Once Cira was awake, she found it difficult to fall back asleep. With nothing to go by but fake stars of her own creation, there was really no way to tell how much time passed as she rolled around in her uncomfortable imaginary-wool blanket.
The glorified bundle of straw beneath her didn’t offer much comfort either. In the night with her weary bones, these things didn’t matter, but this morning all the minor irritations of her half-assed bedding scratched at her mind and soul without rest. Lacking any recourse, Cira got out of bed.
Her body had already entered last-day mode and shirked away any remaining shreds of sleep from her mind. She was sharp, and ready for anything. The list of things she forgot to do was already growing and she set out to finish them before morning really came.
Like the estranged spirit of an ill-prepared artisan, Cira coasted through the workshop within a veil of silence. Her light steps didn’t even make the metal beneath them vibrate as she glided first over to her newly inducted exorcists one by one while they slept, weaving blessed silver into each remaining piece of armor which rested at the foots of their beds. This was the equivalent of physical protection against ghosts, which wasn’t entirely necessary all things considered, but the first group’s outfits all had it.
This didn’t disrupt the enchantments and only took a few minutes per piece. Between four new exorcists, each with multiple pieces of armor, this did take some time though. Anyone else would say her pace was impressive enough. With that done she went over to warm up by the furnace, taking in hand a worm pie she expertly placed there to heat upon waking.
Cira didn’t know how long underworm was good for, but it tasted fine to her. Next step was to make not two, but four aetherium pouches. The first four were made of void gazelle hide, a creature with high spatial affinity. She obviously brought more because she expected to need it, but each additional square cut out wounded her heart exponentially. The only one she ever saw was hunted by Gazen to produce the scrap which she found the remnants of in her hand. On the plus side, she’d have enough left over from the edge to make a cute ribbon.
The sorcerer had to stop herself from coming up with names to call her ribbon that sounded somewhat useful and refocus on the task. Storage rings were outside of Cira’s power at this time and she was fresh out of extras to hand out. But pouches were much more feasible. Pouches which sucked in a specific ingredient, however, were tedious. By the fourth one she was cruising right along, and it had easily been a few hours since she woke up, yet no one stirred.
“Hmm… Prismagora, show me the sky.” She looked up and a round window opened in the air, revealing real stars and the earliest signs of dawn. “Thanks.”
Soon, very soon. All eight exorcists are equipped, and the original group will train the new ones. I forgot to give Lant any pointers in magic, but he should be fine with Triton, though I forgot to check his progress too. The alchemists seem able, all their equipment is ready, and Delilah stepped up to the task of seeing over the patients and directing the help. I’ll have to make sure she’s careful when that Astral lady appears, but she gives me confidence that they will do just fine.
Sitting down next to the fire, she thought they could use some light around here in the wee hours of the evening and set out to make a few lamps from the surrounding salt while finishing breakfast in silence. Her mind was deep in thought, trying to think of what could go wrong after she leaves, and what could be done about it.
Lomp’s been given all the various treasures to distribute in my stead. The only real issue is a steady prima supply. My barrel-full will last them for a good while, but somehow, I doubt an elevator from the plague ward to the nymph lair would sit well with Earth Vein, on top of the blatant unwarranted utilization of their resources. Delilah and the others can rely on smugglers, but this will all fall apart if they instantly confiscate what I’ve gathered already. I’m not sure how to stop them from doing that, except…
Cira let out a deep and heavy sigh. There was one way to prevent this, in a sense. Conditional sorcery wasn’t really magic at all, though it did use mana. Her whole life she knew it to be forbidden, but by whom? Her father, for one. She questioned if there was some higher authority that forbade it, but quickly realized that wouldn’t mean much to her.
Forbidden sorceries existed for a reason though—they’d have to, else they wouldn’t exist. As far as those went, this one would be overwhelmingly mundane. The problem lay in its nature. Those knowledgeable enough would know it for what it is, and what it is was not a part of herself Cira wanted to leave on this island for all to see.
Unfortunately, that was part of the job. If she couldn’t figure out another way, yet had one that would work, she pretty much had to do it.
So, an old looking staff Cira would rather not talk about appeared from nothing in her hand, an ordinary, nondescript magic circle grew around each material pile. The runes were as simple as runes come—simpler even. Incomprehensibly so. From a time long forgotten by man and lamented by the gods—allegedly. The ring pulsed with a dim gray light, as if only absorbing the light around it and not giving off any of its own.
There was a deep crease in Cira’s forehead as she frowned at her handiwork. It made her skin crawl to have relied on such sorcery, but she reasoned that bandage had already been ripped off. She placed similar circles and glyphs on all her apparatuses and equipment, then the entire platform and everything else she’d constructed here.
As far as the prima salt and aetherium went, it could not be removed from their respective circles without being destined to become part of the cure. Addionally, everything within her facility and itself could not be removed or destroyed until the plague was eradicated (mana-permanence notwithstanding). Historically speaking, this may have been the most mundane use of such reviled sorcery.
It also wasn’t foolproof. Someone could flood the cave or fill it with gas. Destroy the ground beneath it, even. Worse yet, they could harm her assistants. All the same, she refused to use this sorcery on them, otherwise she could protect them in the same way.
Shivering, she dismissed the staff and sat on the edge of her bed. She used Aquon to wash her hands off and laid back down for a while, hoping to catch a quick nap after all.
___
When next she awoke everyone seemed to be getting ready for the day at Nanri and Delilah’s instruction.
The former saw her rise and came over with a bright and sunny greeting, “Good morning. Hope you don’t mind that I let you sleep in. Lomp’s team will leave any minute now and Delilah already started distilling the next batch of aetherium. What else do we need to do to start handing the cure out to everyone?”
“No, it was probably for the best.” Cira yawned and got up, stretching her arms, “Thanks for getting everyone started. The main obstacle is getting rid of the deritium and cleaning up the water. I have a few more investigations today, but I’d like you to go with the exorcists and make sure nothing happens to the newbies.”
“Oh. Okay…” Nanri clearly deflated, though she tried to hide it. She made a face Cira was pained to see. “Tonight, after everyone’s done… Maybe you and I could go into town and get something to eat?”
What wounded Cira even further was not being able to show the turmoil on her face. This was by far the worst kind of goodbye—the kind that stung and would only fester as time dragged on. She wanted nothing more than to wholeheartedly agree, but in the end only managed a smile, “If it’s not too late, that sounds lovely.”
For once the witch’s sunny countenance had the opposite effect, and Cira felt a sharp pain in her chest to see her smile, “Okay, great! We’ll do our best today, so I’ll see you later.” She waved and skipped along to the exorcists and boarded. Their boat was cramped again, but at least Cira enhanced its ability to carry. Watching them all float away tugged at Cira’s heartstrings and she knew she would miss this island, despite everything.
The now group of ten made their way up the wall of salt until breaking through to Uru proper. They had already eaten so the plan was to head straight over the city towards the Last Step. As they hovered above the dim smattering of lights called Uru, Lomp made a request, “Can you guys actually drop me off down there? I have some Lomp work to take care of, so I’ll catch up with you later.” No one really questioned that, so they took him down to the city.
But back down in the workshop, the sorcerer bid her time, taking a few minutes to chat with Delilah to make sure she had everything she needed before parting ways. “Alright, I better get going then. Make sure to keep on top of everything here.”
The alchemists were all seated at the table watching the hourglass slowly fall. Delilah risked looking away to reassure Cira, “I think we’ll be fine. I’ll see you later!” She smiled at the departing sorcerer and returned to her diligent work.
Once the exorcists had a short lead on her, Cira headed back across to the Earth Vein checkpoint to give the Official her farewells too, “Tell me, are you dedicated to seeing this cure through?”
He was shocked at the sudden demand for a statement of resolve, but managed to gather himself quickly and salute, “Yes, Madam Witch! Until all are cured, I will not leave this post.”
“Good.” She gave him a pat on the arm, “I hope you remember those words. Anyway, I’ve got some errands to run.”
She took a leisurely stroll to the cavern wall. There were no followers today, so she kept going, paving a passage straight through and sealing it behind her. It was only about a hundred feet until she broke through the salt and made it to Uru.
“Salty Songstress, come forth!” This was utilized as a summon but was really an intricate multi-layered sorcery at this point. The spellcrafting equivalent of an array. Perhaps the first ever real pirate magic spell? Who’s to say. Cira climbed aboard and took her seat at the helm. “Return.”
Her dutiful ship crept through the ground, picking up speed as salty waves crashed to the sides. It didn’t take long until she was back in the dark tunnels, twisting and turning, she rose through the island. There was nothing to do for this leg of the journey but wait. Indeterminately… she groaned. As Cira sped deeper into the salt, she noticed nymphs popping out again, as if they’d been waiting for her to leave town to come hang out.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
This trip, however, turned out to be just over three hours and most of them seemed to hide again as they approached her destination. Sober as she was, Cira estimated them to be about half-way to the spring—not the longest elevator ride, but not one she wanted to take.
She leaned back in her chair, resting her arms behind her head. The scarlet glimmer eventually found its way onto Cira’s skin. She could see it through her eyelids and feel it in her soul. Cira had returned to the deritium chamber. As she opened her eyes, she saw a small handful of startled pirates lingering around.
“The hell are you idiots doing here?!” She boomed, blasting fire at the ceiling. They all scattered, “Find Jimbo Sticks and heed his will!”
Now it was just her and the rock. Cira dismissed the Salty Songstress now, its purpose served. Just two staves would do the heavy lifting here—Conduit and the orichalcum one—but Prismagora was good at directing aether, so she summoned that too. Next, Aquon was always around for support, but would do little more than protect her mind against this mysterious stone’s power for now. Cerulean rivers snaked around her body as the other three staves hovered around her in a circle.
All four lit with an unseen brilliance as the deritium slowly started pulling away from the wall. Cira’s head began to throb, and a small orb of dark liquid appeared, finding its way to her lips. It relieved the pain quickly, but she knew this was just the beginning.
The deritium seemed to flare up with power as she used the mana within it for everything. She hadn’t seen this phenomenon, as the small flecks she tested in the workshop burned up upon use, but there wasn’t any noticeable diminishing of the stone before her yet. Simply moving it around shouldn’t cost much if it held as much as she surmised.
And thus, Cira committed a crime known to be most forbidden across the Gandeux Skies, and even some of those which surrounded it. Just getting near the stuff without being a high-ranked government official was equivocated to terrorism, let alone utilizing it for its mana, not that she knew all that. Lives were more important in her book. Hey, I should write one now that I’m all grown up. “The ‘Definitive’ Sorcerer’s Compendium”, I’ll call it.
Forbidden as it was, channeling the deritium’s mana was not difficult. Similar to using a plain old mana stone, but on a much larger scale. This thing was truly monstrous. Calling it a boulder didn’t really do it justice, it was practically part of the cave. As it peeled away and slowly started converging into a ball, the strain only increased on Cira. The pain gnawing at her had yet to return in force, but she could tell it was getting rougher on her body, mind, and aura all at once.
Some quick thinking and she cast an array of glyphs forged of light to reinforce her body from aethereal strain—the same thing her dimnut tonic did, as well as the white-gold set of robes she wore. This helped alleviate most of the strain and she was able to continue with no more struggle than turning the Last Step into the Last Fifty Thousand Steps.
Like this she spent a couple hours fully reforming the deritium as it fell off the wall, molding it into a perfect sphere. “I should be able to levitate it like a staff, right…?” And so, the deritium mega sphere took flight. It had lost some height in this shape but would still nearly reach her spire’s peak back at home. It towered over her like a dwarf star. The ominous scarlet sun of death entered Cira’s orbit as her fifth staff, though it was really more of a mana bank.
It didn’t feel nice to be so close to it, but surprisingly, there was no damage to her soul occurring. So long as she didn’t touch it, she would be fine—theoretically. She did indeed test this by touching her samples with a bare finger in the workshop for twenty minutes. It was a hard to describe, uncomfortable feeling. Like an acupuncture needle that she couldn’t see piercing right through her body and aura, then stuck in her soul.
That much was in the name of sorcerous deduction, but she already had to take the cure herself anyway. This was only a mild irritant. She could use the opportunity to try and find a way to treat corporeal degradation with sorcery alone—no alchemy required.
My father himself used that unknown orange elixir, so that may be difficult, but I would certainly surpass him if I—Hold on, no! Shut up, Cira. Stop stalling.
She slapped her cheeks, “Dammit… Time to go.” Wait… Can’t I just levitate myself like a staff…?
Cira gasped, “No! Wait…” She looked down as her feet effortlessly lifted from the ground, “I can! It was really this easy the whole time?! Dammit…”
Cira slid to her knees as the distance between them and the salt increased, moaning in lament of times past, “Gone forever are the days of footbound adventures…” The magic of transit would ever be tainted with absolute obsolescence. Cut off her legs, she’ll outrun you. This was her life now.
With a sigh, she stood back up, if you can call it that, and continued to float towards the deritium while trying to comfort herself, “You’re a big girl, Cira… Travelling on foot is for babies, and you’ve long since left your nest.” Looking over the staves orbiting her, she really stopped stalling, “Okay, everyone. Rise.”
In the lonely skies she picked up the habit of talking to not only herself, but her staves. Aquon could be moody sometimes, but that was probably her projecting and interfering with her own will. She cherished her inanimate objects, though, and that always pushed her sorcery through to the next level. When sorcerer and tool were one, it was as if it were an extension of her own body.
In this case, all her staves and the deritium were, in a sense. Dad look, I have two auras! she joked. The salt easily yielded, moving out of her path. A massive hole opened up, mainly to allow the deritium through. Spatial Sense was in overdrive as she plotted her ascension, slowly weaving around active tunnels and closing the salt back up as she passed by.
This only took another hour before she reached her destination. Water started gushing in from above, washing over an invisible sphere large enough to cover her entire menagerie of sorcerous objects. Once she was above ground, she closed it up and looked around.
The water of the spring chamber was lit up with glimmering scarlet like ocean waves at sunset, adding vibrant hues as it competed with the spring’s natural blue. All was well here except for an unwelcome guest she spotted from miles below. Someone she was very unhappy to see.
“What the hell are you doing here?!” Cira demanded.
“Me?!” Lomp’s face had long since turned red and this was the most genuinely angry Cira had ever seen him, “What are you doing here?! I’m here because I knew you were going to do something batshit insane.”
“And what do you intend to do about it?” Her face was a benign challenge, “This is set in motion, and nothing can stop it. If I set this rock down and leave it for the Gandeux to retrieve, your island is still doomed to fall. I have neither the right nor the leeway to stop here, Lomp. I need you to understand that.”
“What right are you talking about?” He stepped up to her, despite his powerlessness, “This is OUR island. You’re just a traveler, so you’ll be gone before it matters, but WE have to live with the fallout, not you! IF we survive it in the first place. Even if the rest of the island is tainted, this spring is all we have! I… I can’t let you play around with it! It’s too great a risk!”
With shaking arms, he held the blessed bident against her, a challenge in kind. “Okay, NOW you’re pissing me off.” Cira flew down closer to his level, “Playing around?! Have you not seen enough? What further miracles must I pull off before your eyes than the ones your overseer has tasked me with? Shall I put this rock down and stick around to fight that witch? You’ll get the privilege to witness how landscapes are altered and cities are destroyed. Just go back to Uru before you become collateral damage. Your spear will never reach me.”
The Staff of Springs burst with cerulean light and raging rivers snaked through the air, filling the chamber from all sides and around the spring. She floated towards her target in the center of the chamber and its own mana started resonating bright blue in turn.
She continued channeling mana from the deritium, through Aquon’s many rivers with the spring merely in between, cycling it. This took intense concentration but that was broken by a sharp noise from behind. An impact on her barrier.
“What are you doing, dammit?!” Lomp was stabbing at her, failing to even come within ten yards. There were burns on his skin wherever it wasn’t covered, and she could see his teeth clenched in pain, “I won’t let you bring this island down!”
“If I don’t do this, your island is destined to fall one day.” The blaring light was all around her. Lomp could hardly hold her gaze, but nowhere else was easy to look at either. There was a piercing cerulean light radiating from her eyes, wisping away like the remnants of a spell. A chill ran up Lomp’s back and he inhaled sharply. For a moment he was frozen stiff. This wasn’t like back in Nymphus when Lomp thought she could lash out in irrational anger, this was much deeper than that.
It was primal fear, like staring down a cave spider—no, worse than that. Not staring into the eyes of a natural predator but standing at the feet of a being that could crush you with its very presence, without noticing or doing anything particular. Lomp watched a dark orb the size of his fist appear before her, and she… drank it. When she turned to him again, the eyes that stared back didn’t have the playful spark they always held but he thought they suited the way he felt in this moment much better. Her eyes were cold, and she looked down on him with a domineering indifference. Like she was above him in every way.
It's not just ‘like’ that… She’s only looking at me, nothing more. This is just… how it is. Is this what she meant by ‘collateral damage’? If I remain here, she wouldn’t even have to do anything. I’ll simply die. How can she… be in the middle of that?
“What are you?” The word’s fell from Lomp’s mouth before he cold stop them and he bitterly regretted it as a brief frown flashed across Cira’s face, vanishing just as swiftly to leave her devoid of any apparent emotion.
“I told you to go, Lomp. I will not be delayed any further.” Her unconcerned eyes turned away from the man who banged on the barrier with useless fists. Cira’s mind was clear. Enhanced with what should be considered an overdose of elixir, she was only able to muster one meager thought for herself. Sorry, Dad.
“Aquon, I call upon thee.” The mystic river flooding the air and the glint in her eyes burst cerulean, “Forbidden Formation: Spring Sense.”
Brilliant blue lit up the tunnel like flash bangs, bright enough to burn your eyes out of your skull then flickering heedlessly. Lomp watched in horror as Cira’s dauntless face twisted in torment. She fell to her knees with her head cradled in her hands as blood started to pour from her nose as the ground beneath them trembled. Her heart-wrenching cries could be heard over the rushing water and rippling mana, and as her neck craned back to scream, Lomp could see streaks of blood coming from her eyes and running down the sides of her neck.
Soon, the mana in the spring chamber became too great. Wounds formed and instantly worsened on Lomp’s arms, legs, and face as blood slowly rose to the surface. It was a searing pain like a hundred hot coals and his knees grew weak before starting to falter.
Dammit, I have to get out of here, but… but… Oh, who am I kidding? I can’t stop this. My only hope was to talk Cira down, and look at her now…
Lacking the burns and various wounds across her skin like Lomp in the churning torrent of mana, he could still tell the great pain she was in. A pool of blood had formed beneath her which agitated as the tremors befalling Fount Salt only grew in intensity. She was supported by one shaky arm, panting heavily. Her screams had turned raspy whenever she had breath to spare. He watched her for a minute while the blisters grew across his body and the pain became unbearable.
She’ll get it under control, right? She has to! “Come on, Cira! Dammit, don’t die on me now! After all this?!” What the hell was she even trying to do?!
He watched the sorcerer struggle to keep her eyes open, gasping for air through mouthfuls of blood, before finally sliding to the ground, clawing at it with frail bursts of dwindling cognizance. There she lay, still in a puddle of her own blood on the edge of the spring’s pool. Lomp tried to get closer despite it all, but the barrier still repelled him. He couldn’t even see her chest heaving with each breath anymore.
The salt nymph she befriended appeared from somewhere fluttering over in a panic before landing on Cira’s head. She slapped the Sorcerer on her cheek and tried jumping around or banging her fists. Nothing elicited anything that could be mistaken as a sign of life from Cira’s unresponsive body.
Lomp hadn’t ever seen a nymph show emotion before, but this one was very clearly trying to save her friend in a fit of desperation. Her weak arms couldn’t do anything, and she lacked a voice of her own. Lomp watched the futile struggle from his own position of powerlessness with a heavy heart.
“Dammit! Grahh!” He kicked the ground, shambling away to the next passageway to escape. “Goddamit, Cira! Why?! Just what the hell were you trying to prove?!”
She was impossible to deal with, and the last person he’d hire for anything, but she deserved better than to die trying to help an island that had nothing to do with her. Fount Salt, of all places. With regret welling in his heart, he pushed his way back down the rumbling staircase. Tears threatened to well up in his eyes, were the anger which shaped his face not holding them back. Dammit, Cira, this is the signal, isn’t it?
She’d been planning this catastrophe right under his nose the whole time, just to go and die. He could only hope Fount Salt would survive her madness.