the Highlord studied the disc.

A loud cackle filled the room. The large cloaked lord reeled backwards as he continued laughing. An act that was no doubt incredibly painful to his distorted body, but he continued.

The artificial implants and attachments all whined and groaned in protest to his sudden movements. And after what felt like several hours he finally spoke.

"So, his majesty still lives?" He asked Vago, as his eyes underneath his large hood glowed a light purple, almost pink. As did Vago's.

An aetheric connection, where one uses aether to bridge the gap between two minds. A very effective communication method. Transferring one's thoughts and ideas directly to someone else's.

It only lasted for a few second, but in that time several libraries worth of information could have been conveyed.

"I no longer see the need for this hearing, do you Neoth?" Varactor directed his question to me. Less of a question and more of an order. I had fumbled greatly here.

While the council still followed the final orders of that tyrant warlord, there were growing doubts of his survival in the beast glades. But this new evidence will only further galvanize their growing war effort. And preparations for his eventual return.

If I didn't want to be the first one on the chopping block I had no other choice.

Reluctantly bowing my head in respect I mutter my answer. "No, my lord."

At the same time I received a mental message from the old seer himself.

"Better luck next time old friend." Vago's voice range in my head. Even though I couldn't see his face I just knew he had a smug smile on that wrinkled face of his.

And in return I sent him a message back, through the aether rich atmosphere of the council chambers.

"Time will tell, won't it? Old comrade."