Cultivation was supposed to be a generally peaceful exercise that helped one reset one’s harmony with the rest of the world. At least, that was how Rieren had used it so far.
That wasn’t the case any longer. Now, she was looking to see how quickly she could gather Essence and reach Peak-Enlightened. Time was not on her side. Too approaching anxieties were trying to dash her inner calm.
Mercion was missing on top of being controlled by the Gravemark Puppeteer. What nefarious plans that Abyssal truly had was beyond Rieren’s ken, for the moment, but she was certain it intended to manipulate proceedings from on high, just as it had attempted to do with the Sect Leader. In fact, it might have been doing so already, unbeknownst to all, including Rieren herself.
For the time being, Rieren did her best to focus on her cultivation. She was this close to making the breakthrough to Peak-Enlightened. She was even beginning to get the first hints of the exact enlightenment she was supposed to be experiencing.
It was a matter of simply understanding the underlying truth of the Aether. Where the Abyss had shown her a cycle of death and rebirth, the eternal dance of destruction and creation, the Aether dealt with something entirely different. Unlike the Abyss, it wasn’t a plane where everything had been reduced to dust. It wasn’t filled with ruins resulting from annihilation.
No, all it had was a cosmos. A wide, starry expanse filled with little planetoids that housed strange monsters. Monsters who weren’t satisfied with the Aether, for whatever reason.
Maybe it was that reason Rieren had to understand.
Unfortunately, she didn’t get to think about it as long as she had wished. Rieren almost got a full day’s worth of cultivation done before her first guest arrived.
Clanmistress Avathene arrived like a storm. Rieren sensed her long before she actually set foot on the slopes of the mountain near the Enlightenment Locale. Her powers were active and emblazoned against the night sky like a descending star.
“Someone’s making a flashy entrance,” Kalvia muttered loud enough for Rieren to hear.
She wasn’t wrong. Avathene was floating in on a large, translucent serpent whose scales glimmered with an iridescent hue in the low moonlight. Her skin was covered with glimmering golden serpent scales, and her red eyes stood out like beacons, but they both faded as she neared the Enlightenment Locale.
Curiously, Oromin was travelling with her as well. Combined with the way she was displaying her power even during a flight over Falstrom, Rieren figured that she had been rather disturbed by the attempt on her life. Maybe even traumatized that her own father would allow it.
Rieren froze. Would he allow it, in truth? The man Rieren had met at that tea shop hadn’t seemed like the kind who would be willing to let his own daughter be killed for anything.
Except, Rieren had just learned of the presence of the Gravemark Puppeteer in Falstrom. Of course, it wasn’t surprising that it was here in some capacity. After all, its threads were spread out everywhere, which she had already seen proof of.
But the fact that it was now in control of Mercion was quite troubling. There was also the incident where Yonvig had supposedly been the one confronting Mercion to prevent him from stopping his father, Mavolen, from killing the Stannerig Clanmistress.
However, now Rieren began to suspect that the Puppeteer might have been in control of Yonvig too. Maybe even Mavolen as well.
Rieren was tempted to curse, but her intention was cut short by Avathene’s arrival. The Clanmistress and her attendant landed near Rieren, and the giant translucent snake disappeared. Avathene let her powers dissipate so that she once again looked normal and pristine, glowing radiant under the moonlight and beautiful as ever. Though, a moment of weakness seemed to grab hold of the Clanmistress, quickly corrected with Oromin’s help.
“You know of Mercion’s whereabouts,” she said by way of greeting and not caring at all that Kalvia was near enough to listen in. “And yet you simply sit there?”
Her words were a little accusatory and her posture certainly had no small amount of anger. Rieren wondered just how much pressure she had been handling from both clans all this while. After all, it wasn’t often that the one could get away with killing off a former Clanmaster and continue to live freely.
Rieren supposed she ought to stand to greet the Clanmistress properly, but she didn’t bother. Instead, she patted the ground nearby to indicate that they should also settle down. She had a good deal to say, though she did intend to be fast about it. “I am unaware of his exact whereabouts, actually.”
Oromin complied, sitting down on the grass before Rieren. “The message said otherwise.”
“What did it say?”
“That you knew where Mercion was and that we had to speak with you directly to learn it,” Avathene said. Her frown grew deeper. “But that does not seem to be the case. So what is it, Rieren?”
Rieren sighed. Those cultivators had apparently decided to get back at her by embellishing her words and getting her in trouble with the Clanmistress.
“I certainly didn’t tell them that I knew where Lord Mercion is at this exact moment,” she said. “However, I do know what has happened to him.” Rieren squinted. “You seem angry at me for not sending you a message, yet you come quite late after receiving it.”
“We were busy with a great many matters.” Avathene’s words were clipped. “Tell us what you know of Mercion.”
There wasn’t even a please at the end. A bit rude. Rieren decided to ignore it since the Clanmistress was clearly not in a great headspace.
“Lord Mercion is being controlled by an Abyssal,” Rieren said. “In fact, I think there are several who are under the same influence.”
The words had the exact kind of shock Rieren had foreseen. Both Oromin and the Clanmistress had frozen. In the latter’s case, she had actually decided to take a seat on the grass beside her attendant as well, understanding that the tale she was about to hear was going to be long.
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Rieren did her best not to hold anything back. There were little bits of sensitive information that she decided to hold back—such as the Gravemark knowing the specific part of her past where she had restarted this whole apocalypse. Other than those, Rieren explained everything she knew about the monster.
“A monster that can control anyone with invisible threads.” Avathene shook her head, looking strangely hopeful instead of dismayed. “How could anyone even prove such a thing?”
“Do you doubt the veracity of my claims, Clanmistress?” Rieren asked.
“No. But I cannot simply tell the other clan members that some mystical, web-slinging Abyssal was the cause behind the murders. Not unless the Abyssal itself can be caught and presented as the culprit.”
She said that with even more hope, but Rieren quickly shook her head. “That will not be possible. The Gravemark Puppeteer does not have its actual, corporeal form anywhere nearby, as far as I can tell. Its webs are powerful enough.”
“Then how are we to find him?” Oromin asked.
“I was hoping you would have the answer,” Rieren admitted. “My goal was to inform you of what I discovered. However, now that I think on it, I assume the Puppeteer will get Mercion to where he can effectively manipulate others without being discovered.”
Oromin and Avathene exchanged glances. Rieren frowned between them. Whatever it was they were thinking, they didn’t share it directly.
“I know certain locations we can search,” Avathene finally said. Her expression had finally mollified so she no longer looked like she thought Rieren was dirt scuffing her shiny boots. “Thank you for informing us, Rieren. We will take action as soon as we can and let you know what we discover.”
Rieren nodded with as much grace as she could summon. “Do you have any news of the frontier?”
She supposed it wasn’t good of her to ask Avathene about news as though the Clanmistress was a mere messenger, but neither of her guests seemed to mind.
Avathene looked down. What tension and urgency she still had remaining now drained out. Oromin actually looked like he might reach out a hand to help steady his mistress, but he held himself back.
“We have suffered some setbacks,” the Clanmistress said. “The Dreadflood has pushed even further inwards. Some of our brave defenders have fallen to the monsters. The worst of them…” She took a deep breath. “My father was among those. He fought the Dreadflood personally and gave his life in the attempt.”
Rieren’s eyes widened. “Clanmaster Yonvig is dead?”
“He is. May he find peace in the Beyond.”
For someone who had just lost her father, Avathene was holding herself together remarkably well. While Rieren felt for her loss, and expressed her sympathies, her mind was working on a different plane. She wasn’t sure if mentioning it would be insensitive or not, but Avathene had shown herself to be reasonable. The Clanmistress deserved Rieren’s trust.
“I do not believe your father fell, Clanmistress,” Rieren said.
Oromin was sharp enough to pick up her implication. “You mean this Abyssal you think has control over him and Lord Mercion, among others, is to blame?”
“I think so, yes. It is quite likely that the Gravemark Puppeteer intends to extend its influence upon powerful Abyssals as well. Your father might simply have been the tool for which it could do so. In fact, it might already have the Dreadflood under its influence.”
Avathene looked so wretched, Rieren started to feel awful for bringing up the matter in the first place. But her words were, as Rieren had thought, reasonable. “Then it sounds all the more like my father had been preyed upon. That his love for his clan and all those who lived in the Shatterlands had been taken advantage of.”
“It would seem so. I am sorry for your loss, Clanmistress.”
Avathene smiled, a tug of her lips dripping with loss. “He sent me a letter before his death, you know. It… it mentioned some things that make a great deal of sense now, after what you’ve told me. He said going off to the battlefield had lifted a cloud from his mind. That he could think more clearly now.”
Rieren swallowed. “The Puppeteer must have relaxed its grip in anticipation of switching to the Dreadflood.”
“Presumably. I’m simply glad my father could pass on in a way that befits his honour. Whatever mistakes he might have made at times, he was still a great man.”
“Undoubtedly, Clanmistress.”
They were silent for a moment. Whenever Rieren blinked, she could see the moment she had mourned Elder Olg’s death on her eyelids. Had the Clanmistress even gotten a chance to properly grieve her father’s death in all the madness going on? Rieren doubted it.
“Have you discovered anything significant about the Aether and the monsters trying to come down upon meteors?” Oromin asked, possibly in an attempt to change the subject. He clearly looked uncomfortable at seeing his Clanmistress look so lost and devastated.
Rieren nodded. She mentioned what she knew of the anchor, and how Mercion might be in possession of the shape it had taken in one of the legendary swords. “It is all the more imperative we find him as soon as possible.”
“That old sword, is it?” Oromin scratched his lightly bearded chin. He hadn’t been able to shave for a while. “I know the relic. The Mirrorblade, yes? We used to hear stories about it when we were young. Incredible to think that the legendary materials it is purportedly forged with is a shard of the Aether itself.”
Rieren smiled. “It is not legendary for nothing.”
“Clearly.”
Avathene stood up. “It is time we left, Oromin. We must find Mercion as soon as we can.” She smiled at Rieren. “Thank you again, for everything you have done. Even if you fail to take action regarding the Aether in time, know that I am already in your debt.”
Rieren bid her farewell and good fortune. Though, before Avathene left, she headed over to Kalvia. The self-proclaimed future Empress was pretending to continue her cultivation even though it was quite obvious most of her attention was upon Rieren and the others.
“Empress,” Avathene said, adding a small bow.
Kalvia looked up. If she was surprised at the term of address, she showed no sign of it. Considering it was tantamount to an admission of siding with Kalvia, to the fact that the Clanmistress supported her intention of usurping the current Forborne Emperor—high treason punishable by execution—Kalvia looked quite placid. Almost expectant, in a way.
“I am sorry for your loss, Clanmistress,” Kalvia said. “I do hope that you forgive my late message.”
“No forgiveness necessary, Your Grace. Though, if I may be so bold, I am curious if your ultimate intention here has changed.”
Kalvia waited a moment to answer, though she didn’t look like she was considering anything. “No. Once I’m done here, I was hoping I might assist in whatever way you may deem necessary to ensure the survival of the Shatterlands. It is an indispensable sector of the Elderlands. That the Emperor refuses it to see it as such is an insult I will not stand for.”
Avathene smiled as though it was just the answer she had been hoping for. “Then I can count on your assistance in time?”
“Of course, Clanmistress.”
“And can I count on your will?”
Once more, Kalvia was silent. Then she smiled. There was a spark in her eyes Rieren had never seen before. “One thing I believe I have learned over the course of these enlightenments is that there are many responsibilities for the ruler of the Elderlands. There are many tasks the Empress must perform, many roles she will need to assume. And for all of them, one thing is constant. The Empress cannot do any of it alone.”
Avathene’s smile only grew wider. “Then rest assured that you will always have my support, dear Empress.”
With another short bow, which Kalvia returned with her own, the Clanmistress and her attendant left. Just as they had arrived, they departed aboard Avathene’s enormous, barely-there serpent.
“What was that about?” Rieren asked when she and Kalvia were alone once more.
Kalvia grinned. “Just a little nudge on what I might do when things… come to a head.”
She wouldn’t say more and Rieren decided against pursuing the matter further. Her cultivation was awaiting her. Though, before she could begin, she sensed there was one more meeting to be had. Perhaps the most important one yet.
For, after the Clanmistress and Oromin had left, Silomene appeared.