Ori and Karanno ran through the Middle Reaches as the sounds of distant explosions and earth-shattering spellfire faded into a distant rumble. As the separation increased, so did Ori’s fear and worry over his bonds. A sense that he wasn’t doing enough, hadn’t prepared enough, fuelled a cold fury that took all his mental energies to suppress.
Karanno, to his credit, kept to himself as he led the way through narrow rocky passages at a moderate jog. The pace was quick enough to require his attention but not so fast as to exhaust or charge heedlessly into danger.
“Rockfall enchantment,” Karanno said, as he stopped.
“Got it,” Ori said, swiftly fouling the enchantment enough so it could no longer be remotely activated. They moved like that for three miles before they reached an opening in their current passage.
“Middle Reaches,” Karanno said. “Cristy said I could handle the small fish, but if any Wardens were to appear, then I’m to get out of your way.” He continued, his gaze searching and not without scepticism.
Ori nodded once again mystified by just how much Jhacrisite knew about him and his methods for knowing.
“Are you really Level One, Awakened?” Karanno wondered.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“A Curse. I have enough Peritia to jump to Level Forty-Nine and be right at the verge of Greater Ranks, but a divine curse means I can’t.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah,” Ori said.
“So you don’t mind if I smite this garrison? I kinda need the Peritia.”
Ori chuckled. While every nascent ranker or higher was an extra day of life, his death clock currently sat at just over four hundred days, and there were still thousands of demons to kill, including at least four Sovereign rankers. “Go for it, need to stay fresh for the big bad bosses, innit.”
“I won’t lie, I am curious to see how you’ll do it.” Karanno shook his head in disbelief.
“Likewise,” Ori agreed on multiple fronts.
“Well, I guess it’s time I earn my keep,” Karanno said as he rolled his shoulders, his head swinging from side to side as his neck cracked. With his warmup complete, a halo flickered into existence above the Vision’s head with an audible buzz. It was a warm, bright amber colour, the flat ring an inch thick and less than a foot in diameter, hovering a constant half-foot away from the angel’s scalp. From it, Ori sensed a tremendous amount of Grace and Aura condense to form an impervious symbol of power. Warmth, security, and order projected outwards with its light, illuminating the cave so brightly that Ori was certain the garrison beyond had already taken notice of the light spilling out from the cave.
Karanno sauntered out into the opening as Ori hung back a couple dozen steps, choosing to observe firsthand just how a celestial fought infernals.
As he moved into the wide opening of the Reaches, Ori could see a makeshift barricade of boulders with approximately ten imps and twenty demons behind shields, rocks, and a loose phalanx of pikes. With Karanno somewhere around the high Greater Ranks, with what Ori believed was an evolved celestial race with rare classes, Ori was curious to see how they would fair against a gaggle of Greater rank infernals behind a moderately fortified position.
“Quick, tell the warden, the pigeons are out of their cages.”
“It’s a Celestial!…”
“D... d... demon bane!?” an Imp screamed.
“Demon bane?”
“Hold, boys! …And someone breach the tunnels.”
Ori caught shouts from the infernals as they drew to within ninety feet. Without breaking his stride, Karanno raised his hand, forming a golden javelin within his grip. Thirty more golden javelins brimmed with energy and shone with celestial light, emerging as if sliding out of invisible pockets of reality. It wasn’t mana empowering these phantasmal weapons but concentrated Grace, a Grace the Vision called upon as if borrowing a power greater than his own.
Just under his breath, as if in prayer or apology, Karanno spoke softly as his grip tightened, tension building in his hands.
“Burn in the light.”
He launched the javelin as if it were a spear, its trajectory a straight beam towards the imp at the centre. Spellfire erupted from the infernal spellcasters, sticky balls of fire and blades of shadow, noxious fumes and poisonous acid sprays all seemed to lose their momentum and disperse before they could even trouble the Light Shield spell Ori had cast on them both.
Sequentially, the floating javelins arrayed behind him followed his throw and sped towards the garrison with a supersonic crack. Each javelin struck its target with deadly precision, transforming shields into burning kindling. Exposed faces were unerringly targeted, necks snapping back upon impact, and skulls exploding into ruin, leaving burning craters that bubbled and steamed under the residual celestial fires of the Vision.
The massacre was swift and methodical.
As Ori pondered how he’d attack or defend against a similar foe, Karanno walked towards the smouldering remains of his enemies. After a few moments of stillness, with the angel declining to search the corpses for loot or any other action, Ori moved beside him, a question on his lips that died as he caught Karanno’s expression.
The angel’s brown eyes were dark, his breathing shallow as he gazed at the burning corpses. The stink of burning flesh salted Ori’s saliva and forced him to spit to avoid retching. But the gaze in his companion's eyes was something Ori could relate to, but also, scarcely imagine. Just how long had this otherwise affable man been subject to the evil wills of the demons in this prison? Was this satisfaction he was feeling? Justice? Or revenge? Or an alien and wholly celestial version of pity? All Ori knew for sure was that Karanno likely needed this more than his aforementioned desire for Peritia.
“We should go,” Ori said, walking away from the aftermath. After a dozen steps, Karanno followed.
“You okay?” Ori asked.
“I’m fine, fella.”
“That attack was pretty effective. A bit flashy though.”
“Oh yeah? Who asked you anyway?” Karanno grunted.
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Ori shrugged. “Nothing wrong with flashy if it gets the job done.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, though I’m not sure about the glowing wings and...” Ori gestured towards the halo above Karanno’s head. “Not great for sneaking that.”
“No need for sneaking around, especially when aura leaks out of you like a sieve.”
“My aura? I thought I turned it off?” Ori said, confused.
“You’ve got too much of it to simply turn off. It’s your presence, your influence on reality. Yours screams... something, something really loudly with all the pride of an elf and none of the finesse, like a drunken dwarf if they could get drunk. I’d have asked you to tone it down, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was part of your nature... but that would be impossible because you’re just a human.”
“Is there a way of turning it off? My aura, or presence, I mean?”
“I’m a celestial, why in the nine heavens would I know how to do such a thing?”
“What do you mean?” Ori asked. “And are there only nine heavens in the celestial plane?”
“Heavens' mercy... it is just a saying. And presence... well, it’s complicated. Just know that for celestials, presence is like breathing for you guys. It’s a part of us, one we don’t just switch off.”
“Wait, so does that mean you guys don’t breathe?” Ori asked, fascinated. Karanno simply groaned.
While initially trying to connect with his travelling companion, Ori was curious genuinely fascinated with celestials, and with a grudgingly willing conversation partner, Ori ended up learning much before they arrived at the prison. Yes, Karanno and the others were typically called angels, evolved celestials of various lines who were born or created to serve different gods, higher ideals, or even just mixed populations of mortals and awakened. Meanwhile, celestials also included magical beasts and creatures, elementals and immortals who align strongly with Order or the celestial demi-affinity. Karanno was a Vision, a racial evolution that often found roles as designers and advisors within divine courts, but that didn’t limit him when it came to his choices for class selection.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Ori said.
“Nah, you’re only saying that because if I tell you mine, you’ll feel obligated to tell me yours.”
“I mean, yeah?”
“Vizier and Celestial Lancer.”
“Okay. Yeah, those sound pretty cool.”
“Now, tell me what’s yours,” Karanno pressed, his easy smile returning the longer the conversation continued.
“White Mage and Wandsmith.” Ori said a bit too quickly.
“You have another class—”
“Yeah, well, you revealed two, I revealed two, fair is fair.”
“But celestials have fewer classes,” Karanno growled.
“Well, it sucks to be a celestial then,” Ori retorted.
“Whatever, Demon Bane.”
“Nah bruv, a bit too edgy for me, innit? Besides, wouldn’t be much use outside of this prison. Don’t plan on chasing demons forever.” Ori prevaricated.
Karanno nodded. “Not all demons are deserving of Heaven's wrath.”
Ori was silent for a moment, trying to parse out his meaning before an early memory with Freya reminded him of something. “Not all demons, but not all infernals are demons. I’ve seen imps, incubi, trolls, and… fallen humans. Becoming infernal twists you, does something to your soul...”
Karanno seemed distant but gave a brief nod.
“But, are all infernals bad? Can they be… like, forgiven?” Ori asked, his traitorous mind flashing back to a certain greater, succubus he had pushed to the darkest depths of memory.
Karanno was silent for a long time before he answered. “Perhaps. I don’t have all the answers, fella. All I know is I’m not in the mood to try, not today.”
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They rounded a corner, and before Ori could react, lances of light lashed out at a greater-ranked troll, its natural regeneration seemingly negated by the holy fire that burned in the aftermath of the bolts’ impacts.
Just as Ori checked the guard for keys or other types of loot, the cavern shook, and loose silt fell from the ceiling. Ori glanced at Karanno, who shrugged at his questioning gaze. Before they continued, Freya’s ghostly form appeared in front of Ori, her projection looking around before fixing her gaze upon him.
“Freya? Is everyone alright?” Ori asked as his heart leapt into his mouth at her presence.
“Yes, Ori. We were successful.”
“Thank fuck for that.” Ori exhaled a relieved breath. “You guys okay? Shall I recall you?”
“We’ll catch up. Lysara should give us advance warning of anything we couldn’t handle.”
“Alright, we’re just entering the cells in the middle reaches. We haven’t seen any wardens, but that doesn’t mean they’re not out there.”
“Be careful, especially around the prisoners, as many will not be in their right mind.”
“I will,” Ori confirmed.
“Be with you soon,” Freya said before her projection winked out.
“Neat spell,” Karanno commented. Ori silently agreed, though something she mentioned got him thinking.
“You got any healing or soothing abilities or spells?”
“Nope.”
“What about divination or fate-based magic?”
“I throw lances and give advice, fella. I don’t use magic.”
Ori squinted at the floppy-haired angel, unsure of whether he was serious or not.
“You want my advice?”
“Sure.”
“Aren’t you a healer? Maybe use this opportunity to practice, and maybe brush up on your bedside manner.”
“I ain’t got a bedside manner,” Ori replied, confused.
“Exactly. You need the practice.”
Ori shook his head at the thought of actually having to interact with lots of people who’d be hurt and abused. An abstract requirement of a plan he was only now coming to terms with the details of. He had always considered that as long as he could break out a few, the rest would sort themselves out, which had mostly been the case for the celestials, but he couldn’t count on that being true every time.
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Their footsteps echoed through the caves of the middle reaches as Ori saw the first occupied cell. The creatures were stuffed into a box no larger than his single bedroom back in Peckham, a jail cell made for one or two, somehow having dozens crammed into it. The stink of sallow sweat, piss and faeces, and death was almost enough to unman him. Ori used Echo Forging to reshape the lock and swung the door open without thinking.
A man with goat horns and cloven feet rushed at Ori with wild eyes. Before he could process the scene, the Satyr sprang out and stabbed Ori in the chest with a makeshift shiv, the sharpened wooden stick good enough to puncture the leather poncho Ori wore and sink two inches into his rib cage. A look of shock and betrayal was on Ori’s face before Karanno was there, his grip pulling the confused prisoner away from Ori long enough for him to register the pain and have his senses return. Casting Channel Restoration, Ori quickly healed his mortal wound as more of the prisoners roused.
Frustrated, Ori poured more mana than he should have, his cosmic affinity aspecting the spell, providing Purifying Light with additional cleansing intent. A bright, dazzling light blinded and dazed the rabble before they became hostile. Wherever the light touched, dirt was removed, and faces were cleaned. While the air was still foul with a stench that would take several Purifying Lights to cleanse, his initial casting had served its purpose.
“A celestial?” a voice from the crowd spoke up as soon as their eyes cleared, the shiv from the man who’d just stabbed him clattering to the ground as soon as he caught sight of the angel.
“And a fae-touched,” another voice said, the familiar language of the wild fae on his tongue as Ori sought to reply.
“This is a prison break. Does anyone need healing, and who’s your leader?” Ori asked.
“Here, my brother,” a desperate voice cried out.
“Jacolin, he’s already at Underhill.”
“Hasn’t had ‘nough to eat, that’s all,” the satyr man said more fervently. Ori walked into the cell as Karanno watched on. Ori crouched as he approached the decaying body, Vision of the Progenitor searching the mound of rotting flesh for the spark of a soul.
Ori shook his head. “I’m sorry.” He stood and looked towards the tallest of them. “Okay, listen up, I’m Ori, and this is Karanno. This is what’s going to happen. You’ll all take turns having some water, it won’t run out, enchanted, so drink your fill while I check on you. Then we go to the next cell and the next until we can find all of you before we go to the gate rooms and get you home.”
“How can we trust you?”
“Yeah, how do we know this isn’t a trick?”
“They toyed with us like this before. Gave us hope before yanking it away.” More voices added to the chorus, and more than a few unpleasant thoughts bubbled into his awareness as he struggled for some way to convince these people to do what he needed them to.