Her [https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/pw/AP1GczMjLa8DPFlqHX4xENouEYGL8YN7dV6vC-xNMuxDG_PIUWPQSJHclFGLE4cPD3KDicHw9Up4WZVE7b1wBVq6aognuIqEQM9VKC-UR4C0E58g5VOs_6Fus7mIP5eV4ULobYRnqakERJTDmk2afjErg6o6=w613-h919-s-no-gm?authuser=0]
Kara had never questioned her faith before. Never questioned her worth in her goddess’ eyes. But this newest quest was hitting some nerves that she didn’t think she even had at Obsidian. Her entire being was basically pure magic at this point, this pinnacle of mortality that made her immortal in at least one regard.
While she might be considered young compared to other Obsidian Casters, she had still seen her fair share of the world and the absurdities that it offered, both joyous and terrible, but through it all, she had been serving her goddess quite happily for over two centuries.
Now she comes across this child that her goddess has known for all of three seconds before marking her with the greatest blessing and trust a deity could grant. It was beyond absurd and borderline insulting, but she knew there had to be a good reason for it.
The temple of the Champion here in Tulimeir was a small affair of a tiny two-story tower of white marble with golden veins nestled amongst some other smaller temples. Its current neighbors included the Fainéant, Giver, Avenger, and Hero. Those last two weren’t unusual companions, she had noted throughout her travels.
She made her way into the inner sanctuary before any of its attendants could even blink to register her presence and sat on the floor in the lotus position, her tails fanned out behind her like splayed petals decorating the currently empty room.
It felt odd to be here without her goddess’ projection present to see and speak with, but she had figured out something very strange was going on when her goddess’ last whisper to her was a simple order to go save Phoenix Wayland, the new Chosen, and the city she resides in before coming here to this sanctuary to speak once more.
“Apologies for the worries I have caused, Kara,” the goddess quietly whispered within her, “I do not have the power remaining to manifest a projection properly, not even in this sanctuary, and even whispers beyond it will need to stop for a time.”
The Paladin frowned. She had heard that Soul Marks were extremely expensive for deities to grant, but she hadn’t realized it would be to this extent. “The other deities haven’t gone silent from granting– oh… the downside of being a more minor goddess that people only turn to at wartime?”
“This war has taken much out of me. My followers were too few beforehand and are being called upon much more during this troubling time, leading to inevitable losses and waning faith.”
“Why would you waste so much of it then? Why her? I understand that she is a Wayfarer and a Wayland –and that alone is interesting at the least– but she’s an ignorant child who knows nothing about our world or our ways of life.”
“She has the greatest potential this world has ever seen.”
“I fail to see that. Don’t get me wrong,” she began correcting, realizing she was sounding way more judgmental than she meant to be towards her goddess’ Chosen, “She seems like a wonderful person. At least from the bits I’ve seen and overheard –which is a lot in this gossipy city and with my level of hearing.
“She seems to have the heart of a champion for sure, your mark alone is proof of that, but she’s Crystal Caste. If you’re going to spend so much power to mark a Chosen in the first place, why not on someone who won’t die so easily that you had to send an Obsidian like me to protect her? I’m sorry for my questions, but I’m feeling like the ignorant one here for not understanding.”
“You are indeed missing a lot of information,” the goddess replied, and Kara could feel the amusement of a mother observing a petulant child –which was probably what she sounded like at the moment, and that only caused her to become crankier.
“There are two main pieces that I think may assuage you,” the deity continued whispering, “The first is that it costs exponentially more power to create the Soul Mark the higher the Caste the recipient is. Obsidians are actually impossible for us to mark as Chosen.”
That did mollify Kara quite a bit, and her tails became less poofy as she noticeably calmed. She hadn’t liked feeling jealous like she had, thinking she hadn’t proved her worth to her goddess in all her centuries of service. The fact that it wasn’t necessarily a failing on her part but the risk and limitations of the gods soothed her temporary agitation and worries.
The clarification meant that the gods had to make a larger gamble whether they spent the power sooner or later and she already knew that there was divine backlash if the Chosen died.
That was the main reason most clergy were taught about in regard to why so few Chosen existed in the first place. No one wanted their god to go silent for centuries because they lost one of their Chosen before they reached Obsidian, became immortal, and potentially evolved into something new.
But that still didn’t explain why Champion, or all those other deities, chose Phoenix.
“The second piece of information is that Phoenix Wayland is already immortal, to an extent.”
Kara blinked at the empty silent room. She rarely had to pause to process new information but she was sure she must have heard wrong. That child was definitely not Obsidian and she could still sense the Wayfarer aging, albeit, a bit slower than a Mundane but certainly not to the point that Obsidians gained where their bodies got rid of that process altogether.
“She has a talent that returns her soul home and reconstructs her body if it dies.”
“So, she wasn’t a gamble for you at all,” the voxen surmised in awe, “She’s already evolved into that final stage?”
“Not quite,” the goddess corrected her assumption, “I believe you could help guide it should the need arise, but she doesn’t understand it herself yet.
“As for the gamble, I just needed the right opportunity and reward to trade,” the goddess confirmed, then actually seemed to grumble, “I think the others cheated a bit, spending more of their power than I could in order to bend some rules. Giving a quest, loot upgrades, and title should not have counted as a fair trade, in my opinion, and don’t even get me started on Cultivator buying her mark with Bits. I have a bit of a soft spot for Hero, though.”
Kara perked her ears up at that. She always enjoyed learning what she could about her goddess but most deities were notoriously quiet in regards to themselves. However, she had noticed over the centuries how mortal some of them behaved.
The goddess chuckled at her thoughts, “Some of us were mortal once, myself included. We change when we ascend, but we don’t lose all of ourselves.”
“How did you ascend?” she asked curiously, trying to force her tails not to wag like an over-excited kit to little avail.
“Hero was the one to raise me and my love. That was a very long time ago, however, and a very long story in itself.”
“You loved someone? Another deity?” she asked. Though she had heard rumors before and it explained the constant neighbors, so she guessed with a grin, “Avenger? Hero raised him as well?”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“We’re always the ones people turn to when they’ve run out of other options. When their hope is on the verge of being extinguished.”
“I know of a few more gods they go to when they feel like they have nothing left to lose,” Kara said with a frown, remembering quite a few of the Voidsworn Zealots that have shown themselves over the years.
“I believe those gods are who they turn to when that hope has died. When all they care about is making others hurt like they do and burning the world with them.”
“Speaking of the world burning,” the Paladin said, changing the subject to the other curiosity she wanted to ask her goddess about, “Should I get rid of the Cataclysm Mage before he hurts the others?”
“Kara, my dearest child, we’ve talked about not judging people instantly like that before,” Champion replied in a mild reprimand.
“I just don’t see the point of risking them like that.”
“Leave him be. Despite what you might think, he steadies my Chosen.”
“Him? You’re joking. I thought for sure that the Healer was the one keeping her sane with everything that’s been happening to and around her.”
“They all do. Haven’t you noticed already?” the goddess teased, “They are her pillars… Well, most of them. I believe a couple still remain to reunite, but I’m certain fate –along with a couple of siblings of mine– will help them unite along the path.”
“Pillars?” she asked in confusion.
“My own term. But I know she will become even greater once she has all of them beside her. It’s not every millennium a Divine Quintessence begins to form after all.”
“Quintessence? Like in the legend of the Daekin’s Downfall?” she asked, perking up again and the old story of another Wayfarer from long ago before the daekin all vanished from the surface world.
“Similarly so. Now, I must rest. I spent too much on her mark and your quest. Keep being a champion, complete your quest, and I should awaken soon.”
“Can I shop with her in the meantime? Or are there any other goals I should focus on during this protection quest?”
“Maybe help Phoenix learn to be more of a champion as well. She could do well with a bit more confidence.”
Kara snorted a laugh, “That seems like both an understatement and overstatement based on what I’ve seen versus the rumors I’ve heard. Apparently, she’s like a shivering turtle around people and a rabid wolf around monsters.”
“It’s been a work in progress, one I’m hoping you can help.”
“I’ll see what I can do to drag her out of her shell.”
“Hopefully, not kicking and screaming…”
“Maybe a little screaming,” Kara replied with a vulpine grin.
----------------------------------------
Lord Ethan Teras was still grieving while he tried his best to lead the Order of Magic after having recently been promoted to the position of Chancellor for this branch in Tulim. His Simmon was so kind and bright that the loss of him was heartbreaking on multiple levels. Aside from the brilliant future that had been promised for such a blessed youth, he was Ethan’s only son and youngest child.
No parent wanted to outlive their kids, and his husband, Icarius, was suffering even more, it seemed. After the imminent threat of the monster army had been dealt with by Champion’s miraculous gift, Icarius had practically locked himself away at the house, spending too much time in their son’s room. He wasn’t about to try telling the man how to mourn, though.
Polissa had been a mixed bag of emotions as well and he had contacted the Temple of the Mender and the Undertaker to help put them all in touch with someone who could help them navigate the loss but, unsurprisingly, they had been stretched beyond thin with so many lives lost over the last half year of monsters plaguing their world.
His daughter seemed to be struggling to come to terms with the loss itself as well as his decision to declare “Heir’s Privilege” to keep her home and away from the fighting. Normally, the option wouldn’t be used if there was a younger child available to take up the title but now Polissa was their family’s youngest member.
He couldn’t even think about bringing up the topic of having another child now with Icarius. It would be expected for their position as nobles –especially without a branch family to help supplement– but he simply couldn’t dwell on that now, it felt too much like trying to replace what couldn’t be replaced.
So he took the only option he felt he could live with at the moment, and that was to keep his daughter safe at home while he and Icarius tried to do what they could on the front lines. His golems assisted greatly in holding the line but not enough for the sheer number discrepancy. Icarius was even less of a combatant than he was, though, what with being a Sapphire Caste Glacial Sculptor. He was lucky that his husband didn’t join their son.
Once the battle was over, Ethan didn’t return home. While Icarius was finding comfort in the memories of their son, they only brought him pain. To avoid that, he went where there were no memories of Simmon: his work.
He had been fairly stringent about keeping work and family separate, not wanting one to distract from the other, and now it served as his refuge. Unfortunately, due to his new position, he couldn’t lose himself in the trance-like challenges of solving complex magical algorithms involved in golem crafting. The Magi wanted to escape to his workshop in the OOM building where he was sure things had begun to collect dust with how often he had been pulled away from it lately.
Instead, he was now standing near the wreckage of the first destroyed ship that the Obsidian Caster had split in twain without using the explosive abilities she had at her disposal due to how close it had gotten to the city walls. Only about a kilometer out from the walls, he was sure they would have felt the repercussions and suffered for it if she had.
He already had teams of Magi scouring the ship remains as safely as possible once the fires had died down. Anything they could learn might help them should the Soul Reapers return with more of their seemingly endless supply of forces. They had even managed to capture some of their Casters but that was for the AOA and Duke to deal with. His concerns were in analyzing the ship’s magical capabilities –that might as well have been gibberish to them– and ascertaining the risks involved with the curious object that was causing them even greater concern than the Soul Reapers: the Corrupted Reality Seed.
When the Emerald Caste ship had crashed into the force that was an Obsidian Caster, it had released its cargo, and as soon as the seed touched the ground, it seemed to know exactly what it was meant to do. Now, he needed to figure out what exactly that was.
As he stood observing things, he half listened to his new Vice-Chancellor who was excitedly speaking about the technology that had been “dropped on their doorstep” and what a “fantastic opportunity” this was to add to the Scholar’s deep wells of knowledge, being comparable to the arrival of a Wayfarer.
That comparison made his thoughts wander to his friend, Paul, who had saved his daughter’s life, and the Paladin’s new daughter who seemed to always be at the center of things since arriving in their city. He knew Wayfarers often found themselves as the epicenter of events for reasons unknown but he didn’t want his daughter caught up in that and end up like his son. The other thing many Wayfarers had in common was that death and tragedy often followed them like fleas on a frolf.
Those thoughts were interrupted, and his Vice-Chancellor’s musings paused as his personal assistant cautiously walked up to them, looking everywhere but at them.
“The Reality Seed is a bad oddity,” Camilla Saren said to him quietly as she looked at the ground in between them, “It is similar to the Corrupted Pseudo-Reality Seed within Tulisuda, but those seeds have reached their limits. Without being triggered to explosively release their absorbed mana, they have shown signs of decay. I believe they will die soon, and then the land can be cleansed.”
The human woman glanced back towards the location where the seed had spread its roots deep into the ground, creating runic symbols with off-shooting vines along the surface, and was ominously glowing from whatever organic ritual it had triggered while also secreting a sickly-looking black ooze at various points.
“Will this do the same?” he asked when his most trusted assistant seemed to become lost in thought. He normally didn’t like interrupting her when she got like that, but he needed a better understanding of what they were dealing with sooner rather than later.
She jumped slightly but turned back toward him, looking down at the wand in her hands instead this time as she replied, “I–it, um, no,” she seemed to compose herself another few moments later before starting her explanation again, “Unlike the Corrupted Pseudo-Reality Seed, this one isn’t waiting on a triggering ritual network. It is refining the ambient magic, effectively increasing the area’s Caste, and I haven’t determined when or if it will stop. Unlike the other seed, this one is growing, not dying.”
“Thank you for the update, Camilla,” he replied and tried not to let his frown show and make the woman think he might be disappointed in her rather than the information she delivered. Instead, he managed a small smile as he encouraged her, “I’ll let you get back to your work then. If anyone can figure out the ramifications of these and how we might circumvent any negative outcomes, I have complete faith that you would be the one to accomplish it.”
She gave a small nod and turned to leave, making her way back through the snow and ash to return to the giant seed that had implanted itself in the ground.
“Why her, Lord Teras?” his Vice-Chancellor spoke up again, the whine in his voice poorly hidden, “Of all the bright Magi that would love to examine the Reality Seed, you choose your personal assistant?”
“She has the best mind for this kind of work,” he replied bluntly, turning his head to look at the man.
“Her mind is broken, Lord Teras. She can barely think on her feet enough to form a coherent sentence when questioned,” the runeforged replied with a sneer of disgust leveled at the woman’s back.
“She’s not broken, and if you say that again, you won’t be part of the OOM any longer,” Ethan threatened with absolute sincerity, “I don’t need a conversationalist. I need the woman who can run numbers around you as though you were a slimy Blopgum trying to catch a Swiftluck.”
“Excuse me?!”
“You’re excused,” he replied promptly, cutting off any more outrage with his own simmering anger, “Now get back to work before you piss me off further. A lot of people died to give you such a ‘fantastic opportunity’ after all.”