“Have you put much thought into what happens next?” Freya asked as they traversed what would normally be considered a floodplain were they walking by a river. But as the several hundred-degree heat radiating from the blue streams could attest, this was no ordinary stream despite the colour.
“How do you mean?” Ori asked, his Split Mind drifting in and out of concepts for new enchantments for his redesigned ward, new sources to bring back Lysara, and figuring out contingencies in case their interaction with Tekrakathune went south. “Do you mean after speaking to this god? Or after leaving the prison?”
“Should we leave this prison, it sounds like you intend to return to this Earth of yours at the nearest opportunity; at other times, it seems you wish to visit your elves in Lunaesidhe. So which is it?”
“Can’t I want both? Do one then the other?”
“But what if you find an opportunity to go home tomorrow, would you take it?”
“Where is this coming from?” Ori said, unwilling to face the question. He felt a pang of heartache over his apparent desire to return to Earth. It wasn’t so much that he saw Earth as safety, but the alternative, of being adrift with no home and no anchor in a universe that seemed larger than ever, brought about a dread Ori didn’t want to face.
“Oh, I don’t know, just that after binding my eternal soul to someone, it struck me that knowing their plans might be important.” Freya countered
Ori sighed and scratched his head, upset with himself for his selfishness. “Fair enough. It’s less that I want to go back to Earth, more that I feel myself wanting to go home, to A home, maybe I could build a new home somewhere in this realm. A base, somewhere I can sit and think, relax and let my guard down for five minutes. Beyond that, I need to get stronger—strong enough to enter the elven realms, strong enough to travel between realms on my own magic. Then I could visit Earth or wherever,” Ori said.
“There are no people you wish to return to? Family or loved ones you left behind?” Freya asked.
“I… I’d like to see my dad, to cure his cancer. Beyond that, no, only a few friends who’d even notice I was gone. Besides, if I’m honest with myself, I’m pretty sure I’d stick out, if not immediately because of this…” Ori waved his hands, and reality rippled like waves on a pond. “Then something I’d do would draw too much attention, the wrong type of attention, and even in a world full of mortals, I wouldn’t be strong enough to deal with that as I am, or even as a newly Awakened. No. If I return to my home, it’ll have to be on my terms.”
“I see. I’m glad that you're considering the ramifications and I only ask that you give the matter some thought. I am not your only familiar, and I’m unsure of how a newly evolved irregular elemental would fair without you, or in a world where such is uncommon.”
Ori simply grunted, conceding the point. His mind recalled considerations and consequences of forming bonds, on how they could be anchors as well as allies.
“You have valuable skills. Enchanting especially could offer you a comfortable life, even in the capital,” Freya continued.
“The capital? You mean where you used to work?”
“Vespasian, yes.”
“Sure, why not? But wouldn’t I also stick out there?”
“You mean, because of your eyes or your aura?”
“My aura?” Ori asked.
“You’ll need to learn to suppress that at some point, and using your transcendent affinities in public, that will have to stop also. Yes, you’ll have to make adjustments, but you’ll manage, at least until you're powerful enough for it not to matter.”
“Alright, Poppy mentioned something about clearing Aether Rifts for magical ingredients and materials?” Ori asked.
“So you’d wish to be a delver then?”
“A delver?”
“There are five main guilds across Fate: The Summons Guild, the Delvers, Bankers Guild, Couriers and The Gatekeepers Guild. These are the guilds officially recognised by the Library of Fate, and they receive benefits and protections accordingly. If you’re a member, you get offered jobs according to your rank and the guild you serve, and you are paid and offered protections from regional powers in return. Most importantly, for many people, these guilds offer the best chance of acquiring accolades, which, as you can imagine, is important if you wish to grow stronger.”
“Gatekeepers?” Ori asked, mostly figuring out the nature and roles of the other guilds.
"—Responsible for safeguarding and maintaining the infrastructure for interplanar travel. Despite the name, their members tend to do the least travelling of the bunch And tend to be overzealous guards in my experience. But they do come down hard on corruption, pirates, and highwaymen, so that’s to be commended, I suppose.”
“Right then, so I guess I’ll be joining a guild. Probably not those Gatekeeper guys, to be honest, but Delvers or, if the Summons Guild is anything like I imagine it to be…”
Freya chirped in a self-deprecating laugh. “To be randomly summoned across Fate and time to be the hero in some local catastrophe? Yes, and no. I do know that they consist of a lot of specialists who are then directed towards urgent and often temporary needs. That they hired an obscene amount of oracles and were hit hard when the Age of Blindness began. From the accounts I’ve read, anyone can go out and buy a summons plate from the guild, which can then be used by someone in an emergency. Some strange, proprietary summoning magic matches the summons with the situation, and after summoning, the summons is then given time to complete their given request.”
“Sounds a lot like what I’ve been through in the last few trials.”
“Would you do it as a calling? I’d imagine showing off your Summoned Hero accolade at the headquarters in Vespasian would get you an interview at the very least.”
“Maybe, depends on the risks. That first of the last three trials didn’t go so well, and there’s always this feeling, this fear that the people who summoned you want something you’re not prepared to offer. But... Not going to lie, it was satisfying solving problems. Maybe if I sign up as a White Mage, a healer, I could be called to deal with the sick or injured. The idea of being a wandering doctor, moving from town to town while seeing more of the realm does appeal to me, as long as there was somewhere for me to come back to.”
“A healer might very well be the type of specialist the Summons Guild seeks, though I wouldn’t go getting your hopes up yet. These guilds can be quite competitive. The hardest one to get into is the Couriers Guild, somewhat unsurprisingly. There’s lots of nepotism and class conflict in addition to stringent general competency requirements. The Delvers Guild, almost anyone can join, though like with all the guilds, break the rules and you’re out, no warnings.”
“Yeah, so I guess that’s the plan: leave this prison, get to somewhere I can be a wandering healer, join a guild for accolades, and... build a base somewhere, a place where I could tinker, and maybe a shop to sell enchantments. Hell, if I could have it my way, I’d spend most of my time with enchanting. I see so many possibilities in the things I could make, concepts from Earth I’d like to recreate with enchantments, things I’d like to try to make just to see if they work. I only mentioned the Delvers because Poppy said that’s where I’d get the money or materials to fund my... hobby. Profession?”
“Your class. And I think I understand.”
“Yeah, so how about you? What are your next steps?”
“I need to get back to my old posting at Vespasian Arcanum Collegium and see if I still have a job, then work up the fee to travel back to the Singlet Glade on the far side of Twilight.”
“And check on your family?” Ori wondered, his mind also considering Lady Seraphine and Lysara’s wishes and how they’d fit into any of his plans.
“Yes, though I suppose they’d hardly be my family now. As I had a calling, and Awakened, I lived far longer than any sprite I grew up with, longer than any of my offspring I suspect. Likely I’d be a stranger to my grandchildren,” Freya pondered, her mood turning glum.
“I’ll come with you when you’re ready, if you’d have my company, that is?” Ori offered as he decided against asking of her husband at that moment.
“Thank you. I suppose we’ll see,” Freya said. “As for this god, do you have a plan?”
“Beyond asking for help?”
“Yes,” Freya replied.
“I’d feel better about this if I could leave you somewhere safe. I don’t have many ways of protecting you beyond running away.”
“Glad to see you’re keeping me in your consideration,” Freya snorted.
“Oh yeah? If you have any more suggestions, I’m all ears.”
“No, it’s not that. I’m two ranks, thirty-four levels higher, with two rare and one unique class. And I feel useless, like dead weight to you. Part of that is because you’re just preposterous, and I’ve known that since the beginning. But the other part is, I’m envious of how well you’ve adapted, how you’ve become what you’ve needed to be, but still kept hold of yourself. And I’m trying, I’m trying, but I feel so brittle, even now. With every test, every hardship, it feels like one more and I’d break. I thought after evolution, I’d be… I’d be more.”
“Freya, I’d be dead right now if you hadn’t come back for me.” He stopped to lift her from his shoulder, cradling her in his hands, and waited until he caught her gaze, trying to impart the fullest measure of his trust and sincerity into his eyes as they met. “Sorry if I made it sound like you’re a liability, you’re not. You’ve saved me in so many ways it’s mad Your knowledge, your spells, your guidance, your training, your belief in me, even your presence. Meeting you has been the best thing that has ever happened to me, bar none. I mean, think about everything that I’ve become, everything good that I cherish, my bonds, I would not have found any of it without your guidance. Now, let this big lug pay his dues, carry you on my shoulder, and we’ll deal with what comes next as best as we can.”
“Harumph. Big lug, I’ll remember that one the next time you do or say something dumb,” Freya said after breaking their gaze, her crystalline wings fluttering in the breeze as she crossed her arms and scowled, ever the picture of the aloof fairy princess despite the strip of tattered leather.
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Ori shook his head and laughed. “I say a lot of dumb things, so that shouldn’t count. Besides, it’s getting cooler and smells less like rotten eggs too. That’s got to be a good sign, right?”
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In the half-day or so they’d been walking, the air had cooled considerably as they placed distance between themselves and the rivers of lava. Meanwhile, the number of visible cracks in reality—hairline fractures that leaked pure, raw aether—increased in frequency, some interconnecting into faint webs. Their beauty hid the lethal hazard each one possessed, for if one were to accidentally walk through one of these hairline rifts, the result would be akin to being bisected by a slicing blade. Despite the hazards, the gale-force paracausal winds, his increasing dehydration, tiredness, and the sense of trepidation that meeting a god should have provoked, Ori felt excited, almost giddy. It was an irrational feeling his rational mind fought against, and failing that, sought to understand. In the back of his mind. Ori could feel his instincts celebrating in preemptive jubilation as if whatever goal they had been seeking was right before him, and that the perfect awakening they had long sought was soon to pass.
Later, Ori would reflect deeply on the nature of classes, accolades, their impulses, and their ability to drive and influence the user. How classes could be complementary, synergistic, or harmonic with one another, just like with affinities, and how that might not always be to his benefit. However, at this moment, both Freya and Ori drew closer, each step driven by circumstances and compulsions a lifetime in the making until they stood at the edge of the storm.
“Do you see it?”
“I... Yes. The Library of Fates, is asking me if I should announce Tekrakathune’s rediscovery?” Freya asked, her voice barely audible against what Ori’s senses perceived as a paradoxical vortex.
“It’s up to you. This was your white whale. Was the point to broadcast it?”
“No.”
“Then, I’m not sure. On the one hand, It would warn everyone in the prison. On the other hand, maybe someone would come to our aid?” Ori speculated.
“No, remember what I said, whatever conflict that’d come to pass would leave us flattened in the rubble,” she decided.
“Alright.” He turned his head towards her as Vision of the Progenitor caught the sudden swirl of Peritia that materialised and then was sucked in towards her.
“Didn’t say I wouldn’t accept the accolade.” She shrugged, then sighed as if this moment hadn’t just been the cumulation of over a decade’s worth of research, obsession, and sacrifice. “Do you still want to do this?”
Ori nodded before walking past an ancient sandstone architecture. One at odds with the naturally formed caves and caverns they’d traversed thus far, it stood firm against the chaos, its surface etched with faintly glowing runes and symbols. Beyond, a whirlpool of corrupted Aether and divine Grace spilled out in opposing directions. While Aether radiated from somewhere, Grace raced ever inwards, finite but ever flowing towards its anchor. The effect formed a howling wind of energies that forced Vision of the Progenitor into narrow slits.
At first glance, Ori saw a burning azure swirl as a slow galactic mist while a titanic weight pressed down upon all senses and sense. Ori's chest was a hollow drum, resonant to the hum of dead worlds and realms long since forgotten.
Before them, the storm stood sentinel, an all-knowing omnipresence.
At its core lay a spike that impaled the heart of a god. The god, as it was so evidently a god—or a man, or a once-man thing—lay at the centre as if a taxidermist hung a spectral torso upon the wall of the storm. Its eyes were distant stars burning with a smoke that joined the limbs of the galaxy and the chaos of the dreaming, glowing mist.
But it was the spike that transfixed Ori's attention—a spike of burnished crystal that shimmered molten silver and gold, shining through space and time as if it were a hole through the universe. As if revealing to Ori a truth once seen before and impossible to forget.
Enlightenment struck him like a gong upon realisation of what he had found. It had been what had drawn him imperceptibly downwards ever since he had left his cell. Seventy-three languages worth of charge were removed from Ori’s boon of the Succubus; One Thousand Tongues. His soul expanded as his affinity comprehension accelerated, the air became syrupy with the influx of Mana and Peritia, the sudden competing energies clashing with a sea of Aether and Grace.
“Such disrespect.”
It spoke not with words but with the very skein of reality.
Perturbed but undeterred by the vastness of the being that lay before him, Ori pressed on with his original plan, still hopeful in his original goal of forging bargains or seeking powerful allies.
“H… Hello, great and powerful Tekrakathune. I come, looking for…”
“Kneel and be still so that I may decide your fate.”
Its god chant was a loud, rolling basso rumble that liquefied Ori’s organs and caused Freya to scream, coughing up blood. Its words were a violation that compelled as much as ravaged his mind and soul.
His soulcrafted soul survived the assault and through the bond, Ori felt Freya’s evolution crunch under the pressure.
“Freya!?” Ori cried, and then the bondweaver stirred. Its trait doubled the strength of their minds and spirit characteristic values, further intensifying his epiphany and halting the damage to Freya’s soul. And then he shielded the fragile pixie with the unfurling of his dream domain from a reality made antithetical to life by a seemingly hostile god.
A profound sense of disappointment swept over Ori as Vision of the Progenitor saw the truth.
“Seven hundred ages I have waited, outlasting all but a handful of the oldest of those wretched infernal cretins:
“Waited so long that my name has become dust in the minds of men.
“Waited so long that the very threads of Grace sustaining my immortal tether dwindle to a single mote of time.
“WAITED so long that even the keenest of demonic minds have forgotten that to bind one such as myself in CHAINS is no simple matter.
“Waited… so… long… that by chance, the very instrument of my vengeance simply delivered itself to me.”
Even as Ori’s eyes and ears wept blood and his mortal body shut down under the psychokinetic pressure of Tekrakathune’s voice, Vision of the Progenitor blazed at full intensity, transcendent sight unmasking divine vanity at the last. Instead of the burning eyes of a god, hollowed-out eye sockets signified a divinity who could no longer see. The ravages of this infernal prison, this diabolical mechanism of harvest and predation, had whittled away all but the tiniest slivers of ego and will, the aetheric density of the rift long since warping its limbs away into mist and Aether itself.
“And to think I may have granted you the greater mercy… this death I could have offered you, to quietly disappear into the night. Your soul un-tormented, your potential unmolested by forces beyond your ken… instead, I shall… w-what is this?”
Ori had gazed upon divinity but saw only a mad, old ghost.
As his pseudo domain enveloped Tekrakathune, burning Peritia at almost the same rate he absorbed it from this perfect moment of enlightenment, it was only then that the fallen god truly understood the peril of its predicament. Gone were Ori’s original plans, his request for aid, his pleas for collaboration in their combined escape. And while there would be consequences, lethal ones he’d have no choice but to consider and soon contend with, Ori found himself oddly resolute with what he had to do next.
It had nearly shattered Freya's soul and revealed itself to be no better than every monster that had underestimated him, abused him, and sought his destruction. He might have laughed had the sight of the ranting, rotting creature not been so pitiful. Instead, he gave it no warning, no chance to bargain, no words of judgement or compassion. Even his inner White Mage stood silent as Ori, in his Astral form, levitated next to his true goal and provided the only mercy he could to the now suffocating, dying ghost.
With his pseudo soul domain, the very same effect Ori had originally witnessed used by Eltitus the lich on that ancient battlefield, he saw no need to craft it into a knife as there was nothing left to carve out. Instead, it became a barrier, enveloping them, strangling the husk unnaturally prolonged and harvested by fel, demonic arcana. Before him lay an ego long corrupted by Aether and time, a form rotting and dusty and dead beyond the reservoir of Grace that sustained its continued presence, enfeebled so much, that only its voice, will and Grace could normally pose any harm to the living. And now, cut off from its life-sustaining grace, Ori used his dream domain to decree that Tekrakathune should be no more, and a being that was once a god, whose whims could once destroy continents and affect the lives of billions of people, who had seen the rise and fall of countless millennia, and who had eventually succumbed to predation within an infernal prison, disintegrated. Its soul and physical form were extinguished by mortal hands.
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“Hi,” Ori spoke as he touched the tip of the eleven-metre-long crystal of Quintessence, its form the spike upon which Tekrakathune had been impaled. It was also a plug upon a rupture in reality far too big to be a mere Aetheric Rift. Upon touching it, the world dissolved away: the mountain of Peritia that had turned the air solid with its density, the collapsing wave of hostile, deadly Grace that his domains could no longer hold back, and the withering husk of an ancient being, turned mad by deprivation and aetheric rot, were suddenly replaced by the void.
He was now in that familiar space between moments, his will detecting the presence of another, as his enlightenment became a laser with the intensity of his focus.
Quintessence welcomes Quintarch.
“Quintarch welcomes Quintessence,” Ori replied, understanding rapidly filling gaps in his knowledge as he marvelled at the geniality of this interaction in contrast to the last. “What is Quintessence, exactly?” Ori asked as his mind adapted, his soul grew, and his affinity towards Quintessence reached the comprehension boundary of Immersion.
Quintessence welcomes Quintarch. Quintarch designs rule set, Quintessence writes rule set. Quintessence and Quintarch continue change.
On the face of it, those simple words may have seemed cryptic and scant in the amount of information provided. However, behind the words lay a higher language, just like with Elven Song, layers of language his crafted soul could comprehend, rewrote cognitive compatibility and understanding as he listened.
As a result, Ori realised the true essence of Quintessence.
Mana was of the mind and reacted to focused thoughts and intent, Grace was the power bestowed on one by their worshippers and became an extension of the subject wielding it. Aether was the magic that sought to remake that which subconsciously desired change, Breath was the expression of lifeforce and internal vigour and enhanced the body. Peritia was the conscious environment influencing those who toiled and succeeded under it, while Quintessence—though a rare and enigmatic paracausal energy—was no less profound.
In a process called Quintarchy, Quintarchs could use Quintessence to re-enchant the very laws governing all of existence. It required all changes to be framed as new rules and would not work or instigate change where existing rules that dealt with the same effect existed. The change could be local to realms, demiplanes, or apply to the entirety of fate, with the greater the change and more widely spread the effect, the more Quintessence needed to enact the change.
“Quintessence is awesome,” Ori said. It was like whatever disappointment he had found upon meeting Tekrarakathune was replaced with gratitude and joy of working with, if not an ally, then an objective, constructive partner who wished for change as much as he did.
Quintessence thanks Quintarch.
“Now let’s get to work,”
The first thing Ori wanted to change was the ability to use Aether. Using the seed gifted to him by Harriet as inspiration, Ori proposed an initial concept based on how such seeds could be generated, germinated and progressed towards true aethermancy. Several aspects were rejected or later refined and after a long and strangely collaborative process more akin to working with a fellow engineer to design new parts for an existing machine, they came to an elegant solution that would apply to not only Aether, but Breath, Grace and Quintessence too.
Quintessence shall become a new rule set based on the Quintarch’s designs. Quintessence continues change.
At this point, Ori’s affinity towards Quintessence breached the comprehension rank of Immersion. He now understood how Quintessence straddled the boundary between Primordial and Transcendent, enabling the universe to grow. He had gained some insight into ascension to transcendence, how the Library of Fates could be written, and how certain spells or artefacts could have lasting consequences on reality.
He observed how, by having an affinity with Quintessence, one could speak and rewrite the fabric of reality using words and thoughts, intents and emotions. No spectrum of human experience was invalid as a method of communication and expression.
In vain, Ori tried to use Quintessence to solve the issue resulting from the towering pool of hostile Grace that had no outlet beyond Ori’s destruction. However, Quintessence politely reminded him that solutions for dealing with a dead god's remnant Grace already existed and that it was up to the Quintarch to learn them, not recreate them.
Finally, he asked the question that had been on his mind ever since Seraphine told him about humanity’s inability to evolve, and received its answer.
There is only one, limited case rule that restricts human evolution: Humans who have ingested or alchemically combined the blood of other races with their own cannot evolve.
Ori pondered the answer and its implications for a moment before deciding his time here was over. “Quintarch thanks Quintessence, and goodbye.”
Ori left the void space between spaces with a flex of will. With his plans now in motion, it was time to face the consequences of killing a god and if he survived, finally awaken.