I reached out, took the stack of papers and eyed it with curiosity. The cover was a single blank sheet that looked as if it were dipped in tea and left to dry overnight. Underneath it, however, were stacks of paper covered in ink that shifted and moved like gentle gusts of wind. The first was that of the northern portion of the eastern palace, at least that's is what the label said.. There were fortifications that stretched out between two buildings, and a paved road that traveled through it. Down that road were dozens of other buildings and structures that I couldn’t identify through the shifting black ink.
“This is the northern part of the palace, and it leads to a small central village. It’s also the only known pathway, as the others have been sealed over the years.” Kharon spoke quietly as my eyes danced across the page.
It was odd, really, how the ink captured each shape, and painted it in what looked to be real time. “Kharon, how does this work?” It had to be magic, but even the returning memories of this place didn’t seem to have a definitive answer.
“The paper?” His voice rose in pitch slightly as he glanced at it. “It’s complicated, but once the empire fell, we had to be creative with our resources. This is a blend of divination, conjuration, and other types of magic. The paper functions as a reciprocal to the magic, and shows a certain area in real time. Though it still needs some work to be more usable on a large scale.”
My eyes stayed glued to the paper in wonder. I’d say it was ingenious, but my knowledge of magic was a little lacking. So instead of making myself look dumb and asking more questions, I instead flicked through the rest of the papers. “How big is the village?”
“There are a few thousand people who live there. That isn’t including the exterior village as well.” Kharon stood close by, with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His glowing red eyes waxed and waned with each breath that I took. Almost in tandem now that I think about it.
“Troop counts?” I thumbed the rest of the paper, already seeing the answer, but still wanting him to tell me.
“There are ten thousand from the first legion stationed around the palace and the outer village. Then there are five thousand remaining praetorians, a hundred palatines, and only five Athanatoi left in the remnants of Asteria. Then there is only one more who is in self imposed exile.”
I chewed on his words for a moment. All the information he was giving me seemed like it was too quickly prepared. Was he truly in a rush like the other part of me said? If he was, he was hiding it very well. But two can play at that game. “Who is the Athanatoi in exile?” I would get to the other questions soon enough.
“The Captain-General. She left shortly after you died. Though I’m sure if you called out to her, she would come running.” He sounded somewhat coy about that, almost like he knew about the dream that I had recently. But it also hinted at something else that I didn’t have words for.
I felt my heart twist slightly as another set of memories seeped into my mind. These were hazy, and I couldn’t pick out anything specific, but they made my heart sting. Was I close to whoever that was? Should I ask about them? That was another dilemma that I had to deal with. We were two separate people, so was I allowed to feel anything for the people that I, or we rather once, knew? What about the people that I once knew? The thought crept in and my resolve was sapped just a touch. I was still sad about it all, but I knew the memories would return in time.
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“What threats are we currently facing?” I shifted my attention away from my doubts and back to the task at hand.
“There are a few successor kingdoms in the area. Not to mention the rising imp threat. Those two are the biggest, as most of the goblin tribes in the area that haven’t been corrupted have been assimilated or destroyed.” Kharon still stood close by. His eyes never left the papers in front of me as he recounted the details to me.
“What are the imps? Have we assimilated any goblin tribes? How big of a threat are the successor kingdoms?” More and more questions poured out of my mouth as I realized the severity of the situation that we were in. Honestly, it was now or never at this point.
“Imps are goblins who were converted by fell energy. They are a scourge that appeared about a hundred years ago and spread like wildfire. It is to be noted, however, that Imps are powerful and can fight many mortal cultivators on equal footing, at least before the nascent core level.” I nodded my head as a fresh wave of understanding blossomed in my mind.
Between kingdoms vying for control, and imps running rampant, what was left of Asteria is doomed to fall. Now I understand why Kharon brought me to a cultivation chamber and why the other half of me was pushing me towards a path of war. My life was truly in danger here, and it was a do or die.
A coldness crept into my chest as I realized just how alone I was. I might know kharon, but I don’t know him. As it stands, I’m here all alone. With no one to rely on, and only the memories of a long dead woman to keep me company. This life sucks. Truly, my other half was a bitch to do this to me. But it takes one to know one.
“Is this hopeless?” The words left my lips in a quiet whisper. This felt unsurmountable. I had no clue what to do. With all the threats, and the lack of my knowledge, it felt truly hopeless.
“It will be hard, Empress. But, we will rise again. With your presence, the undead will be inspired, and the living subjects will be quick to follow. I have faith in you Calixa, all of us undead have faith in you. With you guiding us, there is nothing we cannot do.” His words carried a sense of righteousness. Almost like it was a well practiced rhetoric. That was very interesting, and something that I should look into later.
But whatever it was, lit a small candle in my chest. I was a goddess. It was something that didn’t seem real to me. But I also knew it to be true. I was their goddess, and they worshiped me. The cries that hammered into my thoughts when I met with my divine self came back to me. They needed me to be their light.
It all swirled in my head, in a giant vortex. My head pounded as I felt something crack inside of me. It was the smallest of cracks, and with it came a memory. A memory that I knew was truly my own. It was that of me reading a poem in school. Something written by Dylan Thomas, or a fragment at least.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
I wasn’t sure if that poem came back to me of my accord, or if my divine half threw me a bone. But it made me feel warm and filled me with a sense of self. I wouldn’t sit here and be paralyzed by fear. I would rage against the coming darkness.
“Kharon.” I took a deep breath to steady the fire that had turned into a burning conflagration in my chest.
“Yes, my Empress?” He asked as he stepped backwards. His gloved hands appeared in front of his chest as he bowed slightly.
“Bring me a war map. We will begin preparations at once. Let no one but my personal guard know that I’ve returned.” I closed my eyes as the inferno in my chest cooled. I will push my cultivation to the next tier, and then I would lead from the front. The world will know I’ve returned, and that’s fine. Let them come.