ISSUE 23: DEATH CALLING

I promise. I won’t look. Not anymore. Not anymore. Stupid stupid stupid! Eliza and Orioh were in critical care for nearly a month. I can’t feel the part of myself connected to the Weave. It’s a wall that reflects my mistakes at me. The Weave is right to mock me. –Gwen Murphy

It took three months of therapy to finally gain some control over my new right arm and hand. Imbued with the sigils of Light Sage power, it will be my parachute in the days ahead. The Weave demanded it. So it shall be.—Orioh

Things were shifting rapidly. TNN, the Typherian News Network labeled the sickness the Creefalse Plague because E’ratha came down with it first and that was the name of a popular House Emporium/Brothel that she frequented. Many Commons were immune. It befell a whole swath of prominent rival Houses. Mostly those with the closest ties to Set and Urraden. These were men and women used as experiments by Nyx as well. The horror of it would hit full force with the opening melee between myself and the All-Father. I wouldn’t be the one to give him the final blow.—Sleeping in Starlight, a memoir of the 22nd century

House Cyphuskara

Medical Ward (Argax City)

November 1st, 2115

E’ratha swayed. Gripping the cool metal wall. Her skin pale and clammy.

This damnable infection only got worse.

A distant corner of her mind quailed. If you were on better terms with certain clans then that human demi doctor could have….

She snarled and threw a collection of bio tubes at her attendants.

“GET ME MORE MEDS!”

They ducked and sprinted from the healing hall.

Her stomach quivered and she barely made it to the refresher in time.

Splotches of blood dribbled from the corners of her mouth.

A stubborn tear escaped the corner of her eye.

Her back twitched. Fire rippled up her spine. Another node died.

She was mute.

*****

Sister Nyx greeted Set, both cloaked in proper meat suits, eager to see where the experiment on E’ratha would end up. She wasn’t pregnant in the traditional sense. No physical signs other than what the Union dubbed the Creefalse Plague. The Keeper delighted in the term. As much as her clinical mind could process it. She examined the data. Sample 2459 would be born shortly. Set rumbled, “To coincide with the celebration!” The All-Father had already placed his agents. Unity preferred the reckless abandon of Thoth and the Father. Set reached over to pluck at the meat offered. He knew what Unity wanted.

Set would deny that old Host.

Heart of Unity

Location Unknown

Time Unknown

Unity stirred within its endless dream.

The belts of the Gray Heralds whispering to it.

Set was not as clever as he believed. Unity would wait a while longer. Allowing its puppets to strike out further. To locate the Weave’s Eden. Its stronghold. One of Unity’s outer shells had been destroyed by the combined might of the Scholars and magic originally from its old home but that Universe wasn’t the true linchpin of the Multiverse. Another of his Heralds, the White Crawlers of Olish, had given it a taste of the Weave’s blessed sight bringers. But the Weave slaves had cut off that avenue. With the will and sacrifice of Flesh. Such a waste. It would continue to devour those offered to its gaping maw.

It knew one of them would know the truth. Lead it to the repurposed Garden. The Last Bastion. The Ouroborous of the Three Threads would not deny it forever. Even now it had consumed countless Thrones. Delighting in the added souls. Fresh supplicants for the Great Work. For it knew the Ultimate Truth rested beyond the Chains of the Ouroborous. The Weave would lose its mastery.

The J’kua had defied the Tapestry, many of them falling to Unity. Welcoming the hidden knowledge of the Grand Design. Set was not the only Gray Herald at Unity’s beck and call. It hummed. Bringing another into the fray. The mirror to wear the Bone Crown.

Thoth whirled. His signature knife at the ready.

His eyes downcast as the Claws hissed, “Look into the eyes of your master!” He did so.

His teeth pulled back. A reflexive useless action.

Inky blackness consumed his body. Remolding Thoth into a weapon equal to the infernal White Host of Rykah. The All-Father would be the bait. Set would be the sacrifice. Thoth would ascend to the Spire of Bones. High Orator of Unity. Thoth’s keening went unremarked by the elder god. The mind would wander. That is not what it needed.

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It would bury its blade into the very things the Weave loved the most.

*****

Thoth opened his eyes. A belt of gray and gold gossamer around his waist.

Endless dreary skies crackled above him. He rose. The pounding in his head incessant.

A distant crack of thunder echoed. Pale faces in the milky white waters rose before him. Obsidian stones rose as he walked towards the spire forming in the distance. His mind refused to recall what had happened. He remembered the claws. But after that? Nothing. Black letters formed across his body. He had pants, his weapons, and this belt but nothing else. He stopped. Shock rippling across his features.

His body was normal once more.

He raised his hand. He had his Typherian powers once more. Such as they were.

As he reached the courtyard of the Spire, the fluttering of wings made him glance skyward. Pale birds with star-encrusted black beaks sat on every alcove. Waiting. One placed a mirror before him, “Say the words!” His face was handsome. Chiseled with the Urraden eyes. Gold and Black. His dark hair was shorn close to his head. No matter. The words. He smiled. It twisted his features. “I am the Vessel. The True Pattern that Governs all. I am the Herald of Bones.”

Tendrils shot out from the mouths of the birds. God was with him.

He would let the All-Father break up upon the shores of the Black.

God pointed. The spire reformed. A thing of beauty that consumed Thoth.

*****

Morgana halted. Her hand touching the mirror within her ship’s private chambers. Set would die. The bones had foreseen it. Yet she could not see the Lord’s Face. The one who would command the Throne. She knelt in her prayer circle. Inscribed upon the floor. Offering her blood to Unity.

“Have I not been a good servant?!”

The Spinster replied, “God finds you lacking.”

She hissed, “Begone! You come from a world that no longer exists! You failed to capture the Ti’anet of your home plane!”

Spinster cackled, “You think it's dead?” Her spirited mirth cascaded about the room.

“I have seen the Eclipse of God. What dark have you embraced Morgana? “

Morgana muttered and the room crackled with power. Green threads shooting out into the dim corners. The voice continued, “Remember this for later my dear. Unity always pays its debts!”

Bardax Prime

Utasa Sector/Milky Way Galaxy

Altar of the Three

Hidden-Truth-Within paused. The Collie’s ears twitched.

The vision of white birds engulfing Typha a warning. He barked.

<>

Unlike the demonic forces arrayed against civilized space, the Weave didn’t inflict the total purview of knowledge upon its Vessel. God walked beside them. Not through them. Thus the Compact was held. Working with the Three of the Ouro, The J’kua Atoners, those adrift like the Amarche. Known only through the insights of the Vessel, Bardax and the other hoped to fulfill the Golden Path. Sealing Unity away forever.

No matter the cost.

*****

Karvax sat outside a mid-ring eatery. It was nearly time.

X’mil delighted in the news of his cousin’s affliction. His eyes gleaming, “Serves her right. She never trusted my input anyway!” The larger demi read the headlines. His implants and other enhancements would warn him when the storm would arrive. It was odd that the All-Father had those crimson eyes. Historical records indicated House Urranden was always marked with golden flecks or irises. A mark of Keeper interference? The All-Mother had remained silent on the matter. Letting a knife shot to Karvax’s kidney do the replying.

A wave of energy cascaded across Karvax’s nervous system. The All-Father’s Artock had just shifted into the very heart of the Typherian home system. Their ships just outside the range of the Dweller Gate connecting to Typha. Waiting for the Sleepers to do their work.

A sector-wide alert ripped across the civilian quarters.

///Threat Level Red: Immediate Evac Required.///

The reaction was music to Karvax. The welcoming party had arrived. A single figure burst onto the recording networks across the Union and beyond. The All-Father himself had arrived. Floating above the Rotunda. Mocking all the politicians by his mere presence. Karvax and X’mil exited with the rest of the civilians. Pretending to evac. It was time to give V’alkor a nice visit! He prayed that the Golden Dart would arrive to save the day.

*****

The All-Father bowed.

His crimson eyes locked onto me.

“I challenge the Scion of House Ayeer and House Murphy.”

Clothed in gray battle robes that exposed his sleeves arms. His pants were made of metallic material unfamiliar to Union Space.

That was the only warning I got. His fist connected with my stomach and I gripped both of his shoulders. Pulling him into the depths of space. Away from the civilians. I warned Jace and Tobin, >>Stay close to V’alkor and Bulleteer.<<

The fact that the All-Father wanted all eyes on us meant he would strike elsewhere. Dad had grounded that tactic into my brain for months. Among other things. Gwen was far from Typha. Healing within the Waters of Avalon. Mom was back on Earth, with the newest baby, alongside others within our human contingent. I hoped she wasn’t watching.

My lungs burned as he squeezed. I head butted him. The force snapped his head back. His nose was bloodied. I would endure. Dexter was already moving. Another 2 minutes and he’d be here. Urraden murmured lightly, “What do you hold then? Pitiable flesh, meat, and bone?”

His voice carried across a simple Sector-wide com relay.

Hairline fractures materialized across my ribs. He was using my bones against me. I channeled the dark matter within me. Not using it against him but to reinforce my body. My right fist connected.

Skin flaked off my knuckles. White snarled, >>What is the use of this?! The dark shaman wards upon him are fueled by Typha’s corruption! Wait for your brother!<<

I knew that. But what I needed would require an emotional response from him.

We would need the key to travel to his hidden abode.

Urraden raised a brow. Then buried his finger into my left arm. Pulling muscle out along with it. He grinned, “What use are you? Built-up as a shield? Yet your flesh breaks so easily!” Through that remark, I gained a foothold into his emotional aura. Doc’s enhancements already sealing my wounds. I would endure. Just like the Wall of Old. A flurry of fists hit me from all sides. His brow furrowed. Confusion was evident.

That’s right Mr. Big Bad. Give me your entire emotional footprint.

I wasn’t told many things but Aether had stressed this.

Tarkanan was the last vestiges of his soul. The thing before me? A husk.

*****

J’ino watched with growing horror.

Her voice barely above a mental peal of anguish. >>Thomas!?<< She couldn’t hear anyone within the Family Line. Yet Eliza was smiling. Through the hits. Through the pain. Her eyes sparking with an inner light J’ino had never noticed before. Gwen came dashing into the house. The healing aura of Avalon’s waters soaking her skin. Clinging to her clothing. This was the dreaded fight she had dreamed of so long ago. Yet she too took stock of her sister’s eyes.

There was no sign of defeat within them.

Gwen stated, “She’s gonna win. Not the fight. The War. The battle to end all Wars.”

J’ino pulled her daughter in. Both looked on as the fight reached Typha’s Moons.

Each blow invigorated Eliza.

J’ino cursed, “Of course!”

Eliza was distracting the All-Father. The recording changed.

A ripple formed across the other side of Typha.

Dexter had arrived.