XVIII.

Fate

The carriage pulled to a stop a short distance from the giant gates of Calamon, far enough away that the ceaseless yammering of the crowds were merely a low rumble. They were protected by the trees of the forest, hidden in the shade just before the city's sprawling clearing began.

"Here's your stop."

"Thank you again..." She asked for the man's name.

He was strange; his face was hidden by his low straw hat, and he wore an odd silvery outfit that had a strong resemblance to the armor they wore in Freiya'kara, and the very same worn by Faunia Vleren. He spoke with a lisp, but only ever offered his name as, "a friend."

So the girl bowed politely to him and accepted his answer, for it would be impolite not to.

She could only catch a glimpse of his mouth as she left, which appeared dry and cracked, as if he was fiercely dehydrated. His skin was pale and somewhat sickly, a far cry from her own deep tan skin, which called forth eons of Harthian culture. Her wrists bore dark black line tattoos around them, which the people of Harth called faia—shackles.

"Thank you again. You've kept me safe. You got me away from... what was once my home."

"Unfortunate that we couldn't save more, together. I won't forget what you did to protect me, too." His lips twisted into an unkind smile.

"The Hunters trained me well enough. But without you, my efforts would have been in vain."

"I'm inclined to agree, though you sell yourself short. Take care, Marisol."

Twenty-Fourth of Dectis [5], 207th Year of The Calamonian Age

Cedric stood on a collapsed log in the blistering heat of Outer Calamon. He looked up at the sun through the trees for just a moment before wiping his sweat and looking back down to the figure lying in the grass a few paces beneath him. He said, "Oy."

The straw-hat figure looked up at him. A man with a crooked mouth and dark, tired eyes. In fact, all of the color had been drained from his eyes; his irises were entirely dark gray.

"Cedric Castelbre." the man said.

"So you're familiar. We haven't met, have we?"

"Nope. How did you find me?"

"I've got some sort of… affinity to those Etheric leylines your kind are so fond of."

The man nodded knowingly. "Dyosius."

Cedric's expression quickly turned sour. "Where the hell do you know that name from?"

The man shrugged.

Cedric dropped from the log and summoned his sword. He swung as he fell.

But the man was faster, and rolled sideways out of the way before the strike landed. He righted his hat as he stood, and began to backpedal into the taller grass.

"Bastard."

"You can't kill me, Cedric. I'm an arbiter."

"An arbiter?"

"I ordain fate. I'm untouchable by men and daemons alike."

"We'll see about that!" Cedric shouted. He rushed with a flurry of blows.

The man was calm as he evaded the strikes. He asked, "Do you strike like such at every person who knows of your name?"

Cedric stopped and retreated slightly.

The man only chuckled, "I'm no enemy. You can even consider me an ally, if you'd like."

"You're the one who brought Marisol here. Aren't you an Etherian?"

"Nope. You traced me through your own spell, your wish for your ally to be by your side. I'm an arbiter—my job is only to fulfill your wish."

"So what do you do now that it's done, laze around, wait to die?"

"Yes. And no. My job isn't complete yet, but I know not what comes next."

"Damn you. Speak plainly."

"There is nothing plain about this, Cedric. You were never meant to find me."

"And now that I have?"

"Nothing changes. I'll continue my job, you'll continue yours. Unless you were to break the Rings and disrupt the Hierarchy, our jobs are immutable."

Cedric dispelled his blade.

"So you believe me?"

"You know a lot. Whether I believe your tales or not is besides the point—but it's true that you brought Marisol here."

"And Faunia."

He cocked his head. "I didn't wish for Faunia to arrive here."

"No. But fate has a way of things."

"By that logic, there is some purpose to me meeting you here."

"Yes. And no."

Cedric scratched the back of his head.

"Confused?"

"Very. Everybody has another damn riddle."

"Ask your questions plainly; perhaps you would receive a plain answer."

"Where is Dyosius?"

The man smiled.

"Where?"

"There is no where to Dyosius. It is everywhere."

"You said you'd answer plainly."

"Dyosius shattered the third time it sprung." The man held up a finger. "When Algirak died, your Relistar became a vessel for it briefly, long enough for you to use it to disspell his esera." Another finger went up. "Then it sprung when Akvum rejoined the worlds. His spell, however, was much greater than that which you cast. The force was too much for the platinum crystal to bear, and it shattered apart. Into everything."

"Algirak isn't dead."

"You're sure?"

Cedric narrowed his eyes.

"Perhaps certain Etherians are as immutable as arbiters. Without the purest being of fear... could fear exist at all?"

Cedric pocketed the thought. "Dyosius is in me, you, Faunia, Marisol… everyone?"

"Not me. Everyone, every man, woman, and child. But not arbiters, not Etherians, and not elders."

"Then that's why Rykaedi gave up on hunting me. She must know already."

"She does. She felt it when Akvum died from that surge. You're no longer a target of The Twelve."

"Except for Kogar."

"They don't accept him as a member."

"And how do I kill him? Or is he 'immutable' as well?"

The man shrugged.

"Come on. You know everything except that?"

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"In the fate which I've seen, you don't. He kills you."

"It would hardly be the first time."

"But the trail of fate ends when you die. There is no further lead I can follow."

"Then when? When do I die?"

The man smiled again.

"Can't tell me that either, huh?"

"Everything that exists is it's own antithesis—"

Cedric feigned talking with his hand. "Blah, blah. I said I'm sick of riddles."

"Another question?"

"Is Dyosius what allowed me to deflect Algirak's deathblow? To deflect Faunia's icebolt… and Kogar's…"

"Disaster. Yes."

"Is that what he calls it?"

"Yes. Disaster, Redirection, Everlasting, and Soulrend. Those four are the core of him."

"Mother damned, you're an entire… erm…"

"Encyclopedia."

"Sure. Soulrend—that's what took Serkukan's power?"

He nodded.

"Can I get it back?"

"Yes." the man answered, then looked up to the trees. "I have time for one last question."

He chuckled, "Another job, eh?"

"Yes. Good day, Cedric."

"Wait, that wasn't—ah, fuck."

The arbiter had already turned and left with a wave. The leaves and branches ahead of them peeled open as if by magic to reveal his hidden carriage.

Cedric dropped to the ground and sat, watching him mount the vehicle and whip his horses into speed.

And then, he was gone.

"Well…"

Serkukan stepped forward from behind his shoulder. "I should have spoken to him."

"Maybe. Do arbiters respond better to Etherians?"

Serkukan didn't answer.

"We can get your energy back."

"With no clue as to how."

"So let's ask."

The Etherian turned his head to Cedric.

He pounded his fist into his hand. "Okella."

"No."

"We can kill her."

"Without an Etherian?"

Cedric shifted his lips in discontent.

"We have no counter for her Remembrance; we're better off with a different quarry."

"Throkos, then?"

"We don't know enough about him. My pick would be Ivalié."

"Remind me—which one is he?"

"He was the leader of Freiya'kara. The closest to the Hunters, and therefore the most human out of them. Faunia worked with him during her time there."

"We'll have Thelani get a search started. Let's start knocking these bastards down."

And then, with his new target locked in, he once again punched a fist into his open palm...

X

Okella stood in the dark maroon tunnels of Thelani—tunnels that she could only navigate thanks to the voices that still echoed off the walls, and the dim blue light that was a circumstance of her otherworldly eyes. Her heart was overfast, a circumstance of her otherworldly biology…

The tunnel was narrow and bleak besides that. And the voices, too…

Here is our place of communion with Azafel. You may attempt to reach him.

And Evra?

She is not of our worship. But Azafel, you may reach to.

What are the odds that he responds?

We've had occasional luck. Oelat could tell you more...

Then they became more frantic;

This way—the art gallery.

Anything we should watch out for?

The chamber is quite large, but do your best not to damage the art.

Let me focus first on not dying.

I know. Cedric—

She tensed up and shut her eyes. [Cedric Castelbre. That's where I should be. That's where…]

And there was the opened door to the gallery. She could already see the rubble, the collapsed ceilings and walls, and the hole where the ground had melted and then cooled again into stone.

All around the hole—the ash where Liara's scorched corpse should have been.

Okella trembled. Her tears began.

Why are you so weak?

Kogar's question wracked her mind.

×You cry, you weep, you slobber all over yourself like some mongrel dullard with nothing left — nothing to live for.×

And, for what she should do?

×You'd be better off dead. Cast yourself into a hole, into an abyss, let yourself rot away and vanish into the next century's fossilized stone where they can admire how brittle you were. They can admire, then, how the old gods died.×

Her tears were full-on then. She fell against the wall and clutched her head in agony.

"No…"

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that she should live in terror of what he might do, that he might one day lash out and destroy everything she'd ever loved. But, then, what did she love?

The people around her? No. Not Rykaedi, nor Jirtu, nor Ivalié. Liara, in passing, had been a kind acquaintance. Skalla, when she took over, had been another horror.

The realm? Calamon had never been kind to her soft-spoken and awkward nature. Kylinstrom was worse. The Inner Jinn was a complete hell. Cylenia was occasionally a nice place to visit, but Ruin and Llueves were wartorn countries full of choking blood and gasping deathrattles.

What motivation do you have to keep breathing?

She hung her head.

Then her own voice asked: [is torture the only thing left for me?]

Something rattled within the chamber. Something stirred.

She lifted her head toward the door.

A light—something was alive.

Her long sleeves stretched out ink-blotted tendrils. Tendrils that didn't quite exist, but existed to her.

[What do I live for?]

"An apt question, Okella." a woman said from within the room.

Okella gasped and stood. She approached the doorway in haste.

"Skalla?" she asked.

There she was, in the room, within glowing blue light: the copper-haired woman she had once considered a dear friend. She winked and shot a playful point at Okella, who jumped as if being attacked.

"Liara?"

"It's oh-so-good to see you, Okella!"

"You're a spirit…?" She wiped her tears.

Liara looked down at her translucent body. "Looks like it! Or, maybe you're just reading the walls, interpreting their grinding rumbles as you would my voice?"

Okella looked to her tendrils, which had stretched themselves out without her noticing. Six were itching against the walls on either side. Two were at Liara's feet, vanished into her spectral form. "I…"

"You're feeling down, Okella."

"I'm always feeling down! There's no way out — it's my whole, it's my curse…"

"I don't believe that. You're not tuned into sadness, but the surrounding, swelling emotion of those closest to you."

"But they're not sad. Kogar? Rykaedi? They're not sad!"

"Aren't they?"

Okella took another step into the room and looked closely at Liara. Her lip quivered. "You're not her."

"I'm part Liara, part Skalla. The best of both worlds—knowledge, and kindness." she winked.

"What do I do?"

Then she floated up from the ground with a big smile. The tendrils stretched until they were stretched too far and pulled taut. "You do what you want. There's a correct solution at every stage of your life—even if you find a different answer to be your truth later. And what does your heart say?"

"...I should attack Castelbre?"

"Then you should. Or you should find your answer along the way."

"But Kogar is... He's going to..."

"You're under Rykaedi's protection. And not to mention, soon to be under the protection of another, should you play your cards right."

She lifted her head in interest.

But Skalla moved on: "Wasn't there something you wanted to ask?"

"The crystal..." Then her sadness fell away. Her quivering face became as stalwart as she could manage. "No. I don't need to, now."

Liara smiled once more. And then her light went out. She vanished.

The tendrils all fell limply to the ground. And so too did Okella collapse, as her faux confidence vanished, and she began again to sob into her hands...

*