Abyssal Road Trip

Amdirlain’s PoV - Outlands - Outpost of the Monastery of the Western Reaches

As the fresh memory swamped Amdirlain’s awareness, the golden sunlight that gleamed off the ivory inlays of the room blazed blindingly in her vision.

The predawn enfolded the same mountainside from the previous memory, yet now countless stars dotted the sky. The near darkness seemed fitting, but it didn’t prevent Orhêthurin from taking in Syl’s bloodied form stretched out over kilometres of flattened forest. Her shredded wings and the wounds gouged into her sides seethed with residual energies from Daemon weapons. Yet despite the injuries the residents of Hades had inflicted, life in the Great Wyrm still lingered.

Orhêthurin’s knuckles whitened, but she focused on aiding Syl rather than avenging her. Orhêthurin reappeared within arm’s reach and quickly sealed the worst of the wounds. Songs reversed wound after wound that would have slain many an adult Dragon, yet there was still more to heal. Melodies she’d been maintaining were set aside as she began abandoning centuries of efforts to attend to Syl’s healing.

Syl inhaled and turned her snout towards Orhêthurin. “Stop, my love.”

“Who did this to you?” demanded Orhêthurin.

“I choose the time of my passing. Please let the rest be and stay with me,” responded Syl laboriously, her age more than her remaining wounds extending the effort. “I’ve been dying for centuries and wanted a mighty battle to send me off. I punched through the siege lines between the Outlands and Hades to fell a dozen Daemon queens and a few hundred legions.”

“Why!” cried Orhêthurin. “We could have had centuries more.”

“Centuries? More like a few years snatched between me sleeping for decades,” refuted Syl sadly. “This last millennium, the gaps in my slumber have been few. When was the last time I had the strength to change my form?”

Orhêthurin thrashed her head in denial, but the answer came perfectly to mind. “We were last here.,..”

“Nearly twenty thousand years ago, on my Creation day,” finished Syl. “Love, let me die.”

“They are my rules, my creations, and they killed you,” cried Orhêthurin.

“No, I decided how I wanted to die,” corrected Syl. “Soon, I would have passed in my sleep, and you know it. Your agreement with Tia is that I can’t be Immortal, and we’ve discussed how angry she’d be if you even reversed my age. It’s time for me to go. We’ll meet again, my sweet.”

“You won’t be the same person you are now,” Orhêthurin sobbed, pressing her forehead against Syl’s still bloodied hide. “You may not even like me, let alone love me.”

“You won’t be alone. You’ll have your father, and you’ll find others to love,” sighed Syl.

Orhêthurin scrubbed a hand across her face. “I’m sorry I’m making a mess of this. I could die with you and we could reincarnate in another realm.”

“I doubt you’ll ever die, my love. Your vibrance is so eternal, and this place would be poorer without you,” said Syl.

“It’ll happen, eventually. Kronos’ shard told me he’d seen my Soul within a human girl in my birth realm far in the future, after the Greek gods had faded. My Soul didn’t remember their arrival or demise, so I won’t even see when father allows them to join the timestream here,” reported Ori.

“You never told me that,” groaned Syl, her talons tore gorges in the mountainside with the surge of energy brought by concern.

“It didn’t matter since we were together. I could die now, and we could go together. Father has my plans for thousands of galaxies now, so nothing is stopping us from travelling the realms, meeting anew, drawn together in every life through our bond,” proposed Orhêthurin. “I could be your beloved through an eternity of lives.”

“You know not enough has been done,” Syl said reprovingly. “You’re not the kind to leave your father with a dual struggle; a realm still early in its forging and you gone from his life would be too much.”

Orhêthurin held back tears, her shoulders shaking with the effort. “He’s got so much work to do, he wouldn’t even notice I’m gone.”

“He would,” rumbled Syl reassuringly. “This isn’t like you, my sweet.”

“I don’t want to say goodbye to you as well, Syl,” whispered Orhêthurin.

“But you’ll get to say hello again,” said Syl. “How could I not love you? You’re everything to me, my sweet, and I doubt my reincarnations could be stupid enough that they wouldn’t love you.”

“One never knows, we can all be stupid,” breathed Orhêthurin, and she shifted location to press her cheek against the side of Syl’s muzzle. “And even if they do, it won’t be the same.”

“It’s not something changeable. Even if you mend me whole, I’ll still die in time,” murmured Syl. “Let me choose this day to pass. Listen to my aged bones and organs, then tell me it’s not the truth that I’ll die soon.”

The truth of Shindraithra’s state was clear from her themes and, though Orhêthurin wanted to deny it, she closed her eyes and whispered her acceptance as her tears flowed. “I’ll honour your choice.”

“We were here when you told me the passage of souls helps the realm,” recounted Syl. “Will the weight of my Soul’s deeds help?”

“More than millions of others, Syl,” reassured Orhêthurin. “You tempered yourself against the soulless monsters and helped even those races you disliked.”

Syl paused with a deep grunt and forced the words out. “I want you to promise me you’ll find someone else to love.”

Orhêthurin choked back another sob. “I don’t want to do that. Please don’t make me promise you.”

“Promise me, I don’t want you to be alone if future me is dumb,” insisted Syl with a groan, and her tone demanded. “Promise me, songbird, say the words. Promise you’ll find someone else to love.”

“I promise to find someone else to love,” croaked Orhêthurin, barely able to manage the words. A triumvirate of forces came into play the moment the final word slipped free. Her heritage, the changes she had drawn from the Fey, and the rules of the realm set around Nicholaus and herself to ensure they remained accountable. As the words of the commitment shackled the intent, she silently screamed, but the change within was complete and rapidly removed even the desire to protest.

The first rays of dawn had lightened the sky before Syl spoke again. “Do you remember it still?”

Orhêthurin licked her lips; the urge to let Syl know was gone as if the promise had been Orhêthurin’s intent all along. Bound and constrained, her mind shied away from older memories that would refute it, not even questioning the gaps. “I remember many things.”

“Our first time here is something I’ve thought of often,” said Syl. “Lately, I’ve spent years here in my dreams, but they’ve grown hollow without you truly with me.”

“You’ve bled all over our favourite place for aeons,” grunted Orhêthurin, trying vainly to manage a light tone. Her tears magnified the dawn light that reflected off Syl’s mauled hide.

“Will it be sunrise soon? I really wanted to see the colours here one last time,” groaned Syl.

Orhêthurin snapped her gaze to the glow of the dawn sky that had lit up while they were talking. “It’ll be cresting in a moment, my silly Syl. You’ll see its brilliance soon.”

With Syl’s eyes beginning to glaze over in death, Orhêthurin sang the dawn colours into her mind and Soul to enjoy while journeying to Elysium.

A last exhaled breath left the air stilled, and when Syl’s Soul phased away, Orhêthurin grunted in pain. Unsure how she could say farewell, Orhêthurin gently stroked Syl’s hide. It was an awkward motion made worse by a hand that trembled and jumped with each shudder from barely suppressed sobs. When she threw her head back in a soundless scream, dozens of stars roared into existence. Though their light would be centuries reaching the mountain slope, she instinctively positioned them so that they’d perfectly form the Draconic rune for ‘Syl’ on this day each year.

Bahamut appeared beside her and rested a hand on Orhêthurin’s shoulder. “I felt her passage start. My celestials will ensure her Soul has safe passage on this journey and any other.”

Orhêthurin nodded, and her training swords appeared in her hands. “Will you take care of her remains? I don’t want scavengers picking at her.”

“What are you planning to do?” asked Bahamut softly. “She chose today to die.”

“And I chose to get some exercise,” snarled Orhêthurin, and she vanished. She reappeared on the field of battle, covered in the disguise of one of her father’s mechanical servitors. The first weapon strike caused the daemons closest to the Outlands to explode into shattered atoms, but the blast washed past her to slay more and scour life from the surrounding ground. As the slaughter progressed, the bramble-covered plains and hills of Hades were bleached into grey, lifeless ash.

The battlefield's memory ruptured, overwhelmed by a cascade of memories. In each one, her discovery of Syl‘s Soul followed the same pattern down the aeons. Syl wouldn’t make the first move, and Orhêthurin let her move on to find Dragon mates. Eight reincarnations later Orhêthurin finally found an Anar whose kind nature promised to salve the still painful loss, and the promise took hold. Eventually, their love had turned old and stale for him before he’d discovered her nature, but she’d continued to love him, bound by the promise until he was done with her. Though his rejection released her, Orhêthurin’s love for him remained, and the pain drove through her core.

Other lovers entered and left her life, each taking more hope for lasting joy with them. Like the reincarnations of Syl, one after another felt too intimidated by the ancient being whose strength loomed so far beyond them. The aspects offered adoration for her role in their existence, others’ friendship and respect, or just a fun time, but never what Orhêthurin felt was genuine acceptance or love. She could see the truth in their body language and reactions even when she stopped listening to the themes that roared within them.

Orhêthurin’s growing loneliness tried to eat at Amdirlain, but her abilities hardened her to the pain or consumed it whole to let her stay unaffected. As the memories raced through her awareness, she danced around them, a flexing willow that bent momentarily, gaining enough time to deconstruct her Soul’s pain before it could seed Ori’s grief within Amdirlain’s mind. What she saw of Orhêthurin saddened her, but it wasn’t the millions of horrid acts that Soul Sight had once impressed into Amdirlain’s mind on the Cliff of Lust.

Finally, a world that was a replica of that first place with Syl hosted Orhêthurin’s recovery while the wound she’d gutted within herself burned with the agony of blazing galaxies. The hole even included all memories of how she’d achieved the removal and what she’d done with the power and, closing her eyes, Orhêthurin lay on the mountainside she’d copied and savoured the fact she couldn’t hear even the moon, let alone the sun.

Orhêthurin asked the empty air. “Will peace come for me now? Will I find the love he promised I’d have?”

“You hid what you did, and I can only feel the outcome. How can I make accurate modelling with only part of the facts?” Gideon’s words startled her, coming without warning from near her head. “You’re not even a Primordial now. Can you recover your strength?”

“I don’t want it back. I want Kronos’ vision to be true,” said Orhêthurin, not opening her eyes. “I want to roam the realms to find love and happiness.”

“Nicholaus will not be happy,” cautioned Gideon.

“Are you going to tell him?”

“That is not what I meant,” snapped Gideon. “If you go, he will be alone, making him unhappy.”

“If Father has work to do, he is never alone. He lets it consume him,” said Orhêthurin.

Gideon snorted in disgust. “Like you’ve never done the same?”

“He also has you and his other grandchildren to keep him company,” continued Orhêthurin.

“By concept; we’re related, not by blood.”

“Ask me if I care, but before you do, the answer is no,” said Orhêthurin. “Are you going to tell him?”

“It’s my role to provide him with knowledge,” replied Gideon. “You’ve already prevented me from knowing where and how you’ve wounded yourself. Do you also expect me not to tell him you have a death wish?”

“It’s the mortality he promised me, that he lied about having given me,” snapped Orhêthurin. “For a billion years, he let me think my long life was simply the result of my acts with the Fey. He told me the truth only when we made the Anar and Lómë.”

“You weren’t angry with him then. He let you live the lie you were telling yourself,” corrected Gideon. “If you listened to yourself properly, you would have known the truth all along.”

Orhêthurin whispered. “I want to be loved.”

“You are,” said Gideon. “He will never stop loving you, Orhêthurin. He won’t reject you no matter how you hate him, lash out, or rage. He promised he would always do what you want and need.”

“That’s not what I mean, and it’s not enough without him around to share in my life,” said Orhêthurin. “I know he’s working on making my designs, but it’s not enough without him here to hold my hand when I’m in pain. I could handle him working away in silence for years, but his being locked away has become intolerable. It’s another hole in my heart. I can no longer stand being so alone, Gideon. Every time someone leaves, they take another piece of me with them, and it’s become so empty inside me that I have nothing to give.”

“You know where he is,” stated Gideon firmly. “How is that a hole?”

“Damnation, Gideon. Will you listen to my perspective, understand me, and not focus on the facts you want to dig at me with? To you, knowing is all that matters, but it’s not enough for me. You’re a numskull. I want my FATHER in my life! That blasted spire wasn’t his eternal prison in my design,” snapped Orhêthurin, the agony that chewed at her inside, driving her anger into an unreasonableness she once would never have allowed out.

“It’s hardly a prison. There is more space within it than some realms,“ Gideon said, ignoring her emotional protest.

Orhêthurin dug her fingers into the moist earth. “Will you stop arguing?! I’m telling you my feelings. My feelings are mine and don’t have to match your factual perspective. That place might as well be another realm after he sealed it up from his side and made me promise to seal this side. Why do the people I love insist that I need to promise them the cruellest things? I can feel it now, those wounds in my Soul that I still can’t fix because my own promises bind me. Now I’m a Mortal. I can feel their bonds, but I can’t break them. No more will I let someone push me into doing anything except what I want to do.”

Gideon chimed in frustration. “But you needed the surety that he could never leave the realm, never abandon it from boredom as you know other realm creators have. Your pain ensured he would act on that need.”

Orhêthurin growled at their tone. “You know how much pain I’m in right now, as I’m certainly not up to concealing it. You think I care right now?”

“It’s a self-inflicted pain, that we both know. I’ve no sympathy now or ever for your plight,” huffed Gideon. “Especially since, without your former strength to unseal the outside, the interior of the Spire will be forever untouchable. Now you’ve only yourself to blame that you’ll never see him again.”

“I know you heard me talk to Syl about Kronos‘ account,” replied Orhêthurin. “I knew my time here would be limited, and that’s part of why the time stream in this realm runs so fast. A fixed time point is a fixed time point, and we’re just squeezing everything we can into the gap before the time stream of this realm reaches a synchronised point with that future.”

“You’ve let the words of a remnant drive your decision-making,” said Gideon. “Was he even telling you the truth? You were a child, and he was after a tool for his own revenge. The best way to drive you to work hard was to let you know your time was limited, and I know you’ve also considered that possibility before now. Why else would he have returned to speak to you alone while Nicholaus was laying a false trail if not to manipulate you?”

“I could hear his song and know it was the truth,” Orhêthurin groaned, not bothering to look at the space where Gideon’s voice originated as she flowed to her feet. “You’re lucky I don’t know where to go to return to my former strength.”

Gideon’s mocking laughter chimed out. “Yes, because you’re angry enough to unmake me like you did the daemons and Mayhem after Syl’s first death. The wrathful tendencies of the Greek gods didn’t skip your generation.”

“Stop responding, since you just want to be an arsehole,” huffed Orhêthurin, and she retrieved her tailored crystal blades to test how much physical might she’d lost. The density of the compressed matter made her grunt at the strain, but Orhêthurin’s grip remained firm, and she started on the first training pattern.

“I’ll remind you that I don’t have to take any instructions from a now-Mortal being, no matter how strong she is,” replied Gideon. “Enjoy your long life span, and I’m sure I’ll see you indulge in more stupidity yet.”

“Go off and report your understanding of the facts to Father. I’m sure you’ll be a complete idiot and not mention anything about my feelings,” growled Orhêthurin. “You’re the grandest mistake I made. You can send notices, but I never want to hear your voice again.”

“Accountability is all well and good when easy,” snorted Gideon.

Guilt made Orhêthurin bite her tongue to avoid lashing out further, but Gideon’s contact was gone before she could apologise.

“I still don’t know if the parasites are from this realm or another life?” murmured Orhêthurin amid the silence. As more pain stirred from the wounds, she groaned. “I’m just so done.”

A wave of agony spiked within the memory, and Amdirlain broke free of Orhêthurin’s grief and wounds.

[Memories synchronised

Resonance-Lord evolved to Resonance-Prince.

Resonance-Lord [G] (1) -> Resonance-Prince [G] (1)

Phoenix’s Rapture [G] (105->106)

Pain Eater [M] (56->81)

Mental Hardening [S] (33->45)

Note: I hoped she would change her mind or find a way to turn back.

Note: I’m not bothering to tease you with the percentages today or even that you’re finally his princess. You know you’ve got a long way to go in many respects.]

The trillions of melodies within Resonance bloomed dramatically. Instead of only chemical chains, Amdirlain could suddenly perceive down to the atomic level for nearly a thousand kilometres in every direction. Though she couldn’t hear the individual electrons audible in Orhêthurin’s memory, it still made for an agonising jump.

Off.

Thankfully, the response was instant, and the only noises she could hear were those purely physical. Amdirlain bowed her head and waited out the blood that dripped from her eyes and ears while Phoenix’s Rapture restored the chunk of health the assault had consumed. With Pain Eater calmly informing her the damage was being managed, Amdirlain’s thoughts turned elsewhere.

Orhêthurin endured so much heartache she got to where it broke her. I’ve been way too critical. All I’ve seen ‌were the mistakes and how it had impacted me, not the pain she’d endured. She went through all that expecting to die, knowing that she’d never see the results of her work and that her Soul would end up mauled. How did she do it?

Despite her intentions, Amdirlain’s mind kept flitting back to the first memory of Syl but, feeling voyeuristic, Amdirlain kept clear of its ending. Seeking a way to control it, Amdirlain focused on the start of the memory and, using Sarith’s pattern of shunting and redirecting emotions to keep herself separate, Amdirlain reviewed Orhêthurin’s approach to Resonance. After a few stumbles, Amdirlain got Resonance tuned to close to the previous level of details and slowly expanded its reach, yet it wasn’t even close to fully unfurled before she hit her mental limits. As she started to consider the options for the Power, Amdirlain halted and forced herself to admit what she’d started to avoid.

I’ll have to gain more Intelligence before I can handle all the information it simultaneously provides.

As she considered discussing options with Sarah, Amdirlain cut off the first message she’d been going to send and contemplated the situation in the memories again.

Do I say anything to Sarah? Is there a point in saying anything? Heck, can I even say anything? I’m aware of the promise and the impact, but with my lack of attraction in that respect, I don’t feel obliged to let her know or, strangely, to not tell her. It changed Orhêthurin’s nature, not mine. What do I do though?

“Sarah, I hope your time with your mentor is going well. I got another evolution of Resonance, and it’s a bit of a doozy I could do with someone to talk with about it. Do you remember the only promise Ori made Syl?”

Pleased and surprised that she managed to get the words out, the shimmering Message orb vanished away, and only then did Amdirlain realise she’d used an actual Spell, instead of True Song to mimic it, for the first time in years.

Flustered and unsure of what to do, Amdirlain rose and paced. The time for her lesson with Cyrus seemed too far away, yet nowhere called to her. Amid her uncertainty, more memories roiled and churned, but Amdirlain held them at bay. Determined, she set herself to focus on her current goal. Amdirlain took a standing meditation position, with a balanced stance, her feet shoulder-width apart. With the exercise from the day before in mind, Amdirlain emptied most of her Ki pool into another retrieved crystal and started to repeat Cyrus’ exercise. Out of sorts as she was, the delicate exercise still helped her cut through cluttered thoughts and, one node at a time, she drew a fine mist of Ki through her Sigil. When it finally ignited, the blaze of energy reminded Amdirlain of Syl’s heated gaze, and the calm she’d achieved came undone.

Geez Louise, you’re acting like a horny teenager. Even having avoided the worst of it, Ori’s memories have our emotions muddled and churned together.

A sharp exhalation and Amdirlain’s calm snapped back into place. More loops of her sigil followed and, retaining her calm, Amdirlain continued until her pool refilled. Though satisfied, she continued cycling and storing Ki until Cyrus arrived. His tap on the front gate came as a surprise and made Amdirlain aware she hadn’t fine-tuned Resonance to the extent she’d believed.

With the new delicacy of the Power likely to require acclimatisation, Amdirlain left its current sensitivity alone and ventured to the front gate to welcome him inside. After giving a bow, he stepped into the yard, his layered grey and black robes snapping with the precision of his motions.

Cyrus’ dark gaze assessed her contemplatively, and he grunted his satisfaction. “Kadaklan indicated you had been unsettled this morning. From your appearance, I gather that is no longer the case?”

“I’m indeed feeling more myself this afternoon, Master Cyrus,” replied Amdirlain.

“That is good. Have you been cycling in the manner we discussed?” enquired Cyrus.

Amdirlain nodded. “That is what helped restore my calm. The effort of drawing minimal amounts of Ki doesn’t allow for success with a distracted state of mind.”

“I’m glad you found the technique helpful in that regard, but the purpose of the exercise is not to restore calm. What has it taught you about your sigil?” asked Cyrus. “Or were you looking at it purely as a challenge?”

“The path between the nodes isn’t a straight line. It undulates and follows the curvature of the flesh,” said Amdirlain.

“And?” huffed Cyrus. “Does it only have one thing to teach you?”

“I noticed with the sigil reinforcement it’s almost like a DNA helix spiral,” proposed Amdirlain.

Cyrus shook his head. “That isn’t what I was looking for you to find. While the sigil reinforcement will be helpful later, the technique was designed to work for those without such extensions to their spiritual net.”

“The pathways aren’t consistent,” offered Amdirlain.

“Good,” huffed Cyrus. “I was concerned you would miss the most obvious of points. What effect does that inconsistency have on the sigil?”

“It’s subtly changing all the time. It’s like my phoenix is getting ready to fly from the nest,” said Amdirlain.

“Something a living creature would do, correct?” asked Cyrus.

Amdirlain nodded hesitantly, unsure of the importance of that point.

Cyrus sighed. “What is the technique you are trying to learn?”

“Ki Blast shaped into the form of an animal,” said Amdirlain.

“Ki, the energy of life shaped into the form of an animal, is then projected from the flesh,” summarised Cyrus. “Yet what happens when you complete the loop of the sigil at present?”

“The energy multiples and spills back into my Ki Pool,” said Amdirlain. “Do I redirect that energy outwards instead?”

“Precisely, with your complex sigil, this will be a particular challenge,” said Cyrus before he frowned at Amdirlain. “So, no doubt you’ll prove me wrong and throw blazing phoenixes about in no time.”

“Well, I have more than twelve nodes in my sigil,” noted Amdirlain.

Cyrus gave a dry chuckle. “You’re not going to let me forget that boast, are you? Though I’ll admit, it taught me a pinch of humility.”

“Only a pinch?”

“I’m already so humble, so any gain is impressive,” retorted Cyrus wryly.

“Master Kad warned me about the ego of practitioners,” said Amdirlain.

Cyrus’ expression turned stony. “Did he include his own amongst them?”

Amdirlain shook her head. “I’ve yet to find much of an ego involved in Kadaklan’s actions other than his love of extending the healing arts to new places. Seeding the growth of a new bamboo forest, as he puts it.”

“See, ego. You notice he didn’t say planting a bamboo field. Doesn’t the word forest bring up an image of a vast heritage of bamboo? How is that not egotistical?”

Amdirlain’s laughter burst forth, and Cyrus gave her a pleased smile.

“Are you two playing some sort of game?”

He fixed her with a grandfatherly smile. “Yes, make Amdirlain laugh.”

“I’ve not even confirmed my list of goals to Kadaklan,” protested Amdirlain. “He’s the one that came up with happiness, balance, and time.”

“Happiness is a state of mind that helps lead one to serenity. How can that not be a goal?”

“You seem so serene kicking my arse,” snorted Amdirlain.

Cyrus’ expression turned inscrutable. “It is a very relaxing experience.”

“I’m glad I didn’t pose a stressful challenge or anything exciting,” drawled Amdirlain.

“Not yet,” replied Cyrus dryly. “I’m sure you’ll get there one day.”

“Joking about my competency aside, what is the next step?” asked Amdirlain.

Cyrus’ brows raised in surprise. “You’ve not skipped ahead in your reading?”

“There are tricks in the writing, remember?”

“Which means you shouldn’t attempt the stage of the technique ahead of time. I had expected you to enquire about the meanings of passages and diagrams, not wait for me to hold your hand,” said Cyrus.

Amdirlain sighed and kept her focus on the moment. “There have been a few other things going on.”

Cyrus brought out the book and turned it to a page with a diagram of a walking man overlaid with the silhouette of a tiger.

“Become the animal?”

“No, you need to learn your Phoenix’s motions. Move while cycling to feel the flex of your spiritual net and how the pathways change.”

After putting more Ki into the crystal, she tossed it to Cyrus and started to pace the yard. Once she settled into an even rhythm, she drew a fine stream of mist from her Ki Pool. As the lesson progressed, Cyrus placed obstacles in her path, getting her to use overhead bars and move erratically to shift the pathways between nodes.