Dawn wrapped an arm around his shoulders, leaning. “Tatum came to get me for Cal. We’ve been talking it over and slating solutions onto the drawing boards.”
The old man nodded. “I hope it’s helping. Let me know if that horrible idea of mine needs an addendum.”
The Fire Soul wobbled her head from left to right, not too keen on the topic. “Well… you did tell him he wasn’t going to like it. I wouldn’t like it if in that position, but it sounds… safe? I’d rather not get into that right away. First things first: I want my boy.”
Artorian played confused, motioning to himself. “I’m already here.”
She flicked the back of his ear, knowing he was joking, and stepped to take Caliph from Halcyon, who pleasantly handed him over with a big smile. Cy provided Dawn a rundown on events, Djinn behaviors, and his general health while in her care. The Muspelheim chosen had attempted to take Caliph away from Cy, of course. With results about as effective as Surtur trying to coil around him in the first place.
Caliph was half asleep when back in his mother’s arms, but he conked out right away from the familiar comfort, snoozing with gentle little breaths. The gasp that erupted from P’dink captured their conglomerate attention. The Emperor had seen the Dreamer of the realm, and grasped his chest upon realizing she hadn’t been welcomed. He, of course, tried to rush towards her and perform a litany of greetings, but his advisory crew again carried him off above their heads while Goblin compliments fell endlessly from his face.
He was not doing this again!
As P’dink forcibly left the premises, Yuki actually exhaled in relief. A frosty veneer covered the space her breath touched, letting it shine and glimmer a moment before evaporating into a fine mist. “He is exasperating. I thought Odin was bad. That prickly icicle is the worst parts of two Dreamers rolled into one.”
Dawn smirked, supremely amused. “He issssss, isn’t he?”
Yuki elegantly held her hands before her waist sash, and respectfully bowed while addressing the source that spoke. Her eyes momentarily flickered to the tiny child in Dawn’s arms, but she froze her heart, and said nothing of it. “Flame Dreamer.”
Unfortunately for Yuki, Dawn was far too perceptive. Her ability to read a battle was natural, except that it was Yuki who was fighting with herself. When the snow lady rose, Dawn was already in front of her, the very Presence of the Fire Soul cancelling out the frosty space around the chosen.
Dawn’s words were soft, whispered, and supportive. “Would you like to hold him?”
The statuesque expression on Yuki’s face shattered. A moment of pain struck, too great to bear. Her jaw moved, but the words didn’t make themselves heard. Dawn understood the message anyway. Yuki’s expression said: “I don’t… I shouldn’t.”
Yuki’s arms acted on their own when the Dreamer of fire slowly and gently moved. She eased her bundled Djinn into Yuki’s arms, who held the boy with natural instinct. Yuki slid him into the proper carrying position without a single thought. Conflict roiled in her center as she held Caliph. Yuki didn’t know if her heart was going to shatter, or if she would break down.
Her strained gaze turned to her Dreamer. Eyes full of pleading uncertainty. Artorian heard ‘I’m not ready,’ even though it was again said without words. His hands were on her shoulders a moment later, the reply one of truth, and support. “Life does not wait for people to be ready. It merely comes, and it is up to you to decide what to do when it does. What do you want to happen, my dear? Will you let the pain take you? You can. It’s allowed. It’s alright. We will be here for you if it does, whether you choose that path or not.”
Caliph’s eyes were open when a conflicted Yuki looked down. Their gazes met, and the Djinn knew her wishes before she ever did herself. His tiny hand rose, and curled miniscule digits around one of hers. Caliph squeezed, and the snow lady’s frosty Aura shuddered away into a loose steam. That small gesture melted entire layers of deathly chill from the walls around her heart. Her tears froze against her cheeks, turning to tender fog after a few seconds. Yuki stood there helplessly, trapped in her own world as her emotions surged wildly.
No matter the internal chaos, there was a steadiness to her shoulders. Different hands held tight on either side, as two Dreamers felt the turbulence within her. She had lost her own child, and that pain haunted her. It froze her very soul, and the loss had become a cornerstone of her being. She hadn’t wanted to hold Caliph. Her every thought shrieked that it would only remind her of the agony.
There was no pain.
Her hand felt warm from the grip on her digit, which was trying its best not to freeze the little sweetling or do harm. Yuki slowly realized it was never rejection she’d been afraid of. It was acceptance that threatened to melt her pillar. To change her from who she was, into someone else entirely.
She had sought escape, or a handhold. Yet found herself both in good hands, and surrounded by warming hearts. She swallowed, and fleshy skin tone seeped into her skin from where Caliph held her digits. The unbroken sleet sheen on her icy white-blue body gave way to pinks and reds that mixed and settled, making her indistinguishable from any other normal human being. Her mind was still catching up to decide, but by the time she could reasonably come to a decision, she found her heart had already made it for her.
She was simply late to the party.
Yuki frowned, and for the first time her face didn’t shatter from doing so. Dawn smiled pleasantly at her. Her own Dreamer carried an expression of greater concern, but not one without support for her well-being. She again felt the squeeze, and looked down again to see Caliph had closed his eyes. The toddler had fallen asleep as warmth radiated from Yuki’s being. Her words fell from her lips without thought. “I… I love him.”
Dawn was proud as a peacock, nodding like it was the truest statement in the world. Artorian, on the other hand, felt punched in the gut. Releasing Yuki with a noisy *ooof*! as some of his cultivation got nicked. Sympathetic tethers formed to Yuki as she stopped rebuking several connective concepts.
Yuki bobbed Caliph, just a bit. She’d seen Cy do it, and the little one liked it. The sleepy complaint that left the toddler—along with a slight whining noise—made her melt from how adorable that was. “It… it doesn’t hurt. I expected my heart to shatter, and my world to crack.”
She looked at Dawn, clearly grasping at straws for why the expected response didn’t trigger. “Why doesn’t it hurt? My heart is warm, and I adore him so.”
The Fire Soul jabbed her nose over at the old man, who was picking himself back up after pressing hands to his knees. He cleared his throat, rolling an arm to make the tingling vanish. “Love isn’t a pie. There is not less simply because it was shared. The truth, my dear, is that I have no idea why you’re not in pain. Why your heart didn’t squeeze, or why your chest didn’t clench.”
He walked close, and laid his hand on the back of her shoulder blade once more. “In my eyes, I saw a sweet girl, who has never stopped being a very good mother. Do her absolute best to hold a little one, and treat it with the deepest of care. You seemed stuck in your own head, yet your Aura doesn’t lie, my dear. You held Caliph in your arms, and your Auric signature ran full tilt away from what it was. No matter how uncomfortable, or how uncertain you may have felt.”
He gently patted her. “A core part of you deemed that Caliph’s well-being was to be placed before yours. Your face and mind were conflicted, but not your soul, my dear. Your soul races ahead, and speaks your true feelings. Unfettered and unbiased, without strings or bad memories. You held a sweetling that needed you, and you would have given everything you had to keep it safe, and well cared for.”
He softly motioned to her hand, still being held. “You fear for your heart, but your inner cold unfetters. Your frost abates. Your entire composition changed in front of our eyes for the sheer reason that what you are, and what you have subconsciously chosen to be, is a person that never wants to see a sweetling come to harm.”
Artori
an beamed at her. “Somewhere deep, you knew your icy veneer might hurt Caliph. So you threw it away in an instant. You knew the rampant cold field you carry might not be good for him. That too, you threw away in an instant. You knew that keeping your signature buried in the ambient would mean you were invisible, and he would not know you were there for him. So you threw it away in an instant. Can you see it, my dear? The colors and identity of your Aura? Do you see the single, shining, overbearing love it desperately radiates?”
Yuki’s Dreamer squeezed her shoulder, and she was silently glad for it. “Whatever you are afraid of, my dear, you are not alone. No matter how painful you might think it could be, or the danger you think you’ll find yourself in. You’re not alone, and we will support the person you want to become. Loss is ever present, but one does not have to face that burden on their own. I am sorry for what happened to you. Yet, my dear, look at who you are holding. Then attempt to tell me, in earnest, that you do not care for his well-being.”
Yuki frowned, bordering flat-out upset. “What are you talking about? Of course I care. I…”
Her words faltered, and both the Dreamers were proud of her. Artorian let go of her shoulder, no longer needed as support. “You realize, my dear, this is the first time you have ever told me that you cared about anything other than stories? How does it feel, then?”
Yuki swallowed, her footing unsteady without the added support. To her relief, Dawn remained firmly at her side. Not judging the chosen while she experienced a trying time. Dawn had been informed about Yuki’s particular past, and thought this an excellent time to embody the world that did not wait. For she was fire, and would burn freely.
Yuki leaned into the Fire Soul, and they both smiled as Caliph yawned. “Good. It feels… good. Yet my strength wanes swiftly. Please, take him. I cannot steady my footing while my heart beats so loudly.”
Dawn accepted, and eased the bundle back into her own arms. Caliph buried his face into her warm chest, and loudly snored a single time. Yuki’s entire form sleeted over when she no longer held Caliph. Her skin tones vanished, returning back to the standard icy white-blue. However, when she turned to look at Caliph, her smile formed naturally, and didn’t crack her face.
Artorian beamed, privately speaking to Dawn in a forum.
Dawn just mentally punched him in the shoulder, her reply not remotely as uncertain.
Artorian sighed mentally, physically remaining supportive as Yuki got her bearings.
Dawn made it easy on him, her tone supportive.
Dawn gave her bestie a warming mental squeeze.
Artorian didn’t need her to finish that sentence.
Dawn mentally assented, and broke the connection. She walked to the Love Mage that had been strangely stationary a little too long, and softly punched him in the shoulder. “You’ll do great, Sunny. Take Karakum and Surtur. Good luck.”
They shared a hug, and said their temporary goodbyes. Artorian and the assembled four chosen were on the teleportation beacon an hour later. He was doing final checks when they all saw P’dink running up to them in haste. The chosen groaned, and Yuki closed her eyes sharply, her comments scathing. “I would rather deal with endless caverns filled with murderous Dark Elves than this one. Single. Goblin. Can we please go?”
By the time P’dink made it to the stairs, celestine light flashed. The group of five had winked out. The Emperor fell to his knees, lamenting loudly as one of his advisors finally saw fit to fill him in that Yuki was, in fact, not the Dreamer.
Chapter Nine
Arriving in Niflheim, the very air felt… wrong. Artorian didn’t like this feeling, nor what he saw, his hands pressing to his hips right away. “This is not where I told the platform to go.”
The well-armed Surtur, Karakum, Yuki, and Halcyon surrounded an arms-crossed, grumbly old man. Artorian complained loudly. “I set the port to go straight to the Palace. Why are we at the bottom of the entire continent? I can nearly see my house from here!”
Cy leaned over, looking off the edge of the beacon. Which existed at the bottom-most section of Niflheim. To be specific, this platform represented the lowest possible point on the continent. While they could see a continent below them, it wasn’t easy to tell which one it actually was. “Can you actually?”
Artorian sighed, hanging his head to shake it in the negative. “No… No, I can’t. I’m just venting because my teleportation access is blocked. This is the only pad I can reasonably get to without punching through a barrier that would cost me a frankly horrid amount of Mana. I mean… I could, but I wouldn’t be in a great place after. Please tell me I don’t have to make a continental climb manually.”
A self-satisfied laugh broke out in the corner. Gomei removed his invisibility, tossing and catching a knife with the biggest grin plastered on his face. “That’s exactly what you’ll have to do, Administrator. The Queen does not bid you welcome, as we expect your next conversation to be one that is less than kind. Did we not treat you kindly when last you came? Yet as of late, some of our scouts have been going missing. Surely you wouldn’t know anything about that, right, human?”
Artorian kneaded his temples, the chosen around him raising their weapons. Something that amused the General to no end. His knife vanished, and the cadre took the equivalent of a step back, their backs pressing to Artorian as they didn’t know where the knife had gone. Karakum drew a sharp breath when it appeared next to his ear, the object trapped between the Administrator’s fingers before it could cut a killing blow.
Artorian’s words were terse. “I understand, messenger. Do tell Brianna I’ll be back? It appears that even with some help, I’ve come poorly prepared.”
Gomei flashed a toothy smile as a full contingent of occluded assassins all threw Mana-imbued daggers at the platform in response. They had been well-hidden. Well enough to fool the chosen.
Unfortunately for Gomei, Artorian had felt his Auric signature before. He’d known the Dark Elf was there when they ported in. When the Elf undid his Aura effect to gloat pridefully, Artorian had seen the rest of the Nobles as well. It was one of these hidden warriors that had thrown the real dagger, while Gomei had
merely played with some textbook sleight of hand to make his own knife vanish.
The group of five on the platform winked out in a *vwop* of celestine light. Mana daggers chinked, stabbed, and peppered the beacon in enough sharp things that the platform could be mistaken as a person-sized cheese grater. Gomei clicked his tongue. His prey was gone, and for now they could not follow. “Next time, brat. Next time.”
The Tibbins expression was plastered on Artorian’s face when the cadre arrived in Midgard, his expression flat with lips squeezed down to a thin line. The chosen were defensively positioned against nothing as the air of the fringe region struck them with pleasant freshness. They hadn’t noticed before now that the Niflheim air had some… strange-scented effects to it. The clarity of the air here made the difference clear, and only now did the chosen realize that they felt sluggish. Karakum threw his envenomed rapier into the grass, stabbing the blade a foot deep. “They poisoned us with a misty gas? Those backstabbing two-copper spice sack thieves!”
The newly humanized scorpion was understandably agitated, and he stomped to a nearby tree just to claw at it. Surtur’s flared hood made her own anger clear as day, but she just silently seethed while slithering from the platform. Sitting down in the grass on a coiled up pile of her own tail, Surtur wanted to wait for the debilitating effect to wear off so the world stopped feeling like it moved a third as slow.
Yuki remained entirely unaffected, and was holding a very much not okay Halcyon tight. Cy had taken very poorly to whatever the poison mixture of the gas had been. She seemed sick, dark purple color clouding her cheeks.
Artorian stepped from the platform and let his starlight Aura chug into activity. Ugh, his Mana was slow. Slower than normal. It reminded him of Oak’s custom blend, except that it also affected Auric transfer speeds. How awful. He was glad they hadn’t stayed for long. That was a death trap if ever he saw one. Still, he’d succeeded in a sly-worded ruse, and had to hope the detail would survive the years.
Anima: A Divine Dungeon Series (Artorian's Archives Book 6) Page 7
