“This cannot continue,” Arron said, airing the words of the collective, who were silently gazing at him. Situated within a lounging chamber, one they often used to talk about sensitive matters alone, without Blessings around. Vollow embraced the event that couldn’t be held off any longer.
He didn’t have the will either, same as his brothers, the Inner Blessings cried out for him to act in a worthier manner. To achieve greater results than their current performance. While Wicked were being cured, it was at an unacceptable rate compared to those being lost. Every Rotation brought with it a short list of Sanctums breached by the Nightmare, those within massacred, and devoured.
While the Nightmare was able to assault multiple Safegrounds, they were only able to save one Sanctum at a time, the process taking Rotations to complete. It took time to cure, and guide those under the influence of Remorse, into the Oasis, then the tiers assigned to them.
Though he offered to those Beyond, grateful for the means to save Vails. The Inner Blessings, they massaged his heart, wept for those lost, and caused him to do the same.
More had to be done, and would. All that was to be decided, was how, and to the extent they would act.
The focus of this talk, and one that had already revealed the answer.
“And it has been decided, that if we are to do this, then it might as well be done fully,” Arron continued. “And offer that Father doesn’t…refuse us completely.”
After Father had taken command of the House, freed from the lies of their Mothers. Vollow hadn’t thought there would come a time that they would be at odds. Even less, that he would be able to do anything about it.
Father was Chosen—not by the Giver, the monster that culled Vails—by those Beyond, beings that defied true description. His Father, the bringer of salvation, and bestower of gifts. The latter was the reason why they were having this talk at all.
Ascendants they all had become, reflections of Father, and endowed with Wells ever growing in might. Each of them were harbingers of the Cure. Could forge their own Blessings, and armies to save other Sanctums. And yet, they were kept together, centralized, the Cure not allowed to spread fully.
“I understand,” he said, and slightly touched by Pride, that they had lasted this long without acting. But the Blessings—Empathy in particular—couldn’t be ignored forever. “Remember though,” he said, eyeing his brother that had been with him to enact their own scheme to help Father. “The Chosen’s dormant Anger.” Not many of his siblings had been there to see Father taken by a Curse. Witness how much it could influence him, if the right events took place. Pups conspiring behind his back again, could be one of those events. Especially if revealed by kin who were too used to his affection, and offered disrespect when airing their intentions.
Most of the House was spoiled, as they had not experienced Pain birthing discipline. Majority had only ever seen Father’s blessed side, and felt the warmth of his Love. They did not know the Curses he could also bring forth.
“Keep your words tranquil, and postures submissive,” he informed. “Explain everything, and plead your case. Beg that Father sees that you don’t want to refute his will.”
If only they were stronger, able to withstand the Inner Blessings cries. Vollow placed a hand over his chest. The ache of those dying, Souls left wicked, while he and the rest of the Ascendants remained safe in comfortable luxury. They should be out there fighting back the Nightmare, or bringing forth Blessings to do the deed. Not this, spending their Rotations half asleep at times, while they fed off Anima rivers. The only reason it was even partially bearable, was their Wells were deepening from it.
That seemed to be the only thing Father cared about currently. Beyond was pressing on him, demanding greater strength from their Ascendants.
Vollow’s hand clenched into a fist, wrinkling his silk robe. Fear touched him, and Worry. The latter was a small curse now, but it still appeared at times, and whispered of what Father might do, the Rage that could be born, if they were not worthy enough.
‘Forgive us Father, and Beyond, for we are weak.’
His brother smiled, and ears dipped, a request was to come. “That is why we ask, and align with Hope, that you will be the one to discuss this with Father.”
“Be the one to face his Wrath,” Vollow clarified.
Arron’s ears fully dipped, and his smile became pleading. Vollow sighed, and closed his own. The decision was already made, he knew it, and so did they. What he was doing now, was the act of mentally preparing himself. It was a small comfort, that he wasn’t actually going to be talking with Father alone. While he would be there to represent his brothers, so too would Tealhun, who would represent his sisters.
However, it would be him doing most of the talking. While sisters were equally displeased with their current path. Most of them were not going to be facing the threats of the realm. That was a male’s role, and one they were far more committed to, than those in the past. Before, it had been force that made males defend, while women tended to the tasks of keeping a Safeground in order. Now though, they did everything they could to keep their women away from the dangers outside.
“You’re one of his favorites,” Arron added, getting Vollow’s brow to crease, and his eyes to reopen. He stared into his brother’s eyes as he continued. “Brings forth Love to a higher degree—
“That is not true,” Vollow said, the only reason he was so known to Father, was because he had forced himself to be at the center of organizing, and safeguarding his kin. Nothing more. Anyone else could have taken his spot, been within Father’s gaze, and accepted his attention. He told them as such, and earned another smile from his brother, it was one from Sympathy.
“Regardless of the reason,” Arron said. “It doesn’t change that he holds you higher than the rest, will listen to your words.”
“I know, and I already accept your request,” Vollow voiced, and brought them to the matter of what was planned. He offered it was worthy, something able to change Father’s opinion.
That too he told them, and got most in the room to display sights of assurance.
“Perhaps Beyond guided us,” Arron spoke. “But yes, we have a plan that should make Father see…that we are not being Low minded about this.”
“Offer that it is,” Vollow said, then listened, and breathed with Peace. It seemed he wouldn’t be enduring too much of Father’s Wrath after all.
***
How odd it was to be slightly regretful of a choice, but to know, that if it were presented again, he would not deviate from it. There was no other sane decision to be had. For him to share his secrets, bestow his children the power to rise, or fall, based on their actions. A safeguard had to be put in place, for himself, but ultimately, for them.
So they had been cured, granted Love, Empathy, and Compassion. Those same Blessings were having them act against him. He couldn’t stop himself from feeling thrill, and a deep satisfaction. He had undone the wrongs of the Vail, made its so that he had children who cared. For that reasoning, the talk with Vollow and Tealhun, he admired.
Nothing about it had been selfish. Opposite, and he could tell by the hues of their auras, that they didn’t want to go against him. Them forced to make demands, but avoiding the word, instead using request, and please.
“We will not actually be separated,” Vollow pressed, and the one leading the conversation. Another change, but Tealhun was taking it well. Perhaps with them being lovers, she was more comfortable with him being in charge. Either way, it was Vollow he remained focused on, the aura of his son marred with worried gray, but emboldened by the colors of Inner Blessings.
“With Channelingstones, contact won’t be lost, and we can send Anima through them to render aid if needed.”
A great wonder, their Channelingstones, an idea that had come to him, when the Senses—The Giver’s helpers—had used a Sendingstone as a make shift bomb.
Their first rendition of Channelingstones had worked wonderfully during the assault against those Senses. When they had reached out to them through reworked Sendingstones, curing them, and empowering them with Mana to temporarily fight back Purifiers. Even greater was the wonder, that it didn’t create Links in the air. Visible lines of light that would appear when large volumes of Mana traveled through once invisible connections.
He had no idea how it worked, but power seemed to just appear within the connected crystal. The amount didn’t matter either, as long as the crystal was large enough to handle the torrent.
So useful the change had been, that he’d improved his Blessings, decreed to Mana, that their own Links function in the same manner.
It had worked, though the substance had forced a condition for it to happen. Within his Blessings, Hope, Courage, and Bliss, each of their forms had been endowed with a crystal structure situated in the center of their chests.
It also made it that Bliss couldn’t have a translucent form anymore, or not completely. A hovering crystal gave away her location, a physical anchor that couldn’t be done away with.
He wasn’t bothered by it, that form of hers didn’t have much use anymore. But Bliss herself had complained, mentioned she’d liked secretly watching the Cured. However, given she was the aspect of outer love, she hadn’t sulked over the loss, couldn’t in fact.
Besides, what they had gained was too beneficial. With the visible Links gone, he could empower his creations, and none would be able to notice the rivers being fed into their beings. And that same improvement, had delivered to his children one more reason why they didn’t need to be with him.
“It will allow us to feed on multiple Rivers,” Vollow added. “And send its contents to you, if you desire it.” A fact that was causing Dailin to rapidly lose any will to refuse his children.
He glanced down at the Visionstone in his hand. The sights within had removed every excuse he had come up with to say no. His children—his bright loving Souls—had thought their plan through. Even with the Inner Blessings hounding them, demanding they act swiftly, they had not. Their plan had been methodically structured.
Not surprising, given it had been completed by the same people who ran the Oasis, and those who had formed, and organized, the massive Flock that had emptied Sanctums.
‘Multiple Oases linked together.’ What an idea, and one that had never occurred to him. He had been so focused on keeping everyone together, safely hidden within their moving home. That he’d forgotten his children were just as capable at creating wonders as himself.
He had passed on everything they needed to survive in the realm. Secrets on how to use Mana, the means to improve their bodies, and Wells that grew in might, the more they were fed.
They didn’t need him, a revealing, and sobering truth. He could die, or disappear, and they would be able to keep everything going on their own. The only real loss that would be had, was his Well no longer contributing to the collective whole.
“Blessings will be with them as well, and many of us have mastered the means to make our own,” Vollow continued, tone gentle.
Thumbing the crystal with both of his hands, Dailin lowered his gaze, and Vollow fell silent.
He tried to come up with a counter to decline their request. An excuse, or logic that would give his children a reason not to rush off, and save people. However, the only thing that came to mind, was a lie. A telling, that those Beyond wanted everyone together.
He purged the idea from his mind, disgusted by it, even though it promised him everything he wanted. With it gone, he was left with nothing. There was no way out, his Blessings had provided too much incentive, and the Mana too many ways to enact plans safely. His children’s plan was sound, and the only obstacle in the way, was his own feelings.
A father trying to keep his children close.
Dailin softly smiled, and voiced: “I forget that many of you aren’t Newborns anymore.”
Vollow, Tealhun, hundreds of his children, they were well passed one year’s old. Adults in the eyes of Vail society. Normally they would have already separated off, and formed their own Houses. Calamity had kept them close, and love, but now both were pulling them away.
Dailin forced down his objection, the refusal that he so badly wanted to scream. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time they were apart. He’d left them to their own devices once, at the start of their exodus to take the first Sanctum. Necessity had forced his hand then, and it was doing so now.
His children were right, their current course was barely keeping them out of Death’s reach. Instinct screamed it, keep improving, keep growing, or doom, doom upon all he loved. Their plan would work, one would become many, and millions more Souls would be saved.
“You have your own desires,” he said. “Your own paths.” His dream had been adopted by others, and the cure would spread. He wasn’t needed, no longer the center of everything.
He chuckled. ‘Is that it?’
A revelation. He had not just been worried about his kin getting into danger, and him unable to offer aid. No, he was afraid of losing control.
Control, that in truth, had already been lost, only the illusion was now fading. His children would have never gone against his commands otherwise. Much of it out of respect, but also, deeper down, because they couldn’t. He had the power, the endless Mana, all depended on him.
No more.
Each had become like him. Beings of light, practically unkillable, and holders of growing Wells. This whole affair wasn’t necessary, their kindly worded talk, a gestured request.
“You’re ready to travel them,” Dailin forced out the words, for it was owed. “You don’t need my approval.”
Vollow, and Tealhun, they stiffened, and shock colored their auras. They didn’t need to ask, what could he have possibly done to stop them?
Collectively they could beat him, thousands of Wells, while smaller than his own, would still win out. He was not an untouchable ruler anymore, by his own hands, he had made his children equal to himself.
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“Bless you all,” he continued. “For thinking enough of me, to ask.” Pride swelled in his heart, it said a lot that they still favored his opinion, cared about his feelings. He was a failure in many things, but at least, it seemed he had not failed as a father.
“Do what you think must be done. I will support you, as a father should.”
His children shared the briefest of glances, their auras a whirlwind of shifting hues. Surprise showed the most, and while he couldn’t see into their minds, he saw enough. They had expected resistance, or outright refusal, not submission. It hadn’t sunk into their minds yet, that he was no longer above them. That he was merely another Soul trying to keep the Cured from being devoured.
Vollow moved to speak, but no words came. Speechless, the silence stretched on before dying to his idle laughter. “It seems I’ve let Rage take me too many times.” Eyes turned back to him, and away from their mental confusion. “And while it did try to whisper into my ear, get me to act,” Dailin shook his head. He would not let that aspect of himself be what his children expected, whenever they went against his wants.
‘Not children,’ he mentally corrected. ‘Adults, they are grown, and independent.’
“I will not allow myself to be that kind of person, your mothers were enough of that type.” Dailin breathed deep, pushing away the last dredges of his reluctance. “We’ll talk as equals, for we are, even if neither of you realize it yet.”
“You are Chosen by those Beyond,” Vollow said, words returning, and the shock fading from his aura.
“Our father,” Tealhun added. “And the highest of this House. We are not equals.” She looked at Vollow, the two sharing a nonverbal tell.
“We are threatening,” Vollow lowered his ears, “to act against your decree. At least Anger should be troubling you, or some form of Curse, not,” weakly motioning in his direction. “Touched by Blessings.”
“I would be,” Dailin said with a smile. “If anything you had requested, had been worthy of scrutiny, Lowly thoughts coming from Giftless. But they aren’t, we should have already been doing this, but I was so focused on keeping you all close. That I failed to see a better path.”
“I am not perfect,” he added. “I make mistakes like everyone else.” They should know that, he’d failed them miserably, back when most of their mothers were alive. But how he looked, and the wonders he’d brought, it seemed they had forgotten.
“You are Chosen.” They both repeated, a declaration that he was special, and maybe he had been.
“And so are all of you,” he declared, and they tensed. “I was never meant to do this on my own.” He was never meant to do anything at all, save live, but he had gained a higher purpose, one that burned within him, and needed an endless ensemble to make into reality. “This, is how it needs to be, Cured spreading the cure.”
The Inner Blessings influencing his kin, would have no less. They might push his family into doing something, regretful, if he stood in the way. He had thousands of kin, majority gifted his secrets, it would have been impossible to keep them contained.
Vollow’s shoulders slouched, the stress finally bleeding away. As the figurehead for his sons, Dailin knew that Vollow had likely been pressured into talking with him, whether his son agreed with the change or not.
His poor boy, a worse worrier than himself. Dailin let out a Hymn of loving warmth. “There will be no Wrath,” he said kindly. “This is how our family deals with conflict.” In a chamber, discussing the problem, and coming to terms. No threats, and violence, the killing of kin at the slightest hint of questioning.
“Blessed be those Beyond,” Tealhun voiced, as Vollow sagged into his chair. She relaxed too, her downturned ears resting comfortably on her shoulders. They shared a moment of silence, the three of them basking in peaceful resolution. Dailin took that moment to looked down at the crystal in his hand again.
The plan was simple, a mere broadening of what they were already doing. Oases would head for Sanctums that had Rivers near them, and save the Wicked within. At the same time, the much smaller constructs would begin forming new tiers to accommodate the increase in population. Afterward, the process would repeat, with more Oases being made at Bae, which would remain stationary, and feeding on a River. It would remain so, till Anointed wished to leave, or all had an Oasis of their own to control.
The number of kin who would be in each, was still to be decided. The amount kept open, a likely bargaining tool to appease him with, as he would be the one to state its number. Which he would, though it would have to be reasonable.
“Do you think fifty Ascendants per Oasis is acceptable?” He said, preferring it to be a hundred, but he doubted that would be tolerated. His family wanted to spread out quickly, and with how fast their Wells were growing, a hundred was too excessive of an amount to keep an Oasis safe.
Vollow let out a pleased hum: “I don’t foresee any rejections, but I still have to ask them.”
“I’ll leave the details to you both then.” Dailin said as he rose, and rolled his shoulders. Another month passing had only worsened Instinct’s warnings. Its touch was forcing him to spend an increasing amount of his time feeding on Rivers. Which he had been doing, before his children had arrived shrouded in worry filled hues.
“Beyond’s warnings weigh on me, and I trust you both with this.” He trusted them with everything, for it was they, who had made his plans successful. While he had the power to bring people together, he did not have the organizational skills, or charisma, to keep it whole.
His kin rose as well, their auras rich with lovely colors.
“It will be done,” Tealhun said, his daughter slipping back into the leading role, for management was her domain.
“Blessed,” he voiced, and moved to leave, then stopped. They stared at him, confusion forming, worry rising. He motioned for them to come closer, and they did without question. The moment they were near, he pulled them into a hug.
Worry faded, yet confusion remained till he voiced: “Bless you again, for coming to me, and talking about this. I know it must not have been easy.”
They both relaxed into his grip. “No, it wasn’t,” Vollow mumbled, while Tealhun nuzzled against the underside of his neck. They remained that way for a time, a family still united, and when they parted, it was one full of smiles.
***
While he’d fed upon a River, a mad rush had taken hold of his family. Free to act as they pleased, and Inner Blessings compelling them. His kin had wasted no time enacting their plan. As promised, they handled everything, and revealed their mastery over his style of chanting.
Effortlessly they had manifested an Oasis, and wove Wards equal to his own, upon its surface. Mana danced to their compulsions, their minds freed from the wondering of how things worked, and merely focused on willing it into being.
They were at his level, Mana theirs to use as they saw fit. The fledgling Oasis was quickly expanded upon, tier after tier. Ten in total—as planned—before the new construct was deemed complete. From there, began the work he had always ignored, but one just as important. The Safeground was organized and furnished with the necessities to make it a proper dwelling for Vails.
It was ready to embark, and the reason why he was no longer feeding on a River.
Within one of the outer Gate chambers, and him endowed within his armor of silver. Dailin stood in a host made of his heirs. Every Ascendant present to usher off those first fifty chosen.
None of those holding the title of Anointed were among that list. They had abdicated, claiming their place was with him. Mentally, he had breathed a sigh of relief. While he’d prepared as much as he could for the outcome, that all of his kin would leave at some point. It was relieving to know that wasn’t going to be the case. A new Oasis made, and more planned, had been enough for his family to relax, and their Inner Blessings to be appeased.
However, many of those within the fifty chosen, were familiar to him. He tried his best to be loving to all his family, give them the attention they deserved. But it was impossible to stop some from receiving more of his attention than others.
More than half of the sons chosen, had been part of Vollow’s group. The ones who’d made it their mission to inform him of the madness taking place in his House, back when their mothers ruled. That group of bold ones were striking out again, but this time without Vollow.
They stood before him, clad in rich finery of silks and jewels, both gleaming as their bodies of light illuminated the area, same as the rest of the Ascendants. Those fifty—mostly sons, but joined with a dozen daughters—would have been an unstoppable force in a different realm. He would have been assured they would have conquered it, cured all, and brought forth a paradise. But in this plane, he prayed their Wells would be enough to keep them out of Death’s reach.
He did his best to hide that gnawing discomfort away though, it was not the time to show concern. He kept up a wide smile, and ears flexed. He relied on the pulsing’s of love coming from Blisses, strength from Hopes, and conviction coming from Courages, to sooth his ails. Together, he prayed it was dispelling most of the worry discoloring his aura.
He wasn’t the only one troubled, there were some gray hues in the auras of the Fifty. “Remember to check in every Rotation,” he said, hugging the lead son of the band. Arron was his name, and one of those most committed to seeing Oases spread across the realm.
“You, and the Anointed will hear from us constantly,” Arron said back as they parted. His son looked up at him: “There’s a bet on,” Arron added. “To see how long before we forget, I plan to make sure they all lose.”
He chuckled, always their bets.
“Ensure you do,” he said, casting a gaze over the group. There was no telling how long it would be before they were together again physically. It was why he was coddling them, making sure each received affection before they headed off. Which they were yearning to start. The colors of eagerness kept spreading, and while they were enjoying his care. Inner Blessings were at work, the longer they remained, the less Souls would be cured.
Stifling a sigh, Dailin gave his final farewell, the rest of the Ascendants doing the same. Together, they saw the fifty chosen off, the group leaving the makeshift chamber made of Barriers, and what was temporarily connecting the two Oases.
Blessings went with them, along with armies worth of Sentinels. Both of which his kin would be able to easily replicate with Mana. Their armies would expand along with the second Oasis.
As the Gates closed to their floating construct, it slowly, then quickly, hovered away, sliding through stone that peeled apart around it, and remerged. In seconds the great wonder was gone, racing off to a Sanctum that was screaming for salvation.
Dailin kept up his mask of joy. Cured were watching, Flocks worth of them at the outer bounds of the great Barrier chamber. For their protection, since they were the size of large insects to Dailin and his kin. It would have been horribly easy for them to accidently step on a normal Vail, if any of them had lapsed in their attention.
He manifested his silver helm, placed it over his head, the item hiding his ears, and upper face. He relaxed both, the former of which had been trying to bend downward in grief the whole time. A casual wave of his hand, and the work of getting the mob of onlookers back inside the Oasis, began.
As for himself, Barriers wrapped around him. A section of the flooring under his feet rose, and carried him towards the domed ceiling, which opened. Out he went into the realm proper, the area swept clean of vegetation, and Nightmares. Sentinels—manned by Blessings—followed him, the constructs guiding the Barriers under his feet. Away they went, back to the tamed River of Mana, one that was being funneled to the right corner Gate of the Oasis.
As they sped along, the Barriers formed into a throne. Sagging into the seat, and mildly comforted by the pleasing wind, he let out a long-tired sigh. Blisses continued pulsing out their love towards him, masking and pushing away his fatherly worries. He embraced it as the minutes passed, a needed crutch to hold against the crushing embrace of Instinct.
He remained silent as they entered the chamber, and he reconnected with the bulging River that refused to dry up. Well feeding once more, his worries and Instinct’s touch, fell away.
***
Oases came, and Oases went. The standard maintained, fifty Ascendants, manning a construct of ten tiers, and each linked with Channelingstones.
Their eyes on the realm began to spread, the Nightmares contested, defeated, and Rivers taken.
It didn’t appear to be changing much, Instinct remained, and ever demanded he stay connected to his own River, which he never stopped feeding from. It was the only way to keep pace with the spikes of dread. The Nightmare was growing at an equal pace as himself, as an untold number of Rivers fell into their eager gullets.
Alone he was in danger of losing, Death coming to claim him once more, and another realm waiting to take him in. Thank the gods though, that he wasn’t alone, and like himself, sons were feeding upon the taken Rivers. Together there was hope of surviving the madness. A comfort on his heart, that allowed him to weather the strength of Instinct’s grasp.
Knowing his blight, that being away from the torrent of Mana for too long strained him. His Anointed had turned a small section within the Gate chamber into a room, one with a table, and resting area. The former held Visionstones pertaining to the rapid influx of sendings coming from Sanctums.
With the Giver outright abandoning the Middle-tier Safegrounds, when she’d destroyed the Sending network, and killed all the Senses. Wicked Anointed had been left to their fate, clueless to what was going on, save for their local environment. Which had, and still was, swarming with ever larger and stronger Nightmares.
So, when Sending-channels had been reforged by his kin—but only for the Middle-tier—lines of communication brought back, and their visions allowed to spread unchallenged. The Wicked had quickly fallen in line. There had been some hold outs, which they ignored, as time was too precious a commodity. Those most eager to listen, and had Rivers by their Sanctums, received an Oasis to usher them salvation.
Hand holding onto a Visionstone, its sights settling into his mind—as he fed on a River—he saw Sanctums opening their Gates. The Wicked welcoming in sons and Sentinels of light. Both began the Hymn of love, and Ascendants started the process of curing.
As fast as was possible—some Safegrounds holding over a million Souls— Sanctums were emptied of their populations, and resettled into Oases that grew in size.
He welcomed in the reassuring sights, used them to combat his concerns, for it wasn’t just the Wicked who his kin had focused on. They had his etheric senses too, could hear and see into unguarded minds. They had turned those onto the Nightmare, and beheld its collective thoughts.
Hunger was singing, a gluttonous abomination howling delight over the feast that had come. The flood of Rivers had the Nightmare cracking open Sanctums rapidly. Their frenzy worsening as they gorged on beings they were designed to kill. However, while the sensations distracted a large part of the collective, the higher-minded ones, Sloans who were the mental organizers. They were focused on a war, one in the Depths, and from the sights his kin were able to witness. Ancients, and Nightmares of Wrath rank, were battling armies of Harvesters, Removers, and something knew.
The Shroud labeled them Rivals, while Hunger called them Feast Ruiners. Dailin agreed with the Curse, they were instruments of ruin. The weapon he had long suspected, one that would allow Above to bring the Nightmare to heel, was finally revealed.
He was somewhat awed by the sight of the Giver’s weapon. The scale of it—which had been forged by normal chanting methods—was three hundred heads tall, and wide. Spherical in shape, the thing was endowed with four tentacle limbs at its bottom, and upper portion. Both able to be used to hold up the construct when needed. Also, its limbs had the same freedom of movement as the snake appendages on his Retales. However, rather than being equipped with Wrathbringers. the Ruiner’s ligaments ended with three fingered claws, that when closed, resembled the end of a spike.
It used the limbs to that function too, but that was not its real weapon. Spaced evenly around its spherical body, were four massive Wrathbringers, including one at its top, and bottom. Thanks to that design, and the flexibility of its snake limbs, the construct was able to maneuver into whatever position it needed, to inflict searing beams of lightning.
The Ruiner sliced its way through the swarm arrayed against it, and warred with an Ancient, at least that is the label it fell under. But unlike those he’d faced— things resembling overly armored and spiked worms—The one he saw in the vision—the sight stolen from the Shroud’s mind—was Armled in shape. Bipedal beasts, equally encased in thick shelling, and equipped with four massively muscular arms, and four reaching stingers coming from their back.
The difference with the Ancient though, and the maggot he dealt with before, was the lakes worth of Mana in it. Something easily seen, since it had Channels, veins that carried the substance through its body. It was using said Lifeforce to defend itself. Singing a warped Hymn, it had wrapped itself within Barriers of its own. Which held against the torrents of lightning that danced across its frame.
The two behemoths wrestled with one another, their separate armies doing the same. Neither was able to inflict crippling blows, since the Giver’s Ruiner—as was with all her creations—was encased within protective Wards. The victor in the fight, would be the one who would run out of Mana last. Given the size of the Ancient, he wasn’t sure who would have one out.
But in the end, the Giver didn’t have just one Ruiner.
Joining its battling kin, another four came, their Wrathbringers bathing the realm in light as they began purging the area, and combining their might to end the Ancient.
However, it too was not alone, other Ancients emerged from the crumbling realm, one a maggot worm, which slammed into a Ruiner, both blurring away. Another Armled type came, and wrestled against one, then an Ancient shaped similarly to a Crean—its form close to that of a crab—reached out with its claws, clamping down on a Ruiner, and pulling it closer. All of these beings were close to the same size, giants of flesh, clashing with giants of metal.
The sight was not uncommon, far below in the Depths, war raged, Above committed to the task of putting down the Nightmare.
His family had gleamed much from the Shroud. Learned that the pattern the beasts were used to, had been broken. The feast was ending far too soon, the Ruiners encroaching on areas once considered sacred, and nests destroyed. Breeders had been cleansed from the plane, and the realm spires that had been feeding Nightmares Rivers of Lifeforce, were being fought over.
Confusion coursed through the collective mind, but not a speck of fear, or concern. The cunning monsters were spreading out, purposely heading for Rivers, feasting on the liquid light, and amassing swarms to take the realm.
The Giver’s armies were great, hundreds of thousands, and beyond. But the Nightmare was greater still. Worse the Shroud knew this, its growing Sloans—their capabilities broadening—was allowing the collective to better coordinate, remember, and plan.
Dailin forced in and out deep breaths, focused on the Hymn of Bliss, accepted the clarity and guidance of Hope and Courage. He used all those to face the possibility, that somehow, those Above were not in control, and that the Rivers were not on purpose.
A part of him raged against that likelihood, desiring the comfort that the Giver had matters in hand. The beasts were not running free, living weapons made to end Vails, were not going to achieve their goal.
But Instinct continued to press on his shoulders, it and the River, in a dual to see who would win out. Him, or the Nightmare.
‘Blessed be you gods,’ Dailin offered. ‘For the act of me having children, a mistake made into a wonderous fortune.’
Together they might beat the tide, and if not…then, the cure would be moving on to other realms.