Chapter 103, 1/2

Warm air caressed Ava’s skin, curling into her hair, tickling into her plain, brown tunic and loose pants. It was a good feeling; not quite the same as being safely surrounded by stone, but she had never shied away from the surface, unlike some of her clan. But looking up, she knew that some of those true underworlders, if they still lived to this day, would not mind this cloudy view. It felt safe, for some reason, to be in this half light, under these deep clouds.

Upon realizing her thoughts, Ava frowned.

She did not like that shadows felt safe. Shadows should not feel safe. This strange affinity for the darkness was a part of being a shadeling, and though it gave her mental comfort, it was not comfortable. She had tried her racially-granted [Shadowblend], once, and did not like that it gave her similar comfort to [Stone Body], and she much preferred [Stone Body]. [Water Body] was adequate, but nothing compared to the sheer joy of flying through the Underworld, and seeing all the threats around you before they came too close.

She would have to work on regaining [Stone Body]. She kicked a mental list around inside her mind, of spells she needed to possess and make, and achievements she needed to fulfill, once she was a person again. She had refined herself a thousand times in her previous time on Veird, making spells that were too large for her current self to use, so she’d have to get used to the small life, for a little while.

After she regained herself, she could go kill mimics till level 34. Unfortunately, this low level meant certain uncomfortable measures would have to be taken, and lived with. A level 34 did not function the same as a level 85...

But that was okay!

She smiled, as she considered all the failed spells in her former Status. Could she truly try all of them again? … Maybe not all of them, but her tier 5s were certainly in reach.

… But? Did that tier magic cooldown carry over when you didn’t have the original spell? Or any of the components? Ava had a hard time believing it did. And with that stray thought, she smiled again. She could remake all of her magic, and this time, she might even succeed! She almost laughed at the thought, at the joy of possibilities. But she did not, for now was a time of do or die, and she was procrastinating. There was little room for mirth in this place.

Ava stood in the Crystal Courtyard, beside the eponymous Crystal itself, in the previous center of Candlepoint. The square was now lakefront property with the western buildings having fallen into the waters. Most of the other structures remained perfectly intact. One of those buildings, in particular, was Ava’s destination. It was a dark box of a structure, maybe only five meters cubed, sandwiched between an alchemist’s burned-out shop and a smith’s store. This building was bland, except for double doors that resembled Melemizargo’s wings, and white handles that resembled fangs, or maybe claws. The doors were shut tight. Of all the destruction scattered through Candlepoint, this place suffered none.

Or maybe the shadelings fixed this place up first? That was also a possibility. But, no. Melemizargo likely missed this place on purpose, when he cast his [City Shape] and made a lake for Candlepoint. He certainly missed the Crystal; that dark stretch of smokey darkness still stretched straight up into the sky, a good 50 or so meters. It was certainly pretty to look at—

She was stalling. Procrastination came easy when one was on their way to meet their maker.

Marshaling her wits and her courage, Ava set her shoulders straight… And then she looked around, again.

Ava was not alone in the square. The dark Captain of the Guard, Slip, stood beside her. A few others held back, watching from the shadows of nearby buildings, or standing out in the dim sunlight. Their shadowy eyes glowed with interest. Some held disdain on their faces, but some had visible emotions larger than simple hope. With glowing eyes fixed on Ava, and hands held in front of their mouths, they wished for miracles, but not for Ava’s success; she was just the one attempting Fate, at the moment.

They hoped for someone else to brave death, and succeed, so that they might follow on a cleared path.

… She was stalling again.

She mumbled to herself, “I didn’t think it would be this difficult.”

Slip said, “You don’t have to do this.” He glanced up, to see an ooze of light hanging in the air above the courtyard, before turning back to Ava. “No matter what favors you think this might gain you—”

His words crystallized something extra, something deeper inside Ava, that was not the rad by her heart.

With her gaze locked forward at the doors to Darkness, Ava said, “This is not about favors, but this is about gain. I refuse to live in squalor, Captain. I refuse to live in a hovel, begging for scraps from my betters. Since Melemizargo seems content with monsters begging for scraps, I refuse to be a monster.” She glanced at Slip, saying, “It’s a simple choice.”

Slip whispered, “You might die.”

With her head held high, she walked forward, saying, “And I might not.”

- - - -

Sitting on the couch of the sunroom, with a viewing window in front of her, Syllea half scowled, saying, “She seems dramatic. Like this is some sort of play.”

Sitting on the opposing couch, and viewing the scene through an Ophiel on site, Erick defended the woman, saying, “She’s just building herself up to try her chances against death.”

Bayth harrumphed, behind Syllea.

Poi remained silent, behind Erick, but Teressa was taking an awful long time to get more coftea for the group. That was just as well. She likely didn’t want to be near for this event. Another person was also absent from the event; Justine had quickly made herself scarce after fulfilling her duty of speaking to Syllea. Erick took a moment to check on them, and saw that both women were on opposite ends of the house; as far away as they could get from the sunroom, and each other.

An hour ago, Erick had invited Archmage Syllea and her friend, Bayth, into his house, after Justine had time to calm down and build herself up to speak again to the archmage. Justine dutifully put on her best face and answered some more questions, while Teressa served lemon cookies and tea, and Erick made sure to keep everything calm and peaceful. Over the course of the talk, Syllea revealed that her brother had turned full traitor, but no one knew how far his influence had spread. The investigation was ongoing. Syllea didn’t mention anything else beyond those few words; the event clearly hit her rather hard.

Erick was more than a little unsure of what to do when he heard that there was some unknown, massive shadeling plot happening in Treehome. But it wasn’t his place or concern to deal with what was going on all the way up there, in a different part of the world entirely. When it spilled down to Spur, or more likely, to Candlepoint, then Erick would get involved.

Somewhere in the beginning of the third round of questioning, and when the second round revealed barely more than the first round, Erick’s attention on Candlepoint had told him of an important happening. And thus, the questions went on hold. Justine visibly relaxed; slumping her shoulders as Syllea conjured a viewing screen and the archmage’s attention fully turned from the incani. Justine excused herself from the room, after that, barely hiding how grateful she was to become as scarce as Teressa.

And now, Erick, Syllea, Bayth, and Poi, were in the sunroom, all of them watching Candlepoint, and each other.

Bayth peered over Syllea’s shoulder, to look at the archmage’s viewing screen, clinically saying, “She’s not... human. She’s too skinny.”

Syllea narrowed her eyes at the hovering screen. She had not asked any questions, either. When Erick mentioned this happening, she rapidly transitioned to focus on this possible transformation.

Erick said, “Her name is Ava Jadescale. Jadescale tribe. Underworld. She’s a snake shifter who woke up this morning and said she was a sewermaster in her previous life. I heard this from Mephistopheles —I told you about him? Anyway: He interviewed Ava for her position several hours ago.”

“Jadescale…” Syllea mumbled, thinking, as she frowned at her viewing screen. “Don’t know that one.”

Erick didn’t know anything about the scattered shifter tribes, either. He hadn’t really thought to ask, either, until now. He looked to Poi, “Can I get some context?”

Poi nodded, as he sent out a dozen tendrils of thought. After a moment, he said, “Silverite says the Jadescales are no longer a clan. Dead over a hundred years ago due to a cascade of failures, without any real answers as to why they perished. There might have been an incursion from the Fractured Citadels, but the truth is unknown. Some Jadescales sought refuge in a neighboring clan which was, and still is, quite prosperous, known as Obsidianscale, but they all moved closer to the surface of Quintlan after the Jadescale city became a nest of shadows a hundred years ago. The Obsidianscales are regular trading partners with Portal.” He added, “I also informed Silverite of what was happening. She is now watching the event as well.”

“Thank you, Mister Fulisade,” Syllea said, as the doors of the dark building opened in front of Ava. “That is enough.”

- - - -

Doors, like wings, unfolded from the building, opening wide. Beyond was a pit of darkness that rushed inward, like a suddenly retreating fog. As Melemizargo’s influence opened like the setting of a trap, dark stone pews stood revealed to the sides of a central aisle. Ava marshaled all of her courage, and walked forward, under leathery wings, trying her best to ignore how stone had turned organic.

A skylight in the center of the Dark Temple suddenly cast a pillar of light into the gloom, revealing the central effigy of the unholy domain.

The shrine, for that is what it had to be, waited for Ava at the end of the aisle. Set upon a waist-high pillar of black stone and capped with a crown of white fangs, lay a splash of crystal that was darker than black. Ava could only tell it was a crystal formation from the shape of the object, all hard edged and spiked into the air. It hurt to look upon, as though she was seeing a void in space. The black stone of the building seemed almost grey by comparison.

Ava steeled herself, holding her hands at her sides. Shoulders straight, she walked forward, all the way into the temple, under the wings of Melemizargo, to meet her maker, and demand to be remade. Cold wrapped around her body as she stepped across the threshold, into the Dark. Three more steps, and the door folded down behind her, trapping her in silen—

“Hello.”

The words came like a melodious avalanche. Like a song she had forgotten, but that once remembered, filled her from her toes to the top of her head with comfort, with certainty, with purpose. She never wanted to hear anything else ever again.

But she tore herself from that feeling. What was the Dark Song, compared to a life of deeper meaning? It was ephemeral and useless and tied to that great evil waiting in the shadows.

“You have invaded my mind, Darkness.” Ava stood strong, saying, “I do not appreciate this.”

A light chuckle filled the air, coming from every part of the temple at once, except from the dark crystal in front of her. “What a curious perspective!” Melemizargo said, “It is you who have invadedmy mind, Ava Jadescale. But that is an old thought, and I’m trying to think new ones.”

A brighter glow flowed down from above. Ava looked up. The archmage’s [Familiar] hung above the skylight, watching, filling the shadows with light. Ava took a step further forward, to step into that light.

“If you don’t want an audience, I can shoo them away.”

“I will have my final moments known to more than you, thank you.”

“As you wish.”

“I also wish to be returned to my true self.”

“Making a wish to the Darkness! How bold.” He asked, “Is that all you [Wish] for?”

Melemizargo’s inflection upon that dangerous word was unmistakable. Ava managed to control herself to a small shiver. She remained standing, and silent, but from one moment to the next, she almost panicked.

If it weren’t for Ava steadying herself with all her might, she might have collapsed anyway, considering what came next.

The walls of the building stretched away, into an endless abyss. The skylight was still two meters above Ava, hovering there in the great emptiness around her, glowing with the light of the [Familiar] beyond, but in every direction, darkness stood, and in those depths, hunted the Darkness, flapping his wings and slashing his claws across endless tunnels. White teeth flashed in the gloom. A jaw opened, then shut.

Ava was in the Deep Underworld, but also not.

In the deep gloom, on the other side of the void crystal, a line of light slipped open, from left to right. That line stretched sideways, up and down, for it was not a line of light at all. It was an eye. It blinked open, all the way, an orb of hateful white light, suddenly filling the abyss with radiance.

Melemizargo stared into Ava’s soul.

Ava was suddenly a little girl, covered in scales, barely able to control her body. She almost cried, but she was not a child. She hadn’t been a child in a long time.

The eye blinked.

Ava was a crone, ten years from her death bed and hunched with age. Bones ached. Wrinkled skin flapped in the wind as scales fell to the floor, too weak to hold on any longer.

Ava’s mind did not break, oddly enough. She was beyond terror. She slipped back into something resembling sanity as this body, this horrid old thing, was exactly what Ava remembered. She smiled, then cackled like an old witch, stopping her laughter only to spit out, “Are you so stingy that you’d take my youth!”

“Yes.”

“Well give it back, you old bastard!”

The eye blinked and did not come back, as the dragon chuckled.

Ava was un-hunched. She didn’t even see the transformation happen. Scales lined the left and right sides of her body, perfectly attached to her unwrinkled skin. Her hands didn’t ache as she experimentally flexed her fingers into grips. She tried to check her Status to see if she was still a shadeling, but the blue box would not appear; she was still lost in Darkness. She could not see her own eyes, but she guessed she was still a shadeling. She glanced at the void crystal before her, then at the floating light above, then quickly decided on her words. She shouted at the gloom all around her, “I want to be a shifter again!”

No demands for a specific form. No demands for her old crone body. Just a simple want. Ava had already strained her luck quite far, but maybe she could stretch it a bit farther.

“So many demands!” Melemizargo asked, “What do I get out of it?”

Ava paused, as her words died in her throat.

Going into this conversation was a danger all its own, but she got her feet under her fast enough. To speak to Melemizargo was to talk to insanity; if you didn’t flow with him, or give him an interesting thought to latch onto, then you were invariably gobbled up and spat out, or churned to dust by his uncaring passing. So Ava went along wherever Melemizargo went, at first, subtly guiding him to her desires, as one would lead a horde of hydras away from a settlement, or to try to escape a rivergrieve. And it had worked.

But this right here. The coherence of his speech…

Melemizargo asked for something? In a true trade, sort of way? This was not how this was supposed to go. This was not how it usually went.

“… What do you want?”

“I want off this little world. I want to explore the Cosmology again.” He growled, “I want this trap of the Script broken...” He calmed. “Can you do any of that?”

“No.”

“No! Why ever not?”

Ava had no idea why she said ‘no’. It was a sudden, deep desire that made her deny the Darkness; a primal hatred for all things shadow. But she couldn’t take her words back. Hedging speech and explanations tended to make Melemizargo either angry, or bored, and it was hard to say which one was worse.

Ava doubled down. “You don’t deserve to get off this prison of a planet.”

“What apt wording!”

Slithering wraps of shadow whipped around Ava’s torso and legs, pulling her arms tight, and up, lifting her into the air like she was on strings. Like she was a puppet. She did not panic. She just let it happen. She kept the barest tension in her arms, and her back, struggling just enough so that when her strength was broken—

The shadows pulled taut, ending what little resistance she had, pulling her arms straight out—

She yelped.

The pulling stopped. The shadows relaxed, but did not let her go—

Booming sounds came from above, knocking on Ava’s whole world.

From above. From the skylight. The radiant ooze on the other side pounded at the glass, but the shadows on this side closed ranks. Archmage Flatt would not be interfering in this event. Ava almost laughed, that the man would even try. What was he, but a milkbug fighting against a stonestorm? A gnat against a hurricane. Even archmages were nothing against the Darkness, and Ava was no different.

Ava laughed, as the enormity of her surroundings cracked what was left of her sanity like a soft egg—

“Bah. I broke you.” A resigned voice said, “Now now. None of that. You’re not allowed to go insane when you’re talking to me. That’s my curse. Come together. That’s it. Here you are.”

Shadows swirled around the small temple—

When did the temple come back?

—pews lifted from the darkness. Stone walls reasserted themselves as true, and not just an opinion. Ava felt a smooth clarity flow through her mind, brushing away the scared child part of herself that only came back with her rebirth. She was an old hand at dealing with Darkness. She would be that person again, but in a new body.

“Those are better thoughts.”

Ava suddenly realized, “You brought me back.” She said, “You never do that.” For some reason, Ava felt more scared than she had before. She started to shake. But she could still speak, “Why— What.” It wasn’t very good speech of demanding answers, but the sounds that came out of her mouth were mostly words.

“Agh. But. Wha— o.”

Mostly.

“Let’s get this meeting back in the proper tunnel.” Melemizargo spoke from the walls, “Do you wish to be a shadeling, or a shifter?”

“Shii...” Ava tried. “Shifter. Myself. Before—”

“Tell me what you think of gods.”

“… collective...” Ava knew this answer. It was an old one. One her mother taught her once, when she was a little girl. What do you say when the Darkness asks you about gods? Somewhere in the back of her mind, a rote response took hold, then slipped out of her mouth, “A collective delusion.”

With a lilt of joy, Melemizargo asked, “Which delusion do you prefer?”

With a dark clarity flowing through her head, this was an easy answer. Ava had built monuments to her chosen god, in deep, red and white spaces of the Underworld. She wasn’t devout by any stretch of the word, but she had one goddess she always appreciated. She spoke the words, “A delusion of beauty.”

And something cracked inside, like a bone snapping, or a stone plate smashing on the ground. Pain lanced through her chest, sending Ava to the ground to her knees and hands, as her heart beat hard—

Ba-boom Ba-boom.

Ava clutched her chest, twisting the fabric of her shitty tunic in her grip. She coughed, a heavy wracking sound. She touched her face. Her hand came away red. Bright red. Brightest red. The ruby colors of her life’s blood was suddenly the only other color in the room aside from whites and greys. Even the skylight above had turned to white, to shine upon the crimson that had crawled out from inside Ava’s body.

Everything was happening too fast. Ava’s fate was here.

She coughed, and blood scattered; garnets upon the dark stone.

“… Aloethag?” Melemizargo asked, “Really? That

horrid woman?”

Three moments had passed since Ava fell to the ground, three long moments that made her doubt that there would ever be more. Ava stared upon the red, and whispered a truth through bloody teeth, “Always.”

The red upon the ground turned into more, into puddles. Ava watched, transfixed, the pain in her chest tripling, but suddenly distant, as a hand reached up from that red space, into the air, into the light reaching down from above. A second hand joined the first. They came together like a dancer lifting up from the trap room of a theater, into the light of center stage, heralding the bloody avatar of a being of divine perfection. Her sculpted stone visage appeared like the sun of a new day, as all of her lifted into view.

Aloethag stood revealed. White stone and crimson blood. The body of the world’s daintiest orcol, but with pointed ears. A dress with garnets on the hem. Blood lifted from the ground to form her Red Halo, a hint at the ocean of blood at her command, mirroring the red of her eyes.

Red, and white. That was Ava’s god. That was Aloethag. Creation and art given form through bloody beauty carved upon the world for all to see. The orcols did not respect Aloethag like they should. But Aloethag was the patron goddess of the Jadescale clan, and she had always held a special place in Ava’s heart. After all, what was the point of life if there was no beauty?

Ava clutched her chest again as another wave of pain crashed through her body. She grunted, barely managing to remain upright on the ground. There was no way she could stand, there was no way to give Aloethag the proper deference—

Ava screamed as her heart burst, and something crawled around inside her chest.

Time slowed.

Another god joined the ceremony.

Death sat in the back row of the temple; her own mirror image, waiting for the moment she decided to permanently leave this life. She would have told Death to fuck off, but—

Aloethag looked down at Ava, like she was a bit of dirt on the hem of her dress. “Make her an elf.”

“No.” Melemizargo said, “I’m trying to create bridges, Aloethag. Not problems. Solve your elf problems on your own time.”

“Phbbt!” Aloethag flapped her lips at the walls of the room, then said, “I want elves back, Melemizargo. Proper elves, too. This one would fit! Give her to me as I wish to receive her.”

“No.” Melemizargo added, “Figment.”

Aloethag scowled.

Ava almost laughed, if not for the mulched meat that was the insides of her torso, and the chill creeping through her body. She tried to move a finger, but it was all she could do to not fully collapse to the floor. Aloethag was brutal; she hadn’t changed at all since the last time Ava lived.

Death spoke up from the back of the room, “She doesn’t want me, so take her, Aloethag, as she is.”

Aloethag looked down at the woman. Disdain filled her visage. “Of course I was going to take her, you old fool. She’s mine, after all.” She looked to the walls. “Release her.”

Melemizargo chuckled. Time resumed.

Reality shifted. All at once, five things happened. Darkness fully retreated from the temple. Aloethag vanished. Death remained for a brief moment, before turning to nothing. The doors opened, like normal swinging stone doors, and not like the wings they had been before.

And then the skylight broke, as gentle warmth and brightness descended onto Ava. She smiled as a metal rod glowed in her vision, touching her chest with a heat that spread outward, pulling her back together. Ava’s heart beat hard, then softer, and softer still. Breath came easier, as thick air spilled out of her mouth, and turned the blood that covered her into nothing.

She barely understood what was happening as physical light supported her weight and she coughed three times, spitting out bloody shards of a broken rad with each convulsion. Those rads disintegrated into the thickening air, as with her last thoughts, Ava summoned her Status. This time, it worked.

Ava Jadescale

Shifter (Snake), age 226

Level 0, Class: None

Exp: 0/100

Class: -/-

Points: 0

HP

0/90

160 per day

MP

0/190

190 per day

Strength

9

+0

[9]

Vitality

16

+0

[16]

Willpower

19

+0

[19]

Focus

19

+0

[19]

She had done it?

She had. She took the win.

And then she passed out.

- - - -

Erick sat back on his couch, saying, “Her eyes were normal.”

Back in Candlepoint, Erick gently lifted Ava into arms made of light. He floated her out of the dark temple, past Slip, who seemed surprised, then past other shadelings, who reeled back, vanishing quick, or stayed strong, staring at Ava’s floating, sleeping, and breathing body. Some gave quiet, hopeful cheers. Others looked away.

Erick took Ava to an empty business, close to the Crystal Courtyard, ensuring that some people saw where she floated, so that no one thought she was just taken away. The former business might have been some sort of general store before Mephistopheles and Zaraanka emptied it of everything of value, but now it was empty. Erick cast a few spells into the small space, creating a nice conjured four-poster bed, with a dense mattress, soft sheets, and nice pillows. He placed Ava in the bed, and lightly covered her sleeping form. A [Cleanse] took care of the extra blood and other uncomfortable things that had come out of her since the [Cleanse] in the temple, while [Duplicate] and [Teleport Object] got a small workout, bringing meats, cheeses, bread, and wine, to a bedside table. Erick wrapped the meal in a [Scent Ward] so as not to wake Ava, then put a nice [Air Conditioning Ward] into the space, to drive back the moisture and heat of the Crystal Forest air.

He also left a note, asking for a meeting, when she woke and if she felt like a meeting. All she had to do was seek out the [Mend] and [Cleanse] Ophiel, stationed under the Crystal.

While he was doing that, he also watched Syllea, with his normal eyes, who currently had a few tendrils of thought drifting from her blonde head.

Syllea stared at the screen floating in front of her, showing Ava’s sleeping form, lost in thought. She mumbled, “Did that actually happen?” She seemed to come back to herself over long moments, and then all at once. She whipped around to look to Bayth. “If she picked Aloethag—” Syllea closed her mouth.

Bayth frowned, as she moved her eyes from Syllea, to the viewing screen, then to Erick. She nodded; a tiny, almost imperceptible movement.

Erick guessed what was going on. With the only one not in-the-know, or at least not that Erick knew, upstairs in her room and purposefully trying to ignore what was going on down here, he whispered, “Can you get to her through a Red Dream? To confirm? I’m not sure how that works.”

Bayth locked eyes on Erick, then her brown face turned red with a blush, to vanish just as fast as pure childish joy inundated every part of the large, muscular woman. Then she looked down and away, as she flinched backward, breathing deep, and saying nothing.

Syllea had a reaction similar to her old friend. But she got over it fast, quickly moving on to something close to anger as she rounded on Erick, saying, “How do you know—!”

“Got roped into a Quest for the goddess,” Erick answered, simply. “Ten million Health spilled in her name.”

Syllea looked to the ground, her green face turning red with embarrassment as she said, “No. Stop talking. No more words.”

Bayth had a different reaction to Erick’s reveal. She suddenly shifted from contrite, muttering, “You’re not lying?” to laughing loud, when Erick’s face told her all she needed to know. She switched to gallows humor, blurting out, “You’re fucked! Just like the rest of us.” She rapidly added, smiling, “Uh. Archmage, sir.”

Syllea again rounded on her friend, saying, “No more talking.” She turned back to Erick, her face turning slightly red. “No more of that. This discussion is over.” She declared. “Everyone shut up.”

“Hell and Celes, Syllea.” Bayth said, “Grow up.” She asked, “What did you do to deserve that, Archmage Flatt?”

“Something that is not my place to explain. But I had a Dream, and was quickly told that it was a deep cultural thing, and—” Erick powered through whatever cultural faux pas he had committed, by asking, “Is being in a Dream stronger confirmation of a real person, than other methods?”

Syllea went silent.

Bayth laughed again, saying, “Shit yeah, it is!” She joked, “If you can get it, am I right?” She looked to Poi, and with an edge to her voice that was not quite friendly, said, “He gets it!”

Poi deadpanned, “I am sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Syllea remained silent. And now, she was still. Erick looked to the archmage, and saw her anger.

Quite a few things had happened when Erick blurted out his personal knowledge of the Dreaming. Bayth seemed to warm up to Erick, by at least two degrees, while simultaneously turning deeply cold toward the Mind Mage in the room. Back when Al revealed to Erick about the Dreaming, and about Red Dreams, he had made sure to kick Poi out of the room, firsthand.

… But Poi already knew all about the Dreaming?

Eh. Even if Erick asked the man, he likely wouldn’t explain what was going on, there. It was probably a Mind Mage Organization thing; the Dreaming seemed rather like mind magic to Erick. Maybe there was a cultural hatred?

… There was probably a cultural hatred, there.

Syllea had a much easier to understand reaction. She was as embarrassed as a schoolgirl whose dad was making dad jokes in front of all the other kids.

He said, “Sorry, Syllea. I did not mean to offend.”

Bayth chuckled once, but looked to Syllea, and reevaluated her reaction. All mirth on the muscular woman’s face, faded. She went silent, and took a step behind Syllea, retaking her position as the archmage’s guard.

Syllea lifted her eyes to Erick, and said, “If everyone has worked the heat from their blood, I would like to return to the topic of this shadeling— This person. Ava Jadescale.”

Erick glanced through Ophiel, to Candlepoint. He came back, saying, “She's still sleeping. I used a rod of [Greater Treat Wounds] on her, so she should be okay.”

Syllea half nodded. She said, “That’s not exactly— I meant. That… experience, was not what I was expecting from the transformation process. Aloethag’s avatar appeared, along with at least one other, hidden from my sight, and only visible through Aloethag’s interactions toward two different parts of the temple. I am guessing Phagar was the interloper, based upon The Bloody Queen’s barest deference, but I cannot be sure. It certainly wasn’t Rozeta.”

“Phagar was there.” Erick said, “That was definitely him— Or. Them, I guess. I saw Phagar, for sure.”

Syllea paused again, but quickly recovered, and said, “Okay.” She eloquently added, “Ah.” She asked, “You saw him?”

“Is he really a ‘him’?” Erick asked, genuinely curious.

“Yes.” Syllea said, “Always.”

“Then yes, I saw him. Looked like a copy of Ava, but greyer. Did you not?”

Syllea eyed Erick, then said, “Putting that aside...” She turned to Bayth, saying, “Could we put up a Dark Temple in the Commune? An official one? It would be much easier than shipping people off to Ar’Kendrithyst, but it might be more dangerous to spread around Dark Temples.”

Bayth immediately answered, “No one wants a Dark Temple near the city, or the commune.”

“Right.” Syllea said, “I doubt Melemizargo would want to consecrate a Dark Temple in Treehome, anyway.”

“That, too,” Bayth said.

Erick brought the discussion back on topic, asking, “Anyone have any idea what we just saw, though?”

Bayth shrugged. “Your guess is better than mine.”

Erick said, “It’s really not. I’ve stayed away from everything Melemizargo related that I could. I’ve only been on Veird a year, too, you know.”

Bayth smiled. “Ah. Well… Melemizargo did what he wanted to do, as he usually does, and Ava got something out of it, which almost never happens how the petitioner wants it to happen. And other gods were involved. That’s new, too.”

Syllea looked to Erick, like she had a question to ask, but she did not speak.

Erick ignored the archmage’s reluctance, for now, and turned to Poi. The sapphire scaled man shrugged.

Erick turned back to Syllea, and in the spirit of sharing, asked, “What spell did you use to [Scry]? I used my [Familiar], as you saw, but also [Greater Lightwalk].”

Bayth smirked, like she had gotten confirmation of a small secret.

Syllea showed no reaction, as she said, “I used a [Viewing] that has been mutated with both [Witness] and [Magic Eye]. [True Sight Viewing].” She popped a blue box into the air.

True Sight Viewing, instant, super long range, 4109 Mana

View a part of the world familiar to you, and all the magical forces at play therein.

“That seems… very useful,” Erick said.

“It is.”

Erick had casually used the light in the room to look over Syllea’s shoulder during Ava’s transformation, and saw nothing more than what he already saw, with Ophiel on the scene in Candlepoint. Maybe he needed to ask her about some sort of [True Sight] spell, for himself?

Erick asked, “What did your [True Sight] see?”

“I saw a lot.” Syllea began, “What we witnessed was Soul Magic on a divine scale, along with what I’d hesitatingly call Fate Magic. It almost looked like a Spatial spell, but not quite.” She said, “What I witnessed, was that Ava’s soul was trapped inside of the rad in her chest, and then the rad broke. Usually, this kills the monster, but there’s an even chance of them going into a berserk state as the body becomes an uncontrolled beast of madness and pain for a short while, until the body dies. Neither of those outcomes happened, because Aloethag’s touch prevented the release of the soul, as well as transforming Ava’s body itself into something capable of holding that soul.

“So yes, that was a ‘[Resurrection]’, sort of. Maybe even a true one.

“And since Melemizargo doesn’t have a divine magical signature —all he has is shadows— I highly doubt Aloethag was a construction.” She blushed for a moment, adding, “It would be easy enough to meet Ava in… that other space, and confirm her identity that way. That was actually going to be the...” She frowned, her voice trailing off.

Bayth stepped in. “If any of the guys from the commune came back from being a shadeling, that’s how we were going to check them; a little foray into the Red.” She added, “When they turned shadeling, they were cut from the Dreaming.”

Erick said, “Ah. Good. No need to involve the Mind Mages, then.”

“HA!” Bayth said, “Yeah.”

Syllea latched on to the new topic, saying, “We tried to get confirmation of our shadelings as who they used to be. The Mind Mages helped, at first...”

Bayth stepped in again. “They said the shadelings were the people they were before, but wouldn’t tell us how they knew. It was a dead end.”

Syllea got over herself, saying, “The Dreaming was our last, best hope for confirmation of a true transformation back to orcol, after we solved the actual problem of them being shadeling.” She added, “Speaking of which, I need to go talk to your Mayor, now, regarding some assistance for getting some of our transformed people into Ar’Kendrithyst.”

Poi spoke up, “Would you like me to inform her of your coming?”

“If you would be so kind, Mister Fulisade.”

Poi nodded.

Erick asked, “Before you go, I’d like to ask about what Ava said, regarding the gods being delusions.”

“Pure cow shit.” Syllea said, “The gods are real, Erick. They draw their existence from believers, and in return, they assist us in our lives, but that does not mean that they are fake. They’re just different from we mortal beings. Energy existences, some would say. Born of a collective consciousness, others might venture. But like money and time and mana, they’re all real, and at the same time, not. I’m sure we’ll hear a lot more about whatever delusions Melemizargo believes, after our people brave Ar’Kendrithyst. Hopefully some of them come back to us, as they were.” She stood, saying, “I must delay my promised lesson to tomorrow, if you please. It seems like a thousand things are happening, and I do not have nearly as good of a [Familiar] as you.”

Erick stood, saying, “Of course, Syllea. Let me escort you out.”

Syllea said, “I am afraid I must be rude, and take the quick path.” She reached out behind her, to take Bayth’s outstretched hand. “Till next time.”

Erick smiled, saying, “Till next time.”

Syllea and her muscular friend blipped away in a flex of empty air.

Erick breathed a bit easier after they vanished. Syllea was easy to talk to, and Bayth seemed okay, but while they had a thousand things happening with them, Erick also had his own thousand problems to solve, and they only looked to get worse before they got better.

“Oh,” Erick said, remembering, “I need to ask her how to adjust the color of my mana, too. She’d probably know.” Alternatively, he wished he could ask Kiri to go run some errands, but… “Poi? Have you heard from Kiri?”

“Kiri is a day away from completing [Lightwalk]. She should be back by tomorrow evening.”

“Thank the gods.” Erick asked, “I need to make it up to Teressa, for asking her to run errands. Any suggestions?”

Poi looked to Erick like he turned purple, or something, then said, “We’re at your command, Erick.” He added, “But monsterized haraah beef is a good choice.”

Erick smiled. “That’s a good idea!” He asked, “Would it be wrong to ask her to go get it?”

Poi grinned. “Not at all.”

On a more serious note, Erick asked, “What was your take on that whole transformation? Were you watching?”

“… I was.” Reluctantly, Poi said, “It doesn’t matter what we saw. People will believe what is convenient for them.”

Erick eyed Poi. “And what did we see, Poi?”

“A divine [Resurrection]. A goddess asking for a woman to be transformed into an elf. The people of that goddess, watching her ask for such a thing.” Poi said, “They hid it well, and you didn’t even notice, but both Syllea and Bayth were ready to kill Ava when Aloethag spoke those words.”

“Ah.” Erick wondered if he needed to speak to someone else on the matter of orcols and elves. Al, perhaps?

“A good idea, sir,” Poi said.

Erick nodded, then gave a glance to Candlepoint, to see if they needed anyth—

He sat back down on the couch, and said, “I guess I’ll talk to Al tomorrow.”

As he sent his senses back to the shadeling city, he felt a sense of calm come over him. It was not a supernatural calm, or a magical calm, it was the calm of seeing work to be done, and then being able to do it, and help people in the process. This right here, was great. It was a lot, and it was never-ending, but helping people was what Erick had always been about.