Violet unleashed the Mark she had been keeping dormant for so long, purple power rushing across her body.
There were two known ways to achieve a Tapestry. There was the usual, long-winded means of ascending to Mercenary Ranked, moulding the Tapety as your choice of Divine Fusion at Splintered Rank. Seeing how Violet still had a long way to go until she reached that Divine Rank, and with her own advancement all muddled up as a half-Unbounded, she resorted to the second means.
All it required was patience. Not using your Mark for an extended period of time, letting your power brew as you left yourself exposed. Of course, using this method would only permit the user with a temporary Tapestry, that would soon fade in a matter of hours. It only worked for those just tipping their toes into Splintered Rank, or just below it. Otherwise, your Divine Fusion would already be in progress, and your internals would be far too complicated for such a technique to bloom.
Violet met all the requirements for that kind of Tapestry . . . except time. For the Tapestry to bestow real power, you had to be patient: upwards of half a Rebirth.
But all Violet needed was a few seconds of heightened power. Enough strength to wrestle with Nova in his one moment of weakness.
Mauve light flourished across her body, with Violet becoming akin to a walking, talking beacon. Never in her life had she embodied her namesake so literally. Looking beyond the light, she could see her Mark expanded, its depiction stretching to cover her entire body in more clarity than ever.
Something occurred to her at that moment. Violet had never undergone all of this work to reveal what laid beneath her ink-covered Mark, but if activating her tapestry could reveal it . . .
Previously, Violet had only been aware of two figures standing upon a hill of corpses: Unbounded corpses, or human. It had never been clear which. The devastating scene covered her in even more detail now. Butchery was the main focus of the piece, but the two men at the centre grasped her attention more than ever. They still stood upon her forearm, as they did before, or how at least she recalled one of them being. She had always identified the Chaos god Teivel, with the little details of him that hadn’t been disguised. The latter man, she couldn’t remember noticing. He’d either blended in with the bloodbath all around, or had been disguised by the obscuring black.
Now that it had been removed . . .
She saw another Unbounded there, no doubt. An Unbounded reaching into the chest of Teivel, and killing him.
The Chaos god, dead. The other Unbounded, an eerie blur of white that could be no-one else but Enos, holding his ruptured heart in his hands. Printed on Enos’ forehead, like a blast from the past, was the oval Milap was consumed by whether he . . . whenever he fused with someone.
Violet felt sick. Enos had killed her god, or the real Violet’s god and . . . and what? Morphed with his dying body to gain absolute control over Chaos? How long ago had this been? Had Teviel ever granted her this Mark, or was it Enos? How could this take place, and a single god notice?
The questions were spiralling out of control. Violet shut off her mind. This was more proof she could show the world, to prove the evil behind the current Chaos Clan.
But first of all, she had to make use of her Tapestry. Anything else would be a colossal waste.
The Pet-Keeper was rushing towards the purple rift, and Violet knew exactly who was behind it. Nova would be deep in there somewhere — she just had to pull him out.
Violet teleported over to the purple rift, space losing every speck of meaning. Deep magenta lightning flashed everywhere she moved in a flickering trail, like cracks in reality. She reached the deep purple abyss, outright ignoring the scrambling Unbounded charging behind her. The other God-Graced would take good care of him.
This was it. Violet probably had a minute left at most. The high of the power was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, every drop of Ichor in her body boiling over with thunderous might. The Infinity that sustained so much of her form danced in a wild frenzy, every action in perfect coordination as she levelled absolute focus at the other side of the rift.
Like a fisherman reeling in his latest catch, Violet caught hold of Nova’s location. Then, holding nothing back, she pulled him acoss.
If the power exuding from Violet had been detrimental to the environment before, this next move would safely eradicate any and all greenery that dared to crop up for the next three decades.
The power erupted out of Violet with volcanic speed, venomous in its ferocity. Nothing was safe. Not the Pet-Keeper, not any bystander who dared tread too close, and not even herself. Least of all, Nova. He out of everyone would receive the shortest end of the stick.
Mud flew up at her feet, a pit rapidly forming where she stood. The Chaotic energy flooding out of Violet took on a life of its own. It distorted all it touched: gentle winds became upset hurricanes, random objects grew to be misplaced; the environment itself was jumbled up in half a dozen ways. Violet took no heed of any of it.
Nova was her absolute focus. Everything else lost all weight, all significance. He was struggling against Violet’s power now, wherever he was, and Violet would not let him win. Death sounded like a better option.
She saw his outline now. A dark shadow, creeping closer and closer into view from the other side of the purple rift.
Violet stomped one foot defiantly into the earth, gritting her teeth so tightly, she feared they would crack with the pressure. The sensation of over-exerting a Mark, to the point it burned, returned, only with a new kind of wrath all together. It was bad enough when her Mark was only the size of her forearm. Now? Violet felt like she had been slathered with oil, before having a match thrown at her.
Again, Violet focused on Nova, even the pain of the heat not enough to distract her.
She could hear the Pet-Keeper rasping in agony, but paid the dying right-bearer no mind. Nova’s face emerged through the portal, skin contorting, features straining.
Her father was in human form. His once neat man bun had become undone in the turmoil of their wrestle. Blood rushed to his overexerted face, like he could tell what was about to happen, and would do everything in his power to stop it.
Violet could feel all the eyes focused on her, their attention shifting constantly between the Pet-Keeper’s well deserved beatdown, and the beacon of purple light dragging Nova into the fray.
She was trembling. Any second now, and the impossible force Violet was exerting really would fade.
In one last blast of power, where half a dozen God-Graced were all keeping an eye on what she was doing, Violet undid Nova’s disguise.
And he transformed before their eyes.
Gone was the broad, leonine man fit to be a king. All that remained instead was an Unbounded, and a terrible one at that, in all his pearly white glory.
Violet heard the gasps of surprise, could imagine the litany of shaking heads, and savoured it all. But she couldn’t relax yet. Nova snapped into focus, a series of curses escaping his throat as he centralised more power than ever in one concentrated outburst.
That was when her Tapestry ran out.
Blasted back, Violet faced major backlash, and not just from her father. The aftermath of an induced Mark made Violet question if the tapestry had really been worth it. It was like every cell in her body was rebelling against her, intent on causing Violet as much anguish as possible.
She laid on the floor, disoriented, when two gentle hands held her shoulders. She looked up to face a very elderly woman. Grey hairs sifted down her, like coursing rivers on mountains. Violet blinked a few times, saw her vision clear, and recognised the Vitality God-Graced.
Violet blinked again, for good measure.”Eloise-?”
“Relax.” She urged her. “A Tapestry like that can be quite taxing on the body. Especially after the show you just put on for us.”
Violet did as she was bid, inclining her head to see the aftermath of the battle. Something caught in her throat when she saw the Pet-Keeper making a beeline for the purple rift. A rift Violet had failed to close.
In her bid to expose Nova, she had become blind to the most urgent issues. Now the Pet-Keeper was going to escape their grasp again.
The assembled God-Graced did their best, but the Pet-Keeper showcased new heights of agility. Eshika’s arrows chased at his back, always one foot behind. Cyrus’s flames charred the Pet-Keeper, sure, but did nothing to slow the man down. Lava streams made a better effort of blocking his path, but it was too little, too late.
Jestin pressed down all the world’s weight on the Pet-Keeper’s shoulders. The Unbounded screamed, his skeleton compressed and his bones crushed. There was little Eloise could do, but her healing powers did much to comfort the wounded scattered across the battlefield.
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The Pet-Keeper was hunched-over, burnt until his skin turned ash black, and was bleeding out of every orifice. Yet still, he limbered on, driving one foot ahead of the other. He was only feet away from the rift, and Violet watched helplessly as he made to jump through it.
Violet tried to activate her Mark, but all that earned her was a wave of pain and a swift scolding from Eloise.
He was going to make it through. It was the most certain thing in the universe. Until it wasn’t.
Aziel barreled into the Pet-Keeper’s way. It was suicidal, a death wish to step into the path of a bloodlusted God-Graced equivalent, one who would do anything to survive. But he did it anyway, white fire sending smoke billowing off his fists.
Two explosive punches jabbed into the fiend. They caught him off guard more than anything, but that was all the God-Graced needed.
Eshika, Jestin, and Cyrus all fell onto the Unbounded at once. Violet blinked, and it was over.
The rift was gone, and so was Nova, but Violet didn’t allow herself to feel disappointed. The Pet-Keeper was finally dead; she had just exposed Nova’s truth to the world. Indisputable evidence. Besides, Nova’s foresight was far too advanced for him to fall victim to something like this. Even attempting to lend one last helping hand to the Pet-Keeper was risky behaviour for her father.
Her eyes turned to the Pet-Keeper’s body — or what was left of it.
A pile of blood was all that remained, too vile for Violet to stare at too long, even for her iron stomach. Another second maybe passed, before her eyelids grew a tad too heavy.
Violet closed her eyes, and didn’t open them for a good while longer.
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Hours had passed since the Pet-Keeper’s death. Most God-Graced had departed, others had arrived in their place, and the fight was well and truly over.
Yet still, even in the infirmary, immersed in more blankets than he could ever possibly need, Koa couldn’t sleep. He looked up at his coin at last, when laughing at Beckett’s booming yawns grew old.
One day. He twirled the coin between two fingers, both sides recuperating the same thing. In a matter of hours, he would be facing his brother.
For some reason, that prospect didn’t frighten Koa. In fact, he didn’t feel much of anything at all.
Hours came and went, twisting and turning in his bed. Sleep became a distant pipe dream, his mind far too preoccupied replaying the day’s events over, and over, and over, and-
Koa audibly groaned. A sleepless night was exactly what his exhausted body didn’t need. He slammed his head against his pillow more times than he could count, stuffing his face in it.
I’m a Foot-Solider. Again, Koa felt nothing at the phrase. Not surprise, not denial, not even joy. Okay, maybe a cocky kind of smugness. But not the amount you would expect.
Perhaps it was the fatigue, leaving no room for anymore excitement. Or perhaps the last few Passings had already taken so much out of Koa — there was nothing left for him to give.
Koa had gotten so bored, he started tracking his internal senses. He was mostly curious about the kind of aura a God-Graced like Beckett would give off, wounded or not, and fast asleep.
The answer was a subdued kind of power, but Koa was more interested in something else.
The other aura he felt.
Of course, he and the Insect Clan leader weren’t the only ones here. However, the rest of the patients were Foot-Soldiers at most. Nowhere near the daunting power of Beckett, who faced no trouble fighting toe-to-toe with the Pet-Keeper, while back-up was arriving. Relatively speaking.
This other presence, on the other hand, was around Warlord. Koa focused on the foreign power, sensing a kind of intrusive quality to the energy. It undulated around the room, and Koa soon suspected that it was designed for him to notice.
He pushed the covers off of him, seeing how he was getting no sleep anyway, and tiptoed quietly out of the room. He followed the energy, clutching onto his coin so tight that it dug into his skin. That little pain was a constant reminder of what was to come. He had to be ready.
Was he walking straight into a trap, vulnerable, and maybe more exposed than ever? Quite possibly. Was Koa going to let that stop him? No. Maybe listening to his drained mind for guidance wasn’t a very good idea, but it beat spending another minute in that uncomfortable bed.
Koa turned a corner, into a stretch of trees, and was starting to get second thoughts when he saw her: the ghost.
Or at least, with the radiant, blue glow her Mark was giving off, the woman before him seemed ghostly enough.
Her hair was a blonde-white, long and falling past her shoulders in a straight curtain. Her skin was pale, contributing to the undead look, but in an attractive way. She was a little taller than Koa, but older, albeit with a youthful hint to her appearance. And her eyes . . .
At least a score of the hovering eyeballs, all a different, neon hue, orbited her head.
Koa knew instantly then who he was talking to. A Sight Sect Warlord. That alone, and his recent predicament, should have been enough for Koa to put two and two together.
Instead, drained out of his mind, Koa stared blankly at the woman. She reminded him, very vaguely, of Octavia. His heart panged at the thought; maybe it was a result of all the chaos of the last day, but he was seriously starting to get attachment issues. He wanted more than anything to see her, but knew the women were placed in their own infirmities. It wasn’t likely that he’d see her until after his duel.
It took Koa a while to realise how long it had been, and still, not a single word had been spoken.
He cleared his throat. “Hello? I’m-”
“Koa.” She learned a little closer to him, like a predator homing in on their next victim. Or at least that was the impression Koa got. She was pretty, yes, but so were several breeds of poisonous flowers. “I know you quite well. I’ve been watching you.”
Koa blinked. He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. “You have?”
She nodded. “Quite certainly. Ah, but excuse my manners. I’m Petronia, from the Sight Clan.
I gathered that. Koa harrumphed once more. “A pleasure to meet you, Petronia. Is anything of concern?”
She said the next words with such sorrow, with such soul-crushing sadness, that Koa felt his own throat constrict. “Your eye.” She placed a hand on his cheek, cool to the touch. “Why, you’re so young. It’s a pity.”
Koa tried not to blush, or breath too quickly, or otherwise do anything out of the ordinary. “Well, there’s no use complaining about it, is there? I’m just grateful to be alive.”
“You helped to kill the Pet-Keeper.” Petronia rambled on. “It was your axe throw that broke through his Divine Right. A very good throw indeed.”
“I’m sure he would have suffered the same fate, had I been there or not. It was pretty much over for the man when a gang of God-Graced came knocking.”
“Tragic and modest.” Koa couldn’t decide whether it was admiration or pity in those eyes of hers. Either way, he found himself staring at them regardless.
Koa mentally slapped himself. No Koa, think of Octavia, think of . . .
“I have taken it upon myself to remedy this injustice, the only way I know how.”
He nocked an eyebrow. “Which is . . .?”
“How would you like your own set of hovering eyes?” Petronia offered warmly. “Two or three won’t be much for my Mark to grant. They’ll bond with your energy too, eventually, and they’ll really become your own. Controlling them may take some time to learn, but for killing a Right-bearer, it’s the least we can do.”
Koa mulled over the words.
“You can choose their colour, too, if you like. I think the emerald green of your energy will be a nice fit.”
Koa laughed. “You don’t have to convince me. That’s a very generous offer, you and your clan have my thanks.”
She smiled. Again, Koa forced himself to think of Octavia, which only caused his heart to throb even more.
Out of thin air, three green eyeballs zapped into existence. They regarded him strangely, but Koa was sure the only awareness behind them was that of Petronia.
“They’re in my control right now. Reach out with your energy. Try to assert dominance. I loosen my own hold on them gradually.
Koa wasn’t quite sure of what way to tackle this. The closest thing he could relate it to was controlling the minds of small insects, or animals, which, when dealing with the airborne organs, seemed a close enough relation.
It was a slow process, but after perhaps five minutes, Koa achieved limited control of the eyes. They wandered around on their own often, the sight of their socketless nerves not a pleasant one. Regardless, they remained in his proximity.
“Looking through them all at once would be sensory overload. Even adept clansmen from my own sect have to reign in the number of eyes they use at a time. Channel energy to any of the eyes when you wish to use them.”
Koa, the sage, intelligent young man he was, proceeded to activate all eyes at once. It was strange, like simply directing power to another part of himself. Yet that wasn’t nearly as strange as the sound that escaped his throat.
“Overwhelmed?”
Koa kept his energy only focused on one eye. He sighed with relief. “I should have taken your advice.”
They were silent, for a while, until Petronia spoke up. “I spot a frown forming on those lips. Is the gift not to your liking?”
“No, no.” Koa blurted out. “Nothing like that. It’s perfect; more than I could ever ask for. It’s just . . .” He sighed. “I don’t want to dump all my problems on you, but I have a duel coming up. Sooner than you can imagine.”
“Ah,” understanding flooded into Petronia’s eyes — which Koa was totally not staring at. “Nerves?”
“A lot is riding on my success. And winning, if I even get that far, poses its own set of problems.”
“Sounds complicated.”
That was a fairer assessment of the situation than any. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
Petronia stepped back from Koa. “Whatever the case, if you can help take down a Right-bearer, I’m sure whoever it is your duelling will have their work cut out for them. A little belief in yourself is all you need.”
The words warmed Koa’s soul, but waiting around any longer wasn’t an option. He would at least need the bare minimum sleep to be functional tomorrow. What use would all this training and sacrifice be if he collapsed out of exhaustion?
“I better get some shut-eye.”
“That seems appropriate.” Energy began to swirl around her, as if Petronia was knee-deep in seawater.
Koa waved one last farewell, and she was gone.
Koa remembered stumbling back into his bed, pulling his covers over him, and shutting out the world. Finally, in the greatest mercy of his life, sleep took him.