Reuene, ???, Outside of Fate.
Ori had said there was a way, and she had proved him right.
It was as if the world had suddenly ended.
A vast chasm stretched before her with only the remnants of shattered boulders, each the size of a house, floating in the abyss beyond. Behind her, the grassy, rocky landscape was bathed in daylight but ahead lay a cliff so immense and sheer it seemed like an entirely different world, one perpendicular to her own feet. The sun's light still warmed her back, but the void ahead offered nothing—no clouds, no stars, just an empty expanse where floating rocks drifted unaffected by the steady wind.
She stood at the edge, her tangled red hair streaming across her striking, freckled face, her taut, feminine form crisscrossed with well-earned muscles and hard-won scars. Twin sabres that she had once found ridiculous, hung at her sides in tattered leather sheaves and an unstrung longbow rested on her back underneath a backpack that was now little more than balled-up hemp and sisal.
“You’re such a bastard,” she muttered to herself, her stomach twisting at the thought of what she had to do.
It had been six months since Ori had left her realm, disappearing from her world—or as he called it, "Outside of Fate"—with a challenge to find him. A challenge she had initially ignored. But, as with so many things he had said, his words had burrowed under her skin like an irritant. Words that itched, then burned, before solidifying into the spark of intent, and finally, the fire of action. Actions that had driven her halfway across a continent, actions that demanded she take a step beyond the end of the world.
“I’ll punch you in the dick if this doesn’t work. Hell, I’ll punch you in the dick anyway, you smarmy bastard,” she grumbled, vivid memories of the dark-skinned gladiator who had fought and killed by her side in the arena for months flooding her mind.
Her breathing quickened, fists clenching and unclenching around the stone enchantment, as every muscle below her waist tensed, primed for the leap of her life. Rationally, she knew she would die in the abyss, but the enchanted stone Ori had crafted tugged insistently, guiding her to this spot, and beyond.
Now that she was here, she knew it was now or never.
Steeling herself, the red-haired warrior took a step back and began to count down, swaying back and forth on the balls of her feet in time with her count. Her lungs burned, her heart pounded, breath infused her body as her eyes locked onto a floating boulder suspended in the abyss. At zero, she erupted with a savage war cry, moving three times faster than any mortal human. In a blink, her final explosive step shattered the ledge of the world, sending dust and stones tumbling into the void.
The warrior soared, leaving her world behind, her athletic form colliding with one of the larger floating fragments of continent. She clung to it, her sense of up and down spinning with the rock as she fought her tenuous grip.
A minute later, she stood unsteadily, then defiantly, glaring out into the abyss and cursing the man who had brought her here. Clutching the stone that guided her way, she sprinted once more and leapt into the void.
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Aviul Dolorum, Fifth Circle of Hell, Infernal Demiplane, Fate
Lesser Devil Malphas the Knowing glared at his once-favoured offspring. He sat seething, his body like a stone giant, ancient and still, while his blood silently boiled with rage. The twice-evolved Immortal demon’s form rested upon a throne of blood-washed stone and bleached white skulls as if some godly, infernal king. Though a minor lord within the grand hierarchy of devils, he was a devil nonetheless—an entity of power who could no longer tread lightly upon mortal realms.
Xaltrax the Overseer trembled under the weight of his sire’s aura, suffocating as Malphas's mere displeasure settled upon everything within his infernal court like a thick soup. The pressure was enough to cause attendant imps to expire, while inanimate objects burst and corroded in response to fury and fear that Malphas fought to contain.
“Sire, I… I don’t understand.”
Malphas suddenly stood, his dark, mountainous twelve-foot form eclipsing the Greater Demon who looked upon him with earnest confusion. Instead of deigning to enlighten his offspring, the Arch Demon slowly, deliberately, closed the distance and cradled the head of his once-cherished son, his hands wrapping around Xaltrax’s wide and imposing horns. His forearms made contact with the sides of his son’s face in a gesture more paternal and compassionate than he had ever shown to any of his countless spawn over dozens of ages. Dark, smouldering eyes bore into the mind of the other, the weight of his gaze imparting a seriousness and solemnity that combined with the silence of the hall, lent gravity to his rare words.
“You have doomed us, child,” Malphas finally spoke, his voice surprisingly cultured despite its gravelly undertone.
“H… how? Be—because of a stupid Demon Bane? I’ll go back and deal with him myself,” the Overseer pleaded.
A shockwave ripped the air from the Greater Demon’s lungs as Malphas withdrew his meaty fist from the abdomen of his ill-fated progeny.
“You overreached, child. What was supposed to be an insignificant resource grew into something you were too negligent to manage.” Malphas whispered, his tone cold and laced with condemnation.
The Overseer wheezed before spitting out, “But he’s just a—”
Another fist to the gut silenced the Overseer’s protest, as Malphas prevented the smaller demon from doubling over, his iron grip around the demon’s horns locking his face in place as he patiently waited for his son to blink away tears.
“The God is DEAD. The prison is DEAD. Do you not see, child?” Malphas growled.
“That husk—”
“Shhhh.” Malphas hushed him, drawing his face to within an inch as he shared a final, tender moment of wisdom with his infernal offspring. The Lesser Devil studied and memorised every hair of Xaltrax’s face, his paternal pride now soured with disappointment, writing off the being before him as already lost as he spun with thoughts of surviving for what was to come. “You see, child, I was there during our last Bane. He was originally a Dragon’s Bane. A simple alchemist who killed immortal dragons by the hundreds, as if clearing rats from a cellar. He drove entire draconic civilisations from realm to realm until, in their moment of desperation, they reached out to us, and in our greed and naivety, we involved ourselves in a turning of fate.
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“Do you know what a turning is, child? It is that moment, that perfect instant of time where you have leapt but are not yet falling, and yet you know with certainty that you can do nothing but fall. That nothing you can do can prevent the pain, the broken flesh, the shattered bone.
“That Dragon Bane became an Arch Demon Bane and before that simple human alchemist was dead, millions of your forbears were slain, dozens of Lesser Houses and a Greater Devil fallen, all because of a turning. A mistake, a miscalculation, a moment of absent-mindedness.”
“Sire… How do I make it right?” the Overseer pleaded.
“You will go back, and you will die, because there is nothing you can do but die. Either by my hand or by your newly-fashioned Demon Bane. A Demon Bane who has already risen above your wardens, a Demon Bane who cannot be scryed, yet even I—here, halfway across fate—can feel twisting and bending this age against our race.”
“I don’t understand,” the Overseer said, watery eyes lost as he finally caught the fear and sympathy in his father’s eyes.
“Not until the end will you see. Now leave my sight,” Malphas commanded. The Overseer stumbled on unsteady legs as his face was tossed aside. Grief, shame, and the fires of rage settled in Xaltrax’s eyes as he took one last glance at his sire before storming out of the court.
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Orinth, Astor, Elemental Demiplane, Fate
“Did your mayor not receive word of our intention?” A navy-blue-haired Lunaesidhe High Elven woman asked, her ethereal beauty framed by the window of a gilded carriage.
“You must forgive us. While we had received some word of your visit, we had no way of knowing… Well, it is simply unprecedented that one such as yourself… H—How may we assist our esteemed guest?” The deacon nervously stammered, his hands twisting anxiously.
Princess Elara, Celebriel Lóthaniel Luinilthar, had certainly caused a stir as she arrived at this mostly human realm’s most famous landmark. The cobbled streets were crowded as she exited her carriage, her attendants hiding their bemused thoughts about the purpose of her spontaneous detour behind the studied indifference typical of High Elves. Glancing around, she took in the sights, sounds, and smells of a human city for the first time, suppressing a flush of excitement as she savoured her initial experience away from her society.
“You may address me as Second Princess,” she said.
“Second Princess?” The deacon, a rotund middle-aged man, repeated, his eyes bulging. His simmering panic boiled over into something that threatened to cause even more of a scene.
“Yes, of the Lunaesidhe. I seek admittance to the Everlight. I wish to study it.” Elara hid her curiosity and giddy sense of freedom under a mask of aloofness. While she rationally knew this civilisation and the humans within it to be worthy of her regard, her deep-seated High Elven pride and royal nobility demanded that she maintain a certain level of distance from beings who might die, or worse, upon accidentally hearing her song.
“Study, yes—of course, Second Princess. Please, allow me to be your guide.” The deacon visibly shook as he received confirmation of her lineage. Her visit, or indeed any visit by High Elven royalty, was likely historic among human lands. She cast one last glance around, catching sight of hundreds of gawking onlookers, before following her guide.
“This modest building was once one of the barracks of the glorious army. We’ve preserved it as it was for over an age,” the deacon continued as they climbed narrow wooden stairs through a building she deemed unfit even for her lowest maids. Refusing to show how she felt about the state of this treasured site, Elara’s aloof expression remained unchanged as she observed her surroundings but declined to comment despite her guide’s best attempts to engage her in conversation.
As visitors and onlookers hastily cleared a path ahead of them, it wasn’t long before they reached a small room. As she entered, she calmly took in the small single bed, the woollen fibres and feathered pillows preserved by old enchantments, while the cracked plaster of the walls revealed ancient timber beams that likely still bore the weight of the thousand-year-old building around her.
She made a valiant attempt to categorise every element in the room that wasn’t the floating white hole above the bed, but as her elven heart raced, all of her aunt’s impossible tales of a human man suddenly seemed less outlandish.
With her gasp, the deacon suppressed a grin of vindication as she slowly drew closer to the bed, cordoned off with thick rope. She swallowed several times as her mouth involuntarily watered. Elara couldn’t help but be transfixed, her plans to test and probe the light momentarily forgotten as she could do nothing but stare.
An hour passed in silence as she slowly regained her rationality. Her heightened perception observed the Mana folding upon itself, revealing that its nature stemmed from a rare prismatic affinity, not from any woven spell form or quirk of spellcraft. As the aspected and unaspected Mana flowed in a beautiful, self-perpetuating cycle, Elara sighed, her worldview shifting as she began to understand how her much-respected aunt, the High Queen of High Elven society, could have fallen in love with a human.
The deacon watched silently, his demeanour far more settled now that she appeared humbled by this decidedly human miracle. ‘If only he knew,’ Elara thought sourly, setting aside her own emotions and the reactions of those around her as she prepared to begin her battery of tests.
“May I cast Lesser Divination?” Elara asked.
Concerned and uncertain, her guide responded, “Erm, while we have experts who regularly inspect… we generally discourage our guests from divining the Everlight… However, exceptions can be made for one such as yourself, esteemed Second Princess.”
Elara nodded and turned towards the prismatic light, casting her divination spell, curious about what knowledge her limited ability would reveal.
Spell: Light Orb
Affinity: Cosmic, Aspect: (Light), ???Intent???: ???
Elara frowned upon receiving the scrambled results of her divination. Her heart raced as she tried to make sense of it all. She voiced her thoughts aloud, focusing her divination even more intently.
“Cosmic?”
“Hmm? What was that, Second Princess?” the middle-aged priest asked, just as Elara’s milky skin turned bone white, and she doubled over as her divination spell overdrew upon her Mana and drained a sliver of her Lifeforce.
Cosmic
Rank: Transcendent
Signature: Adds additional Intent when channelling, Spell and Intent potency increases +???% per second channelled, other.
Description: Cosmic is a transcendent affinity that embodies the principles of light, life, change, growth, rebirth, and evolution. As the 10th demiplanar affinity, its emergence marks itself as the first new Demiplane since the inception of fate itself. Cosmic weaves together the radiant energies of the stars, the vital essence of life, and the transformative powers of evolution and renewal. This affinity transcends the boundaries of any single plane, tapping into the primal forces that drive the universe's endless cycle of creation and destruction. Users of Cosmic can harness these profound energies to inspire growth, initiate transformative change, and channel the raw power of cosmic light.
Subaffinities: Light (all), Life… ???… ???… ???…
Greater affinities: N/A
“Demiplanar Affinity!?” Elara gasped in confusion and disbelief. Everyone knew there were nine Demiplanar affinities, primordial forces from which fate and creation were born: Astral, Ethereal, Celestial, Faewyld, Material, Elemental, Abyssal, Underworld, and Infernal. Yet her divination was indicating not only a tenth Demiplanar affinity, but one of transcendent rank.
“I don’t understand what you mean, Second Princess?” the deacon asked, his air of panic returning as he witnessed Elara’s sudden disarray.
“Send for one of your experts and have them perform divination on the Everlight,” Elara commanded, as a chilling theory began to take root. She glared at the human, infusing the full weight of her Greater Ranker, High Elven aura, before the obsequious man scuttled away, likely in fear for his life. Elara released an anxious breath.
Amidst all her thoughts on the implications and consequences of this discovery, Elara couldn’t help but picture the smug expression on her aunt’s face when she reported on her unscheduled excursion.