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Ed "Hallowed One" Summers

I tap my boot against the stone tile of the temple, waiting for my guest. I know he comes not for the niceties we once had. The kind man of the past is gone. Just as Vincent slowly hardened, so has Eli. We all make choices, and they only get more complicated as we age.

Thankfully, I already sent away my sprout. Hopefully, she will have time to bloom. Demonsbane should provide the nutrients for her to blossom, and the hardly-contained rage a perfect catalyst. If not...

It's up to Vincent, then. Despite my confidence in them as people, I have little faith in Eli, Marshall, or Maddox to raise a candidate. The obstacles we face... they are too grand for any to grasp.

The man who was old even when I was a boy... It all rests on his shoulders should Kate fail. The Old Mother is shifting, her legions rising, her demons growing simultaneously more fervent and individualistic. More and more commonly, people fall to her possession, even with the Lighthouses. If they fall... no, once they fall, the world will descend into madness. Already the Nahullo are gridlocked in heart-stirring war deep in their wastes. It seems the Motherbound are coming from somewhere even further north than the inhospitable land of the Northmen.

But as my mind rails against the confines of my world, I detect a clacking of footsteps against the tiles. Here he comes.

Standing with a slight grunt from my seat, I walk my way to meet Eli Weiss, my cane guiding my way. Ether is only to be used when it must. Otherwise, we damage our ailing bodies further. Meditation extends my life, experimentation lengthens Eli's life, and raw talent provides Vincent the youth to keep our civilization breathing. Maddox is not yet to our times, the relative youngster rising much later than us three. The only thing that keeps the Wall standing is a pure unadulterated will, a defiance deep in his bones. If only... if only he had not received that injury so long ago... It extends from neck to hip and is wider than my pinky is long. Even Annie, the long-gone soul unmatched in medicine, could only seal the wound. Perhaps if he had not taken that wound, he could live a bit longer.

Yet stepping through the stone door is a man I once called brother but no longer. He betrayed me. Strayed upon the unrighteous path. I wish I had set him upon the correct one, but it was not my duty. My duty has been to guide the next bearer of Demonsbane until the final one appears. If humanity has any luck, Kate will be that one.

"Ah! Ed! So great to see you! Why's it so quiet around here?"

Eli opens his arms wide, asking for a hug, and I return it, revealing little to the skinny gray-haired man with metal teeth. I could almost imagine him a mad hatter if I had not known who he was.

"That time of year. My recruits are off to the north to practice against the pales."

His eyebrows rise, the wisest man alive not buying my bullshit. I know he won't. But that doesn't matter. I'm only playing these charades to buy her some time. The further she gets into Onyx Gate, the safer she is. Not even Eli will spread his roots into Vincent's home. If she's smart, she'll stay there until she becomes an Angel.

"Is that so? They left you, such an old man, here all alone? It must be unbearable. Do you mind if I stay? I always enjoy some company."

I know his game. He wants to sit here. Wait for Kate to return, knowing my protege must return at some point. I've hidden her from him so far, but he must know she exists in some capacity. Yet, more time must be bought. Twenty years old and six Sigils. What an impressive resume. Not too far from Vincent's record almost a century ago.

But I already predicted this once I heard that Blightraven was hit. Eli's taking the gloves off. War is coming, internally and externally. Marshall will hold the southwest as long as possible, and I will do the same for the north. I may not get as much recognition as he, for his battles are far louder and grander, but the guerilla warfare in the tundra is no less brutal.

Kate Heron is long gone, never to return to the nest. I made sure of that. Kindness cannot exist when the weight of the world rests on your shoulders. Either Vincent's mad plan works, whatever he's been cooking the past half-century when he left for beyond our borders, leaving the head unattended, or Kate can make the mad dash to his level in time.

Whatever the case, all my acolytes, those who protect the Temple Of Solemnity, have been spread out amid the Territories, each a vessel to aid her. The northern border will soon crumble with Starkbluffs owned by Nahullos, even with their war against the 'Kin' as they call them. In fact, the pressure will make them even more raucous in their attacks as they seek sanctuary. A meager me won't stop the course of their race. Just as we race for the pinnacle, so too do the other peoples of Mari, the world's largest continent.

Even amongst the races, we battle. None wants to be crushed under another's boot when they become a God. But at the same time, your own race will treat you better than the others.

My thoughts are rapid, moving at a past that makes the conversation fluid and inconspicuous. Benefits of years of meditation and a profoundly high Abbot-Mentalist duo. My mind has been molded over decades to be a vessel for Demonsbane, for I am, Zenfist, the Enlightened Hand. Yet, Kate is a far better vessel. That artifact in her eye fills the Mentalist requirement twice as handily as me, and her Abbots do the same.

"You're welcome to stay, friend. I'll never push you away; you know that. Come, come. Sit with me."

Eli nods gratefully, his face twisting into a kind smile of an average old man. But I know he is anything but. This is a game of inches, for that is all he needs. I may be clever, but I cannot compare to him. I must keep my heart stable, my hands calm, and my eyes focused.

"Great! I have much to discuss!"

We both tap our way on the stone over to the chairs I have built beside a fireplace. It does get quite cold up here, after all. Ether can only be used to defend yourself or others within the ground of my temple. Any other use, and you open yourself to forces beyond your control. To defy and wield Demonsbane, only the purest mind will work. A chaste mentality that is slowly defiled by the energies within it.

"Wonderful. I've been wanting to speak with you, Eli."

The old man across from me smiles with a dry chuckle, fitting himself into the comfortable chair Kate was in yesterday. Run girl. Run.

"Oh? Is that so? What's so pressing?"

I clasp my fingers between each other as I bring up the recent fallen.

"Kai. Ashley. Eden. Blightraven. How will we come back from this? The four losses are massive, something that only occurs during great wars. Do you have any preparations? If we lose any more, a full-scale invasion will occur. You know this."

I try to weasel anything out of him that might aid us. Heaven's Door is still far away. We need to buy time. As far as I know, the Pygmies only have one candidate and the Nahullo two. We have four, five if you count Vincent butting in, but the old man's whereabouts are unknown, even to me. The demons have seven, though. They always seem to outperform us. And for all that Eli does in the shadows, his methods have kept the Pygmies and Nahullo far behind, his roots extending both into the icy north and treacherous south.

Eli takes a moment to think, something far unneeded for his speed of thought. Then, his lips move meticulously but unhurriedly.

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"I do. And it's not all bad as you may think. Lennon Hull, Edward Dudley, and Johnny Caldwell have recently taken the leap, three juniors to replace the fallen. They may not have the experience but fight, they will. And... Lennon holds potential despite his ordinary rise. Plus, Maddox's offspring should have borne fruit by now, not to mention Marshall's adopted that should be rising soon. Feasibly, we are only down one Angel, and there is a high chance we could be at twelve or perhaps even more. And even if Vincent refuses to show himself, he is present. I know he is."

As he talks, I start to connect the dots, and when he pauses, I finish the portrait in my mind of his plan. He's done this on purpose. Everything he does has intent. The inventor of the steam train, the creator of a Lumen, continues his words, each leaving poundage in the air, hints of his ingenuity.

"We can use this. They think us weak. Pygmies and demons are already bashing their heads against Marshall, whittling down energy and patience. Nahullo are cleaning out Starkbluffs of any survivors and setting up the region before they continue, but they will. I say we prepare a gift for them. A small present from those they think are fragile. If we can remove all their Virtues, then we may run house, letting Vincent handle their Dominions."

Indeed. He wants to strike back. Lure the Pygmies, Nahullo, or demons into an ambush to inflict severe damage using our weakness, turning the others' attention toward them. But how? We don't control Edward or Johnny, let alone the bombastic Lennon. I need to figure out his plans. Not just these. Any hint of the future will be massive at this crossroads.

"I see. And how should we go about this? We don't have any control over those three. Edward is still battling Myriad, which, if they cause any more collateral, I may have to stop them, Johnny's location is unknown, and Lennon is proceeding toward Bent after pushing back Joseph. Plus, we are only ostensibly missing four Powers. All Virtues still remain, and so does Marshall, our little human God Of War. I have difficulty seeing our opponents being that rash."

The Underground Tree laughs, his hand slapping his knee in a gesture of comedy. But it is only a farce, the man endeavoring to play me in any way he can to gain leverage. His words show but a sliver of how far he will tread into Hell to reach any Heaven.

"Indeed. But we can use all those things. Johnny is a good man; with him is a child with great potential, possibly even another candidate. I reckon they are heading toward Bent or Blackreach as we speak so that Johnny can give the kid training."

As he lectures, Eli leans forth, and with a spark of lightning from a device on his forefinger, he digs a map into the table between us. My heart aches at the wasted material, but I remain silent.

"My Roots tell me that Marshall is nearing his limit. The years have been the most demanding for him, but he knew the deal when he built that fortress. Months, weeks, perhaps even days, and that wall will fall..."

I barely stop myself from bursting out in anger, the notion of such a close friend dying and the other thousands that rely on him just for a plan is a bit much, but I have no other choice. I am sorry, my friend. The game we play is simply too grand. Even you are but a chess piece.

"...Johnny will likely arrive at Bent within the week and Lennon the month after that. If we can somehow sabotage the defenses for them to fall precisely when Johnny arrives, he, Tomas Travis, and Lennon will be forced to turn back for Blackreach. Stopping in the farmland of Vallens would be suicidal with the limited defenses present there. So, they are all almost guaranteed to continue to Blackreach for food, ammo, fortification, or rest. Then--"

I finally cut in, understanding how he will make this happen but unwilling to reveal that I do. As I do, I reach far, bursting my mind's eye with a Message beyond the scope of the temple, piercing a warning toward the little one I have a connection with---Eli is setting a trap for Marshall. Strike his Roots.

Whether the Message is received is unknown, but I can only hope Kate hears it. Worst case, the Mindful Eye should pick it up. Though, there is a chance the damned artifact rebels. They are only at Twilight, after all. Eclipse is still far, far away despite their two decades intertwined. She... is not quite equal to her father. Just thinking about him brings an ache to my chest. The Last Hollow was quite the foe, after all.

"How are you so sure? They could go to Lawless Lake, too, right? Maddox welcomes any who follows his decrees."

Eli nods sagely before explaining.

"Ah, yes, they could, but I'll harry them with my Roots to send them in the appropriate path. I won't have to block Sinscreak for apparent reasons or Timberlands, as they are likely wary of me. So, their only course of action will be to follow the cone pointing to Blackreach's doors. In the end, they will all gather within the gates of Blackreach. Four total Angels, if you count Myriad. Of course, changes may very well come if unwanted agents join, but for now, it is a good schema."

He finishes speaking, the ending of the plan left unsaid. How will he get our enemies to overextend? They won't invade if they know that four Powers are waiting for them to enter the gates of Blackreach, the east's second most heavily armed city. What would give them the confidence? No Arca in the world is worth that risk. Except...

My eyes never leave Eli as I ponder, and I catch a glimpse of his focus shifting to my hip, where the fake Demonsbane is placed. Only barely do I prevent my heart from pounding as he does so.

But before I can gauge whether or not he's noticed that the greatest Claymore in the world is gone, Eli continues, his breath hitched.

"We have done this for a long time, my friend. Does it ever become too much? That blade of yours is a grim responsibility, just as my network is overloading. It feels like...when we were younger, the world was grander, more impressive... larger. The expansions west were... fun, even if bloody. This... this is all just blood and gore."

For a fraction of a second, I'm surprised by his opening up, but I answer him truthfully, a remote connection made against the weight of lies.

"Indeed. But... I don't think the world has shrunk. It's still the same. It's just that... there is less in it. Less to discover. Less to explore. Less to run away to. Less to enjoy. Gone are the times we could push forward, discover new things, and grow as people. Our limits are reached, Eli. Every time I draw this blade, I wonder if it's my last. Coming back is uncertain, but losing is guaranteed. I am sure it is not dissimilar for you and your experiments."

Eli nods slowly, his head falling low as a subtle silence hangs between the two of us, almost as if time was wrung back decades to when we were but lads chasing dreams, battling demons, and saving the world. The man across from me breaks the silence, standing to leave.

"Well... I must get going. It has been a well-needed chat. Plans need someone to set them into motion, right?"

I stand to guide him, surprised he's finished speaking with me so quickly. Did he travel over a thousand miles just for this? A ten-minute conversation. Is that all he wanted? To tell me his masterful plan? Will he not wait to find Kate? Or has he already discerned what he needs to? Damnit, Eli! Why are you so inscrutable!?

My cane carries me as I walk him out. Something else must be on his mind. I shouldn't leave him alone.

The tiles clack beneath us as we traverse the grounds of the Temple Of Solemnity, the place I've called home most of my life. My steps are weary yet firm. Any moment I can burst out with enough Vigor and Ether to level a city block, but I save that power for when it is needed. Every display of strength at our age is another that will never come.

Still, I don't know how Marshall does it. Lower than me in Sigil, yet guaranteed to defeat me without Demonsbane. He's fought ten times, if not fifty times as many battles as me, yet he still stands. If anyone deserves this peaceful temple, it is that man. Not that he would take it.

Marshall would instead break a hundred times than let another feel the ache of a needle.

As the heavy doors of the ancient stone temple swing open to my subtle push with Momentum, I lead my old friend, now turned adversary, through the dimly lit corridors. None of the acolytes are here to keep the torches lit, so the thwarted sun and the dying brilliance of torches are all that give us light. The air is still, carrying a sense of quiet tension that mirrors the unspoken rift between us. Not a single word escapes our lips, for the weight of our past and the unshared secrets that reside within each of us are like a thick barrier sealing our mouths shut. Neither wants to reveal anything as we constantly search the other. With every step, the echoes of our footfalls reverberate through the silent halls, a haunting reminder of the distance that has grown between our souls. Once upon a time, we fought back to back, willing to die for another. Now, we scheme, plan, and battle with our minds, merely one juncture from doing a physical struggle. The only thing that stops us is an unspoken truce. We are both human and serve the same cause.

The silence amplifies the thoughts that swirl within my mind, a whirlwind of memories, regrets, and unexpressed emotions. The lines etched on my old friend's face reveal a mixture of weariness and guardedness, a mirror of my own countenance. Our eyes meet occasionally, but Eli's gaze quickly averts, unwilling to confront the truths beneath. And so, we continue our wordless journey, honoring the unspoken pact to keep our secrets locked away. Each step is a measured gesture, a silent plea for understanding and forgiveness. The silence speaks volumes, for it is in the absence of words that the depth of our connection, and the pain of our broken bond, becomes achingly clear.

Our peaceful walk leads us outside the temple to the low grass-covered fields surrounding the stone buildings. At any other time of year other than now, there is snow that replaces the grass.

I pause at the open gateway leading outside, looking at my old rival, friend, and ally. I know I shouldn't, but... I have to. I have to try one last time for all the years we spent together.

"There's no coming back, is there, Eli?"

Eli Weiss shakes his head sadly before opening his arms for an embrace.

"I'm afraid not, Ed. We simply differ far too much on how things should be handled. Perhaps... one day when the ashes settle. If we are both still alive."

Exhaling a sorrowful breath, I step forward and take his gesture, wrapping my arms around him one last time. But as I do, I immediately realize something is off as Ed, no, the Underground Tree, hugs me tightly and whispers into my ear.

"I am sorry, Ed. Truly. But know... it is not personal. Sacrifices are needed; it is simply how the pieces must go. Without enough pawns in one place, Vincent cannot complete his Apotheosis."

A clack resounds as I instantly flow Ether through my veins, intertwining it carefully with Vigor as my muscles bulge and force explodes from my frame. But the clack doesn't come from me; it comes from dozens of spindly steel coils underneath Ed's robes and stabbing into my body. Bursts of air inject me with pain as they clamp on tightly. Coiled Steam. Shit!

I push myself backward, the force of a thousand men leaving at once with Serene Step, but I do not move. The tendrils hold me tightly as I rage against them, accelerating my Ether to even higher heights, my Dzil emerging. Azure Rampart, the pinnacle passed to me from Vincent's Archives, stops the metal tendrils as they try to inject me with some fluid, probably a poison or sedative of some kind.

Again, I try to heave from Eli's unwieldy grasp, but it doesn't work. The tendrils hold tightly as I raise my hand, Ether and Vigor meeting in the peak of my knuckle for my second Dzil, Needle.

Eli's eyes widen, but the moment before my Needle perforates his skull and burrows a thousand feet into the dirt, a hand clasps around mine. Immediately, I release the projectile, assuming he brought some backup, only for it to pass through the palm, arm, and skull of an unfeeling Root of his.

Quickly, I manifest another Needle, trusting Azure Rampart to keep my frame safe, but Eli came prepared. He always does. He must know Demonsbane is gone, for I cut cleave him in two in but a moment with the weapon this close. He knows all my skills and techniques, finding the chink in my triangular strengths. Azure Rampart for defense, Needle for utility and long-range attacks, and the skills and traits of Demonsbane for close-quarters combat and survival.

A sly smile rises on his face as a green gas flows from the tendrils, filling the air, a dozen Roots appearing to use their Ether to keep the toxins close.

Without a word, I seal my lips and nose and close my eyes. Eli wouldn't have come unless he knew the poison could knock me out. But that doesn't mean I just give up.

However, I now know his plan. And it's ingenious. Ingeniously demonic.

"Again, I am sorry, my friend. Vincent needs my help, even if he refuses to take it. For a man to become a God... even for one such as he... it is an undertaking that requires untold tragedy, both for us and him."