CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Your Energy
Miri’el explained the girl’s jet-black, diamond-like scars and how they could actually store void energy--next-gen voidmancer technology. She was able to easily handle the volatile energy source, feeling next to nothing of the painful sensations from before. Stella’s life would soon be in direct connection to the global void rails--the rainbow bridge. There were still certain aspects that had been kept, however, from the new hero, like the fact that she’d have to take a life for the initial amount of power required.
“What’d you think, angel?” Y’neros asked. “May as well do this while we’re on our own little island,” Miri’el nodded, keeping a solemn expression about her. Stella glanced over curiously. “Do what?” she asked. The former necromancer chuckled. “Let’s hope my life is the only one you ever have to end, girl.”
“What?” the girl replied in disbelief, turning to the angel that provided no comfort in return. “Get up, girl,” Y’neros stated, rising to his feet. “People out there need you, and you should be thrilled that you get to be the hero to end my life.” As the moment set in, the voidkeeper’s body actually attuned itself to the ritual about to commence. Stella found herself only able to keep her finger on the trigger of the situation. “There has to be some other way,” she cried.
“There isn’t, dear,” Miri’el stated. “That amount of energy can only come from an existing creation--never otherwise single-handedly produced.” “Stella, you need to give me this,” Y’neros said humbly. The girl’s onyx scars practically hummed with anticipation as she now stood about a yard from the former necromancer. The angel stayed behind the voidmancer, with her wings ready to shield against the inevitable bloodspatter.
The same ritual was performed in Chelsea. The voidmancer is essentially able to take ahold of the very energy holding the body together, the very soul-fiber intertwined with the host’s flesh. Concentrating and removing the energy are incredibly tumultuous experiences for both parties, but the end result is a rather bloody destruction of the sacrificial host’s physical existence. Due to Stella’s recent “modifications,” the experience proved oddly emotional more than anything else. In fact, physically, she barely felt a thing.
The man’s screams came to a sudden halt; and in that instance, the angel’s wings shielded the both of them. Only a single drop of blood had managed to strike the voidkeeper’s shoulder.
Miri’el receded her wings, and Stella buckled at the bloody sight. The energies had separated and syphoned themselves into the now glowing onyx crystals of the voidkeeper’s skin. Gently embracing her, the angel helped the girl to her feet. Stella took hold of her resiliency, knowing that the only way to go was forward.
“I’d love to try this,” the voidkeeper stated softly. “Can we?” The angel conjured a portal and smiled. “We should be able to, yes.” There was a sadness in Stella’s eyes as she glanced back a last time, a moment in time she would never forget.
The two stepped out of the portal before a confused and battered people. Miri’el spread her wings and motioned people away from the pylon, leaving the voidkeeper alone before the runic tower. Miri’el cast a calm over the nearby crowds, prompting a message of evacuation through the nether.
The angel seemed invisible to the crowd from that point on, watching as Stella began to feed prismatic energy streams into the algae-covered runic etchings. The streams permeated up and down the skyscraper of an obelisk. The pylon, burning away all the impurities it had acquired, slowly came to life.
As the last of the energy fed into the pylon, the voidkeeper snapped her fingers once. There was a deep hum followed by an ear-piercing clap. One could see the waters of the sea part in the wake of the surging force, soaring across the world to the point at Chelsea and onward to Rime.
The spike was powerful enough to knock back any guards at the gates! “WHAT FUCKING NOW!” one yelled upon the cliffs above Rime.
The way was open, yet Stella retained a visible amount of power. “It’s the nature of onyxian diamond,” Miri’el said, noticing the girl’s curiosity. “The amount you absorbed is proportional to you in such a way that the recycling process is self-sustaining. And all you need to do afterwards is snap your fingers, and the path will close just as it opened, regenerated enough to do it again,” she added, referencing the glowing pylon.
Slowly but surely people from Zuhetta would begin entering the rift, bound for Shiroan shores. Many had little to nothing remaining of their homes, making such a decision to leave relatively easy. The angel’s communique reached every heart and mind among the Anoshi isles. Established leadership of all sorts became attentive to the situation.
The scene at Rime’s end of the gate started a little rough but organized itself quickly. After all, they had done this once before. The megacity was still relatively fresh from its own battles; the evidence was literally everywhere. Entire portions were still in ruin while funeral pyres continued to light the rocky shores and now into the countryside
Even after a deluge had dowsed Rime, bloodstains remained seeped into the stone of the streets and some structures. Homes and buildings still bore physical scars with reconstruction efforts becoming stretched thin and slow. Though mourning was still palpable in all of Shiro, there was a strange sense of peace that those coming from Zuhetta could recognize.
Surely enough, back in Dema, Trova found himself empty-handed. He was at the merchant’s pond camp, feeding ducks along the water, when he noticed the ambiance of shopkeepers taunting each other across the dirt paths. “You look like a fellow who be down on him luck,” Kosho remarked merrily, passing by with groceries for Sahja and Fia’s roofless cottage.
Trova held up a crumpled sheet of paper, which Kosho examined. “Marko died? Dat be a shame,” Kosho stated sadly with his long ears lowering a bit. “Six darkdancer candidates--all dead,” Trova said plainly. “Den maybe dey weren’t shadow material, mon,’” Kosho answered encouragingly. “Tink about it. How did you start down dis path?”
It struck Trova that he was trying to control something that wasn’t necessarily meant to be controlled by anyone. “Shadows always find each other,” the darkdancer uttered to himself. “By de way,” Kosho added. “You owe a word to Enysa and A’mi. Dey told me how ya met; how ya gonna’ leave without sayin’ anytin.’”
“I was expecting to keep myself busy,” the darkdancer replied. “I guess I figured they’d do the same.” Kosho laughed out loud. “You spent enough time around dem two. How did you come by dat?” he asked. “Because they know how to let go of something,” Trova replied. The troll chuckled. “So, you equate dat to WANTING to let go?” he hinted.
Kosho continued on his way, but not before convincing the darkdancer to seek out the ladies he had in fact sworn to look after. Trova went to where Enysa and A’mi stayed, knocking on the front door. Enysa answered, bearing a cute scowl of disapproval. The darkdancer sighed heavily and then said, “I got caught up in some stuff.” “All that stuff you said--and you were about to straight bail,” Enysa replied with a calm leer. “You shame yourself.” A’mi, with a clever scheme up her sleeve, stopped what she was working on and came to the door.
“I’ll forgive your lies,” the alchemist said slyly, stepping in front of Enysa, “if you grant us a favor.” The darkdancer returned the statement with a leer similar to what Enysa had just been giving him. “You wench,” he uttered. “Oh, good. You know that a darkdancer has to clear their word in such matters of bodily protection,” A’mi declared with a smirk. “Who told you this?” Trova demanded. “Doesn’t matter, does it?” Enysa interjected happily. Trova sighed. “What’d you want?” he asked defeatedly.
“I’ve drawn up a contract,” A’mi stated confidently. “We get to be your chapter familiars; that’s pretty much the bottom line.” The darkdancer took A’mi’s wrist and faced her palm upward, drawing a series of lines with his finger that was trac
ed by brief detailings in light. He then motioned for Enysa to come forward, doing the same with her.
It was a simple ethereal glyph in their palms, something of an official mark given by a darkdancer to a chapter familiar. The girls were surprised by Trova’s lack of resistance to the idea but hurried to prepare for their travels. “You’re really set on doing this?” Trova sighed begrudgingly. “That damn troll, guilt tripping me over here.”
“Oh, come on. It should at least make you look good, right?” A’mi mocked, changing into fatigues behind a corner. “We want to help you, Trova,” Enysa added politely. When Enysa said that, the darkdancer felt a brief “beat” from the girl. It was something Enysa would not have noticed. It was also something Trova hoped was a fluke.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Holding What We Have
Sahja and Fia were in a staging area to the northeast of what was once Kitz. Defenses and counter offensives were beginning to take shape at the state’s eastern and western borders as reports of rallying demonic armies and nightmarish entanglements of the underworld came in from every direction.
Roju was to depart with a company to begin fortification construction along borders with Kussuum. The soldier would be among 29,999 of his comrades and 5,000 military engineers. This was the second group to disembark. The first had already indicated that the tributary shores were secured.
The honorary guardians had not tried to cross over Dema’s borders until recently, learning the hard way that Dema was their honorary territory. They tried to cross the tributary but bumped into their own invisible wall. Soldiers and heroes around them, warving their hands through the apparent barrier, were as curious as the guardians were. The two guardians shoved and ran for miles in either direction, finding no relief. They were still somewhat pouty about their restriction, but at least they were landowners, right? HAH!
Sahja was looking down the sights of Roju’s new assault rifle, a prototype alchemical transitional injector (PATI rifle). “As long as there’s a round in the clip, the chemical chambers can copy the composition of the projectile back into the magazine,” Roju explained with a smile. “The cryocore fragment helps with overheating while the alchemical chambers can last a good marksman up to four thousand rounds.”
“I wish we had cool shit like this in Mol’do,” Sahja remarked, firing a few shots at a target downrange. Fia looked at Roju, eagerly wanting to try the new toy. “Get better spacing than Sahja and I’ll bring you back a rock as a souvenir,” the soldier joked. Fia stuck out her tongue as she knelt with the rifle at the ready and then took a moment to steady her breath.
She fired five shots, the same as her counterpart. No one would notice the phantasmal feathers that drifted beyond the target. Roju used a scope to inspect the shots, giving a thumbs- up. “I taught her, so it shouldn’t be surprising,” Sahja remarked. Fiaria handed the rifle back to Roju, glancing at Sahja confidently. “You’re welcome,” Sahja replied.
Fia’s expression became one of exasperation. “That’s not what I was looking for,” she said. Sahja chuckled and replied, “I know.” Fia swiftly landed her elbow in Sahja’s side, actually striking in such a way as to inflict a sharp pain. “I forgot to tell you that I can actually hurt you now,” she said casually.
“You could hurt me before, woman!” Sahja exclaimed. “Well yeah, but not like on the same level,” Fia timidly defended. “Love is such a strange thing,” Roju remarked as he took up his pack. “I said to hell with that mess a long time ago. To be single is a blessing, right? Gives you more time to be a decent person.”
The regiments were given their marching orders, causing hundreds of various heavy and light vehicles to come to life. “You better bring a damn good rock,” Sahja said as he shook Roju’s hand. “Yessir, Commander,” Roju replied in kind. A cog gave a sharp whistle from the top of a nearby tank, motioning for Roju.
The soldier boarded the slowly accelerating behemoth armor, climbing a series of ladders to a small scouting deck at the top. “We need to talk with Kush’hera,” Sahja declared. “If we’re literally bound to this state, I need to know more of what’s happening around us and how best to defend this place.”
Fia was looking at the ornate reclaimed tattoo on her ring finger. “Is there a meditation or something?” she wondered. “Can we make portals?” Sahja shrugged. “Probably not then,” Fia remarked with some disappointment.
Eventually, they went back to the cottage to find that they had company. A’mi and Enysa happily greeted the guardians, who were obviously ready for some manner of departure. The darkdancer was reading a small book on the porch. “We need a vehicle,” he remarked plainly. “We can trade you that one for a pointer,” Sahja replied, pointing to a newer model military cruiser. “A pointer,” the darkdancer inquired. “We need to get ahold of Kush’hera, and we have absolutely no idea how,” Sahja explained. “You can’t cross the borders of Dema,” Trova guessed, with amusement.
The guardians nodded. “Interesting,” Trova stated. “Have you tried looking around the old grove?” The suggestion seemed enough for the friendly trade. The guardians were a little embarrassed to not have thought of that. “So, where are you headed this time?” Sahja asked.
“An island south of Tok’tala. We’re going to get the place there in working order--at least to prepare,” the darkdancer explained casually. “It’s a shame you can’t see Zufa’zuf. Bol’rel himself hoisted a temple there. The whole broken bow is coming together like the BFC here.” Sahja glanced at Enysa and A’mi. “And what about your fan club?” he joked as they approached the vehicle.
Trova threw a few heavy packs into the sleek armored car. “They’re my slaves,” he said in his own humorous way. “We’re chapter familiars.” Enysa cheered. “We get to do stuff.” A’mi reclined in the rear of the car. “Darkdancer alchemy is pretty much the doctorate of a doctorate in alchemy. This is a career opportunity,” she explained confidently.
“Isn’t patience a fun lesson?” Sahja remarked. The darkdancer leered at him in a way that obviously recognized the sarcastic remark but then gave a respectful salute to the guardians. Trova shook the guardians’ hands. “I’ll bring a souvenir the next time I pass through,” he said. “Don’t bring a rock. We’re already getting one of those,” Fia commented.
As the vehicle drove away, Sahja and Fia wasted no time in leaving for the grove where so much had changed. It was quiet and still. The initial wave that came over the two guardians was a reminder of what they had in fact done there--the life that they took. They leaned against the dead earthen oak tree, neither being poster children of any sort of meditative process.
What became different was the bit of life and light that seemed to have followed them into the place. A bit of green returned to some of the leaves and grass as wisps began to phase in and out of sight. The guardians closed their eyes and took a deep breath.
Each offered their own silent prayer for guidance. A gentle breeze came by their closed eyes, but they opened to see themselves soaring like bullets over the rift that isolated Asheya. “Holy shit!” Fia shouted, her arms passing through Sahja’s projection. It was a matter of seconds before their projections stood before Kush’hera atop her perch. “You good?” Sahja smirked at his counterpart. “Don’t act like you didn’t expect something calmer,” Fia defended.
“I was legitimately curious if you two were going to ask questions,” Kush’hera remarked casually. “I rather like the both of you. My husband was indeed wise to reclaim you.” “How can we best protect Dema?” Sahja asked plainly. Kush’hera lay so that she was as close to eye level as she could get to the two guardians. “You are a standing ward against Anri-Vex. Dema is not immune to his advances, but he knows of your presence by now. He would have to spend a tremendous amount of focus to mount an effective breach there. You are our living weapons,” she explained confidently.
“You say to expect these monsters in some cap
acity?” Sahja inquired. “Dema is a large state,” Kush’hera affirmed. “Presently, your remaining fighting force is stretching itself thin in their tactics. The construction of their new city will require a great deal of attention and manpower in and of itself. A good number of the people down there don’t truly know the extent of the growing conflict of which they’re very much a part.”
“What about those dragons of yours?” Sahja asked. Kush’hera played offended by the inquiry. “They’re not playthings,” she scoffed. “Besides, they need rest too. Poor things are tuckered out from all the hunting they’ve done lately.” “So, we just kind of walk around?” Fia pondered. “For what are we exactly looking?”
“If I remember Anri like I think I do, I suspect your targets will become apparent rather quickly, Kush’hera stated. “You were a beastmaster in Mol’do; now you’re a guardian in Zuhetta. Don’t mind the interim.” “Eternal beings seem to be very odd,” Fia remarked curiously. “Yeah, we’ve met a few now, huh?” Sahja agreed. “Really an odd lot.”
Kush’hera scoffed and ruffled her feathers. “I don’t think either of you have room to speak of others being odd. You’re protecting lots of odd people as well. You’d be well to remain comfortable with oddness,” the Celestial politely declared. “I feel like she’s offered to kill us before we really get involved,” Sahja commented.
The Celestial sighed and gently waved her claw away, saying, “Farewell, guardians,” as she sent the two projections away in an instant. The Celestial of Storms rolled over on her back and grunted, “I forgot how much I hate having to manage.”
“Dat be freaky,” Kosho uttered, close to Sahja’s face. “It look like da two of ya be dead when I was walkin’ up.” Sahja slowly put his hand between his and Kosho’s face, gently pushing the troll back. “I saw Trova takin’ off,” the troll continued. “Him told me ya be here.” “Is something wrong?” Fia asked.
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