In a small cabin on a broken mountain in the Alpha Cosmos, the Patron of Feathers born within a memory looked at the wizen form of herself laid out on the bed. Her breath caused so little movement that the supine form could have been a statue. The memory version chewed on her lip, her insides in horrible pain from the decision laid before her.

The version from this other timeline continued to lie on the bed. The Aether around her had turned dangerously degenerative. In the confined space, the air quickly began to feel claustrophobic.

The memory version had also met the other Patrons when she had been brought here, those who had told her what it was like to live through the changes in Elhume’s behavior in the third Cohort. She felt simultaneously horrified and unsurprised by what was described. The erratic mood shifts, the ominous silences, the combative stances, the growing resentment for Pine… and they spoke of the betrayal, being locked away so they couldn’t reveal what they knew.

At the moment, only the Patron of Blades remained in the cabin with her. He sat in the corner, drawing a finger across a hunk of wood and removing long and curling strips of shavings. The rest had left, for the memory version to make her decision.

The Patron of Feathers felt bitter as she sat in the pooled quiet of the room. First my father, now a version of myself… does our family truly possess so little respect for the individual’s wishes? That we would use them up to fuel our research…

And yet-

And yet the memory Patron of Feathers couldn’t abandon this unconscious version of herself and embark on her own journey. She couldn’t just dismiss the request out of hand. If it had been her father who approached her with such a sacrificial role, who expected more from her after her soul had been so wounded by the temporal twisting, she would have just gone numb. She would have glazed over, incapable of moving or feeling or helping, allowing the situation to just slip past. A part of her would have died immediately, squeezed dry past the point of existence. But the individual asking was Randidly Ghosthound, who almost seemed apologetic about it.

Even worse was the other Patrons; they had been so delighted to meet her, to see her so young. Their feelings were edged with their own inner bitterness, but they didn’t blame that on her. They explained the situation. About how the other version of herself had been the only Patron kept liberated, in order to assist Elhume. While they understood their version of events, it was also worth knowing how this Nexus had developed.

Not necessary. But it would be helpful.

Across from her, the Patron of Blades continued to carve. His even strokes very deliberately liberated a carving of the Patron of Feathers from the wooden prison. She didn’t dare look over, lest she catch the carving’s expression and her heart break.

Would it have the hollow eyes she currently carried? Would she be smiling?

She didn’t have the luxury of delaying the decision for too long. The Patron of Feathers could feel the impending war buzzing against her skin. With or without the context she would provide, the peace would soon be broken.

The memory Patron of Feathers, right now, wished dearly her name hadn’t been stolen. She wanted someone to sweep her up in a warm hug, to whisk her away from this decision, from a life that seemed characterized by her pouring herself into a series of other individuals before they finished drinking from her vigor and left her staggering and hollow.

“You don’t need to consider so deeply. We understand that this would… essentially hasten your descent toward the same end as her,” The Patron of Blades said, interrupting her spiraling thoughts. He flicked the carving, knocking away a few stray bits. “You do not need to do this.”

For a long second, the Patron of Feathers just bowed her head. She drank in the silence, the lack of pressure and expectation. When she raised her hollow eyes, she found herself asking a question. “What… what do you think she would say if she knew the situation?”

The Patron of Blades sighed. The lines of his face were sharp and aggressive, even in grief. “...I suspect you know what she would say, so I do not wish to reiterate it. Because your heart is too wide. This I know about you. Listen to me: you do not need to do this.”

The Patron of Feathers laughed, as bitter and crusted as a battery left out too long in the sun. Because she knew that if the other Patron of the Feathers understood the situation, that older version of herself would sternly tell her to stop considering endangering her own life in order to save her. She would claim that while the information would fill in some gaps, she had already had the opportunity to live out her own life. The memory Patron of Feathers deserved the same.

And yet-

The Patron of Feathers looked at her own unconscious face, lined around the eyes with kindness and concern. Or at least, that’s what she imagined was meant by the wrinkles. Tears formed in her eyes. In the end… because you don’t ask for it, because I know how appalled you will be when you discover what has happened… I can’t refuse you.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

And also… heh, I am a coward— I will not be able to live with the guilt of having the possibility of helping you and refusing. Maybe… maybe your lifetime has given you a bit of strength.

Please. Bear all the painful things for me. I’m… I’m already so…

A teardrop fell off and landed on her arm. It glittered against her feathers for the few minutes it took to work up the nerve to begin the process.

*****

When Randidly came back from his visit to Solomon Rex and his devil’s bargain, he found a whole slew of familiar faces waiting for him.

Alana Donal and Raymund Ballast offered him sharp bows. Their images crackled up and down their arms, sniffing the rising momentum of the moment. Behind them, the Vulpis Squad brought their weapons to their armored chests with a sharp crack. The air felt steamy with their bubbling images, mixing and rising with the anticipation of conflict.

“You’ve grown,” Randidly observed, unable to quite believe how piercing the orange ray of midday sun that Alana released.

She shrugged, the movement producing small motes of gold from the edges of her armor. The holy aura she possessed had been refined into something gentle and ephemeral, like billowing silk curtains. “You don’t monopolize temporal anomalies. We didn’t want to be left behind, so we’ve taken arrangements into our own hands.”

“My preference would have been to wait for orders,” the Vulpine lifted his chin. “However, I hope you will forgive us. The results speak for themselves. And the Vulpis Squad refused to be left behind in this matter.”

Behind the two leaders, the soldiers grunted out their approval in unison. Their bristling intentions seemed to be glowering at him, daring Randidly to refuse to allow them to participate in the fighting.

Their stance indicated they would just sneak along after him, anyway.

“...I’m not going to complain. You are free to lead the Squad as you see fit. I really doubt there will be much occasion for the kind of fighting you expect… but I suppose one of the downsides of being on top is preparations like this.” Randidly shrugged his shoulders, feeling the presence of all those images and appreciating what he found. At the very least, they had enough power to keep the weaklings away from him. “For now, the Squad should prepare; over the next few hours, our assault will probably begin. Alana, Raymund, follow me. There are a few matters on which we need to speak.”

As they moved away, Randidly felt Neveah’s consciousness brush up against his own. Her message felt tinged with sadness. In the end, the memory Patron of Feathers agreed to part with the Penance left for her by Yystrix. It will take some time, but after the transfer was initiated… already, the energy of the true Patron of Feathers appears to be improving.

If the memory version impacts our plans, she’s true enough. Randidly cracked his neck; one more bit of information coming his way. He wondered whether it would be worth the sacrifice. When he had Alana and Raymund alone, he started by explaining a bit about his understanding of the current Nexus; specifically, about the current Elhume being truly Fiero, Raymund’s ancestor. About the feud between Solomon and Elhume, about how Elhume’s body had been trapped in a mountain range of crystallized Aether. And also, about how the current Elhume… about how Fiero probably had been seeking to possess Techetadore’s body in order to have achieved his liberty once again.

First came the fury, blooming across Raymund’s body like a wildfire sweeping through a dry grassland. His image crackled— Randidly took the chance to marvel at the difference between the images. Raymund, more than his ancestor Fiero, deserved to be called the Patron of the Borrowed. His image was a gentler, but also more insistent force. Because it was truly only a ‘borrowing’, it was much harder to resist. In addition, it would inflict no true damage to the victim, aside from the temporary deprivation of the image.

…Probably not a coincidence, Randidly realized as he watched the significance spiraling around his subordinate. You’ve born so many names, Fiero, the Patron of the Borrowed, Elhume… it is only a matter of time before someone comes along to take one of those names away from you.

“Wait a moment. Is that… how curious.” Raymund Ballast abruptly frowned, his fury ebbing as his mind caught up with the implications. “We had believed… well, we knew that the process affecting Techetadore was a method of the Swacc Family. But they betrayed Elhume. Did not the Actus Suprem say that-”

“That Elhume personally hunted them, yea,” Randidly nodded, his own thoughts proceeding along similar lines. “Which likely means… the betrayal was staged. Or part of a larger plan. It is bitter… but I think if the Vulpis Squad fights, it will be against the Swacc Family.”

Shal, if I see you… how can I best thank you for all that you’ve given me?

“What now?” Alana asked to pull Randidly back from his mentor’s situation.

“Now…” Randidly’s head buzzed with possibilities. Or rather than possibilities, avenues. He stood at the precipice of going to war with Elhume; his next concrete step would be to travel to the crystallized Aether mountain range, the one that trapped Elhume’s body and also had been shaped into his fortress, and discover how difficult it was going to be to kick down the door. But before that…

He had his experiments with liquid Aether and Nether bubbles.

He had his Fatepiece, which he wished to push up those last few Levels. So that when the final battle began, he could truly unleash himself and start harvesting all the gains he had earned.

He had the small book passed to him by Solomon Rex, which described a bit of history beyond the context of the Nexus.

Randidly’s gaze meandered over the sprawling Engraving maintained by the Upper Sonara Society, centered on those pillars. His eyes found Lyra, across all that distance, as she assisted the Eloises. Her expression was pained, but not too bad.

She’s probably the weakest here. When she begins to be affected in earnest… we need to move. Randidly thought. For now…

His mind found an answer. He nodded sharply, calling Charlotte Wick, Alana Donal, Raymund Ballast, and DiOrtho Vant to him. It was time to fulfill a promise.

It was time to test the efficacy of one of his evolved Skills, A World’s Regrets Begets Serrated Insurrection.