Ori sat on a rock, reflecting upon the fact he had been brooding far too often of late. When he had been about to offer to take out the Galroga, Jhacrisite had moved to obstruct him; however, when Ruenne’del had offered to do the exact same thing, he had remained unconcerned. Ori’s mind had whirled, giving the Angel the benefit of the doubt, that with magic and divination or foresight, there was likely more going on beneath the surface, but for some reason, Ori still felt vexed.
This time, he sat alone. Freya’s wisdom-based spells proved surprisingly useful for wide-scale mana recovery, while Lysara had sunken into the deep earth by Freya’s side, her near-infinite mana pool always benefiting from increases in mana regeneration.
It wasn’t as if Ori had offered to help without a plan either. By weaving his enchanting spell Lesser Echo Print with his ultimate attack, Moonbeam aspected with his cosmic affinity, and boosted by Mind over Mind, Ori had hoped to empower his ability to disenchant; the effect's strength increasing in potency every second until it could breach the anti-magic defences of the flesh-crafted monster.
There were various problems with this plan. For example, staying alive long enough for the beam to begin to take effect. Secondly, if he had support, his combat power would drop one whole rank due to his Duælist Trait which required him to fight alone with his bonded, or outnumbered. Thirdly, there was the likely reveal of too many secrets. However, the White Mage within him churned. Were his secrets worth the lives of dozens?
“Hello, Son.” Jhacrisite’s form loomed beside him, forcing Ori to strain to catch the Angel’s expression. Jhacrisite grunted as he sat down, the corded muscles and heavily scarred skin stretching as he squatted, giving apparent cause to his weary expression. “You have questions?”
“I could beat it on my own and save everyone the sacrifice.”
“On your own? No. With your familiars? Maybe. But not without cost.”
Ori swallowed, his fist tightened as fear lanced through his heart. “Even still, better than dozens.”
“No.” Jhacrisite sighed. “Not in this instance. Many see Celestials as servants to higher powers, with no ambition beyond improving our capacity to serve. They call this seeming lack of free will, the tyranny of Heaven. The truth is, each of us chooses to serve in so many ways, from serving higher ideals beyond any single entity, to the service of those we love. This has caused schisms in the past and will do so in the future.”
“Okay?” Ori said, confused but listening intently.
“Let me tell you a story of a land called Astor, a realm far away despite being on the same demiplane as this one, Twilight, a realm I suspect you may have visited,” Jhacrisite said, casting Ori a knowing, pointed look that sent a wave of goosebumps crawling all over his skin. “In a time before the Library's inception, ten Seraphim split from their divine and were deemed fallen. The divine they served, a being of power and wisdom, could not allow such a rebellion to go unchecked. In a bid to restore order and bring the fallen to justice, the divine sent forth their most formidable servants: its Archangels and the Powers. These celestial warriors were charged with the task of capturing the fallen Seraphim and ensuring that they faced retribution for their defiance.
“The Archangels, with their radiant wings and radiant weapons, descended upon Astor like a rain of fire while Powers who could reshape the very fabric of reality followed in their wake. The realm of Astor trembled under the weight of their presence, the skies darkening as the clash of celestial forces loomed imminent. In service to the higher ideals that these Seraphim still followed, they surrendered themselves to prevent inevitable death and needless suffering and were later executed in pursuit of an order and status quo that could no longer remain.
“However, a funny thing happened. The mortal population that once worshipped the divine cast down their god, its name removed from fate in outrage over its lack of mercy and rigid ideals. Meanwhile, ten once-dead Seraphim were reborn as divine in their place, in service to the very same higher ideals that the populace now aligned themselves to.”
“Why are you telling me this? I mean, isn’t this the opposite of what you’re telling me to do?” Ori asked.
“Instincts drive you to sacrifice, a simple numerical trade. But what are the higher ideals behind that sacrifice?”
“Life.” Ori said without reservation.
“And whose continued existence would serve life more? A dozen angels or…”
“Or?” Ori asked with a frown.
Jhacrisite shrugged. “Or an Entity who could end a war, several wars. One who could save countless billions, not just with spells and enchantments, but by guiding the way. I’ve been to Astor, or Orinth as it’s now called,” He continued, the angel’s smile rueful. “I took pilgrimage like many others and I saw the Everlight, and though shrouded by fate and transcendence, it gave me hope, it showed me the path, a solution to the schism, a responsibility I shall call upon you the next time we meet.”
“You know about the…” Ori hesitated, before deciding the big glowing bastard already knew too much. “Cosmic Demiplane?”
“Heh, is that what they’re calling it now? Yes, well son, it’s less that I know and more that I strongly expect fate to provide. Live long enough and you’ll see the boundaries between knowing and wanting crumble for those who walk The Path strongly enough. Until then, we all have our parts to play. Mine is to lead my people, and prepare, and yours is to lead your own people, and survive.”
“And your daughter’s part, to die? Either because of what she is or in sacrifice to higher ideals?”
Jhacrisite chuckled. “Ah, didn’t I just say you’d save countless billions? She is stronger than you know, and there is more to saving than to save one from death.” He grunted as he stood. “During the battle, there should be a small window for you to escape to the upper Reaches and continue on your own quest if you still intend to do so. I’ll send one of my brethren to assist in your efforts.”
“What if I want to help kill the Galroga?” Ori said, still confused by the entire exchange.
“Then I can’t stop you,” Jhacrisite waved as he walked away.
Ori stared into the distance for long moments after Jhacrisite left. For once, his mind—all three fragments of it—was silent. Instead of trying to drown out his newfound instincts with thoughts, plans, logic, and reason, he listened. The White Mage and the Demon Bane were aligned in purpose; they wanted to kill demons, exclusively so. The Duælist wasn’t far behind in that desire, seeking room for improvement and the need for ever more efficient methods of killing. As for the Bondweaver and Progenitor, those instincts remembered the plan. The overall objective was to escape; the only difference between them was with whom, and to where.
Another more pressing instinct emerged from his Bondweaver class, surprisingly, it had little to do with Ruenne’del. He stood and walked, following the source of the nagging thought towards the location where his familiars were working.
‘Lysara,’ he called through their bond as he drew close. ‘I’ve got an idea, and I need your help.’
While Ori wasn’t usually one to challenge authority or buck higher wisdom, he had no interest in simply sitting back and leaving it all to fate. He told his familiars of his Plan B. Just as they had used against higher-ranking opponents, Lysara would channel lightning aspected with Antiprotons, the matter-antimatter annihilation would produce far more energy than the magical or mundane effects of channel lightning alone.
The key would be in the timing and Lysara's vastly increased mana reserves. Freya would be in command while Lysara sunk far below the surface to evade detection. Using Projection of Wisdom, Freya would observe and call out for the best possible moment for Lysara to strike. Ideally, Lysara’s presence would remain unknown, as not only would her appearance likely reveal more about his capabilities than he was comfortable with, but it would also signify extreme casualties. Despite this, he had the means to make a difference, and so he would use them.
Lysara’s presence through their bond was a steady reassurance, a reminder of the strength they shared. ‘I’m ready,’ she responded. ‘I’m much stronger now,’
“Yeah maybe. When this is done, we’re going to have to sit down and spend some proper time figuring out our affinities. Because I’m sure there’s more to everything—Flux, connection, our bond, Lysara. And you, Freya, whisper to me when it’s done and I’ll recall you both. Take care of each other.”
“Oh Ori, it’ll just be a few minutes. Stop fussing over us like an overbearing hen.” Freya said.
“Fine,” Ori chuckled. “See you on the other side.”
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“So, you’re the little wonder who started this all?” Uriel said as Ori rounded one of the massive stalagmites that reached almost to its twin fifty feet above. A makeshift stone surface, impossibly smooth, housed various objects—some were tools, others were shaped objects awaiting or in the process of enchanting. Uriel was tall with a slender frame and generally androgynous features that were enhanced by his silver, bowl-cut hair. Beyond that, Uriel seemed to be perpetually on the verge of smiling, an ethereal calm and stillness that extended to large silver-feathered wings, which was more an aspect of their subconscious aura than an intentional effect.
Ori shrugged at his question.
“You needed help with enchanting?” Ori asked.
“I could always use assistance. What method of enchanting were you taught, may I ask?”
“Err, I guess it would be an elven style?”
“Show me,” Uriel asked genially.
Ori looked around, picking up an ingot of steel. He reshaped it using Echo Forging, his core skill far easier to use as he quickly built the layers of a steel baton that materialised in his grip. Then, using Lesser Echo Print, Ori drew a single-fold loop toughness enchantment in the air around the cylindrical object, one and a half feet long and one inch thick. As the enchantment took hold, Ori cast Sina’lithilien to refine the steel before casting Life Spark to quicken and finalise the enchantment.
Uriel watched, his genial expression unchanging throughout.
“Elven enchanting indeed. I would suggest more formal training at some point in your future, but I am impressed with what I’ve seen so far. Very well. Before we begin, there is one matter we should settle.”
“Oh yeah?” Ori asked, caution building.
“The artefact in your shoe. It belongs to me,” Uriel said evenly.
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“Oh?” Ori frowned, unwilling to part with the item most responsible for his survival up until this point.
“May I?”
“I… Yeah.” Ori said reluctantly, reaching into his sock to retrieve the wand stuffed next to his ankle. Feeling the jubilant nature of the artefact spirit relieved some of Ori’s reservations as he handed over the Greater Channelling Wand of Light back to its creator.
“I see,” Uriel chuckled as he received the item and… communed with the artefact spirit. “It seems like you two have been on several adventures in such a short time, looking after each other well. This was one of my very first enchantments, one I almost soul-bound when its spirit awakened. I’m glad I didn’t, as it wouldn’t have survived until this point or served you as well as it has.” Uriel handed the item back to Ori. “Please, continue to take care of this artefact for me. I will see its return the next time we meet. Now, let’s begin.”
They spent hours crafting hundreds of small, double-ended throwing knives and caltrops with disenchantment glyphs etched upon them. Ori learnt more about basic enchanting practices, the groundwork of designing enchantment schemas, and ways of managing mana and mental energies. While the work wasn’t too taxing, repeated spell use still exhausted Ori’s mental faculties faster than he’d like. Knowing he’d get little time for rest to recharge between now and the battle, Ori excused himself to nap in the corner.
In the dreaming, split minds sifted the ethereal sea for fragments of Lady Seraphine’s soul. Thoughts of Jhacrisite’s story, or the history of Astor, played through his mind as he contemplated the nature of Gods, Angels, Celestials, and the Grace that empowered them.
After a short nap, Ori woke to find Uriel still at his task as if no time had passed at all.
“Just in time, they assemble. I shall see you again, young Wandsmith,” Uriel said before tossing the steel bar he’d previously enchanted at him.
“Thanks.”
Ori walked towards the passage that led to the Reaches. At the entrance was the rally point for those who were to take part in the upcoming attack. Jhacrisite beckoned Ori towards them.
“Son, this is Vision Karanno. He’ll be your assistant in your upcoming endeavours. Karanno, are you clear in your instructions?” Jhacrisite gestured towards another angel of similar height to his own six-foot zero, though the large brilliant white, gossamer wings added a great deal of bulk to his profile. Instead of the grey-blue skin and silver scars, Karanno seemed more human than most, a general Caucasian appearance with floppy brown hair and brown eyes.
“The kid’s in charge. I go where he goes. Got it, Cristy.” Karanno said with an easy indifference that seemed more a part of his personality than any outward opinion or feelings towards his current situation. Ori grinned at Jhacrisite’s frown upon receipt of the overly casual nickname and at that moment, decided he and this Vision would be friends.
“Good, then let’s begin,” Jhacrisite announced.
Upon the Paragon’s proclamation, the celestials dispersed, leaving Ori looking through the crowd. Catching sight of his target, Ori moved, his steps stuttering as his newly appointed shadow moved as he did. Shaking his head as he urged himself to get used to it, Ori continued before his quarry disappeared.
“Hey.” Ori started, not really sure what he wanted to say, but knowing he needed to say something nonetheless.
“What is it?” Ruenne’del asked.
Undeterred, Ori pressed on. “I just… wanted to say that… to make it clear that… I do want to help you. So, I guess if that’s what you decide, come find me again, after… And we’ll figure something out. And also, yeah… good luck out there.” Ori said, almost wilting under her unchanging, laser-focused stare. “Okay.” He nodded to himself and began to walk away, unused to the unsettling feeling of his guts churning whenever she was near. Just as he was about to pass by, he received a notification.
Ruenne'del Tuatha Dé Danann, Wandering Seer, one thousand and fifty-first princess to Queen Titania of the Seelie Court, grants you a permanent Boon: Minor Blessing of Summer’s Fortune.
A member of the Seelie Court has bestowed upon you a minor blessing of Summer’s Fortune. This blessing signifies to all fae the favour this one has of a member of the Seelie Court and grants a minor increase in luck, which may influence all characteristics, spells, abilities, and the users' fate.
Ori stared at the notification in surprise, then looked back towards Ruenne’del, who simply nodded and walked away.
“Painful to watch, but I’ll give you an A rank for effort,” Karanno nodded as he provided his verdict. Ori scowled, only just remembering someone else had watched that entire awkward interaction. “Next time, I reckon you go in with a game plan.”
“A game plan, yeah? I’d be happy to have a single clue about any of this.” Ori grumbled, before making his way past the dispersing angels.
----------------------------------------
Nervous sweat dotted his forehead. Despite the relative chill of the crevice he had crawled into in preparation for the battle and his subsequent escape, fear and self-doubt swirled around his mind like spun cotton candy.
“Grind your teeth any harder and the Galroga will hear,” Karanno said.
“I wasn’t grinding my teeth,” Ori said, as he loosened his jaw. “Besides, I’d think the glow from your big-ass wings would give the game away.”
“Sure fella. Shhh. It’s starting. Follow me.”
They crouch-walked through the crevice, with Ori stealing moments to glance at the assembly of armoured angels. There were dozens of celestial warriors, their gleaming feathered wings twitching in an unseen breeze as they arranged themselves into ranks. Ori searched briefly for the pink-haired fairy but saw no sign of her before he was forced to duck as the crevice became a narrow cave. On hands and knees, Ori followed the angel in front, the natural glow of Karanno’s wings ensuring Ori could see despite the lack of light sources.
“Here,” Karanno gestured towards a pit a yard away from the opening of the cave. It was a short distance, but they’d be momentarily exposed for all to see. “And there,” Karanno gestured to a trench some twenty yards away, an even further distance they’d have to traverse in the open. “When the action starts above, use whatever movement abilities you have to get to the pit, wait there, then we’ll dash to the crack before the whole cavern comes down. You hearing me, fella?”
Ori nodded. He retrieved his bladder of water, the flagon’s stale liquid doing little to alleviate the dryness in his throat. He offered it to Karanno, who looked at it before taking it and drinking it with appropriate gusto.
They hid, waiting for signs of battle. For minutes, the only sound Ori could hear was his own heavy breathing until the ground trembled softly under the steps of something massive. Loose shingles and streams of dust tumbled from the ceiling as the earth-quaking steps intensified. More sounds—of armour clanking, of disorganised marching and shouting—drew uncomfortably near. Instincts within screamed at him to step out of the cave; Array wielded by Aetheric Hands, sliced and stabbed his way through the infernal horde before facing whatever monstrosity was causing his feet to sink into the loose dirt with each of its heavy steps. As the rabble passed, he caught Karanno staring at him, one eyebrow lifted beneath the floppy brown hair as if in question.
“What?” Ori mouthed.
Karanno simply shook his head, mouthing the words “Get ready” when his hair settled.
A wave of titanic auras swamped the Reaches, celestial auras of varying intensities overlapped to form a harmonic arrangement that he could almost hear. It was the same cold light of judgement, celestial fury and order, life over death, light over darkness, and then a roar.
If the auras were represented by a barely audible harmony, then the weight of the beast they had awakened stomped down upon all like lead weights attached to every bone in a person’s body. Ori could scarcely breathe and he was hundreds of yards away. Meanwhile, the cave trembled, rock shifting so much so that Ori was forced to place a hand over his head to protect himself from falling shingle.
And then the world turned upside down as the opening salvos were flung.
“Now!” Karanno shouted.
Pre-planned, Ori activated Mind over Motion. The world slowed like molten glass while gravity became only a suggestion. He ran, Karanno already in flight and soon overtaken. He slid like a baseball hitter before falling beneath the lip of the crater and hopefully out of sight of the combatants behind. With the rest of Mind over Motion remaining, Ori’s eyes glowed as his Quickened Perception caught sight of the furious battle taking place less than two hundred yards away.
What Ori saw was beyond his expectations. A creature roughly fifty feet tall stood with stumpy legs, but that description barely captured the monstrosity before him. Its base torso was diamond-shaped, its skin composed of tough, black volcanic orichalcum, seemingly impervious. Instead of a head, a deep maroon-coloured blood looped in a circle like a macabre crown or satanic ornament. Its stumpy legs bristled with glass daggers and spiny bone thorns that erupted as lethal whizzing projectiles.
The creature's blood, looping and twisting like a solar prominence, shone with intense mana and soul-deep malevolent intent under Vision of the Progenitor. Its power built and thickened until it lashed out like a whip the thickness of a tree trunk at several shield barriers on the front of the celestial formation.
The celestials held their ground, a glowing formation locking their shields together despite the weight of the assault. An Archangel would momentarily leap into the air, summoning dozens of golden lances behind them before launching them in a celestial artillery battery that caused visible shockwaves and cratered the ground. By now, all the infernals that had accompanied the beast lay dead or broken. Even the beast handler, an infernal Ori had sensed was at the Sovereign rank, had long since perished under the focused fire of almost fifty celestials ranging from Greater to Sovereign rank.
The formation broke as the celestials closed with the Galroga. Angels darted around the beast, their wings a graceful blur of motion. Seraphim and Archangels led the charge, their radiant swords slicing through the air and leaving trails of holy light. Blood whips and spines of malevolent glass exploded off the chest and limbs of unlucky celestials. One angel channelled a beam of searing light from her palm, striking the Galroga's flank—a powerful spell that seemed to do little but draw its attention. The beast roared in pain, the enchantments under its black-glass-like skin flickering molten red under the assault. The blood crown twisted, then spiralled upwards before crashing down upon the hapless angel, her body convulsing as she drowned in infernal blood that boiled her from the inside out. Worse still, Ori watched in horror as the creature's blood ate away at the angel's very soul before, mercifully, she was beheaded by one of her own.
Azrael, the Virtue with silver eyes, conjured a barrier of divine energy, deflecting a swipe from the Galroga's blood crown. Nearby, Uriel directed a group of angels to launch a coordinated attack, their crossbow-like knife launchers shooting weapons infused with disenchantment glyphs. They struck in unison, the glyphs flaring and momentarily disrupting the Galroga's protective enchantments.
The beast retaliated with a deafening roar, its eyes locking onto Uriel. Its blood crown lashed with unnatural speed, even under Mind over Motion, before crashing against a barrier that held only long enough to deflect the creature's profane attack. Before it could strike again, Ori saw a flash of pink—a blur that seemed to pull fate along with her twisting sword. A blade whose edge glinted in the reflected light of spellfire, her movements a dance to a song unheard and unlike any he had ever known.
The Galroga screamed in disbelieving fury as one of its stumpy legs came apart in a shower of blood. The horizontal sword stroke was so fast and so perfect that even with his perception, Ori had only noticed the strike sometime after the blade had cut through. However, within moments, an unnatural lash of blood reconnected the limb, the wound healing as if it had never been cut.
Mind over Motion ended, and Karanno shoved Ori’s head down, their mission to sneak away unseen returning to him after witnessing the brief but terrifying fight.
One thing was for sure: Ori was almost certain he’d have lost big time if he’d tried to take on the creature alone.
He heaved against the wall of the pit as the ground shook around him. Fear for his bonds urged him to use Whisper or recall them to his side and away from the danger of that soul-burning blood. Meanwhile, rage and shame held him in place, a paralysis much like he had first watched that Imp liquefy a man’s eyeballs, threatening to rob all reason from him.
Paradoxically, his Bondweaver trait activated, confirming the danger his bonds were in while bringing a semblance of sanity to his mind. There was little he could do in this battle but trust and believe in those who had to fight it.
“You’re fast,” Karanno said, moving beside him. “Breath user?”
Ori shrugged, then shook his head. “Mage. Can’t do that very often.”
“Well, you’ll need to do it agai— Celestial faeces!” Karanno cursed as a large slab of rock crashed, shaking the world behind him. He ran to the other side of the crater, popping his head over the lip to view their target location, now covered in rubble and falling dust. “We go on three. One… two… thr—”
Once again, Mind over Motion granted Ori supernatural agility, his motions precise upon the rumbling ground. He saw rocks the size of footballs float to the ground, while boulders tumbled down the distant walls of the ancient magma tube. He ran through falling stones and hanging dust, his glowing eyes finding a path through the shadowed, crumbling edges of the cavern. Ori could hear increasingly furious roars, a crescendo of spellfire and desperate screams as the blood crown likely reaped another harvest. He tightened his fists in fury and exertion before diving into the carving in the rock that would lead them to the next of the Reaches.
“Down,” Karanno said as Ori choked on the dust. Ori had no choice as he was yanked downwards, his head pulled as an errant spell blasted supersonic shards of rock. He found himself casting Channel Restoration despite being in cover, as ricochets carved out painful divots of flesh and ripped his right eyelid apart.
“Fuck’sake!” Ori cursed.
“Let’s get out of here,” Karanno said, his hand clasped around Ori’s arm, as they made their way, away from the battle.