XXI.

Enemies

"Pitiful."

There was a shockwave. An explosion of deep blue light. Magic wracked Calamon's main road and left scorch marks all over the cobbles.

Cedric stumbled out of the blast with Grivonym in his hand again. His dark leather was burnt. His hair was still burning. He swatted his head until it was out, and turned to face Ivalié as quick as he could.

Rithi caught Cedric's shoulder and corrected his footing.

"Move!" Cedric shoved.

Ivalié's staff was already in the air.

I'm dead!

"Wait!" Rithi shouted just before the blast.

BOOM!

The smoke covered them.

"Ivalié, stop! We can bring Liara back to you!" Rithi skidded to the side, away from the impact and smokescreen. Something he didn't understand—water dripped off from his bloody injuries. His clothes were soaked, but certainly not as devastated as he expected.

The spectacled man scoffed. "I've heard that offer before. I've seen it through."

"But this time it's real. We have Serkukan. Not undeath magic, not Rykaedi. We have a means to alter reality forever."

He spun his staff and then slammed the end of it into the ground. It stayed put as he began to approach Rithi. He pulled his white gloves tight.

"You'll hear me out?"

"I'm considering only the relief I'll get from doing this with my bare hands."

The optimism drained from his face.

Cedric stumbled out of the smoke in confusion, clutching his bloodied right arm. "I can't move it..." The same wetness had coated him. He was damp. Then he finally turned to see Rithi, began a strained limp toward him.

Rithi cleared their distance and pried Grivonym free from Cedric's hand. He braced it before himself.

Ivalié's body was already covered in glistening white armor—rather, his solemn face was revealed from beneath a sharp and angled helmet, and a shining white jacket fell all around him. The golden pauldron on his left shoulder shone out as a spike. White tufts shot up around his neck and chin, and around his tall, dark collar.

"Cedric, what do I...?"

But Cedric was near to collapsing.

Rithi looked between the both of them. Fear filled his eyes.

Then Cedric inhaled sharply, calling Rithi's attention.

"It's... cold."

HIs body became covered entirely in a thin layer of water.

Ivalié recoiled, "Damned Okella. You've betrayed us, then?"

[Cedric!]

I know.

He threw his hand out. The inky tendrils shot from his wrist like bolts.

Ivalié spun back and threw his hand out for his staff. It burst across the ground, shooting dirt skyward as it rushed to its master.

The last moment—

Cling!

The tendrils wrapped around his staff and threw it aside.

And just like that, the remaining two tendrils plunged into Ivalié's mind.

And all became dark.

In my time on Caloria, I never did master my Etherian.

There was a bursting of light. Sunlight. Daytime.

A young Ivalié stood in the field—his hair was a lighter blonde, short and growing nearly vertical from the top of his head.

He pushed up his glasses as he turned and asked, "Ready, Liara?"

I don't care for this. Cedric thought. Information—I need to dig.

The hazy vision fell away. He emerged into a wide obsidian hallway, a place lit by violet candles along the walls. There was a great door at the end, a dark and ominous door.

"This is…"

"Haketh." Okella stepped out of the wall ahead. It rippled like water behind her.

"You're… young." Cedric remarked. She was young, smaller and younger than Tirolith in appearance, wearing a deep blue dress which covered much of her skin, and covered her shoulders in azure pauldrons. Her hair was tied and braided behind her head, in a color to match. And of course, what was once her makeup was etched into her skin as deep black scars resembling tears around her eyes.

But she was a child. The woman they had feared to face was a child.

Okella didn't answer to that observation. She only turned to the door beyond and said, "This is our meeting chamber. This is where The Twelve commune."

"Liara?" shuddered a voice from behind them.

They both turned. It was Ivalié, again, stood in the center of the hallway. He was staring at purple-robed Rykaedi in apparent horror.

"Yes, Ithlo'vatis. She desired to be made whole with her Etherian. And so that's what she's had."

He looked away from her. He shut his eyes. "That's not what she would have ever wanted…"

All of his thoughts are of her.

Cedric asked, "Where can we cut his ley? That's something you can do, isn't it?"

She nodded, and stepped through the wall again.

Cedric chased her, and jumped right through that cool stone surface.

Then they fell. Through twisting, churning Etheria, they fell.

Okella spun to Cedric and threw her tendrils out. They wrapped around his body. Then, from her other arm, she shot another set of tendrils toward the sky.

When he looked up again, stalactites were jutting out at them. Her tendrils wrapped around a particularly long one and snagged, allowing her to gently lower them down the hundred paces to the cold grey stone beneath them; colorless, lifeless stone.

"This is Etheria. Or, how Ivalié remembers it." Okella said once they'd touched the ground.

Cedric took in their surroundings—that incandescent, gradient sky. The rocky, cave-like floor beneath their boots. The black pyre raised up thousands of paces away, across the abyss at the edge of the canyon they were stood upon. Dragons in the air of every shade. Every color.

"More specifically, this is Algirak's realm."

"His realm?"

"Etherians could design their own pockets of Etheria to fit their liking. King Algirak designed his to resemble the Calamoni people's depictions of hell."

Cedric nodded. "I've heard all about it."

Krnnch!

They spun again.

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A pale quartz jacket with a golden-spiked shoulder approached. Underneath the jacket a golden clock was embedded in his chest, surrounded by a complex arrangement of twisting, rotating gears throughout his torso. A glistening greatsword stretched out from his hand.

Same height as Ivalié. Then…

“Ithlo’vatis!” Okella stumbled backward.

Twenty paces.

“If this place is just a reflection of his memories…” Cedric shut his eyes.

Ithlo lunged forward with incredible speed.

“Let’s see how he remembers Serkukan.”

And then the flames ripped apart the ground of their faux hell. The pointed blade of their enemy was knocked upward, giving just a moment where he was wide open—a moment long enough for Serkukan to grab his raised arms and restrain him.

Then Cedric leapt in and summoned Grivonym as Serkukan vanished—he rammed the blade deep into Ithlo’s chest until the hilt slammed against his carapace. Sparks sprayed. The gears caught and shattered.

I’ve done it! That should sever Ithlo’vatis from Ivalié—

THWAP!

Cedric slammed hard into the ground. His face was bloody. One of his eyes was losing sight.

How hard did he hit me?

Ithlo’vatis spun his greatsword. He clasped it in both of his hands over Cedric’s floundering body, and rammed straight down.

Cedric screamed out a summoning of Serkukan, whose crimson armor covered him wholly.

Perfect timing.

They deflected the blade and rolled back. Dust scattered into the air around them both—and then the red Etherian kicked the ground to blast obscuring debris into Ithlo’s vision.

But the white dragon was unabated. He rushed. His speed was incredible.

A white dragon controls time. Right, Serkukan?

They blasted a fireball to him. It froze before it could reach, and he cut it into two halves as he stepped heavily to the side, into his next swing.

They spun a kick into his stomach. The greatsword only clipped Serkukan's helm.

But they both easily fell back into their stances like rival beasts.

Does he really remember Serkukan being this weak?

[His memory doesn’t reach that far back.]

He glanced to Okella, at the edge of the cliff behind them.

[Ivalié has wielded an Etherian for too short a time. He’s never known Serkukan’s true strength.]

Cedric grit his teeth.

So it’s up to me alone, then.

The gears began to move in place, catching on each other in a futile attempt to repair. Ithlo looked down and gently sighed.

Cedric's eyes narrowed as his offense fell into place.

Rithi laid Cedric down in the alley, minding his head. The water still coated his body. He was safe.

“Come out. I haven’t all night to play.” Ivalié called from around the corner.

He pulled his mask tight to his face. He looked down to Cedric. “If I don’t return on this night… Hopefully at least he doesn't, either.”

And he took back to the main road. He stood away from Ivalié, who held his staff aloft again. Blue light churned within it.

“You’re not Castelbre.”

“No. I’m a member of Thelani—the group your men attacked on the Fourteenth.”

He grit his teeth. “That was Kogar’s doing alone. I had no part.”

“You could have stopped him. What you did was no better than—”

The magic fired from the staff.

Rithi threw himself to the ground.

But the blast was large.

His body was scorched when the light faded. His clothes were melted to his skin. He looked up to the mage, who only slowly walked toward him.

“W-we can help you…” Rithi gasped through the pain of his burning body. “You don’t have to be afraid…”

“Of what? Kogar? He’s hardly a problem anymore.”

“I can read you.” he said. His eyes flared purple.

“Oh?” Ivalié leaned down to his face. “And what, pray tell, are you reading?”

“You want Kogar dead. He’s taken so much from you… We can do that.”

“He’s already taken too much away for me to give a damn.”

The staff began to glow.

“You gained your Etherian at the end of the Second Era. Ithlo’vatis. The white son of Outsider Llestren’vatis.”

Ivalié recoiled in disgust.

“You’re not one of them. You’re not like them.”

“You know too much.”

“It hurt you—it hurt when you sent Faunia to her death, it hurt to sit by while Liara was slain and turned to ash!”

His face contorted—sadness? Rage? Agony?

Strike while the iron is hot, Rithi!

“It hurt when he tore open the ley barriers and slaughtered them! And when he did the same to the Diplomats’ Hall! Don’t lie!”

The staff flared.

“DON’T!”

X

"Tirolith, get back!" Faunia shouted and drew her rapier.

"A fencer? Let us dance, then."

The azar drew his own blade—the oversized saber at his hilt. It had space enough for two hands, though it seemed to comfortably fit into just one giant paw.

The azar leapt up and vanished into the branches.

"Stop! We don't have to fight!"

Golden eyes glimmered in the sunlight above.

He's invisible!

There swung her blade.

But his saber wrapped around her straight blade and went right for her head.

Blood shot onto the leaves. And then water sprayed into the ground, and Faunia was gone.

Just seconds later did she drag herself out of the mud behind the azar, desperately prying her way to her feet.

He spun. Up went his crossbow.

Thwip!

Her boots finally popped out of the dirt. She spun into guard, with Tirolith’s ice shield at her fore. Just in time to block the bolt.

The azar growled and discarded the weapon.

“I’m not here to fight you, let me explain!”

He faded into obscurity again. She could only see the crunching of grass and leaves beneath his boots. His rush toward her…

She swept her rapier.

Chnk!

A collision—he reappeared at her face. His saber rotated around her blade again.

Faunia threw her hand at his chest. A crunching sound filled the air as a blast of ice escaped her palm, and froze all across his chest. He flinched back. She clamped her eyes shut and released even more ice until it stretched across both of his arms and began down his legs.

The saber spun again until it landed just beside her throat. He stopped.

Faunia didn’t realize she was panting until that exact moment, when all went quiet except for the sounds of the jungle animals around them. She sucked in a deep breath and held it, then let it escape again back into the same frantic pace.

"This one does not fight back." his eyes flitted over to the stunned Tirolith.

"We're only traveling!" the girl protested.

"With an Etherian."

Tirolith's face went somber.

"Yours?"

"Mine." declared Faunia through her breaths. "I am Faunia Vleren, of Cromer. Of The Hunters. She is Tirolith, my Etherian."

"Mmm. Blue girl," he snapped the fingers of his left hand, "would you release me?"

“So long as you’re not going to attack us.” Tirolith nodded. The ice began to melt away from all of his torso besides the center of his chest, to which she said, “Should you try again to attack us, that ice’ll pierce your heart.”

“Tirolith!” Faunia hissed.

"This demon does not kill. You two are…"

"Travelling." Faunia restated. She clutched her wound. "To Alisa. Your homeland, I presume?"

He nodded. "They will not welcome you. They each have the golden eyes—and your kind are not permitted. You do not plan to fight your way through?"

Tirolith winced.

"We have to reach the capital. We need to prevent an all-out war."

"Lyros has stayed his hand long. Now, his army amasses."

"Lyros? He's…"

"...our king." The cat nodded.

"And your name?"

The big cat glowered. He lowered his head. The taste of defeat was ever bitter, and ever unfamiliar…

He stated plainly, "I, am Uco."