Within the center of the Oasis known as Bae—a traveling Sanctum that moved through rock as if it were water—Dailin, along with his Anointed, discussed which of the Safegrounds they would save next.
A shout from a son, one seated within the controlling apparatus of the Oasis, ended said conversation.
“There’s Anima flooding down here,” said the boy.
A few quick glances between themselves, and all those seated around the main table, rested their hands against Animastones linked with the Ward network. With its use, Dailin, and his Anointed, gazed upon the realm.
As his boy had said, before the Oasis—that had stop instantly without any of them feeling it—was a rushing river of Mana, Lifeforce, the most precious substance in existence. With it, anything was possible. That was, if the Soul knew what to do. Understood, how the Mana wanted to bring forth miracles, and was eagerly waiting for anyone to come, and demand to it strongly.
Such a wonder to behold, a river of glistening silver liquid that offered salvation, or damnation, depending on who was in control.
Currently—his attention expanding and mind spinning—those benefiting from the Mana, were plants.
Trees, already the size of mountains, continued to grow, along with everything else, mushrooms included. Roots and vines covered in glowing leaves, shifted as if sentient. The plants—empowered by Lifeforce—were moving in ways normally impossible to see.
As the Oasis’s Hymned stone apart, and its bulk crashed through branches, plus trunks the size of Tranquil Paths. The foliage tried retaking the areas claimed by his creation. His son in control of their home—who was casting Hymns through Wards–had brought forth howling winds that were cutting the shifting forest away, and keeping the river of Mana in view.
“Get closer,” Dailin said as he rose from his seat. “And Blessings, begin containing that river.” While the sight was fanciful, it didn’t distract him from the danger that font represented.
“It wasn’t just an increase of Anima sent down the realm spires then,” Vollow—his leading son—said. “Above is letting it flow freely.”
“So it seems,” Dailin voiced, and added. “I’m going to drain that source.” All eyes turned his way. “Care to join?” His children glanced at each other, their ears dipping, and whiskers twitching in nonverbal communication. Sons rose, some daughters as well, those who found it their second purpose to serve as fellow protectors.
One of them being Uoth, Vollow’s closest lover, and fellow Anointed. “I bet they’re not going to see this coming.” She cheerfully voiced, and took hold of Vollow’s hand.
“That would be blessed,” Vollow said. “This feeding of the Nightmare has to stop.”
The monsters had been steadily, and now—going on a month—drastically growing in number and size. Their flight from the Giver’s armies months back, and the mission to save as many Vails as possible, then battle over the Sending network. Had forced Above to hasten their culling of the Middle-tier.
Instinct kept him well aware that the Giver wanted him dead. Its presence—a dread inducing weight on his shoulders—had increased at a rate unmatched. No matter what he did, the pressure would not lessen. A threat able to end him, even within the Oasis, was growing faster than his Well could keep pace with.
With a river of Mana in sight—a link to whatever source those Above had access to—and in reach. He hurried towards the towering doors, flanked by guarding Hopes, and Courages. At his sides, Blisses followed, the avatars of outer love pulsing out their element, most of it focused on him. Their attempts to lessen the toll of Instinct’s touch.
“It must end.” Dailin agreed, and mentally commanded Blisses to form Barriers under him. They answered his will instantly, and transparent panels appeared. Some wrapped around his pawed feet, so there was no risk of him flying off, as they rose, and raced down tunnels that made him feel of average height, even though he was forty-five heads tall.
Over the months wandering the Depths, and saving Wicked housed within Sanctums, who were meeting the same fate as the long-forgotten settlements. They had reworked and expanded the Oasis. Both to increase its capacities, but also to have the room for the millions that now dwelled within it.
When he had first made this third Bae—transforming a claimed Sanctum from the enemy—it had been a mere sixteen tiers. Now, months passed, and endless fonts of power coming from their Wells used to change it. Bae had a total of forty tiers, however, only half of those were meant to be lived within. The rest were reserved for other needs, such as vegetable gardens, their armies of Sentinels, Retales and Devastators, plus tiers used as Mana storage. The latter were only half full. It was better to feed most of the Mana coming from their Wells, back into the wonders themselves, rather than having it sit idle within crystals.
They needed every advantage they could get, for the realm seemed filled with foes that could slay demigods. All the power at their disposal, and yet, they were still in mortal danger. Death creeping towards him, Instinct crushing him, and demanding he act, or the ender of all would get its due.
He offered a prayer of thanks to those Beyond. To the beings aiding him with knowledge, and fortune. Such as them coming across a river of Mana. So unlikely an outcome in a realm of stone, where it was almost impossible to know what laid ahead.
He would not waste the chance to spend his enemy’s reserves, and thwart their madness.
Thus, they flew down a set of tunnels purposely made to allowed quick navigation through tiers. It was one of four that led to the outer Gates, where they would be able to exit the Oasis, and claim the river.
Down the entire length of the colossal hall, flanked Sentinels, his metal constructs that were controlled either by Blessings, or Cured. The ones present were of the former, his Blessings ever ready to defend the Oasis.
An army’s worth awaited them at the Outer Gate, which was already open, and his Blessings at work.
The river had been subdued, thanks to his Blessings singing to stone, and warping it into a funnel that was redirecting the river inside. The lobby chamber—which the Gate opened into—was full of Animastones near his size. Blessings were trying to stem the tide of the river by filling up those crystals, and their own forms, but they couldn’t keep up. Using Hymns, they contained the quickly building pool of floating light, which was claiming more of the room.
Gradually coming to a stop in front of the expanding mass. He wasted no time pressing his hands against the Mana, and called to it. Demanding, and decreeing—within his mind—for it to enter, be consumed by his Well, and in turn, increase the amount of Lifeforce his font of power produced.
As kin joined him, the liquid light rushed into his form, euphoric bliss rising as it coursed and surged into his Well. There it disappeared, consumed as quickly as it entered.
Eyes closed, and mind as tranquil as he could achieve. He waited for Instinct to lessen its grip, and its induced dread to wither away.
***
Brow furrowing, his focus returned to the realm. Dailin opened his eyes, and blinked, when he found the mass of Mana—diminished into a stream—was not stopping.
“What does Beyond send?” Asked Vollow, his son at his side, also siphoning off from the stream. So caught up in his trance, he hadn’t noticed being placed on the marble floor.
“The same,” he responded. Many eyes turned his way. “We’re still in danger, our feeding hasn’t changed anything.”
“Nothing?” Vollow questioned. “Even with you being at this for a Rotation?”
Dailin’s ears flexed tight, a display of surprise. “I’ve been at this, that long?” A whole day lost within a euphoric trance.
Vollow, along with the rest of his children, nodded. “We didn’t want to wake you,” his son said. “And the matter was important enough, that remaining here wasn’t considered cursed.”
“I suppose it’s not,” Dailin muttered, and refocused on the stream before him. “But this current rate isn’t enough.” Mentally whispering to his power, he demanded a greater pull, for the stream of Mana to be brought to him.
The substance answered, some of it being spent to enact his will, but what was gained, easily eclipsed the expenditure.
Rushing into him, the stream thinned. He told his children what he had done, and they began repeating it within their own minds. Together they quickened the flow, and the flood coming from outside, withered more and more. At their current pace, whatever source the Giver and her—
The shattering of stone echoed, and the river bulged back into its original size, then larger. A Hope—not within a Sentinel—pressed a hand on his exposed neck, formed a link, and he saw through its collective mind the outside. From the wall where the river was coming from, a mountainous chasm had been formed. It was expanding too, the thick liquid grinding the stone away, and breaking off larger chunks that his creations were keeping back with panels.
Dailin returned his awareness back to his own surroundings, saw other Blessings had formed links with children, and were revealing to them what was happening outside.
“Go get more Ascendants,” Dailin said to a Bliss. “All of them in fact, this is the highest task right now.”
She bowed, but remained. Other versions of her would gather his children, and maybe collectively, they would be able to drain the source. Since—he was struggling to accept the possibility—Instinct wasn’t lessoning its grip. The lakes worth of Mana rushing into his Well, wasn’t stopping its gradual strengthening.
Death was still drawing closer, doom coming for them.
‘How could they have so much power at their call?’
Troubling, but it would be theirs, and more. Every drop of Mana fed to his Well, increased its production. He just had to keep feasting, and growing. Instinct would lessen eventually, it had to.
Reclosing his eyes, he focused only on his demands, and let time flutter by once more.
***
Smiling, Dailin’s attention shifted away from the demands of consumption, and focused on Instinct. Its rising weight was slowing. While Dread was still howling through his nerves, the worry that had been singing with it, became mute. Death was being pushed back. He was safe, they were safe, the danger faceable, and the future within their grasp.
So he continued feeding, taking from an enemy that had planned to use the Nightmare to end them.
‘Blessed be you gods,’ he prayed, heart radiating joy. ‘For your gifts, and this chance.’
Mentally he voiced other hymns of faith while feeding upon the stream, and only returned his awareness to the realm around him, when Instinct’s grip began to weaken.
An army of Ascendants were there to greet his eyes, many in the throes of their own euphoric trance, as they fed from a stream that wouldn’t dry up.
Glancing at a Bliss stationed next to him, he asked: “How long was I unaware this time?”
Voice soothing, warm, and joined with a motherly smile, Bliss answered. “Two Rotations Maker. Some of the Anointed had to leave to keep Bae organized.” Another glance around revealed Vollow was gone, so too Uoth. Those that remained—while still many—were people with no overly important roles.
‘Two days, and this river is still here.’
He hadn’t planned on draining the Source instantly, but he had expected this stream to wither away. He needed a more direct feed, the center itself, where he could truly will his demand, and absorb the Source all at once.
Ending his commands, he pulled his hands free from the stream. “Send word that we’re departing from here.” He voiced to Bliss, who bowed, and many of her forms began waking Ascendants from their trances.
Following further orders, Barriers were resummoned, and he was ushered back down halls that would take him to the Core.
***
Back in his cushioned seat of silver and gold, and connected with the Ward network. Dailin watched as the Oasis carefully followed the stream back up the realm.
They’d been at it for an hour, and where the river went, life bloomed. Every type of foliage was spreading, and growing to monstrous proportions. But it was the many types of trees, that were causing the worst damage to the realm.
Empowered by Mana, their roots were breaking the realm apart. On its own, that wouldn’t have been much of a problem, but with the process joined with Mana trying to find anyway possible to seep down into the realm. Which meant reaching the Nightmare housed mostly in the Depths. The action was speeding along the doom of Vail society, and their hallowed Safegrounds.
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That, and it was making the process of following the river far more difficult than it should have been. Still, they made progress, and the fruits of their curiosity rewarded.
Dailin took in a shocked breath—the only time he really breathed—and blinked his eyes thrice before accepting the sight.
Others voiced surprise as well, for they too were connected with the Oasis. Collectively, they gazed upon a massive chasm containing a lake worth of liquid light. Everywhere he looked, Mana was seeping down into the chamber from a myriad of holes.
The stone in that area must have been denser, and had kept majority of the substance gathered in one place. Their arrival though, had temporarily ended that phenomenon. Hastily rock was merged back into place, and the tide of Mana re-contained. However, it was only a matter of time before it escaped. Giant roots were appearing, and slowly breaking apart stone.
Worse though, was they were not the first ones to find the lake. All around it, even swimming within its light. Nightmares gorged, joined with their thinking minds, Sloans. Mountains of mass, shell, and leathery flesh, and all of it held up by four bulky crab like appendages. The things were riddled with black eyes, beaked maws, and arms of various sizes that hanged limply till there was a need for them.
There were hundreds of those monsters, maybe over a thousand. Up till now, he had never seen that breed together in such numbers. As thought coordinators, and used for higher thinking, they were normally dispersed. But with them centralized, he saw the Shroud—the Nightmare’s collective mind—to a degree almost physical. Joined with it, was another entity deeply intertwined with the beasts. Vails called them Curses, and the one feeding off the Nightmare’s flesh woven desire, was Hunger.
‘More, more glowing light, bringer of flesh, of such delights. Harbinger of all grand sights, offeror of the feast, that wets our appetites.’
Within Hunger’s hymn—the former coaxing the Shroud ever more—he witnessed plans, the movement of forces, and the whispers of these fonts of glowing light. He sought to see more, learn of the realm’s current state.
‘Threat.’
A unifying thought that cleared all others. The Oasis’s arrival had been noticed, and the swarm reacted defensively. Sloans hastily retreated, while the area came alive with lower minded Nightmares.
Stone ranked monsters—nine times the size of regular Nightmares—charged forward. Their collective screeches shaking the realm as they called out for larger kin. Particularly Ancients—the largest breed—most were maggot shaped, and endowed with a similar beaked mouth as Chunnlers.
“Put distance between us and the lake,” he said, and the Oasis moved away. Stone effortlessly shifted apart, and back, when needed. The latter did not take place, since they didn’t want to lose sight of the Mana. As for the Nightmares coming for them, he gave a second command, and told his son not to go on the offensive.
While the stone in the area was denser than normal, it would still be easy for them—or the Nightmare—to break it apart. He, nor the beasts, wanted that to happen. The monsters wanted it contained as well, easy to feast upon, and grow within.
He mentioned that to his children, the sight losing its hold over them as they disconnected from the Oasis, and gazed at each other.
“The area needs to be fortified, and Warded.” Tealhun said, his Prime Anointed, and daughter most committed with keeping their home running efficiently. As an Ascendant, she matched everyone else, a being of light cloaked in silks, and a moderate amount of jewelry.
“We will,” he replied, since they didn’t have much of a choice. Clearing out the Nightmare, and Ancients on their way, was going to be calamitous. “And then drain that lake.”
Her ears dipped slightly, an open admission that she didn’t expect them to. “We’ve spent so much time here already,” she voiced, and others nodded. “And the Nightmare has become further emboldened elsewhere. Sanctums that we have reconnected to, send visions of larger forms, and swarms rapidly draining their reserves.”
It did not surprise him.
No longer feeding on a blessed River, Instinct’s pressure had been building. The Nightmare was ever growing in might, and Death looming closer to Vails who had no chance of surviving the culling.
They needed to be saved, then Cured, Souls purified of the wickedness within them. The longer they stayed at the lake, the more Souls would lose their chance at redemption.
If he was cured himself, filled with the three Inner Blessings, Love, Empathy, and Compassion. Then he would have had them racing off to save more, regardless of their enemy rapidly growing in strength.
But he was not, He still held a self-centeredness, the greater desire to keep those he loved, and himself, safe first. He had to, if they failed, died, and were forced into other realms. A far greater number of Souls would lose their chance of curing forever.
Their realm—a hades—was the perfect place to bring change, to cure the most fallen, and wicked of Souls.
“I know daughter,” he said comfortingly, even released a wave of loving warmth. “However, those Beyond have made it clear, the Giver and her sons want us all dead. And willing to empower the Nightmare to an extent that we are barely keeping pace with.” Mute silence took the chamber, and the auras of his children became muddled with grayish hues. Sadness, remorse, and guilt. They understood his reasoning, their importance, and the choice that had to be made.
“Another Rotation or two,” he stated, breaking the silence. “If we can’t drain this lake by then, then we’ll move on for a time, save a Sanctum or two before returning.” Hopefully consuming the lake would buy them a little more time.
There were hundreds of Sanctums left in the Middle-tier, each filled with hundreds of thousands, or even over a million Wicked. All those Souls in need of salvation, and upliftment from a fallen realm. He couldn’t just let that chance slip passed him.
While Vails were quick breeders, his Oasis full of pregnant women giving birth to new bodies for Souls to inhabit. It wasn’t near the speed of him saving, and then curing a Sanctum.
Sighing, he leaned heavy against his seat, mentally wary from balancing two competing desires. The need to grow his Well, and the need to spread his cure. The latter was more important in the long run, but survival had to be maintained. Counter to what his appearance displayed—a demigod draped in royal attire—he was still a flawed mortal man. Maybe it was the righteous path to rush off, and save all those they could. Forget the dangers building, and give in to Empathy.
But he would not purposely put himself in danger, and certainly not his children. They may look immortal, and impervious to Death, but Instinct kept him painfully aware of the truth. Death could take him, and everyone else, if given the chance. And while he knew his children wouldn’t truly be lost, that they would exist somewhere else in a new life, and hopefully in a better realm. He would no longer be with them, his family sundered, and him alone again.
“If that is what you think is best,” Tealhun said as she glanced at Sounness, her closest sister, and a woman skilled with numbers. “We will form a list of those who will need us most.”
“We’ll race off to them when this is done,” he added, voice full of comforting love. It wasn’t easy for his children, Empathy was hounding them to save those yet cured. But tough decisions had to be made, it was one of the reasons why he hadn’t cured himself yet. He needed to be cold to the realm, and make the self-centered choices.
“Speaking of hurrying,” he voiced, and rose from his seat. His elegant armor returning into existence by his decree.
“It’s best we start.” Sons joined him as he left, and before they ever got close to the Outer Gates of their home. Blessings were already battling Nightmares that had failed miserably to pierce the Warded shell of the Oasis.
Watching it all through his Blessings shared sense, he saw them carefully fighting within Sentinels and larger variants, the Retales, and Devastators. Nightmares were being cleared away, the lake defiled with their ichor as his constructs focused more on physical attacks, rather than risking spells that would crack the stone.
However, by the time they reached the Outer Gate, most of the Nightmares had been pushed back, and removed from the lake. His constructs continued slaughtering beasts, which tried desperately to fight back, and inflict some sort of wound. But his creations were Warded too, and filled with pools worth of Mana.
Their Animastone made forms shined bright, and remained so, thanks to their Links. Since his Blessings were also collectively tied together, him, his sons, and the Oasis itself, were able to send their reserves through Blessings. With it, his Sentinels were indestructible, and warred in an aggressive manner that displayed no fear of being harmed.
They ignored strikes, even blows from Nightmare Variants that were using Mana themselves, emboldening their strength further. For all the horror the beasts visages displayed though, they were not a foe to be feared, not yet. Time would change that, due to the Rivers that monsters were feeding on.
But not the current one, it was now claimed by his Sentinels. Those furthest from the fighting began chanting to the stone. Sigils—the written word of magic, and all things arcane—were formed by Mana, the substance listening to the collective desire of his Blessings. They shifted into a myriad of interlocked patterns that pressed into the stone, solidified, and warded the surface.
That miracle spread towards Rivers that were pouring into the lake. His Blessings fast at work fortifying the area before Ancients arrived.
As they did, other parts of his army formed a dome around the lake, one large enough to accommodate their size. The act achieved by hovering over rocks from the surrounding walls, and warping them into shape. The dome was done in minutes, even with low thinking Nightmares trying to hinder them.
It too was Warded, and added with a tunnel that led towards one of the Oasis’s Outer Gates. The connecting part was formed with Barriers, and then hidden under a layer of stone. The moment it was done, Dailin disconnected his mind from the sights he’d been watching through his Blessings, and gazed at the opening Gate with his own eyes.
With the path for them made ready, he spent no more time waiting, and hurried off, sons and daughters behind him.
In minutes they were before the lake, the glowing pool being cleaned by dozens of Sentinels, who were desiring for the ichor to be removed from the Mana.
As he stepped forward, Barriers appeared under his feet, allowing him to walk above the lake’s surface. He took a few more, before motioning for the panels to take him to the center of the pool, and then to slowly descend downward.
He expected a touch of cold, even though he wasn’t entering water. Mildly surprised, and pleased, he found the temperature perfectly neutral.
Down he went, completely submerged in Mana, and guided to the bottom of the lake. As an Ascendant—Lifeforce flowing through him continually—he didn’t need to breathe. Though being submerged, he felt an impulse to do so, which he ignored. Glancing upward, his sight not overly disrupted, he saw his children joining him in a similar manner. There was also a Sentinel, which sank down to his spot, and stood at his side. Bliss ready to offer aid, or communication whenever needed.
Everything in place, Dailin closed his eyes, and desired to the Mana around him. He decreed for it to enter his Well, be devoured, and used to further improve his font of power.
The ever-listening substance responded instantly.
***
While he had fed—two days passing in a blur of euphoria—his creations had stayed busy holding the area, and following the guidance of his Anointed.
By Anointed commands, the warded areas had been expanded, and reworked. A massive Finder—a crystal linked with a twin that blinked faster, and sensorily guided the user closer to its other half—was formed, along with Sentinel sized Animastones. The latter fed upon the lake—that they had failed to consume—using it to stay fully charged, and ensure the Wards always had a supply of Mana to maintain them. With it, the Swarm—that had not stopped trying to retake the lake—wasted themselves attacking Wards that would never break.
The dome was also reworked, Gates added, and closed. None would be able to reach the lake within, not unless they knew how to will to Mana, and have it access the locks, and undo them.
That reservoir of Lifeforce would be left untouched. However, it did not change the situation taking place. The Rivers were many, and far reaching. Whatever Source was feeding them—and the sequestered lake—was nowhere nearby. So, their effort hadn’t stopped the Nightmare from feasting.
In the end, the work that had been done, was only a means for them to easily navigate their way back to the lake whenever time allowed.
An act they had repeated.
Indulging him a little, the Oasis had been made to follow one of the Rivers to its end. One last foolish hope to see if the Source was close.
It had not been, instead they found the River connected to another, far larger, lake. One feeding a flourishing forest, and breaking the realm apart, letting the pooled Mana flood downward faster. Again, desperate to stem the tide. Blessings had gone out, reformed stone, and bound it with unbreakable Wards. Then the pattern from before had been repeated, a Finder, joined with Animastones.
Following another offshoot, since it was in the direction of a Safeground that his children had chosen to be saved. They had come upon a third lake, which they contained. It hadn’t been that far from the second one either, meaning there had to be dozens, hundreds, perhaps thousands of Lakes.
The thought had him seated in silence, and staring up at the ceiling art within the Core. The place was spherical in shape, with a floor dividing its center. Children had brought in material—mostly precious metals—and covered majority of the glowing crystal. From there, they had done as all Vails do, formed patterns that merged with statues and depictions of lush wildlife. They would have made a great many murals of him—if he hadn’t disallowed it—and placed him on the ceiling, to be some kind of a deity looking down. Instead, he’d made his own request, a rare thing that his children had been eager to hear, and make happen.
They’d listened to his specifications, the desire for them to make black glass, and have it be the background color for the ceiling. It was followed with small random holes spaced erratically, thus allowing the white glowing crystal behind, to come through. The last touch had been gems, such as sapphires, and emeralds—but not rubies—socketed into some of the holes.
Born underground, never having the luxury to see a night sky full of shining stars. His children had been slightly baffled by the piece.
“It’s a sight of those Beyond,” he had said to them, along with a shared vision. Thanks to Visionstones, he didn’t have to try and describe to them the concept of a sky. They got to experience it first hand from him, a memory from another life.
So, he hadn’t been the only one studying the ceiling, eyes tracing patterns in the illusionary stars. A pleasant distraction, but one that came to an end as Tealhun’s voice touched his ears.
“We’ve acquired visions,” his daughter said. “Some of the Sanctums have Rivers flowing by them.” A Bliss carried over crystals to him, grabbing one, he linked with the Visionstone, and witnessed the memory born from another Soul.
Gazing through the Wards of a Sanctum, Dailin looked at a realm writhing in Nightmares twelve times the size of what they had been at the start of his journey. Many were going passed that, the swarm gorging on rivers of liquid light.
It had already been a matter of time before Sanctums of the Middle-tier were lost, but with the arrival of Rivers, that event was fast approaching. There was no hope of them curing even a quarter of the Safegrounds. Tens of millions were going to lose their chance at salvation, all because those Above wanted them culled quicker.
With those sights—the vision taking him to many Sanctums—it wasn’t an outlandish guess to assume, that Above had much of the realm flooded with Mana.
Disconnecting from the crystal, and combing a hand through his mane, Dailin voiced his command. “As we discussed, we’ll save the Sanctums that have Rivers near them.” If they couldn’t save all, then, it was best to be as productive with those chosen for salvation. As they cured a Safeground, he would feast upon Rivers. Either they would eventually consume enough Mana to force Above to close off their Source of power. Or their Wells would reach a point where they could overpower the growing tide coming for them.
Children motioned approval, voiced their agreeance, and aired appraising words about his wisdom. A mask to bury the fact that none of them were actually happy with the course they needed to take. A drawback of his Inner Blessings on display. Love, Empathy, and Compassion, their touches were causing gray hues within auras. Worry, shame, disgust, his children expected perfection from themselves, the means to somehow save all from calamity.
‘If only life was so fair.’
It wasn’t, and they had no right to complain regardless, they had already received countless blessings. While numerous others had died—devoured by ravenous maws—they still lived, and in comfort too. It was why he constantly prayed to those Beyond, even with their current predicament. He had learned all too well, that it could always be worse.
“Blessed be those Beyond,” he spoke, pulling children from their gloom. “That we have the chance to cure Wicked, and grow.”
Kin motioned prayer signs, voiced their gratitude as well, and Dailin saw the mar within auras subside.
“May they always guide us,” Tealhun spoke as she accepted a Visionstone. Her awareness briefly flickered out, before returning, and centering on him. A motion from her, and the crystal was brought to him. It contained a list of Sanctum names, those lucky enough to reside next to a River.
“Joenlar appears to be the highest candidate for salvation,” Tealhun voiced, and he focused on the name. Further information appeared, the Safeground’s placement, along with its population, slightly over a million. Fitting it into his mental map of the realm, he noticed, that when it came to those marked for curing, it was the furthest down in the Middle-tier.
He nodded, eager to be off, to feed, and push back against Instinct’s rising pressure. The choice made, and the coordinates given. The Oasis ferried them to another den of Wicked, one that would soon be cleansed, and give birth to saintly Souls.