“What do you think you’re staring at?” Freya groused, half annoyed and half bashful as Ori shamelessly ogled her.
“Nothing, just wondering if finding a fairy-sized piece of leather was why you were gone so long,” Ori replied, his head propped up against the wall. It was more of a natural hollow in the side of the sheer cliff than a purposefully made cave, but it served as an excellent hideout for now.
Sheltered from the oppressive heat, the orange glow of magma illuminated the hallow. Despite the hot, dry air, his growing hunger, dehydration, and overall physical and mental exhaustion, he felt, if not ecstatic, then supremely satisfied to be alive.
Just a few minutes ago, Ori had sensed Korrent’s demise through a flood of Peritia, which rewrote his page in the library of fate and updated the legends of his accolades. Due to the nature of his hard-fought victory, or the fact he had fought mostly alone, he was floating on a sea of Peritia at least twenty or thirty times what he likely needed to awaken. However, he resisted the urge to do so. Firstly, he was exhausted and wanted to awaken with a clear head. Secondly, his instincts—near alien impulses, he was growing more aware of—screamed at him not to awaken, not here, not yet. And thirdly, he knew on an intellectual, if not wholly rational level, that to awaken was to Quicken, the final part of an enchantment, sealing off, at least temporarily, every preparatory aspect that came before it, before turning the switch on. Was he ready to awaken? Was he complete?
No.
It wasn’t just an emotional or instinctual response; he knew he needed to germinate that seed gifted to him by Harriet. He knew he somehow needed the Peritia required to evolve before or during awakening if he were ever to evolve at all. And while he had a weapon that could cut out the heart of any enemy that gave him a chance to do so, it was an expensive weapon to use, one that required copious amounts of Peritia. And if what he feared would happen came to pass, he would need every single advantage and point of Peritia to survive.
Ori frowned when he remembered his crushed dreamwalkers' ward and grimaced at the way he had gotten it broken. In retrospect, it was obvious that he was under some sort of mind-altering impulse from the very moment he'd seen her, his reluctance to kill, his and his White Mage instincts, and yes, even his sexuality had been exploited, the webs of her influences smoothly floating past the wards protections.
He held the remains, inspecting it as he pondered. While he could reshape it, the inscriptions were trashed and difficult to repair or replicate. Due to the requirement of rare and likely expensive reagents and catalysts, it was unlikely he’d be able to fix the brooch anytime soon. In the interim, he'd need to figure out how to build it better, or perhaps draw up a new design from scratch given all he currently knew.
Then he considered Lysara’s demise, his Split Mind already working on how he’d generate the mana required to summon and recreate her Mana Nexus, this was all while Split Mind continued his discussion with Freya.
“Hrumph. I’m a Pixie; I’m Pixie-sized. And—”
“What’s the difference? You look almost exactly like I imagined a fairy might, from the wings to the hair. Well, maybe you’re a bit bigger than—”
“Ori, now that I have a corporeal form, remember I can slap you when you cross the line, and jokes about a woman's physical size is definitely crossing the line.”
“Ha, alright, alright. But seriously though, I don’t think I understand the difference between sprite, pixie, and fairy. Judging by the legends from Earth, most would call you a fairy based on physical appearance alone,” Ori chuckled, his tone turning more contemplative before yawning towards the end.
“Well yes, fae come in all types. Some look no different from humans or elves; others are kin to beasts or animals, melding features from both like Satyrs or Vulpin. Even within the fairy race, there are more branches than I can remember. Some fairies and even arch-fairies can be as small as my sprite form.”
“So, you’re a special kind of fairy then?” Ori asked, trying to keep up despite his drowsiness.
“Being wild and not from a lineage or family with a history of evolutions, I was mostly free to decide my own path. This is my somaform; I made this all by myself, well, mostly,” Freya said, her mood dropping.
“Oh?” Ori asked with concern.
“It’s the Aether. Wild luck influenced my evolution, my fears, my dreams. It worked out in the end, but during the evolution, the Aether in the air, warped and crippled my wings,” Freya said, turning to show Ori delicate, translucent wings that shimmered with their own internal glow. They looked beautiful, like tragic works of art, the curling, warping distortions clearly evident like molten glass. Ori frowned, his mind immediately thinking of how to fix it.
“No,” Freya said, hands on her waist, her foot stomping for emphasis.
“What?”
“This is not a problem for you to solve,” Freya continued. “I can see it in your eyes, that brash goodness within you that wants to save every damsel in distress. I am no damsel, and I caused this. It was my fear—fear of being trapped, of never being able to fly again. The Aether latched onto that fear, and…” In a flash of light, Freya the pixie became Freya the sprite once more, “changed me into something uncommon.”
“I don’t understand,” Ori said, his mind still reeling from the news that she’d been Aether-warped during evolution.
Freya changed back into her Pixie somaform. “Were-pixie. I’m a Were-pixie. An Aurora Were-pixie to be precise. You see, I don’t need fixing; I’m fine. Besides, it would have been indecent, obscene even, to be in debt to you any further than I already am.”
“Freya, it’s alright, you’re not—”
“Shhhh. Enough. One of my greatest fears was losing my sprite form and never being able to change back. Well, the Aether responded and, in fair exchange, took my ability to fly as a pixie so that I could revert to my Sprite form at will.”
Ori nodded, understanding dawning. “So, you can still fly, but just as a sprite? So it’s kind of the best of both worlds? Unless there was something you needed to do as a flying pixie?”
“No, not really. Not all pixies have wings.”
“Now that I think about it, what does having a physical form give you anyway?”
Freya shrugged. “More mana, more potent magic, easier to interact with the world. I feel more a part of fate, or at least more substantial, more able to influence fate than being influenced by it. It’s like the difference between being a grain of sand in the river or a stone.”
“Plus, I imagine it’s a bit safer,” Ori added.
“Yes. While I could phase through mundane objects and avoid most physical interactions as a sprite, anything with mana or intent could harm us. Just a measly level one fireball would have been enough to end my existence. Though I’m still comparatively weak, I’ll no longer blow out like a candle flame in the wind as a Pixie. The rest—the increased characteristics, lifeforce, and the extended lifespan, the chance to ascend to greater rank—carries through with me regardless of which form I take,” Freya sighed in appreciation.
“Wow. Not gonna lie, I’m a bit jealous. From Lesser all the way to Nascent rank, a new Dreamwalker class, that nutty Sleep spell, and even more class slots and everything. You’re basically a pocket-sized powerhouse. You’ve already plucked my ass out of the fire. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“It is as I said, I intend to stick around. It’s unavoidable at this point. Speaking of which, we need a new familiar contract, Bondweaver.”
“Yeah, the old one ended as you evolved, right?”
“Yes,” she said rather bashfully. “I believe the Aether warping took even more mana for evolution than it should have. Sorry.”
“I had enough in the end, and plenty now.”
“Surely enough to awaken?” Freya asked, now sitting daintily on Ori’s lap as they stared through the cave mouth into the hellish atmosphere below.
“Yeah, more than enough, thanks to mostly soloing a Sovereign ranker.”
“Then why do you hesitate? Why not awaken right now?”
Ori worked his jaw, trying to answer. His instincts were screaming at him not to awaken, but as he tried to form his thoughts into words, the reason and logic behind his hesitation evaporated.
“I’m not sure, just a feeling, more than a feeling. Maybe after seeing the effect the Aether had on you, I think I need to get somewhere clear of the corrupted Aether before I can awaken?”
“Hmmm, normally I would call your hesitation, cowardice. But…”
“Hmmm?” Ori yawned.
“Instincts are not infallible, far from it. Cold, hard rational logic should always have the first and final say, but you have these instincts for a reason,” Freya said, Arcane Hands massaging Ori’s scalp.
Ori’s mind wandered, reflecting on his ever-changing nature. A month ago, he’d have baulked at the idea of killing so many. The death, the sheer quantity he’d been a part of or even caused, was staggering. And yet… It felt a part of him now. He focused inward.
The Demonsbane was satisfied.
The Duælist was far from satisfied.
The Enchanter was heartbroken.
The Bondweaver was incensed.
The White Mage sought life, and death to any who’d curtail it.
While the Astral Adept wanted, above all else, a nap.
Beyond it, all was an instinct separate from the rest, one that yearned to be complete. Through the stirrings of fate strings Ori could scarcely comprehend, he felt a direction he needed to travel to make that a reality and dreaded what he would find if he got there.
“We can’t get back up there without going past that god, can we?” Ori asked, empathising with Eltitus when he had felt fate conspire against him.
“Ori,” Freya warned.
“Well?”
“There are other ways… Climbing the cliff, for instance.”
Ori wanted to scoff at the suggestion. He knew climbing hundreds, if not thousands, of feet up an exposed, unstable rock face without rope, equipment, and skill was a Darwin Award waiting to happen. However, this realisation was far from being any more sensible or safe than confronting a god.
“Anyway, bond now! Then sleep. I can see your eyes crossing beneath those droopy eyelids. You channelers always forget your natural limits. Until you get some sleep, you’ll be no use to anyone. But still, bond first.”
“A familiar bond?” Ori asked.
“Yes.”
“A soul bond?”
“Yes,” Freya confirmed.
“Okay,” Ori said, mentally preparing the spell as Vision of the Progenitor flashed. “We’ll need a wider connection,” he added, before bringing his broken dagger out of storage. Just as he was about to slash his palm open, Freya halted him, her tiny doll-like proportions enough to gain his attention, his expression one of question.
Carefully, as if treading on unstable ground, Freya reached towards Ori’s bottom lip, knelt and planted a long, slow kiss. Her tiny lips, despite their light touch, felt all the more present due to their smallness. The whole experience of having Freya’s form upon his exposed chest distracted and excited Ori more than he’d care to admit.
Freya paused their kiss, an eyebrow raised in expectation.
“Oh, yeah, the bond,” Ori said, before Freya leaned in once more, their lips touching. Vision of the Progenitor witnessed the ebb and flow of soul stuff, hers no less substantial than his despite her size. Through their kiss, he felt that mutual yearning, one of connection, want, and to Ori’s surprise, desire. It floated there, deep beneath the churning tides of their souls, undeniable despite how unlikely either would admit it. Within Freya’s soul, it was inextricably tangled with an obsidian wall of grief.
The Bondweaver would do nothing for either problem right now, his attention focused on reforming their soul bond. It was no longer based on a pact or mutual needs and assurances. Nor was it born from the same knot of love and lust as the Taurna’diem. If Ori had to place a word on it, it was more familial than familiar, with a singular understanding that they would never abandon each other for as long as the bond was kept.
As Ori felt the bond settle into place, Freya pulled back from the kiss and slid off Ori to stand as she had been earlier, as if nothing had happened.
“You alright?” Ori asked. Despite the awkwardness and his desire to understand what he just felt, he knew better than to prod at one another’s deepest, darkest feelings in a cave within an infernal prison.
“Yes. Thank you, Ori. For everything,” she answered primly.
“S’alright.”
Freya sighed. “You should get some sleep while I keep watch. I’m sure you can find plenty of things to keep you busy in the astral. When you wake, we’ll talk about where we go next.”
Ori nodded before his mind slid into the astral plane.
----------------------------------------
“Lord Elarion Thalindor Elenithar, Lady Arwenna Luthiel Myndorith, what a pleasure to meet you again.”
Ori found himself in a ballroom packed with high elves of all kinds. Hanging off his elbow was a sight that almost made his heart freeze with longing. Harriet was wearing her silver Dreamwalker’s circlet adorned with blue sapphires that sparkled almost as much as her eyes. Her deep navy hair fell in loose ringlets, interwoven with silver threads in a fashion Ori hadn’t seen before, meanwhile, a dark navy dress clung to her skin.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
To Ori, it had only been days, but though her physical appearance had scarcely changed, her newfound confidence and incisiveness were evident in every word and gesture. Her Grace included or excluded people as she spoke to or dismissed them. She was the picture of a woman used to being in charge and having her commands obeyed.
He smiled at her growth, the woman she had become, even as a pit formed deep in his heart. A fear gnawed at him—that this powerful, sophisticated woman would have no use for a boy.
“What is it, dearest?” Harriet asked, her attention returning to Ori. The version of Ori Harriet had fabricated for her dream, who apparently knew these guests and had some role to play in the ball, didn’t react as expected. This was understandable, as the real Ori, dreamwalking and curious to see what a dream featuring him would look like, had slipped into Harriet’s dream and tried to play along but was doing a terrible job.
“Do you have a sec?” Ori asked, his bemused smile causing Harriet to frown before her eyes widened in realisation.
“Ori?!” Harriet exclaimed in such a girlish way that it almost shattered her centuries-old queen persona. She then tugged him by the elbow, the pair of them making a beeline for an unoccupied balcony. “Ori, this is really you, isn’t it?” Harriet gaped at him, her flushed chest heaving with excitement and exasperation as her eyes covered every inch of his form.
“Yep, it’s me. I’m currently having a short nap after a little fight. I figured I should check in only to find myself replaced with a dapper nobleman from your dreams,” Ori said, looking around curiously at his silken clothing and elven finery.
Harriet hugged him fiercely. “I’ve missed you so much. Spirits, it’s been so long.”
“I’m sorry,” Ori said, hugging her back as he dealt with the guilt her words engendered within him.
“No, it’s alright. It kept us safe, and for that, I am grateful,” Harriet continued, her head still buried in his chest. “I have been well. Poppy misses you, perhaps even more than I do.” She looked at him then. “Let me guess, you’re dreaming with her right now too, aren’t you?”
“A far less wholesome dream than this one, yeah,” Ori said, trying but failing to suppress a smirk as the details of his other dreamwalk via Split Mind showed a far more intimate scene involving lots of Arcane Hands and very little clothing. “Though I don’t think she knows it’s the real me yet.”
“Hmph, I’d advise you to do your worst. Spirits know she needs a good seeing to.”
“And how about you? Doesn’t my goddess need a good seeing too?” Ori asked, bending to kiss her on the forehead.
“Mhmmm, I intend to save all of that for the waking. Come, these dreams are too good an opportunity to miss.”
Harriet then proceeded to give Ori a general rundown of her reign. She spoke of the proxy war between House Luinilthar and House Osson, from assassination attempts, trade wars, piracy and privateer campaigns on the seas and between the realms. How she regretted squandering early opportunities to consolidate allies and build coalitions in her youth. She explained reaching Integration with her inherent affinity Selene, how her personal power was one of the few counters to the presumptive overlord, with only a few briar queens who’d ascended to immortal rank, on her side, though in reality, they were more rivals than allies. Beyond high elven society, human polities had been seeking diplomatic inroads, which she had tried to encourage to a mostly hostile reception at home, while oracles made advances, countering to some degree ‘the blindness’ with many coming to believe that the end of the age was nearing.
She described how Ibrion had finally been able to sire children, resulting in much-welcomed nephews and nieces for their house, which had so few in the main line. She also mentioned sending a small task force of Sovereign Rankers to Twilight, though it was uncertain whether they’d locate Ghigrerchiax in time to aid in his escape.
Ori exhaled as he mentally filtered through what to say. “Well, beyond figuring out our direction, there’s not much to report on my end. It’s only been a day or so since I got back. In that time, I’ve been refined and become a little more... me. I also helped an artefact Will awaken and evolve into a lesser elemental, which I then formed a familiar bond with. Then I caused a bit of a ruckus in the prison, but because of that, Freya evolved, and now I’m free to awaken at any time.”
“So two familiars? Oh my. I must say it heartens me to know she decided to stay with you after the terms of the contract were fulfilled, though a part of me isn’t surprised.” Harriet said.
“Yeah, we might have formed another bond just before I slept. No terms, just... well,” Ori said, scratching the back of his head while avoiding Harriet’s coy smile and knowing gaze.
“Oh? I thought pixies would be too small for—”
“Not that type of bond, Harriet,” Ori chuckled, his face burning. “It’s more like a familiar bond, though there aren’t any specific benefits, just a connection.”
“If I remember correctly, your ability requires an intimate connection to form, no?” She pressed.
“Blood, exchanging blood works, but… she.. We did kiss instead. JUST a normal, completely unromantic kiss for the magic to work, that was all.”
Harriet was unconvinced. “Uh-huh, I wouldn’t be surprised if she also ends up with a new unique class option similar to Poppy’s and mine. Speaking of which...” Harriet began to sing. It was a gentle, stirring melody, with words of love and longing. Even through the dream, it energised his soul and caused something dormant deep within him to resonate. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as they swayed on the balcony overlooking the night lights of a sleepless city. When she finished her song, Ori felt the minor soulcrafting settle onto him like a silken sheet.
“That was nice. What was it?” He asked.
“Just something to help you keep your soul hidden from casual observers. I learnt it some time back while exploring my Herald of the Bondweaver class. I have been hoping for an opportunity like this one to test it. I’m glad to see it worked.”
“Oh, wow, that seems like it’ll be really useful,” Ori said, his mind drifting back to the first time she sang to him. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Yes, my love?”
“That seed, the thing you soulcrafted into me when you ascended. How do I use it? How does it work?”
“Oh, yes. Well,” Harriet sighed. “It was more a wish, an instinctual use of my bloodline. I hoped it might convey some of my talents using Aether to you. But, obviously, this is you, and you’re on the path, so something ridiculous and perilous yet advantageous happened instead.” Harriet shook her head in wonder. “I have no idea how you are to use it, as it came instinctually to me through my bloodline. Besides, if I understand correctly, what you currently possess is the seed of something far more potent and revered. True Aethermancy, if that’s what it might become, is something even the high elven guardian spirits might kill to possess. But between your other talents, I suppose that’s nothing new for you,” she said, her tone wry at the impossibility of it all. “Sorry, I couldn’t be more helpful.”
“Hmmm. It’s okay. A lot of this is just going to be me stumbling around until I figure it out, though I’m starting to sense the heavy hand of fate or some other guiding force in all of this.”
“If I were to offer you advice...”
“Yes, please do,” Ori pleaded.
“Work with fate when you can, not against it. Try to bend it, not break it. If the outcome of a certain path is ambiguous, follow it with the picture of your ideal outcome in mind. Only if the path leads to certain death should you fight—and you shall fight, do you hear me? I will have you return to me, else fate shall turn to ruin in my wrath.” Harriet said, her voice growing stern and brittle towards the end.
Ori nodded, pressing her back against his chest in reassurance. “Always. Not even death will keep me apart from you” The bondweaver pledged, looking around, he continued. “I can only imagine how it’s been all these years.”
Harriet sighed. “Yes, this dream… it’s a recurring one. You have no idea how hard it is to appear at these events alone. When it seems as if the whole of the Lunaesidhe wonders, questions, gossips, slanders... It’s no surprise I find myself wondering what life would be like if you were to return, my consort by my side. But this is just a silly dream. They would never accept a human within society, not truly, not without overwhelming power. So come back to me strong, Ori, strong enough to shake the roots of fate if you must. Then, and only then, might we be able to shape this realm into one worthy of our progeny.”
Ori held her tight. “God, Harriet, you’re amazing, and I love the woman you’ve become.”
“Oh? Am I not too old and bitter a crone in mind, if not in body?”
“I was the one afraid you’d have nothing to do with a mere boy, now that you’re all stately and majestic. Hell, I figured you’d have likely moved on, done the pragmatic thing and remarried, for politics if nothing else.”
“Believe me, there have been moments when I’ve been under considerable pressure to do just that, but in the end, it was never something I wanted and knowing your possessive heart… no, it was never an option,” Harriet said.
Ori felt goosebumps prickle under her declaration, once again reminded of their union under the formation of their bond, and how shocked he was when he had learnt of his place within her heart.
“I’ll be back for you, Harriet Anoriel, and I will be strong and worthy of the love and loyalty you have given me.”
----------------------------------------
“We’re even, as long as I can piggyback on your shoulder whenever I need transportation,” Freya answered primly in response to Ori’s thanks for keeping watch.
“I mean, sure,” Ori replied, swallowing a quip about her being a bit too big for comfort or her wings being too distracting, along with several other comments too risky to make.
He had spent his time in the astral productively. After checking his connection to Lysara and finding it solid and waiting only for an investiture of mana to re-summon, he then split his mind. One-third stayed behind to fish out another fragment of Sera’s soul from the ethereal void. The others had dreamwalked, following the gossamer threads that represented his most distant bonds. One-third of his astral self spent a hedonistic night with a non-lucid Poppy, while the final part had the more substantive exchange in Harriet’s dreamscape.
In speaking with Harriet, Ori learned that, as Harriet and Poppy were both Immortal A rankers, their need for normal bodily processes, particularly sleep, was vastly reduced compared to mortals. While he might need sleep after one or two days without, sleep for an immortal was more of an optional luxury they no longer required.
As a result, opportunities for contact would be scarce, as it might be months or years between dreams for them, which was almost as crushing a prospect as the long, hard climb it would take to become strong enough to see them again in person.
Despite the melancholy, Ori felt refreshed and somewhat energised as they scaled down the cliff to walk beside the rivers of lava at the bottom of the ravine.
“So, I’ve just chosen a second new class,” Freya murmured, her bare pixie feet dangling off his shoulders, a constant in the corners of his field of view.
Ori chuckled, remembering his dream with Harriet the night before. “Let me guess, it’s a unique class? Something to do with the Bondweaver?”
“Hmmph, well, if you already know exactly what it is, I shan’t trouble—”
“It’s okay, I’m actually curious. The fact that you get a class from being bonded to me sounds kind of... ominous though. Anyway, what’s your new class?”
“Wisdom of the Bondweaver. I find the title very fitting, as it’s clear that between the two of us, you hold all the luck while I hold all the sense.”
“Whatever, I’m wise. I have wisdom. At least an above-average amount of wisdom,” Ori laughed.
“If it weren’t for your luck, I’d wonder how you didn’t trip out of bed every morning. Here are the details of the class,” she said, sending a visual projection into his mind’s eye.
“I’ve really got to figure out how to be able to do that,” Ori mumbled to himself.
> Class Title: Wisdom of the Bondweaver
> Rarity: Unique
> Rank: Journeyman
> Per level bonus: +15 Wisdom, +15 Perception, +15 Will, +2 Intelligence, +2 Spirit
> Class Traits: Enhances user's, The Bondweaver and any of his bonded’s wisdom by user's level + 75% when within 20-yard proximity of the Bondweaver, or when Bondweaver is within user's line of sight.
>
> Description: This unique class is bestowed upon the first familiar and constant advisor of the Bondweaver. It allows the user to passively enhance their wisdom, as well as the Bondweaver's by an amount equal to their level plus 75% whenever they are in range. The class provides wisdom-related skills that negate mental debuffs and significantly enhance mana regeneration, making the user an invaluable asset in both mental resilience and magical prowess.
>
> Class Spells: Font of Wisdom, Beacon of Wisdom, Projection of Wisdom
“I take it this unique class is pretty good?”
“It’s ridiculous. The per-level bonuses alone… And with the passive, I can double your mana regeneration just by being near you. I’ve never heard of the spell, Font of Wisdom before; an active spell that, with my characteristic values, will quintuple a person's mana regeneration and wisdom… It’s unheard of. And that’s before we get into Projection of Wisdom, which, by my reckoning feels like a divine ability. I must ask you, Ori, are you a god and you just forgot to mention it?” Freya ranted, Ori had listened good-humouredly as they traversed their makeshift path but quirked his eyebrow at her last question.
“No.”
“Are you sure?” Freya needled.
Ori sighed, his expression pained. “I don’t know what I’m becoming, Freya, but I hope when I get home, I'll still be recognised as human. A month ago, if you’d asked me, 'Hey Ori, would you like to become a completely different species, one substantially better than humanity?' I might have said yes. I never really had much love for our race; I’ve seen too much of the petty side, too much of the nastiness to have ever cared about being human.
“But then Sera reminded me humanity isn’t just the sum of its ills and vices. We can be kind, we can be curious and brave. We’re explorers, makers, colonisers, conquerors—people who step onto a boat with no idea of where their journey might lead, who dream about stepping into the vast and unforgiving vacuum of space despite the distances between worlds. Even after living with the elves, hearing their song, seeing their dance, and feeling their grace, my desire to be human remains. And if I have to, I will stand up and be measured against the very best of us; I will set the standard.”
----------------------------------------
They had chosen a path that would lead them up an uncertain route, using natural switchbacks to traverse the same cliff they had descended the day before. It had seemed a sound plan, avoiding unnecessary interactions with demons and gods. Except, somewhere, somehow, they had gotten turned around.
“Is it just me, or does it feel like we’re further away from our goal? Look up there; it’s much further away now, partially obscured by the valley. It’s like we’ve been walking backwards. I’ve also been adding markers, small enchantments in the stone as we’ve been walking, but they fall out of my senses too quickly,” Ori voiced his concerns aloud to Freya, who was lazily floating around him in her sprite form. Despite her non-humanoid shape, he could feel the tension radiating from her through their bond as she fought to hide her worry.
“Though a large part of me simply wishes to ignore your doubts and press on, I fear we are already within his domain,” Freya sighed after a long period of silence.
“Domain, like an actual god’s arcane Domain?”
“Yes, Domains are the most well-known of divine-level abilities after all.”
“What do you think this god wants with us? Is it hostile?”
“I don’t know. Tekrakathune was once an elemental like Lysara, one who eventually ascended to divinity. To ascend as a god requires grace, the building-up and management of a following. Such beings are rarely capricious or unreasonable, lest they harm that which empowers them.
“That Tekrakathune was worshipped as the god of patience and temperance is commonly known. It was said he had a keen interest in labyrinths and loved the open, night sky. What is much less known is how he ended up here. How could one such as he be imprisoned without word or trace?”
“So somewhat eccentric, but not a complete bellend... hmmm,” Ori continued, Vision for the Progenitor flaring as he sought to dispel the effect befuddling them. Instead of clarity or the revealing of veiled passages, Ori saw a kaleidoscope of colours, Aether swirling through the air in thick bands of neon blue mist, while a syrupy Grace seemed to be tangled up in everything like finely spun spider silk drifting on the breeze. For a moment he was lost in the swirl of energies and paracausal phenomena so unlike anything he’d seen with his normal eyes before he was brought back to the present by Freya’s caution.
“That was then, this is now. God's change, Ori. They lose a portion of their autonomy, their ego, to the whims and beliefs of their followers. As a god, it’s said that they could reject such divergences if they wished; however, in doing so, they would sacrifice the Grace offered as a result.”
“Why would anyone want to become a god then? Why not just progress to immortality and call it a day? If you ask me, all of that faffing around with worshippers sounds like a nightmare…”
“Not everyone is so stupidly lucky, nor do they have the right resources, racial advantages, or birthrights. For the few who ascend far enough, divinity might just be the only path forward. The only path where they can become strong enough to be truly free, or the only way they can protect the people they love.”
Ori simply grunted and stood, mind racing with ideas and contingencies. Even with Vision of the Progenitor, he wasn’t confident of finding a way out, with only the source, most likely the location of the old god, a clear beacon in his senses.
“What is it, Ori?” Freya offered, after too long a period of stillness.
“We don’t have any food or water. We can’t get trapped down here like this, going round and round in circles and potentially dying of thirst.”
“Then what do you think we should do?”
“I’d like to think there’s a sensible plan involving splitting up and clever use of our abilities and ingenuity to blindly circumnavigate our way out of this maze, but I can’t even hear myself think over the sound of my instincts screaming at me to go that way.” Ori pointed towards the flare of energies that led deeper into the subterranean ravine. Ori took a long breath, held it, then released. “Maybe you should get off here? Then you could hide in your sprite form whilst I—”
“No.”
“Alright then, just checking,” Ori said, feeling unsurprised and needing no elaboration on Freya’s part. “Well, I guess we’re going to visit this god, then. Any final words of advice from the official Wisdom of the Bondweaver before we go?”
“Just… to not fight it, when wild luck causes you to trip and fall, only to inevitably land in a pile of gold.” Freya sighed in resignation.
“Wait, you reckon he’ll have gold?”
“You are such a boy.”