Years Since Creation: 3993

Location: Significance Plane, Old One System, Sybil

In a flash of light, Darvon reformed into his material self and was greeted by a stone-grey room covered in the same black runes as the Hall of Ascension. The only difference being the pair of Drak floating in front of the steel door. They, like all their kind, looked like a pile of grey skin loosely shaped into the form of a floating head. Before either Ilios or Darvon could say anything to them, they bowed to Eswin while letting out an eerie hum from their giant mouths. Eswin answered back in the same language, which Darvon knew to only be possible through extensive vocal alterations.

“Enough Eswin, I care not for powerplays during a ritual of Ascension. Regardless of the status of your family as a guard of Sybil, your household holds no more power over Qrumin than any other Zhaber branch.” Ilios said with a disgruntled look, and breezed past the two Drak, quickly followed by a chastised Eswin.

Darvon was more careful in his treatment of the two, nodding respectfully to both as he walked by them, knowing that they were contracted to the being he was about to meet. From what he understood Drak could not survive without being bonded to an Old One, and Qrumin was the only one that the Zhaber let in. Their species had thus formed a symbiotic relationship, where they provided the energy for the ‘miracles’ of Qrumin, while the Old One kept them alive and filled with power. It was a famous relationship which had filled Darvon’s mind during the academy, though not as much as the continent itself.

Once outside Darvon was greeted by the sight of Sybil in all its glory, the mono continent stretching out for thousands of kilometers. Burdened by an eternal dry spell, the land was barren with dull grey sandy hills sending out plumes of dust in every direction. The only feature that stuck out in the monotonous landscape were the grey and black crystal growths shaped into strange geometric art, with each piece connecting to the next in a harmony that only an alien mind could appreciate. Thousands of floating Drak covered the landscape, either altering the crystal structures or simply drifting along with the wind. Drak were famous for their inaction, only moving when prompted to by their master. Floating above the stormy sky were two artificial moons, each letting out a faint white glow as they reflected Nyx’s light. Darvon knew that it was there that the guardian families dwelled, dutifully stopping intruders from accessing the Zhaber holy land.

“It is a wonderous sight is it not?” Eswin’s melodic voice rang out next to him. “I grew up on those moons, got to admire the shifting maze my whole life. Yet it’s only now, at nineteen years of age, that I’ve been allowed to set foot in Sybil.”

Darvon turned to the beauty next to him, with Vigil wrapped around his eyes, and could see that her expression was full of wonder and excitement at what was to come. Of course, for all he knew she could be faking her emotions, one could never be sure with Enchanters. They were famous for altering their very self in order to better play a part.

“It is beautiful, though I must admit that I find myself more interested in the being behind it all.” Darvon answered, staring deep into the maze of crystal. “For years I’ve looked forward to this sacrifice, patiently working myself to the bone to improve my chance at a powerful gift, yet now that it’s in front of me I find myself antsy.”

“I’m positive you won’t be disappointed, Qrumin rarely fails at providing for those with great talent.” Eswin answered with a mysterious smile, before turning to Ilios who had returned carrying two crystals in his hands.

“This is as far as I take you, the rest you will do on your own.” Ilios said as he teleported in front of them both. “To ascend you must dive deep into the crystal maze and find a suitable area to sacrifice to Qrumin. While any place in Sybil will do, there are plenty of interesting buildings that any budding Zhaber would feel privileged to see.” Ilios said, handing them both a crystal. “This is a map of the surrounding area taken a week ago. Be aware that the terrain has most definitely changed. Drak are not known to leave any structure alone for longer than a day. The map also serves as a compass that will point you back here, as well as a timer.”

Fiddling with the map, Darvon saw that it had a detailed image of the whole maze taken from above. He could zoom in on certain sections but would not be able to navigate underground with it. On the upper corner was a small compass pointing straight behind him, along with a timer ticking down.

“You will have five hours to complete your sacrifice and must return by then. If you are not back in time, you will be fined a hundred crests and be forced to complete a month of legionary service.” Ilios said, in a practiced tone before relaxing and nodding to the both of them. “Good luck to you two. May your steps grow heavy, and your Image deep.”

With that Ilios disappeared in a flash of black light, likely teleporting himself to some hidden bunker. Within moments of him leaving Eswin waved down a passing Drak to float alongside her, before turning to Darvon.

“I would invite you to accompany me and Duska, but I can tell you intend to do this on your own.” Eswin said with a smile. “Let me just give you one small bit of advice then. Don’t stray too deep underground, some places have been untouched for thousands of years and are still full of dangerous traps left behind by other Old Ones.”

While Darvon would not trust someone who had so casually dug into his mind, he had heard of this before. Sybil may have been the reason for Zhaber strength, but it was also the home to their greatest burden. Few dared to explore its depths.

“Thank you for the warning, and good luck.” Darvon said and started walking out into the mesa, going in the opposite direction that Eswin went.

An hour had passed as Darvon walked through the maze-like crystal growths, being careful to go around any sinkholes in the desert. At first he had been amazed by every jagged scar, and sinuous pillar. Yet after so long of not seeing a single room or cavern, Darvon had grown bored of the architecture. While he knew that he could accomplish the ritual in any corner of Sybil, he wanted to find a more meaningful place. He had heard from reliable sources that there were hidden rooms and buildings within the maze, places which the Drak had turned into museums of their past. Problem was that they constantly shifted location and left no tells as to where they could be. Darvon would have to rely on his luck, and so he could only continue his aimless wandering.

He passed through a field of spikes, a pool of loose shards, a group of thirty different Drak working on a single foot long spike, and a single head working on a hundred-meter-long pillar. It was fascinating as he could feel waves of impact all around him, and how the weight of centuries of shaping had done to the land.

He took a brief break from his mindless trek after bumping into the fourth sinkhole in as many minutes and pulled out the map to check his position. He was barely two percent of the way into the maze and had already covered eight kilometers filled with the same structures. It seemed he would need to change his methods if he wanted to actually find something before the time limit. He would have to go underground.

Looking down into the pit in front of him, he could see that there were tunnels burrowed into the side, some a dozen a meters down, others a thousand. He could even faintly see some green light flickering at the bottom levels. Feeling slightly nervous he pulled out a clear potion from his pouch labeled ‘emotion suppressor’ and chugged it. Only once his mind had calmed down did he summon Vigil in gate form and order him to condense down into a harder shape before hopping on his back, slowly gliding down a couple levels. Vigil whined the whole way; he hated being in physical form. He was an emotion elemental, meant to infiltrate minds and devour feelings, not carry someone around like some common rock elemental. Darvon ignored his complaints and only hopped off once he reached the fifth tunnel down.

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Once he was on a flat surface again, Darvon had Vigil float above him, providing an eerie purple light which bounced all along the walls. Pale reflections wavered in the crystal, forming shadows of their own as Darvon walked by. Every step in the tunnel felt like walking through a drug fueled haze. He passed by dozens of branching paths, always choosing the one which led deeper, seeing nothing but crystal and a single Drak floating along using only its mind to manipulate the walls like clay. Occasionally the path would narrow to nothing, and then expand into a cave the size of a stadium.

It was only after another half an hour of walking that Darvon finally started seeing slight changes in his surroundings, as a dull green glow started emanating from the floor. The abstract shape of the crystals gradually turned into tentacles covered in eyes. With a thundering heart he realized he had reached one of the unchanged areas, places created prior to the absorption of the plane.

Upon seeing the green light, Darvon kept his eyes peeled for the sight of a museum, hoping to see a relic of a dead civilization. Another twenty minutes passed in silence, the green light constantly wavering, making it seem like the tentacles were constantly moving. He had to sidestep falling stalactites that reacted to his presence, hop over craters filled with ancient bones and even float over seas of glowing green flame. It was a terrifying and creepy experience enhanced by it being completely quiet aside from the dull thuds of his boots hitting the group. Yet it was worth it for as he saw a pile of tentacles outlining a doorway to a room he knew he had reached his goal.

The museum was within a single spacious hall, with walls covered in white runes, lit up not by green light, but by a yellow glow emanating from the floor. Swirls of grey smoke with no source twirled through the air, shifting into complex shapes. On the ceiling was a mural shaped out of grey crystals contrasting sharply with the black backdrop. It depicted the image of thousands of squid like beings running desperately to a tower overseen by a giant eye. Chasing behind them were a multitude of Drak shooting out rays of light and spears of black crystal from their mouths, with a single figure leading them in battle. A Zhra.

Darvon immediately recognized the man; he was after all named after him. He was the most influential figure in the history of the plane, Harvon Zhaber the Binder of Planes. The first to become a Mythos and assimilate a new law into the Significance plane. He paved the way for Zhaber supremacy by tricking Qrumin into being chained to Sybil and forcing it to commit to only fair trades. Sadly, it was also because of him that the Zhaber labored under the curse which cost Harvon and their second Mythos their life.

Darvon stood mesmerized as he saw history retold from the loser’s perspective. He dearly wanted to be able to burn the image into an illusion stone, but he had brought none with him. Still, he spent a solid twenty minutes engraving every detail of the wonderous mural into his mind, so he could have an enchanter fill a stone for him later. Once done, he turned to the center of the room and sat down to prepare for what was to come.

He meditated for thirty minutes to let the suppressant potion fade before he felt ready to face the most important event in his life. He pulled Vigil back into his container and told him to not interrupt no matter what comes next, and then with shaking hands pulled out the Grief Transformer. Suppressing the small waves of grief filling his mind at its touch, he opened the hatch on his neck and with a breath placed the coin into the slot.

Within moments his mind was inundated with grief, with memories of his dead family overwhelming his mind. Darvon let it all wash through him, and for the first time in a long time he tried to appreciate the anguish it filled him with. He touched upon each raw wound in his mind and admired the fact that there were people who could fill him with such emotion. For every moment of sadness and depression that he felt, there were moments of clarity and understanding. Grief was a two-sided coin, an expression of sadness and the vessel through which one could process the unthinkable. It was one of the fundamental emotions, the boost that placed people above flesh puppets or magical machines. It was beautiful, and painful. And this would be the last time Darvon would ever feel it.

“Exalted Qrumin, I Darvon Lunuen Zhaber call upon you in the name of my family.” Darvon said with a clear voice, tears streaming down his face.

The smoke in the room shifted as a presence descended, morphing from abstract figures into the shape of a floating face, a Drak. Its features altered every second, going from brutal to seductive, wonderous to horrible. The empty eye sockets stared down at Darvon, who was in awe at the raw wave of energy he felt through his third eye. Unable to suppress his curiosity, Darvon sunk himself into the significance realm to see its true form and was instantly overwhelmed with dread.

Darvon had once been lucky enough to see a sovereign, the most powerful one in the plane at that. During his parents’ funeral Fina Alder Zhaber had arrived to pay her respects to the scouts. She was a stunning woman, her body covered in glimmering purple scales with hair that flickered like flame. Yet what he truly remembered of the meeting was her Image. It had showed a constantly shifting body filled with six laws worth of power and had outshone anything Darvon had ever seen since. It’s very presence altered the impact of objects around it to be filled with echoes of her path, turning useless embers of significance into liquid energy. Yet in the face of the creature in front of him, her presence was nothing.

The Image before him was of a shifting kaleidoscope of light and flesh, shining with an uncountable number of laws within it, which were somehow all condensed down to one. Every movement of its Image turned the significance of the dust around it into plasma. Qrumin was the most powerful being within the plane, beyond anything any mortal could achieve. And Harvon had managed to bind it to his will.

“Blood of his blood, bearer of my curse and blessing. What do you bargain for?” The smoke boomed with a thousand discordant voices. “I offer knowledge or power. For a price.”

“I am here to complete the ritual of Ascension, to sacrifice an emotion for a power of your choice.” Darvon said overwhelmed by both the being before him, and the waves of grief inundating his mind.

“What will you give me child?” Qrumin boomed out. “Know that while I am bound to bargain in good faith, I will not gift a power worth more than your offering.”

Darvon savored the waves of grief in his head for the last time, letting down all the mental barriers in his mind. Within moments his mind nearly shattered as the artificial grief merging with his real emotions, Darvon felt a wave of helplessness fill him with a growing desire to just end it all. Using the last of his willpower Darvon opened his mouth.

“I offer my grief.”

“Accepted.”

The Image of Qrumin approached Darvon’s own, surrounding the crying child in its embrace. A wave of eerie green energy flowed out of Qrumin and dug into Darvon. A swell of pain broke through his grief filled mind as the energy reached into the depths of his being, scanning through every aspect of his mortal and supernatural shell. As soon as it perfectly understood him, the energy dug into his mind and turned into a net of energy which it dragged through his memories. Every instance of grief in his mind was slowly separated from him. Memories of his parents hugging and kissing him grew dull, a funeral full of tears lost meaning, years of crying and collapsing after his family’s death lost their purpose. A foundational piece of Darvon was ripped from him, and as the last of the net tore through his mind Darvon could feel himself about to lose his sanity. Yet right as the green net returned to Qrumin, the coin in his neck let out an impossibly loud wail, as more grief was poured into his mind. Yet he could not understand it. The process had taken more than just his current feelings but had also rid him of the ability to feel grief itself.

After a second of useless energy going into his mind, the tear in the center of the coin glowed and subtly altered the emotion released. The grief turned into sorrow, a shallower response to loss but one still able to taint the memories back with meaning. No longer would Darvon be able to find release in his suffering, but he would still understand the why behind his pain.

“I have taken my due, and now offer you yours.” Qrumin said as the wave of energy it used to acquire the emotion started doubling in size due to feasting on such a good meal. “You have provided more energy than anyone before you and so I give you a gift worthy of a god.”

The threads reversed course and dug deep into their originator, tearing out a single glowing tentacle of energy from its mass. Instantly Qrumin’s Image felt more fragile, as if it had lost something fundamental to itself, but soon enough it stabilized once more as thousands of green threads tainted with faint images of Drak poured into it.

“I give you the power to wield Quintessence, the source of all Old One abilities, with it you can master our law and ascend above your base form.”

The threads of energy delivered the tentacle to Darvon’s Image, and upon contact it shattered into a burst of green light that dug into his very being. Darvon screamed as the metaphysical infection poured into him, tearing apart the foundation of who he was and building it up all over again. His Image turned from a crying child into a blob full of energy, which slowly condensed back into a physical form. It had turned into a grey outstretched hand covered in magical implants, wielding green puppet strings which stretched out into nothingness. He had ascended.