by Will Wight
Yerin met the madra with the flat of her master’s blade. It pulsed with the power of her Enforcer technique; though it felt like pushing against an ocean’s tide and the heat of molten metal all at once, she gritted her teeth and braced herself.
Mercifully, the onslaught ended, leaving smoke rising from her arms—singed again—and her madra dangerously low.
She’d stopped it.
The green-horned man watched the whole thing with flat, dead eyes. “Remember you said that, Sopharanatoth.” Yerin guessed that was the dragon.
Yerin’s spirit trembled as another powerful soul was unveiled somewhere on the island. Yerin couldn’t put a name to its advancement level, but it felt impossibly ancient.
Then the mammoth rose over the trees and raised its trunk, trumpeting into the sky. She could see it mostly as a pile of fur in the distance; it looked like a mountain’s pet dog.
The stranger pointed in that direction. “My friend was listening. He’s not happy.”
The golden Thousand-Mile Cloud rushed in as though blown on a storm’s wind. Two Truegold dragons dropped from it, right in front of Sopharanatoth.
“Sophara,” one said. “We have to leave.”
The mammoth blasted another note.
“We have to leave right now.”
The Underlady raised her sword again, but was tackled by her retainers. She struggled against them, and though she could surely overpower them if she tried, they managed to wrestle her onto a smaller Thousand-Mile Cloud.
“Skysworn!” she howled. “I will come for you! Your Empire cannot protect you! You cannot hide from me!”
She kept wailing as the cloud carried her into the sky.
When she vanished, the giant Thousand-Mile Cloud started to slide away. It moved quickly, for something so huge.
Yerin took a deep breath of relief as the pressure was lifted, letting herself be soothed by the Truegold madra flowing through her. Mercy looked to her, and then to the newcomer.
“Hi!” she said brightly. “I’m Mercy.”
Chapter 17
Lindon sensed no Eyes of the Deep in Harmony's possession, and his Goldsign was even more dense than before. It seemed like a hole hovering behind his head.
“He's only a step away from breaking through to Underlord,” Orthos rumbled. “He'll have a weapon in his soulspace, and he'll have soulfire in his body, but he won't be able to infuse it into his techniques yet.”
“Then we have nothing to fear,” Lindon said. He should have been terrified, but the Blackflame running through his channels was stronger than ever, and he felt nothing more than eager.
Harmony raised two fingers, and Lindon activated the Burning Cloak. He had seen this technique before.
Fingers fell, deceptively slowly, and a blade of shadow flickered between Harmony and Lindon. The blade sliced a shallow gash in stone, but a sidestep powered by the explosive Burning Cloak put Lindon five steps to the side. It would be hard to avoid if you didn't know how it worked, or if your body wasn't fast enough to keep up. But shrouded in the burning black-and-red of his Enforcer technique, he was ready for anything.
Harmony's eyes flashed, and his fingers moved in a complex pattern.
Half a second later, shadow-blades flashed at Lindon from every angle. His eyes widened, but he didn't have enough time for panic. He kicked forward, slid on his knees and bent backward to avoid a horizontal slash, rolled to avoid one coming from above, and raised his Remnant arm to seize the technique coming from his right.
The blade was thin as a string and not solid—it was a Striker technique, not Forged. The hunger madra crushed it easily.
Orthos slammed into Lindon's side, knocking him away, as a blade came from behind that he hadn't noticed. Orthos disappeared, his own Burning Cloak taking him away from the technique.
Harmony hadn't moved, looking at his own fingers curiously. “It's truly incredible,” he said. “I can see as Monarchs do.”
Lindon gathered dragon's breath into his left hand, but he didn't release the technique. “We have no grudge against the Akura clan. I serve on a Skysworn squad with Akura Mercy. Let's leave together.”
At the sound of Mercy's name, Harmony's expression twitched. Lindon couldn't read his expression, but the young man's spirit grew darker.
“Shouldn't have said that,” Orthos muttered.
Harmony pulled his hand up, and Forged black blades erupted beneath Lindon and Orthos. They split, dodging the technique.
And without discussion, they both rushed for Harmony.
They came at him from either side, and Harmony glanced from one to the other. He spoke as they ran at him, shaking out his sleeves. “Come, let me show you.”
Lindon struck with his Remnant arm as Orthos bit down on Harmony's left hand.
In an instant, the purple flooded out of Harmony's irises, filling the whole eye. It looked as though he had smooth gemstones in both eyes.
Gauntlets of purple crystal covered his hands, and he seized Lindon's arm in one and the back of Orthos' neck in the other.
Their charge stopped as though they'd been locked in stone.
Orthos struck with his front leg, Burning Cloak flaring, and Lindon slammed his half-formed ball of dragon's breath at Harmony's chest with his left hand.
Harmony spun in place, releasing them and avoiding their attacks. In the same motion, he struck each of them with the backs of his fists.
Orthos took it on the shell, skidding back a few paces.
Lindon flew across the room.
His ribs throbbed with pain. A month ago, the strike would have caved in his chest. But his Truegold Enforcer technique and weeks of eating sacred beast meat made him tougher than that.
Lindon hit the floor on his feet, but Orthos had already engaged Harmony one more time. He cycled Blackflame to his feet, ready to dash back in.
Until he looked up.
The jeweled tree shone down on him, the Eyes of the Deep soothing his spirit with their placid, thoughtful presence. Dross was up there, somewhere. He'd been too late.
Blackflame turned that failure to anger, and once again he prepared himself to return to battle...
Until he caught a glimpse of purple among the tree's cages.
He looked closer to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Dross wasn't as bright or violet as he'd been before, as though blue madra had seeped into him, but he was still a different color to all the other Eyes of the Deep.
Maybe he could still be saved.
“Hold on, Orthos,” Lindon shouted, and with the assistance of the Burning Cloak, he leaped into the iron branches of the tree.
Orthos gave him a wordless shout of frustration. Harmony had kicked him into the ceiling, and was now launching a series of shadow-blades at him. Only a few weeks ago, Orthos would have died there.
His mind, body, and spirit had been rejuvenated by his time in Ghostwater. This place had remade him just as much as it had Lindon. He twisted in the air, agile as a snake, not only avoiding the blades but flashing out with dragon's breath that scorched a line along the floor, forcing Harmony to raise a sword and to leap back.
But Lindon could still feel the turtle's frustration. He wouldn't win on his own, so Lindon would have to be quick.
He flipped open the cage, which was surprisingly easy. He had thought he might have to burn it open, but it didn't even seem to lock. Then he reached in with his left hand, pulling on Dross’ vessel.
It was locked in place.
Lines of light ran from the rest of the cage to the gem as madra sealed it inside. Dross mumbled something from the jewel, like a man mumbling in his sleep.
Lindon reached out his Remnant arm, hesitating before he touched the lines. He didn't know what severing this connection would do to Dross; as far as he knew, it might be the only thing sustaining the construct's life.
But Orthos cried out behind him, and he hooked a white finger around the line of madra. He didn't have time to examine this carefully.
&nbs
p; With his finger, he cut the line connecting Dross to the other Eyes of the Deep. Dross gasped, and Lindon quickly sliced through the other connections and pulled out the gem.
Dross mumbled sleepily for another minute. “...I dreamed I was a thousand birds,” he said at last.
Lindon let out a breath of relief, turning back to the battle. “Dross, we need to leave. Can you activate the portal?”
The light in the gem shivered, as though Dross were shaking himself. “I can if we can get to it. Will Harmony let us, do you think?”
A wave of swords stabbed up from the floor, seeking Orthos, as the turtle flipped and spat fire over them.
“I don't think so.”
“Well, that should be fine. I have another idea.”
A purple spark flared over the stone basin at the base of the tree, and Lindon followed Dross' direction, hopping down in front of it.
“I know so much now,” the construct said in wonder. “More than I ever thought possible.”
“What do I do here, Dross?” Lindon asked. Blackflame blazed behind him.
The spirit flowed out of his vessel. Dross was slightly transparent again, as though he'd lost some substance, but he still looked the same as he had after the Life Well: a round body with one eye and a mouth. He extended two tendrils like arms, pressing them to the script around the stone basin.
The script flashed purple, and after a moment, a clear tube extended from the tree. A white pearl rolled down the tube.
“This is what Harmony drank,” Dross said. “Ghostwater.”
“Did it really give him the vision of a Monarch?” Lindon asked, watching the pearl greedily.
“Ha! No. He's a Truegold; the true sight of a Monarch would pull his mind apart like clay.”
The drop settled into the basin, and Lindon leaned for it.
“Wait! You kept samples of each Well, didn't you?”
“Only one vial from the Life Well.”
“That should be good enough. Probably. Open your void key.”
Lindon did, and the closet door appeared out of nowhere, Little Blue squeaking happily.
And Harmony's spirit locked onto Lindon.
Lindon ignited the Burning Cloak again, turning to face the Akura. He kicked Orthos away to glare at Lindon.
“You can handle this, Dross,” Lindon said, waving to the basin. Then he kicked off, launching himself at Harmony.
“Yes, of course I can,” Dross said behind him. “Of course. Handling it, that's what I'm doing.”
Swords shoved up from the ground, almost as tall as Lindon was, but he tore them apart with his right hand. While they tangled him up, a shadow-blade flashed at him at neck height.
Orthos plowed into Harmony from behind. The Akura turned, catching his shell with one gauntlet, but Orthos spun and whipped his tail into the shadow artist's chest.
Harmony flew back, gauntlets dissipating to essence and violet crystal boots appearing on his feet. They bit into the stone, stopping him instantly, as he fired another Striker blade at Orthos.
So he wasn't watching when Lindon broke through the techniques and landed in front of him, Burning Cloak blazing around him. He punched Harmony with his right hand, but white fist met purple as Harmony got his gauntlet up.
Lindon was pushed back by the force of the attack, but Harmony was only feet from the stone wall. He crashed back into it, his black halo eating into the stone even as his gauntlets cracked the rock.
Orthos landed at the same time as Lindon steadied himself, and once again they acted as one. Lindon brought his hands together in front of him, gathering a ball of black-and-red fire between his palms. Orthos cracked his jaws, dragon's breath forming in his mouth.
Two burning bars of Blackflame met on Akura Harmony's body.
~~~
Dross struggled, panting like he had lungs, to pull a single vial of Life Water out of the void key's open storage.
“You're not going to help, are you?” he asked Little Blue.
The Sylvan cocked her head at him and whistled.
Before his union with the other Eyes of the Deep, that would have been incomprehensible to him. It was still mostly incomprehensible to him, but there was clearly a pattern in the Sylvan Riverseed's communication. He had started to see it, so he could make out what she was saying. Mostly.
“It's not about carrying heavy things, it's about your attitude. Do you hear what I'm saying? Willingness to help, that's all I'm looking for. Moral support.”
Little Blue raised her arms in the air and gave a cheer that sounded like wind chimes.
“See, that's all I'm asking.”
With superhuman effort, Dross stretched the vial in his arms over the basin. Shining green liquid splashed around the ghostwater pearl, with the white swirling inside the green. They hadn't mixed.
And they wouldn't. Not yet.
“The truth is,” Dross said to Little Blue, “all the hard work happens in the Wells. This tree just gathers it and uses it to fuel our thoughts.” He paused as he grabbed a vial of Spirit Well water, his mind drifting back to what it was like to be part of the collective.
It had been...expansive. He was far more now than he had ever been before, but when he was connected to the tree, he was a drop of water in the ocean. There was something empowering about being an ocean.
Little Blue squeaked, and violent power flared nearby.
Right, the fight. Time limit, and all that.
Dross heaved the second vial into the air. Each time he lifted one of these, he strained his physical substance. It didn't eat into his memory anymore; now he had an outer membrane that took on all physical strain. But sooner or later, that membrane would be exhausted.
Sooner rather than later, if he was reading his own body's condition correctly.
The blue water swirled in with the green and white, creating a pleasing whirlpool. The aura above the basin twisted like a storm as the powers clashed, and Dross lurched closer to the void storage again. “Just...one...more...”
He was having trouble dragging his body through the air. He moved his stubby arms in front of his eye, and he could see straight through them.
That wasn't ideal.
He drifted closer to the ground, and Little Blue hopped down from her perch. Her dress-like lower body twirled around his eye, and she looked down on him.
Dross tried to speak, but he was having enough trouble holding himself together without losing any of his real essence.
The Sylvan Riverseed dipped down, looking him straight in the eye, and her expression firmed. With the solid ringing of a bell, she walked over to one of the few remaining vials from the Dream Well.
With both hands, she pushed it out. It was almost half her body's height, and surely twice her weight, but she tucked it under one arm and dashed for the basin.
Dross looked up at the stone device, which loomed over him like a tower. “Why...didn't you...do that before?”
By the time he reached the top, Little Blue had already upended the purple water. All four colors now whirled in the basin, the air around them crackling with power. She was as wary as he was; that power could tear them apart, or change them fundamentally.
Of course, that was almost the idea.
Dross stretched one of his arms beneath the basin, activating a hidden circle with a bare spark of madra. “Northstrider left some of his very own soulfire stored at the base. It's the last ingredient.”
Pure silver fire, like a mirror stretched into the shape of flames, flared up from the center of the basin. It spread to the water like a natural fire spreading through a puddle of oil, but it consumed nothing.
Rather, the water grew brighter. And it started to blend.
The swirl of white at the center extended out, staining the rest of the liquid, as the silver fire grew smaller and smaller. Sparks of blue and green and purple essence drifted upwards; soulfire burned away impurities, refined the physical vessel, and empowered madra.
Yet another thing he'd l
earned from the collective.
The silver fire was exhausted as it sunk into every droplet of the water. It was solid white now, but it glimmered with a metallic sheen.
Dross gathered himself, looking for Lindon. One more step, and he needed a physical body for this part.
Then the grand work would be complete.
~~~
The dragon's breath met in a furious conflagration over Harmony's body, an inferno of black and red. The ball of fire devoured the nearby stone, so that it looked like they'd scooped out chunks of the wall and floor with a massive shovel. The rock glowed cherry red, but thanks to the destruction aspect of Blackflame, it left no molten stone behind.
Lindon and Orthos released their techniques together.
“Do we have a way out?” Orthos asked.
“Dross is working on it.”
“He should work faster.”
Harmony stepped out of the fading black-and-red madra, clad from head to toe in armor of violet crystal. The black disc hovered behind his helmet, and light shone where his eyes should be.
He extended one armored hand, and a metal axe shimmered as it appeared from his soulspace. It had a shaft as long as he was that looked as though it was made of one long bone, and its broad, curved head glistened with a red light.
When he gripped the weapon in both hands, Lindon felt Dross behind him. He clapped Orthos on the shell.
“Hold him back. I'll open the portal.”
“Hold him back?” Orthos repeated, but the axe was already descending on him. Snarling, he leaped away.
Dross panted as he arrived, even fainter than before. Lindon could see the wheels turning inside him, his madra channels looping around his core.
“Let...me...in...”
Lindon didn't ask questions. He seized the spirit, drawing him into his core without hesitation, dashing toward the portal.
“How do I start this?” he asked, as the chamber quaked with Orthos' and Harmony's battle.
“Wrong way, wrong way!” Dross shouted inside his head. “Turn, turn, turn!”
Confused, Lindon turned so that he was facing the jeweled tree. Orthos leaped away from a crater of cracked stone, and Harmony was a violet blur as he pursued.
