Damion wasn’t sure what he was looking at. Despite the numb arm dangling at his side, even the agony ravaging his body was only a quieter presence to the perplexion that now befell him.
The entity had leapt out of the flaming azure light. No Remus, no Aziel — no-one he could recognise from the Ambition Clan.
They were humanoid in shape, though Damion had to wonder if this was really the help they’d requested. They were definitely an Unbounded, their entire body the colour of charcoal black. Like a person made out of black crystal. Rivulets of purple coursed through the curved body, like that of a woman. Out of the blank canvas of their face, beady magenta eyes flared.
Did the creature just . . . wink at him?
The aura they emanated was so frustratingly familiar. Where had he seen that energy? He swore he was about to place his finger on it, when the construct launched into action. Damion instinctively put up a guard, as was customary when an Unbounded sprang in your direction.
When the stone being began to tackle the Wealth clansmen, Damion slowly let his hand drop.
He watched in awe, as one by one, the Wealth clansmen guards dropped to the ground. He could barely process what he was seeing. Purple rifts opened all across the chamber, and pouring out of them full-force, were the people he had been waiting so damn long to see.
Aziel, Remus, and ten or so Ambition clansmen landed in the room.
Damion struggled to a stand, wiping the tears of pain and relief out of his eyes. He was about to wail out a greeting, when something noticed in his spiritual senses made him stop in his tracks.
His brother. A Vanguard.
He stared at Remus. At the lightning crackling around his body, at the obsidian gauntlets that enveloped both of his fists, at the inferno of flame waiting to rush out of him at any second’s notice, swirling around the links of chain pressed to his torso. He started at his plucky younger brother, the child who would rush to his side after a bad nightmare, who Damion would make fun of to no end, during their youth. He stared at the same young boy who had barely understood the world they inhabited.
Where was his baby brother now?
Damion was about to rush over to join him, only to remember himself. The wellbeing of his clansmen made his stomach turn. If even one of them was missing-
But there was nothing to fear. Some of his men were pretty badly beaten, a few looked at their bloody hands, hyperventilating, but Damion would have to bring no corpses home. There would be no missing sons, daughters, or parents today.
Just what was this Unbounded? There was only one fiend Damion knew in this whole world that fought for humanity. Yet no matter how hard he tried to wrap his head around it, this was not Violet. Then it clicked.
Not Violet, no — this was one of her Projections.
Remus flew over to him, dragging Damion’s one functional arm over his shoulder.
“I don’t need carrying.” Damion muttered.
“Your arm’s broken.”
“Oh really? Wow, I hadn’t noticed.”
Regardless of the situation, there was always room for a little brotherly back-and-forth.
“Be quiet, dimwit. Any movement will be agonising for you with an arm busted up like that.”
Damion remained quiet for a moment, as men around began to clear up the scene. “You’re a Vanguard. When did that happen?”
“Haven’t really been keeping track of time. A couple Durations ago? I’m sorry we took so long. Things have been real nasty back at the Ambition Clan.”
As Remus recounted all that had transpired, Damion listened intently. Paladins, Damosh going insane, Enos running amuck. How many existential threats could they face at once? Surely it would come to a breaking point. The world could only suffer so much.
“You're sect leader. When did that happen?”
“Few Passings ago,” Damion’s lips quirked into a smile. “Looks like we’ve both been busy.”
There was no complaining about that, but Damion found himself glancing back to Violet’s Projection. If he wasn’t mistaken, the arriving Ambition clansmen hadn’t even had a chance to fight, before the fiend had taken down the remaining guards. It was an agile thing, leaping from foe to foe and never faltering for a second.
“Violet’s Projections sure are something.”
The sound of boots smacking against concrete deafened Damion’s ears, as the company hurried towards a distant light. A smoking hole the Ambition Clan had seared into the earth, to enter the sewers.
“Wasn’t sure whether you’d notice. If you think my advancement’s impressive, you should see how strong she’s gotten. A fully-fledged Warlord equivalent now. We’re playing around with the notion of Violet separating her power through Projections, to reach multiple places at once. That fiend is what we call Refuge. It’s the protective side of Violet’s personality magnified. Now that our rebellion has most of Hyrbrid’s support, we thought she could travel as a messenger to other cities, alongside a few of our men. I don’t know how kindly they’ll take to being greeted by an Unbounded, but as I said, we’re still working out the kinks.”
“Wait.” Damion wasn’t sure if he’d heard correctly. “Did you say your rebellion has most of Hybrid’s support?”
Remus nodded. “Eliane sent a letter. She supports the cause, apparently, after we helped against Maris. Long, long story.” Remus looked around warily. “I love the small talk Damion, but I think this conversation will be a lot more enjoyable without the threat of imminent death. We have some carriages ready for our escape outside of the city walls. Let’s get going, and we can speak about all this in a little more detail. ”
Damion assented. After all he’d been through, all he really desired was to nap his pains away.
The world was a little too crazy for him at the moment.
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In the corner of Damosh’s tower, the mad King leaned over the edge of his seat, rocking back and forth. Edmar didn’t think the man had blinked once in the last five minutes, staring raptly at the image that was projected onto the quartz wall of his throne room.
It showed Damion, Remus, and the rest of their forces fleeing through some man-made exit they’d smashed through. There, on the other side, far too quickly to call any guards to intercede, they dived into a stretch of carriages. Carriages that had been previously hidden behind a natural barrier of fronds and branches.
They were looking from the perspective of a Sight clansman's eyeball. Damosh had access to the divine ability of Perpetual Sight, as all Godlings and God-Graced did. Yet many of Damosh’s closest advisors had discouraged his use of the ability. After seeing their King grow so paranoid, he’d done nothing but observe the outside world for days on end, tucked away inside the broom cupboard.
Yet the Sight Clan’s eyeballs seemed just as bad for Damosh’ declining psyche. What the man really needed, in Edmar’s opinion, was putting down.
Not yet. Edmar popped the cork off an elixir, taking a long sip of the liquid.
“Kill them!” Damosh screeched, throwing things around the room. Edmar sidestepped a pitched clock. “Kill them all! Make them pay!”
Damosh leapt to his feet, crouched upon the throne’s cushioning in the perfect impression of a gremlin. He pointed one trembling finger towards Edmar. “You have to go and kill them, Edmar. There will be no escape!”
Edmar opened his mouth to decline the man, perhaps offer some words of consolation, and get on with his day. What was one less clan, when hundreds of men and women were fleeing the city on a daily basis? Then he paused. Taking another sip of his elixir, this one a bubbling pink in colour, he let himself think.
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It looked like Remus had jumped in power again. Edmar didn’t make a habit of it, but he’d been keeping track of Remus’ endeavours, over the last two Rebirths. It was hard not to. It made Edmar’s stomach turn to think of how many headlines the ginger boy had made.
When a Death-Marked was making such an impact, you knew the world was turning upside down.
But Edmar was powerful himself now. Especially with that. The mess of black that now resided where his Mark had once been. An imprint from Ash.
Tainted. That was what he was.
He felt Enos’ will probe into his mind every hour, but each time, he would meditate back on the tragedy of his family, on the absolute revenge he had to carry out. That pain allowed him to endure Enos’ dark attempts to win him over. He would bend the Unbounded’s will to serve his own desires. Edmar would be nobody’s slave, no matter the cost.
He was using the fiend for the power he provided. He had the upper hand in this dynamic. The thought of being reduced to one of Ash’s Paladins was sickening. It seemed the Tainted were far stronger than when compared to their standard form. How much stronger, it was impossible to tell, but Edmar had to get as powerful as possible, as fast as possible. No matter the risk or cost involved.
His family had waited long enough. Edmar was starting to get impatient.
He looked over to the image of Remus boarding a carriage one more time. Now was the perfect chance to test just how strong he really was. After so many elixirs, and the enhancing of his power through Enos’ dark influence, there was no telling what he could do. What his family’s blood was really capable of, once the chains of slavery were removed.
He was keen to find out. But also keen to crush Remus. A pest left behind from his past, who had grown far out of control. An infestation.
Like Damosh, Remus needed putting down like the dog he was. And Edmar needed to see the extent of his own strength. The choice was obvious now: following Damosh’s command would be killing two birds with one stone.
Edmar activated his Mark, feeling its malevolent power flow through him. Power from Damosh, accompanied by the dark touch of Enos.
As the Wealth Godling, Damosh served as the source of every Wealth clansmen’s power. He was the living embodiment of the word he had inscribed onto his soul when advancing to God-Graced: Wealth. What separated God-Graced and Godlings was one small technicality. God-Graced only used their inscribed power as a way to extend their versatility in battle. Godlings became gods amongst men, gifting their Marks in the same fashion as the deities, creating their own clans. If Edmar was to kill Damosh, the power that filled Edmar would no longer have a source. It would effectively leave him Death-Marked. The thought brought a certain sickness.
If not for the possibility of taking over the Wealth subject of power by challenging the man’s authority, plotting regicide would have been a foolish endeavour.
Soon, the words Wealth would be inscribed onto Edmar’s soul, the rightful bloodline.
But first, he had some loose ties to attend to.
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When Damion woke up, pain enveloped his arm. “Ow!”
He was surprised to find it in a cast. How they had managed to put that on him, without his noticing it, Damion hadn’t a clue. Every hump in the road beneath their carriage sent another wave of jolting agony across the limb.
“Bumpy part of the road. Sorry about that.” Remus smiled at him. The pair were seated in the back of a carriage, the whole road filled with their escaping party.
There was nothing to pass the time but talking, so talk they did. The frequency of their letters had only diminished as Damosh’s tyranny dragged on. As a result, the two spent a long time filling in the blanks. Completing the missing entries in each of their stories.
“It’s good to speak to you Remus. I know it’s selfish of me when you’re so busy saving the world all the time, but I miss having you around. I wish our only means of contact wasn’t the letters we send.”
Damion felt guilty for the words. Here his brother was, constantly putting his neck on the line for their family, for the world, and he was asking for more time with him. Without Remus, Damion very well may have had no time at all. Praise Infinity, Remus had just saved him only minutes ago.
But Remus took no offence. “I feel the same way. I used to be such a brat; I never got to apologise for all the stupid things I did, only making things worse when I tried to help us. It turned out well in the end, but I’ll always feel guilty for putting you, mom and dad, and the rest of the clan through so much stress. Fighting with the taxman, stealing my Droplet, ending up in prison and inadvertently raising our clan’s fees. Even now, I can’t imagine how much emotional turmoil I put you all through. Getting put on house arrest, making national news for the wrong reasons . . . “
“I’m grateful for all you’ve done for us Remus. I’m sure everyone in the Carpentry Clan feels the same way. In fact, no,” he put his one working arm on Remus’ shoulder. “As sect leader, I know we’re all indebted to you. I’ll admit, I did think you were out of your mind at first, but everything you did . . . I see how necessary it was. With how the world’s turning out, it's almost like you foresaw the disaster that was awaiting us. You just had the urgency to act on it.”
Damion’s heart throbbed. The conversation had quickly wandered into the most vulnerable of directions, and only through circling back round to small talk did Damion have a chance to recover.
Not for long, however. “I feel this sense of obligation to save everyone from this war, Damion. I always have. The Celestial War, I mean. I’ve never told anyone this, it always sounded too juvenile. But I hate this. I hate all this fighting. In that way, I’m just like Enos. We’re both just trying to bring an end to this madness. We don’t see eye-to-eye, and I can never agree with a being like that, but the gods aren’t exactly moral characters either. I just can’t think of a solution to the puzzle of this war. All I can do is fight the one battle I know can be won: returning peace to First Rite. Even that is a long shot, but I hope, if I keep fighting for what my gut tells me is right . . .”
“That we’ll all find peace one day.” Damion finished for him.
Remus smiled sheepishly. “Yeah. It’s far fetched, but the least I can do is protect the people that matter to me.”
Damion was moved by the words. “I feel the same way as Sect Leader. Back in that battle, I kept comparing myself to Edmund. There he was, taking down guard after guard, keeping his cool, and I was seized by fear. Even one of Violet’s Projections defended our people better than me. I sometimes feel like a fraud.”
“You’re not a fraud. You’re not. You’re perfect for this position Damion. Our people chose you.”
“What if they chose wrong? What if they had a lapse in judgement? How do you lead so many people in your rebellion, and not feel like an imposter?”
Remus stared out of the carriage window for a long time. Their surroundings blurred past, the carriage surprisingly swift, for the lack of a Speed clansman's power. A clan wiped of the face of the earth.
“I think our idols are never as great as we think they are. Nobody’s perfect Damion. I used to look up to Andreas like a god. Then the world showed me just how mortal he really was. If the gods, supposedly perfect beings, are so flawed, then I don’t think perfection really exists. To be alive is to be imperfect.”
“Okay, Mr philosopher, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“What I’m trying to say, Damion, is that there’s no such thing as an ideal leader. But people only need an ideal to follow, Damion, not an ideal person. Does that make sense? When people fight for me, they’re not really fighting for me. They’re fighting for what the Talents of the Future represents. Freedom. Safety. Peace and justice. You’re not supposed to be this impossible standard, you’re supposed to be the guide towards that standard. That’s what life is really about, I suppose. We’re cursed to chase perfection, but it’ll always be out of our reach. And we have to learn to be content with that.”
Damion said nought for one long, long second. “You really didn’t have much to do during your guard duty, did you? Have any other spiritual revelations from your time there?”
Remus barked in laughter. “The point is man, you’re doing just fine. You just have to break into the position like a new pair of shoes. It’ll be a perfect fit soon enough.”
“I thought you just said perfection doesn’t exist.” Damion spoke through a curve of the lips.
Remus swatted his leg. For a playful tap, it hurt.
“Sorry.” Remus blurted. “Still getting used to how strong I am now.”
Damion closed his eyes, focusing on his breath as the pain washed away. “No problem . . . Gods, you sure are strong now, aren’t you?”
“Let’s just hope I’m strong enough Damion.” Remus stared down at his clasped hands. Were they shaking? “Let’s just hope I’m strong enough . . . ”
Not two minutes had passed, and Remus broke the silence. “It was a dark time, during my service. The darkest of my life. Things were weird between Violet and I, Andreas had just died, and it felt like despite all my best efforts, Descent was still on the cusp of collapse. It was painful.”
“You never mentioned anything in your letters.“ Damion said quietly. The subject felt so fragile, Damion was afraid just speaking too loud would break something. What, he wasn’t exactly sure. “You could have spoken to me. I’m never too busy for you. For my family.”
“It took me a while to find hope again. I’ve learned recently that pain is just a catalyst for change. Whether that change is good or bad, is up to us. I just hope I’m moving in the right direction. Time will tell.”
Late afternoon sun, the syrupy, liquid gold variety, flooded into the carriage. The two of them basked in that light for a second, relaxing for this brief interval in time. An instance free of strife, free of bloodshed, free of the chaos of a universe bred for war.
“I love you man.” Damion murmured, eyes closed.
“I love you too bro. I love you too.”
Two more seconds.
If the universe were to have given him two more seconds, Damion would have fallen fast asleep.
But Damion’s entire body recoiled, as the dent was made in the carriage roof. He eyes rushed upwards.
The imprint of feet.
The horses pulling them forward neighed, swerving off the path before their driver veered them back on course. They had only narrowly avoided smashing against the side of a forest.
“W-What’s happening?” Damion hated how slow his brain became under pressure.
When golden coins began to fly past the carriage windows, the question was answered for him.
“We’ve been followed.” Something in Remus’ voice changed, as he sat up in his seat. “We’ve been followed!”