112 (Patreon)

“Where to next?” Fallopolis asked.

Erick’s answer was automatic. “Wherever there are people that need help.”

“We don’t have all the time in the world. Just another 12 hours. Ten, really.”

“If you don’t want to help, then I can find some people myself.”

Fallopolis smirked. “Go ahead.”

In the crimson lights of the kendrithyst towers, Erick cast a bit of brightness into the illusion-filled sky. A ball of white light took hold overhead, then began cascading light all around. A map formed in front of Erick, showing the entire 140 by 150 kilometer geode of Ar’Kendrithyst as a five meter wide space, where spiny towers poked up, and radio waves barely penetrated through the Upper Layer maze of crystal skyline.

But [Cascade Imaging] still worked, and it worked well, thanks to [Lodestar]’s boosting of all light spells.

It wasn’t long till blue dots started appearing everywhere among the miniature map of the Dead City. There were a lot more ‘people’ inside the Upper Layer than Erick had expected. Fallopolis must have been surprised, too, but not about anyone nearby. She ignored almost all of them, as she walked through the map, to stand at a spot that indicated a place not twenty kilometers from their current position. 

Like the Jungle and the Swamp and the Brightwater Expanse, many places in Ar’Kendrithyst were geographically altered from their normal locations in the skyline. The place Fallopolis had walked to was one of these places. Erick recognized the location, but Killzone warned him not to go inside; looking was fine, but to venture inside was death. It was the Armory.

Fallopolis indicated the domed enclosures of the Armory, and said, “That’s a lot more dots in there than there should be.” She grinned wickedly, then spoke in a singsong voice, “Someone is slacking~!”

The map continued to fill in the large depressions of the Jungle, the Swamp, and the Brightwater Expanse with half-solid images of crystal, while it also filled in more of the Upper Layer, and even a bit of the Middle Layer, of the Central Lane, almost 15 kilometers directly below. Erick wasn’t sure how his radio waves were getting through all of that kendrithyst crystal, but [Lodestar] likely had much to do with that phenomenon. Whatever the case, where were no less than a hundred tiny blue dots, mostly in clumps, scattered all over the place below Erick. There were at least 10 in the Armory.

Erick looked to the Armory, and at the blue dots therein, asking, “Thoughts on who to save?”

Fallopolis gestured to the blue dots of the Center Lane, “A few Shades like to wander around and fight whoever they find, but we all have better things to do right now. If those people down below aren’t capable of saving themselves, than they never should have come in here in the first place.” She gestured to the blue dots at the Armory. “This is much more interesting. They almost never make it this far. I have to see what’s going on.” She took a step, and was gone.

After a moment’s hesitation, Erick booked it, triple time, toward the Armory.

- - - -

Erick had heard of the Armory from Killzone. The General had explained it thusly: The Armory was a multi-domed structure in the center of the Dead City, full of traps and artifacts that were collectively owned by the Priests of Melemizargo. If you wanted a weapon that could turn the tide of a war, and if you had more desperation than sense, you tried your hand at the Armory. Most people died. Some people made it out with true treasures, like the Sword Staff. 

The Armory was overseen by the Caretaker; a Shade who never purposefully showed themselves. Killzone had been at this job for a few centuries and had only seen the person a handful of times, and each time, they wore a different body. 

What Killzone had not explained, was that the place was absolutely gorgeous, in a deadly sort of way.

It was still made of kendrithyst crystal, but there were no towers here, and the reds were maroon and burgundy, while the violets were eggplant and wine; the stone was utterly full of shadows. The Armory was made of domes, as far as the eye could see, and layered upon one another like stacked bubbles. Some larger than others, some smaller. In the edges of the bulbous crystal, Erick saw brilliant red and violet glows, but everywhere else, was darkness.

It reminded Erick of his [Vivid Gloom]. 

And that was an uncomfortable thought.

From his position on the edge of the kendrithyst-tower part of the city, to the north of the Armory, he saw four main bubble-zones, one in front of him, another much larger one beyond that, and two more to the east and the west. He suspected there was another one he couldn’t see in the south, for it was occluded by the central bubble; the main structure in the center. That central dome was a smooth, uninterrupted, multi-kilometer-wide bubble, surrounded by countless smaller bubble towers, like they were stalagmites of unprecedented size. 

The northern bastion of the Armory, directly in front of Erick, was only a simple kilometer-wide bubble, with a few bubble towers here and there. It was a much, much smaller version of the place in the center, but even this northern bastion was still impressive. It had some robust defenses, too.

The northern bastion had been launching missiles at him ever since he stepped out into the open, but the explosions and the damage couldn’t get past his sunform, at all. The kendrithyst towers behind him were also appointed with missile launchers, but they were manned by shadelings, but those shadelings saw and recognized Erick; they abandoned their stations and [Shadow Blend]ed into the stone at their feet. 

They didn’t seem to be the fully cognizant version of shadelings, and Erick wasn’t sure how he could tell that, but he was glad that they didn’t try to attack him, in either case. He certainly wouldn’t have killed them, but it would have been weird. 

… This whole place was fuckin’ weird. 

Oh. The missiles from the northern bastion had stopped, too. So that was nice. They must have recognized him. Or deemed their efforts useless? Either way was fine. 

Erick recast [Cascade Imaging]. 

A white map began to coalesce in front of him. In moments, the Armory was revealed, and blue dots appeared. It looked like they were just beyond the northern bastion area up ahead, but not quite into the central dome yet. They were somewhere just before the central dome, deep in the structure. Erick gazed across the distance, trying to judge where…

There.

He walked forward—

Shadows shifted on the upper domes of the bastion below, like crawling waves of darkness that uncoiled. Ah. This was their secondary line of defenses, for when the missiles failed. A monster crawled atop the northern bastion. It was a black snake, a thousand meters long, loosely coiled atop the dome like a sleeping guardian. And now it was awake.

The snake glanced up at Erick with bright white eyes. It shook its head, then seemed to sigh. It was hundreds of meters away, so Erick wasn’t particularly worried about most forms of attack, and Super Long Range spells were almost always fully lethal, so he didn’t worry too much about those since he was supposed to be ‘Untouchable’. But then the snake spoke, and its voice carried on the air like it was right beside him.

“If you wish to challenge the Armory, come through the entrance, or be denied. The first denial is non-lethal. The second is half-lethal. Normally, a failed third attempt would mean your death. But for you, any third attempt means we involve the Shades of the Spire, and you will not escape unscathed, Erick Flatt.”

Erick looked down at the ‘snake’. He considered if this was the smart thing to do, and then he decided to just do what he wanted, and he wanted to save those people. He said, “I’m going to try to break into the center dome.”

“All are entitled to one try.”

Erick eyed the snake with a few Ophiel, as he prepared to cast at the main dome. With a thought and a cast, he threw a [Domain of Light] at the center dome, like a spear a hundred meters wide and ten kilometers long. Light manifested, a brilliance upon the heavens that turned shadows to nothing and lit up the world. But the Domain didn’t even get through the outer shell of the center dome. And then the center dome fought back. Darkness clawed up from the land with a million grasping hands, reaching into the light, pulling it down, into the shadows, into the dark. Within moments, Erick’s spear-shaped Domain was reduced to the shaft. Before long, the Domain was disintegrating, as shadows crawled up the entire length; devouring. 

Erick frowned.

The snake said, “Melemizargo’s Domain is in power here. But at least you didn’t try to blast your way in. That much is commendable.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll let me have another free attempt?”

“I will not.” The snake said, “You would have better luck going through the entrance, like all the other trial takers. Even Shades go through the front entrance.”

Did he want to do that?

Yes. He did.

Erick said, “Then I guess I’ll do that. And that is… where?”

The kilometer-long black snake flowed down into the crystal, settling itself into the shadows, saying, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Erick watched the snake shuffle all the way back under the dome, like a desert snake hiding under sand. He wasn’t going to be any help, which was fine. Erick looked for other clues. 

A skyroad led from the Central Lane into the bubble towers. 

… Erick stepped over that way. 

To the north, the hundred-meter wide, purple skyroad, vanished into a tangle of kendrithyst towers, far, far away. The haze of distance and darkness occluded more where the road was going, rather than any buildings or other city planning. To the south, to the Armory, the purple road turned dark, almost black, as bubbled kendrithyst began to pile onto the avenue here and there, like great stalagmites. Further than that, the architectural oddity became a masterpiece of carved darkness, arcing over the road hundreds and hundreds of meters large in size, scope, and presence, formed of hundreds of sculpted people, twice the size they normally were. They were all nude, and made of black crystal, but Erick would have been lying to himself if he called it anything other than darkly beautiful. Legs intertwined with arms, reaching over thighs, as chins were gently lifted up to the sky by kind neighbors, so that all might see what lay above. 

It was a white orb, shaped like an eye. People reached for it, some managed to caress the orb, but most were beyond its salvation. For those at the bottom, there were swords and fire and hurt, with some carved people having carved wounds upon their bodies, but above, there was peace and tranquility and purpose. Dark eyes were full of hope all throughout the sculpture, but those near the central white orb had eyes of white as well. 

Erick stood in awe for a moment, taking in the sight of the sculpture. His own brightness of [Lodestar] and [Greater Lightwalk] and all his Ophiel, brought light to the sculpture, eliciting bright reflections of the dark surfaces, highlighting the enormity of the artwork that spread out to cover the entire forward view. 

It was quiet, here, in this dark place. The only sounds were the sounds of the wind, flowing down the road from north to south, pushing at Erick’s back, and whistling into the hands of the frozen hopeful of the gate to the Armory.

Beyond this gate laid unnatural shadows, holding in the air, blocking further sight. 

Erick stepped down onto the air just above the black road. His [Lodestar] pressed against the crystal underfoot, and penetrated just a little; maybe a centimeter, maybe less, carving a splash of purple a meter wide in an otherwise black land. Tiny fingers poked up around the light, pressing inward, but failing to get far. 

… He stepped up, just enough to not touch the darkness. 

And then, thinking that he needed to do this sooner rather than later, he cast a 15,000 mana [Personal Ward]. White light cracked all around him, then solidified, then vanished, as he had gotten quite good at making his daily ritual invisible. 15,000 mana meant 50,000 points of defense. It was a large upgrade from his previous [Personal Ward]. All that mana would come back in 12 minutes, but he needn’t wait to begin his advance. 

He stepped forward, in the air, never touching the road, the air around him alight with glows, as Ophiels trailed behind—

A man stepped out of the shadows ahead, onto the road. He had white eyes, dark layered armor that covered everything except his face, and massive horns. He was a massive man, himself; almost like a miniature orcol. Oh. He was an orcol. The horns were a part of his armor—

He took the helmet off, removing the white glow of his eyes, as well as the horns, revealing dark eyes and dark hair. It had been a mask? To make him appear as a Shade? What? That made no sense at all. Erick was very confused. Here was this man, who had appeared as a Shade to Erick, but who was not?

… No. The simpler solution was that Shades could hide the white of their eyes when they wanted to. Erick hadn’t heard of that happening before, but it should have been possible.

The man spoke like a friend, saying, “Hey, Erick! Nice to meet you. I’m Quilatalap.” He sucked in air across his sharp teeth, saying, “Sorry! I can’t let you in right now. If you’re worried about the people in there right now, you shouldn’t be. They came in here knowing exactly what they were getting into.”

… So he was a Shade, who was simply hiding his white eyes. Was this the Caretaker?

Erick decided to proceed like he was.

“Nice to meet you, too, Quilatalap,” Erick said, “But pardon me if I don’t believe you about… any of that. I thought I knew most of the Shades, but I cannot recall your name.”

The man smiled, saying, “I’m not a Shade.”

That was unexpected. Was it a lie?

“Are you in need of rescue, then?”

“Oh no no. But thanks for the offer! All the good people offer to rescue me, and you live up to your reputation.” He said, “I’m not a Shade, and the Armory is not mine, but I’ve been the caretaker for a long time.” Quilatalap gestured behind him, saying, “You wanna try the course? I can set it to easy difficulty. It means you won’t be able to take any of the currently displayed artifacts at the end, but you can still see them. I already let Fallopolis inside. She also took the easy route, just so you know. She wanted to see the people who made it so far.”

He said, “I’ve heard of the Caretaker. I thought you were a Shade.”

“I sometimes go by that name, but not usually.” Quilatalap, the Caretaker, said, “But I’ve never been a Shade.”

How could a non-Shade work with the Shades? How could one of them be ‘named’ like a Shade, too? Was this truly the ‘Caretaker’? What the fuck.

Erick felt a spike of anger. “If you’re not a Shade, how can you work with them?”

“By refusing to work with them, of course. It’s all about neutrality, for me,” Quilatalap said, definitively. “I don’t take sides. I never get involved in disputes or problems. Everyone is treated equally. All I do is guard the Armory and ensure that only the skilled and the correct get the artifacts they need to help them with their problems.”

Erick looked past the man, to where the yawning gates of the northern bastion waited, and darkness held within, like a trap ready to spring shut and devour all it touched. For that’s what it was; a trapped area, set up for adventurers to test their skill against, and die in the process. Erick said, “This Armory? Where you kill people who step inside?”

Quilatalap said, “It’s a protected space, Erick. Would you expect having an easy time robbing the Grand Bank in Eidolon? No! Of course not. I’m fully within my rights as a defensive sentry to dissuade anyone who comes inside these walls, but besides that, no one dies on the easy route. Most people go away when they can’t even get past the first bastion.” He added, “You don’t need to save anyone here; they’re all in there on their own volition.” 

Erick frowned a little. “If they come here for items to solve problems in the outside world, then they’re not here of their own volition.”

“That is a good point.” Quilatalap happily said, “We don’t get many who are directly forced to come here by the will of others, but those people who are in those situations generally go through the thresher and come out better for it, usually gifted items that will help them overthrow whatever powers forced them to risk this land.” He said, “It’s all very above board— Ah. You wouldn’t know, but I’ve got presentations on all of this year’s successes and failures and the various outcomes of all of the trials. All of that will happen at the Feast. Those presentations will take place on the third day, or maybe the fourth.” He thumbed back to the yawning black building behind him, saying, “I understand you detected some people inside, so that’s why you’re here. But you can’t save them. This is their journey; not yours. And they've almost succeeded. Just a few more kilometers to go and they’ll get what they came for.”

Erick considered what he wanted to do, here. Saving these people would be saving them from their own choices, and that was fine and okay, but it was the height of arrogance to think that he could save everyone, and especially in this location, where his own Domain was already negated by another. 

… He really wanted to learn more about Domains, now. They seemed like a special form of magic that didn’t follow normal rules. But that could come later. There were other people to save besides ones that were undertaking a trial they expected to take. 

Erick asked, “Know any people who need saving?”

“You, for one.” Quilatalap said, “Pick your battles, Erick. You’ve been lucky so far, but if Dorofiend was at the top of his game, of if you had been slower about that decisive Domain and Lightning Aura, you would have died. He was a lot less crazy back when we had hundreds of Shades living in the city, and he was the overlord for a good thirty of them.” He added, “Aside from that, if you get to the Palace District early, Queen might be a good ally for at least the next ten days.”

“… I’ll take that under advisement.” Erick looked beyond the orcol, to the darkness. He looked away.

“You don’t want to come in, then? There’s always the easy course.”

“I don’t think I do.” Erick thumbed backward, toward the north, where the Central Lane of Ar’Kendrithyst lay, and hundreds of people were either camping out or fighting for their lives in the middle layer. Erick wasn’t sure of either possibility, right now, but this dilemma was a simple matter of numbers, and a hundred people outweighed ten. “I’m going to check out those people.”

Quilatalap said, “Good luck!” before vanishing into the darkness behind him. 

- - - -

Erick stood in front of a trio of dudes who had tried to attack him with ice and fire and failed to penetrate the surface of his sunform. Theirs wasn’t an unexpected reaction. Erick had stepped down out of the red light above, and given them more than ample room to see his entrance, but they were wrapped in invisible magics and they didn’t respond to Erick’s entrance until he poked their covers. And then they attacked him. He weathered the spells just fine, of course. They stopped when they couldn’t break the dome around him, no matter what they tried. 

One of them even tried a [Dispel]. That dark magic simply rolled across against Erick’s tiny Domain like water off a window. They stopped their attacks after that. The one that [Dispel]ed must have used all his mana; he slumped a little after that cast.

“Uh….” mumbled the first guy; a bog standard human adventurer in leathers and wearing swords. “Sorry. Can we go now?”

The one who overcast his [Dispel], mumbled, “Who the fuck ever heard of a Light Shade. Shit.”

“I’m not a Light Shade.” Erick said, “I’m Erick Flatt, from Spur.”

The three humans suddenly stood straighter. The dispeller looked to Ophiel, then paused, then smacked his head.

“Why are you here?” asked a guy who could be the brother to the first. He added. “Uh. Archmage Flatt, sir.”

“What I want to know,” Erick asked, “Is why are you three here? Weren’t you warned about Shadow’s Feast?”

The dispeller said, “The Shades leave their places empty while the Feast is going on, so we can hunt without worry.”

“Everyone knows that,” said Guy.

“Yeah. Everyone know that,” said Other Guy.

“We’re here to kill monsters,” said Dispeller. “Shit. And now I have to use a potion.”

… Erick covertly [Duplicate]d some canteens of water inside the [Prismatic Ward] he was carrying around. Six was enough, for three people, for now. Fallopolis had said it would act as a minor mana potion, after all. 

Erick floated the canteens from out of sight, and toward the men, saying, “It’s no mana potion, but it should help a little with your regeneration.”

All three of them snatched a canteen. The dispeller cast a [Cleanse] over the three of them, then when no thick air spilled from the container, he eagerly drank it down. The other two instantly drank theirs, too.

That was not the behavior of people who were ‘okay’.

Erick asked, “Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah.” “Yes.” “Perfectly fine.”

“… If you’re not, then you can go to the bend in the North River, where the river widens out to a few kilometers wide. I killed Dorofiend and saved some others who have taken refuge up there. It’s still dangerous, but you wouldn’t be in Ar’Kendrithyst if you weren’t able to handle some danger.”

The three men looked to each other. 

The lead man said, “Thank you, Archmage Flatt. The shadows despoiled our water supply, but we might take you up on that offer.”

Erick nodded, then left them, and moved on to the next group.

- - - -

Erick called out to whoever might be listening, well before he got close to his next target.

This continued for a minute, or two. 

A yellowscale woman stepped out of the shadows as Erick stepped within a hundred meters of the next group. She was tall and thin, and held a sword to match. She said, “Hello, Archmage Flatt. How can I help you?”

“I sensed there were people here, and I was wondering if you needed help.”

“No.” She said, “But if you sensed us, this is enough for us to know that we need to make ourselves less visible. Thank you for your time.”

“Did you get stuck in here for Shadow’s Feast, or did you choose to be in here?” He said, “There’s ten more groups like yours, all around the Central Lane, and I don’t understand it.”

“We did not choose to remain, but it happened, and we are making the most of it. The Lower Reaches are ripe for the picking now that some of the wandering Shades are gone to the Feast, and we are here to pick.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“We have everything we need.” The woman said, “Thank you for your concern.”

“I already directed some others to the bend in the North River, where Dorofiend used to be. That Shade is dead, and his space is full of survivors.”

The yellowscale eyed Erick. Her voice took on a hopeful, dangerous tone. “Did you kill him?”

“… Yes.”

“Can I see the box?”

Erick produced the box.

The yellowscale blinked out a single tear, as she read the box. “I’m going to keep this, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead.”

The yellowscale nodded, then said, “I may visit the bend in the river. But we are fine. Thank you for your concern, sir.”

- - - -

He checked three more groups of people, and found them all perfectly happy camping out in deathtraps, setting watches against the darkness and the monsters, and employing strong spells to negate most detection magics. Or at least that’s what they told him. His presence started a few small fights amongst the casters that Erick was not privy to, but he caught some of their words before they switched to [Telepathy]. They were angry at their mages that their anti-detection magics failed. 

He directed a few groups to the bend in the North River, and he even checked on that place with [Scry]. They were doing fine. They had just killed a giant centipede and were butchering the half of it that laid on the shore. Ravenous fish were devouring the parts of the monster that had fallen into the deeper waters.

These people didn’t need his help. 

Obviously. 

The only thing he had managed to accomplish in his quick runs around the Central Lane, was learning how to [Greater Lightwalk] much faster. One step covered ten meters, and though he wasn’t using the pseudo-[Teleport] option of the spell, the effects of his fast walking mirrored blipping, but were decidedly not a blip. Erick knew this because it cost the normal amount of mana to simply maintain the spell and to ‘walk’ ten meters as it did to ‘walk’ one meter. Blipping cost considerably more than that, depending on distance; anywhere from 25 mana, to 250 mana, actually. For not the first time, Erick felt that there was so much more depth to the Elemental Body spells than what was taught in Arcanaeum, or known by the general public. 

Literacy was widespread on Veird, but knowledge was not.

Was that because of the Headmaster? Or for some other reason?

Erick put those thoughts away. Those thoughts were too deep, too difficult to deal with when there was danger all around. 

… But he was safe as could be in his sunform, actually. 

So he took those thoughts right back out. 

The problems with education were that there were too many problems. Too many monsters. Too many dangers. Was the Headmaster just putting out fires, all the time? Or was he purposefully keeping the world in the dark, both figuratively, and literally? All nations and people in power had to keep hold of that power in various ways, or else their personal worlds would fall apart, either through inaction, or through outside forces trying to take the power of people like the Headmaster for themselves. 

What would it be like to be immortal, and always scrambling to keep up with forces outside of your control? Young people were always scrambling to make their marks on the world, and that fact was as true back on Earth, as it was on Veird. But on Veird, there were immortal beings that controlled certain parts of the world. They never got to rest if they wanted to keep that power.

For dragons, and for the Headmaster in particular, this way-of-things must be especially bad, considering that everyone knows he’s a dragon, and other dragons probably go after him all the time. That curse of theirs keeps them at each others’ throats. Never able to relax, and never able to let go, or else they fall to outsiders. 

And those were the good guys.

The bad guys, the Shades and the Ancients, they could do whatever they wanted, if all they wanted to do was cause harm. Causing harm was always easier than building something. 

Erick almost laughed, as a thought occurred: In the Script, it was always easier to harm than it was to protect. His newly-named ‘sunform’ was an oddity in that it was rather good defense. But even then, that defense only came from his tiny Domain, where his intent was in charge, and all others were censored.

There had to be more to a ‘Domain’ than that. Erick’s [Domain of Light] was considerably different from his [Domain of the Withering Slime]. What did they have in common, though? Almost nothing, except they were both named as Domains. 

--

Domain of Light, instant, super long range, 5000 mana

Harken unto the Truth of Light. Let no authority diminish your brilliance. 

Undispellable. Uncorruptible.

Lasts 1 hour. Effects last longer.

--

Domain of the Withering Slime, instant, super long range, aura, 2 MP per second 

Provide an anchor for the Withering Slime to exist on your world.

Particle Mage Only.

--

[Domain of Light] was based around the idea of the supremacy of Light, and Erick’s light in particular. [Domain of Light] boosted all of his Light based effects, and, discounting the Shades, it probably was truly ‘undispellable’ in all normal circumstances. [Domain of the Withering Slime], though…

Ah. Erick was just providing the anchor for another being to exist? Was the difference that simple? Did Withering Slimes exist somewhere else? They existed in the mana, for sure, since mana was possibility. When he cast [Domain of the Withering Slime] for the first time, it caused the sky to open, and for another force to come into being…

Erick had never truly considered that he had created a being, in that moment. But maybe he had? Or maybe, he had created the idea of a being, and imbued that idea into the manaphere. Erick thought for a moment, and decided that the second was more likely. 

A new arrival shocked Erick out of his meandering thoughts. He had been standing beside his map, in the Upper Reaches of the Center Lane, thinking, and staring at blue dots. But then a shadow to the east resolved into a strong-looking human girl. She wore well-cared leathers and carried a bare, white-metal sword at her hip. This time, she had a small bag on her back. She waved, as she walked through the sky, toward Erick, her steps flashing darkness. 

“Hello, Erick!”

“Hello, Librarian,” Erick asked, “What brings you here?”

The Librarian stepped closer, saying, “It occurs to me that I never gave you anything for the belt and the necklace, and I said I would.” She gestured toward the map, saying, “And then I find you here when I was on my way out to the Feast, so I decided to get this obligation out of the way sooner rather than later.”

“… you said that?” Erick thought for a moment, and then he remembered. “Oh. Yeah. You did say that. But no worries. Don’t worry about it.”

“Nonsense!” She cheerily said, “Do you have a book or a topic that you’re interested in? I am the Librarian, after all. I got copies of every book in the entire world, and more besides.”

Erick thought for a second, before asking, “Do you think the prevalence of immortality leads to problems with growth and change and advancement, on Veird?”

The Librarian looked askance for a moment, then paused, then relaxed, and said, “Immortality is not just a societal problem of mediocrity on Veird, but everywhere immortality has ever existed. But by that same token, immortality is a blessing that provides a good foundation for society to take place. The mediocre stability of immortal power is still power that is countable, and solid.”

“That’s mortal-based immortality, though, right?” Erick asked, “What about godly immortality?”

“Divine beings are not immune to this failing. Gods never innovate, because that is not their purpose. It could be argued that the entire purpose of gods is to provide stability. From certain angles, though, they might look like innovators, but all you see in those moments of godly innovation is the introduction of the stability of another part of the god that you’ve never seen before.” The Librarian said, “But by that same token, when a god works through a specific mortal, that mortal can achieve great things, and divine beings never tire; they’ve got mortal-immortals beat, in that regard. Gods never lose focus or determination when it comes to their Domains.” She added, “If you want to talk more philosophy, I’m all for it, but that still doesn’t relieve me of my obligation to grant you some sort of book or something else that is within my power to grant.”

Erick wasn’t sure he wanted to accept knowledge from a Shade; even one as nice-seeming as the Librarian. So he said, “I’ll take your advice on which books to research regarding Domains.”

“I have books with knowledge of that subject, but from your phrasing, I take it you don’t want my books?”

“Correct.”

The Librarian nodded, “Sure… But I’m still gonna get one of them for you, since I know you won’t be able to find it outside Kendrithyst.” She stepped away, and was gone.

Ahhh… Damn. Erick didn’t want her propaganda, but he had asked her his questions, and she had answered, so this was his fault, really. He could just stash whatever book she gave him in some protected location and never read it, like he had done with Undine’s book.

The Librarian popped back into the air, holding a small, white book. She held it up, saying, “This is ‘Defined Barriers’; one of the only definitive works on Domains, both godly, and in magic, penned over 1200 years ago.” She was five meters away, but she walked closer, saying, “It’s a copy.” She stopped a meter away, outside of Erick’s pulled-in sunform, holding out the book as she said, “Here you go.”

Erick took the book with a light tendril, saying, “Thanks.” 

“It’s not cursed, or anything. Not even magical.” The Librarian said, “You could try an [Identify] if you don’t believe me.”

… Erick tried both a [Detect Magic], and an [Identify]. An Ophiel cast [Detect Magic], and found nothing, while Erick cast the [Identify], since that spell worked off of what the user knew, and Ophiel didn’t technically know much at all. A blue box appeared, as it usually did in the case of [Identify].

--

A book on Domain Magic.

--

Erick said, “Okay. So. That checks out, I guess.”

“You should [Duplicate] it anyway, and then hand me the one I handed you.” The Librarian said, “I do that to all my books to ensure that nothing magical enters my Library.”

… That was a good idea, too. Erick did so, then handed her back the one she handed him, saying, “Thanks for the tip.”

The Librarian smiled, adding, “There are some other works you can search for on your own. ‘On the Nature of Defensive Magic’ is a heavily theoretical treatise on the subject of Domains and many other defensive structures, while ‘Offensive Warding’ deals with the offensive aspects of such magic, and how to take down an enemy’s various protected spaces.”

“Thanks. I’ll have to find those, then.”

“Are you going to the Feast, now?” The Librarian looked south, saying, “It’s going to begin in eight hours.”

Erick looked to his map, and dismissed the glowing white structure. Crimson light returned to fill the sky, coloring Erick and the Librarian in reds. He said, “Yeah. I guess I am.”

“Care for a walk, then?” She smiled, awaiting Erick’s answer.

“Sure—”

Another Shade appeared, not a hundred meters away. Fallopolis.

Fallopolis called out, “He’s my date, not yours, you hussy!”

The Librarian frowned, then looked to Erick, saying, “Good luck with that.” She gazed at Fallopolis, saying, “You’re very unkind, you know.”

“And you wear the persona of whoever you read!” Fallopolis walked toward Erick, regarding the Librarian with an unkind visage as she said, “So step off, sociopath.”

The Librarian huffed, then said, “Fine.” She glanced to Erick. “See you at the Feast.” And then she stepped forward, three times, moving a hundred meters with each step. Soon, she was out of sight.

Fallopolis watched her go, saying, “Good riddance.” She turned to Erick. “Watch out for that one. She’s a crazy woman without her own moral center; she picks up ideology whenever she feels like it and discards those morals on a whim. Thankfully, that new ‘Legacy of Bone’ book came out, or else she’d still be on that ‘Murderer’s Row’ series, and that was not a pretty time.”

Erick changed the subject. “What happened in the Armory?”

Fallopolis waved a dismissive hand, saying, “Those kids got it. They won’t last out the full Shadow’s Feast without killing one another, though. We’ll probably see them blow up at each other at the Feast when Quilatalap shows off this year’s attempts, triumphs, and aftermaths. They’re a part of the show.”

With a sudden chill rolling through his body, Erick asked, “What artifacts they get? For what reason?”

Fallopolis suddenly stood tall, and smiled. She slowly turned to Erick. She said, “Ohhhh. I… I shouldn’t…” She forced her smile away, and said, “Okay. I’ll tell you this much: It has to do with the Converter Angel that the Greensoil Republic released upon the Wasteland.”

“… Shit.”

“Yup!” Fallopolis cackled just a little bit, saying, “Everyone’s gonna want to know your thoughts on the matter, since you’ve already been contracted to help kill that angel!” She giggled, adding, “And that’s all I can say on that.”

“Tell me more, please.”

“No! I can’t! Can’t be done. Won’t be done.”

“… Fine. Then tell me: who is Quilatalap?”

“Oh? Him?” Fallopolis smiled. “Why? You think he’s handsome? I could set you two up if you want. He is rather pretty.”

“That is beside the question.”

“Eh! He’s nothing special. Just the Caretaker of the Armory.”

So he was the Caretaker! … But that just raised more questions.

“Why is he not a Shade? How does that work?”

Fallopolis scrunched her face at Erick, asking, “You never seen a lich before?”

“Probably not?” Erick said, “I’ve heard that word before, but… No. No idea what that is.”

Fallopolis almost spoke, but then she paused. She frowned. She said, “Okay. So. I want to play a trick here, but I already promised not to fuck you over. So. I’ll tell you what a lich is and I won’t lie.” She began walking south, saying, “Let’s walk and talk.”

Erick eyed the Shade, as he began following at her side. It wasn’t long till the dark domes of the Armory appeared in all their glory, but Fallopolis took a detour to the west, staying to the edge of the kendrithyst towers, while a horizon full of black domes filled the left view. There were no missiles from the Armory this time. 

Fallopolis, for her part, seemed to be trying to decide what to say. Erick did notice a tendril of thought coming off of her head, though, so maybe she was talking to someone else at the moment.

He asked, “Are you talking to someone else at the moment, or just letting me see that tendril of thought?”

“I’m considering how to go about this, and asking the man what he wants me to reveal.” She lifted her hand to the air above her head and waved through the thought tendril, saying, “And yes, you are seeing this because I am letting you.”

“… Okay.”

After a while, the tendril broke, and Fallopolis spoke, “You ready to hear?”

“Sure!”

“You’ve heard of necromancers, but a lich is not a simple necromancer. Liches are archmages, first and foremost, who have decided to forgo the usual path of life and death and who have stepped outside of fate, becoming undead in total control of their own body and soul. All liches are archmages, but Quilatalap is an archlich, and also one of the best soulweavers you will ever meet. He is much stronger than almost every Shade you will ever meet.” 

Erick almost stumbled. “Oh?” 

“He can take you apart and put you back together and you would never know what happened.” Fallopolis said, “So when he says that he will harm you, he means it. But as the Caretaker, he is duty-bound by certain rules that he has willingly accepted. In the course of his duty, he usually warns people away from the Armory. But he also oversees the trials therein. Those who fall in his trials, fall hard, and either try again and die for real, or give up. They might die a few times in the process, but Quilatalap has had a lot of practice healing souls and bodies and casting [Resurrection], so a resurrected person falling to cannibalism or melancholy is exceedingly rare for him, and usually not a result of anything he did.”

That was a lot to take in. Erick had no idea Quilatalap was that kind of person.

Erick felt like Killzone should have known all of what Fallopolis had just said. 

For a brief moment, everything was too big, and the sky was too bright and dark all at the same time. Erick had stood before that sort of person? Holy shit. And then, Erick had another thought. He had been standing before people like that ever since he stepped into Ar’Kendrithyst. He was not cut out for this sort of thing. No way. No how. What the shit. Why were people like this allowed to exist?

Erick’s skin-tight sunform vibrated. Fallopolis stepped away; quick as a snap. Shadows crawled over her skin; dark and bright at the same time. 

Erick pulled himself inward, far enough that he was flesh and bone again. He breathed. He sat down on the light under his feet. With a thought, he grabbed a copied vanilla cupcake, and just sat there for a minute, eating.

Fallopolis retreated to her own fleshy body; reflected red light from the kendrithyst all around appeared on her skin, as she stepped back toward Erick, saying, “You’re not yet acclimated to this, are you?”

“No one should be acclimated to this level of horror.”

“Incorrect.” Fallopolis said, “You just need to learn soul magic so that you can identify and protect yourself from literally the most powerful, most varied magic there has ever existed, both before the Sundering, and under the Script.” She added, “That’s why Quilatalap is the Caretaker, you know. He could kill any Shade if he wanted, too.”

“I’ve been neglecting certain magics; yes.”

“It’s hard to find a good teacher, anyway.” Fallopolis smirked, as she offered, “I could set you up with Quilatalap.”

Erick breathed. He blinked, and then he stood up. Wrapping his [Lodestar] into his conjured armor, he tried to relax a little. He was ‘Untouchable’, after all, right? Eh. He couldn’t trust that. Not really. But what he could do, was try to stay loose and frosty… Did he have those terms right? Jane would know. She’d probably be doing a lot of today’s events rather differently if she were here, instead of him. But she wasn’t here, thank the gods. 

Erick replied to Fallopolis’s question, “I can’t commit to something like that.”

“Fair enough.” Fallopolis added, “You’d probably have to run his ‘Necromancer Course’, anyway, to prove that you were capable of tutelage.” She asked, “So the Garden is on the way to the Spire. Want to step in for a jaunt and murder Treant? He’s rather ornery these days and I don’t like his lordly attitude. He won’t let anyone into the Garden and it’s just not very nice of him.” 

Erick started walking south, saying, “Probably not.”

Fallopolis caught up, quick enough, saying, “Eh. Someone’ll attempt to murder you at the Feast, anyway. I’ll try to give you some warning, then you can murder them right back.”

“… Sounds good.”

- - - -

The Upper Layer of Ar’Kendrithyst started to change colors once Erick got a few kilometers past the Armory. Erick didn’t notice until Fallopolis remarked upon the hues of the surrounding kendrithyst, and the sky. Crimsons turned to pink. Purples became lilac violet. The sky to the south was tinged with a brighter darkness, as though the sun were rising far, far ahead.

She said, “We’re a good ten kilometers from the Brightwater District; specifically, from the Temple District part of it all. We’re not going through the temples.” She gestured toward the southeast, as she stepped that way, saying, “We must go around, to reach the Spire and approach the Brightwater Expanse with official clearance.”

Erick asked, “What’s wrong with going through the temples?”

“You’re marked by summoned guardians of all kinds if you don’t go in the right way. You can fight them off, sure, but they’re a hive mind, and as soon as one spots you, they all do, and then the real problems begin.”

“That’s not what I expected you to say.” 

She laughed. “What did you expect?”

“Warnings about shadows nipping at my feet?” He added, “I already knew the part about being found out almost instantly, but I was told they were just ‘shadows’.”

“You’ve seen the Crystal at Candlepoint, yes?” Fallopolis said, “The versions here are much stronger, and varied. Bulgan got the ‘warrior’ version to use at Candlepoint, but there are others. Mage, Sentry, Sniper. You get the deal. They work quite well for killing most people. But you already knew that.”

… Of course they used those horrible magic items here. Erick felt a disgusted anger as Fallopolis casually brought up the murder of almost a hundred thousand shadelings, as though it was a tidbit of information. Maybe she was taunting him?

Fallopolis smirked, asking, “Did you figure out how it worked?”

Definitely a taunt. 

Erick frowned. “No.”

Fallopolis shrugged. “If you ask around, you might be able to find out how it works. Maybe even get your own crystal up and running again.”

- - - -

To the north, the sky was crimson, dark, and full of stars and imaginary planes, while the Mana Ocean flowed from one impossible land to another. But to the south, beyond a curtain wall of pink and lilac kendrithyst that stretched solid from the Lower Layer of Ar’Kendrithyst, all the way up here to the top, the sky was not crimson at all. Twilight held in the southern air all around, while a look to the wall ahead, far beyond black orb-like sentries, the air sky was blue, and filled with a singular hovering illusion that Erick could barely see from this angle.

It was solid black orb, and rimmed with light, like an eclipsing sun. It was similar in style to the orb sentries holding on top of the pink wall, but the dark star in the sky beyond felt like an eye, watching him. Who knew? Maybe it was an eye. Maybe it was watching him, and everyone else in this Dead City.

- - - -

They passed the Garden.

It was green and lush and beautiful. But also wild. 

Signs outside the Garden, placed every ten meters, read: ‘Only animals are allowed beyond this point. If you are not an animal, you are prey.’

Fallopolis said, “I’m not about to [Polymorph] myself into some critter just to see the Gardens. It’s quite rude of Treant, if you ask me.”

Erick hadn’t asked her, but she had spoken anyway.

- - - -

The Spire would have been beautiful compared to the Armory, if not for the horrors Erick had seen to get to this point, and the horrors that must surely exist therein.

A wide, pink crystal road, led from the broken kendrithyst city that made up the majority of Ar’Kendrithyst, into a land beyond a pink crystal wall, where the road, and the towers beyond, were the palest pink, and purple. Far ahead, the towers became perfectly clear and slightly iridescent. On this side of the wall, shadows roiled under the road like chaotic ink, but beyond the wall, those same shadows formed into two main arteries under the surface of the crystal, to the left and right sides of the skyroad; they might have truly been arteries, for while both sides flexed and flowed, one clearly flowed into the Brightwater District, and the other flowed out. Fallopolis noticed Erick staring at the arteries, but just smiled. 

Atop the pink walls were more dark sentry orbs, along with shadelings who manned them. The shadelings bowed as Erick walked past them, through the opening in the wall that separated the Spire from the rest of the Dead City. Maybe they had bowed to Fallopolis; he wasn’t sure. But the orbs themselves seemed to turn away from the two of them, in either case. 

Erick and Fallopolis walked through the large, ungated opening, following the iridescent road into a land of bright towers. He glanced through the ground, and almost panicked. 

Looking down, Erick saw skyroads and buildings in the crystal below, where people walked on streets like this was a normal place to be. Some held groceries. Others had kids with them. A school was letting out for the day, and Erick fully retracted his sunform. His heart beat hard to see such a sight. 

They were shadelings, one and all. 

Grey eyes, some brighter than others, but all of them had grey eyes. 

That was just the first kilometer down; the first three levels that Erick could see, before the depth of the crystal and the dark arteries running through the whole place became too much, and sight was blocked due to the thickness of all the intervening land. This was just the Upper Layer. Erick had heard that Brightwater Lake was on the Lower Layer, more than thirty kilometers down. Did this metropolis under him go all that way down? Were there actually this many shadelings in this land?

The road Erick and Fallopolis were on was above it all; among the highest parts of this populated land. It was also the only road that was completely empty of all people. This road led right to the Spire itself, and sure, that was pretty, and it dominated the skyline. But now that Erick was beyond the curtain wall...

This… 

This place was a metropolis. Millions of people, at least. Maybe more? Millions upon millions!

And they were not quiet.

Erick lost himself a bit in the noise that filled the crystalline city. It was the noise of calm life. The quiet susurrus of daily struggle. People bargaining at a nearby market below. Kids playing. People unloading cargo into a shop. Wind whistling through the towers, and through trees in cultivated gardens below. And then came the smells. Baking bread. Back behind Erick, a garden full of flowers grew under artificial lights, taking up an entire level of one particular tower. The smell of flowers was heavy in the air.

Erick whispered, “What the fuck is going on here?”

Fallopolis pointed ahead with her red-purple kendrithyst staff, saying, “We’re going to check in at the Spire, of course.”

Erick gave the Spire another glance. It was as beautiful as the first time he saw the structure, but a multitude of perfectly organized crystals, with some floating in the air, didn’t compare to the people he saw down below, in every direction he looked. 

“With the people below, Fallopolis.” Erick said, “What is going on with all these people? Are they real?”

Fallopolis looked forward. She squinted. She said, “… Yes.”

“Is that what I want to hear, or is it the truth?”

“How can anyone know if someone is real or not?”

Erick had considered that argument for a while now. He did not have a perfect answer, but he had one that worked for him. He said, “The soul is untainted by the will or wills of outsiders, and they could potentially gain access to the normal Script available to every person on Veird.”

“By that measure... They are not real, but they could be. What they fail is the second part of your qualifications, since they are the unthinking dead, and unthinking dead do not have access to the Script.” Fallopolis said, “They are a step before the wandering ones that you saw in Candlepoint. When they get to the ‘wandering one’ stage, they are ousted from their stupor down below, and given over to someone who can rouse them further.” 

“… Are these stolen souls, Fallopolis?” Erick asked, “Why are they here?” And then he asked a question that had been plaguing him for a long time. “Why shadelings? Why do this to a person?”

“Stole! Ha! No. That is not what is happening below us.” Fallopolis looked to Erick, and said, “Some of the souls down there are from before the Sundering. Melemizargo had dominion over an entire universe of magic and many, many people prayed to him. The people below are my Dark God’s attempt to hold in eternal bliss, those who were a part of his flock. Those who had died, who he tried to save. Those who he was not able to shift into new bodies on Veird in the Great Translation.”

Erick breathed out, as he stared below, at the people walking, living, talking, and just existing. That was when he noticed that some of them were neither human, incani, orcol, shifter, dragonkin, or any of the other races Erick had seen on Veird so far.

A lady with wings and arms; not a harpy, but something else. A man with the lower body of a lizard. A woman with the lower body of a horse. A small grouping of cats that walked upright, on their back feet. 

Fallopolis said, “Shadelings, as you know them, exist for much the same reason. When people use magic, they are praying to Melemizargo. Those who have no other god or who don’t choose the End will invariably go to Melemizargo when they die.”

“That’s a lie.” Erick said, “I know I am not praying to Melemizargo when I use magic. There’s something out there that is much older than him.”

“Hmm. Technically true. But also not exactly true. A debate for the ages, for sure.”

Erick found himself asking, “But what about all these souls? Why does he hold onto them? Is it just because he can? That he needs them for his own power?”

Fallopolis said, “He kept his souls with him after the Sundering, for they had died with His name on their lips, and the bond between person and god is inviolable; Melemizargo wasn’t about to let the gods of this impostor world take his people.” She said, “His insanity is lessening, though, so who knows what will happen. All the gods are talking to each other again, and it’s a great big universe out there! I’m not too sure if it’s not an illusion myself, but whatever Melemizargo decides to do, is what I will work to achieve. Maybe those people below will be born again, for real, soon enough.”

Erick was having a lot of complicated thoughts about gods and worshipers at the moment, but they were too complicated to articulate. And besides, the Spire was straight ahead. It was time to meet more Shades and attend Shadow’s Feast, the yearly party where they talked about how much of the world they fucked over.

Offhandedly, Erick said, “This Feast is going to have to change, you know. If Melemizargo isn’t some evil god, then a party dedicated to how everyone has harmed the Script and the world and the people therein, is rather counterproductive to being a force for good.”

“True.” Fallopolis said, “But magic has never been about good or evil. Maybe all of us Shades will become people who goad others into more than they were before.”

The Spire loomed above; a collection of iridescent clear-crystal towers, some of which floated around a stable central structure. The road under Erick’s feet ran right into the main building, which reminded Erick of those pictures he had once seen, back on Earth, of people driving through roads cut through the trunks of redwood trees. Or more locally, it reminded Erick of the gazebo under the Crystal at Candlepoint, but about a thousand times larger. 

A thousand times larger, and weird. 

The road ran in this side of the Spire, and out the other, but in the building itself, there was white marble flooring, and winding staircases on both sides leading up and down. The sides of the Spire, to the left and right of the road, were complicated, large places, that reminded Erick a lot of a DMV, or a licensing office, but for very fancy people. In the middle of the road, directly ahead, there was a large, arc of a counter where a man sat behind the table and dealt with a woman standing in front. To the sides, off the road, other people milled about under strong lighting, talking to people behind counters, where paperworks passed from hand to hand and stamps smashed down, leaving red or green marks behind. Everyone was either a shadeling, or a normal-looking person with normal eyes, just going about their business.

All that interior space looked invisible from the outside, though. 

Erick sent an Ophiel wide, to get a look from another angle, further out. Fallopolis noticed, but said nothing.

With a position a hundred meters off the right side of the road, Erick clearly saw that the visible Spire he was seeing, was invisible from all angles except from the front. Okay? So the whole place was enchanted to look like a spire of crystal? But it was actually a place of business? That sort of checked with what he had uncovered on the other kendrithyst towers of the city, when he had dropped his [Domain of Light] on the normal, red-purple-shadow crystals of Ar’Kendrithyst. Back there, the shadows hid the truth of the city. In here, they did the same. Maybe those shadows hid these parts of the city, all year long?

Maybe that’s why Killzone hadn’t told him about all of this? It seemed that Killzone would have known about all of this. Or if not him, then Silverite.

Erick followed at Fallopolis’s side.

“We’re entering, now.” She said, “All spells, pulled back. Pull your Ophiel in, tiny.”

Before Erick could tell her to do all of that first, Fallopolis dropped all her shadows, and stepped onto the crystal road, suddenly walking much slower, and at a normal pace. Erick didn’t want to follow her advice, for the simple reason that he was leaving himself vulnerable, but…

… But he had to, right?

He turned his Ophiel tiny and had them flock behind him, as he pulled his lightwalk to the center of his back, along with his [Lodestar]. He could redeploy both spells in a moment’s notice; if something bad happened, hopefully he would get that moment.

The woman at the main counter with the man, looked behind her. Her eyes glowed white, but she lowered her head, and stepped away; maybe she wasn’t a Shade? What was a Shade, exactly?

Erick had asked that question a few times in his time in Spur, ever since he heard about shadelings. Killzone had said that the difference was one of night and day; too large for one to ever be mistaken for the other. In that case, the demarcation between ‘shadeling’ and ‘Shade’ seemed like a difference in power. Silverite had said that Shades have very few identifiable Script-derived spells, for they had no access to the Script. If a shadeling showed you their Status, they were a shadeling, for sure, since even a Shade couldn’t show a false Status; they too, would be slapped by the Script for conjuring a fake blue box and trying to lie about the system. There were cases of Shades showing false Status’s and not flinching as the Script punished them, but in that case, if they showed you something and you weren’t able to store that box in your own Script-access and pull it back out later, then you would know those illusionary blue boxes as fake. 

This ‘put it away and pull it out again’ method was used to verify much of Erick’s own magic, when he was first starting out in Spur, making things like [Call Lightning]. He hadn’t known it at the time, not really, but he was under heavy, heavy scrutiny. 

… And Erick’s thoughts were wandering again. 

Fallopolis had walked into the Spire, proper, and Erick had followed. Some people stared at him, or at the Shade with him, others pointedly did not. Not much was ‘see-through’ inside the Spire; almost everything was either white stone, or vaguely metallic, except for some conspicuous crystal pillars scattered around this main space. Those pillars were filled with pure darkness; the same arteries that Erick had seen outside the building, that ran through the crystal road. Some of those dark rivers of shadows went up. Some went down. 

Fallopolis pulled up to the man behind the front counter. “Here for the Feast.”

The man purposefully moved papers around on his side of the counter, stacking them in a professional way, while saying, “Welcome back to the Spire and to Brightwater District, Shade Fallopolis. Do you desire a carriage to Queen’s royal residence?”

Fallopolis glanced back to Erick. “You want a carriage?”

“No.”

She turned to the man. “No. We’ll be seeing some sights on the way over.”

“Very well.” The man gave Fallopolis no token, or cast no spells. He merely said, “You’re cleared.”

She stepped aside. She looked to Erick; waiting. 

Erick tentatively stepped forward.

The man looked to him, and with the same monotone voice, said, “Welcome to the Spire, and to Brightwater District, Fire of the Age, Erick Flatt.”

Nothing direct happened. 

But everything shifted. 

It was as though the air gained a charge of lightning, briefly, while the dark arteries running through the pillars of the room pulsed thicker. And then it was done. 

With a dawning horror, the same thing had likely happened to Fallopolis, but Erick had been looking to the Shade to see if anything happened to her, directly. He had not been looking thirty meters out, to see how the environment of this place reacted to her introduction. 

No. Wait. But he had? Had he just missed the change in the air? 

Maybe it was an invisible spell, to all except those who is was cast upon?

Erick didn’t feel any different, but he had to ask, “What was that?”

The man said, “An environmental shift. Now the shadows won’t react adversely to your presence; you have been introduced.” 

“Oh?” Erick relaxed a fraction. “Not a spell cast on me, then? Instead, I was introduced to the magics of the Spire?”

“The second one.” The man asked, “Since you are new to Brightwater District, would you like a map, or a guide?”

“He has me.” Fallopolis turned to Erick, saying, “You know: some would find introduction to a system to be scarier than gaining a key.” 

Erick thought about that for a second. He asked, “Because gaining a key means a low-grade magical system, whereas being introduced is… Is like meeting a sapient system?” He looked to the black arteries running through the pillars of the room. “Oh? Is that supposed to be Melemizargo?” Suddenly unsure of himself, he spoke quietly to the room, “Hello.”

The room shook, “Oh! Hello.”

Fallopolis gained a wild look in her bright eyes. She promptly and quietly giggled like a schoolgirl, staring out into the empty air of the Spire; excitedly waiting. The entire rest of this first floor of the Spire went absolutely quiet. No one moved. Someone dropped some papers, scattering noise into the air.

A shadow slipped from the arteries, to prowl around in the brightness of the room. The spectre form of Melemizargo had a friendly voice, as he said, “Welcome to Brightwater District, Erick! Don’t mind the threats; they won’t do anything to you. Have some fun. Explore a bit. Try taking in a class at Truedark Arcanaeum. We teach things quite a bit different here. I can’t stay long, so I’ll leave you to it. All of us are talking again, and I swear my head has never felt clearer. I should probably be more worried about that, but I finally have a grasp on these particles and their assorted oddities, and seeing the [Mesmerize] is the first step to breaking it, or coming to terms with the idea that this might truly be a new universe. We’ll see figment and truth, soon enough. Anywho! Talk to you later. Enjoy the Feast! I’ll probably make an appearance near the end of it all.”

“See you around.” Erick waved goodbye, trying to keep up appearances but also sweating a bit, as he mulled over Melemizargo’s casual use of the words ‘breaking it’.

The shadow slipped back into the pillars. 

Sound resumed. Erick glanced around him, at the people bowing down to where the shadow had been. Papers laid where they had fallen. Stamps rested on their sides, dripping ink onto bureaucracy. Some people held their foreheads to the marble floor. Some openly stared at the darkness flowing through the pillars of the room. One woman clutched her chest, smiling, as tears rolled down her face. 

Even Fallopolis had taken a knee. She smiled softly as Melemizargo departed. Glowing tears rolled down her unlined face; she looked even younger than before, and though her hair was still frizzy and grey, the 450 year-old woman could have passed for forty. 

The room came alive again. People stood, some quietly cheering, or sniffling back tears, or just smiling. Most went back to whatever they were doing before. Some, who had been waiting in line, decided they didn’t want to wait in line anymore, and left, walking out of the other side of the Spire, down the road, toward Brightwater Lake. Erick couldn’t see the waters from here, for they were kilometers and kilometers above the lake, but he knew what was supposed to lay in that direction.

Erick whispered to Fallopolis, “What now?”

Fallopolis got to her feet as she happily said, “Whatever you want.”

Erick had one pressing concern, as he glanced around the room. “I see a lot of people here, so I think I’d like to know how that all works. How did I not hear about all the people that live here? Not all of them are shadelings. Where do they eat? Where do they live? Is there work? How does that all function?” He said, “Either this is all new, and you’ve all made some great game of tricking me into believing that this is who you are, or this is who you are, and the rest of the world just doesn’t know? Or hates you anyway? Or… Whatever the case, there’s some propaganda going on, for sure.”

Fallopolis looked to Erick, like he was a slow-witted child. “Oh. Erick. There’s been no tricks. Everyone here got involved with us because we either wanted to destroy the world, or certain peoples in it. Some, like myself, got in this life to free us and our god from this [Mesmerize]. That’s never changed.” She gestured to the air where Melemizargo had been, moments ago. “Or maybe it has?” She smiled. “Maybe you just made a whole new slew of true friends, and a whole new party of true enemies.”

Erick calmly took in his audience, scattered all around this level of the Spire, some openly listening to him and Fallopolis, as though this was a great moment in history. Some people were listening more covertly, with their heads turned away, yet with their body posture poised to hear. He tried to deflect Fallopolis’s words, saying, “The stage is set; the knowledge is out there. Nothing I do from here on out will stop what is coming down the road.”

“That remains to be seen,” spoke a new voice.

A Shade resolved onto the road in front of Erick and Fallopolis; it was the one with all the layered robes, and the black mask. Erick didn’t know their name, yet, but Fallopolis regarded the person as though they were a stain on the hem of her frilly dress, or a pile of shit on the side of the road.

Fallopolis said, “Don’t trust Rodel. He’s the Shade of Whispers, and is responsible for most of the evil that Shades commit around the world. He wants to burn selected parts of civilization, just so his own goals come out ahead.”

The masked man turned to Fallopolis, saying, “Spoken like a jilted housewife who only sees adulterers, or a miser who only sees the greed in others.” He added, “Stay out of politics, Fallopolis; you haven’t been at the top of your game in a hundred years, ever since Silverite toppled your kingdom and you were reduced to the Culler.” He spoke to Erick, “Fallopolis, the former Shade of the Long Night, has led no fewer than five incursions into the world to destroy it all. Thankfully, she failed.”

“You should kill him, Erick.” Fallopolis said, “I’ll help. Right here. Right now.”

People had been slowly moving out of the Spire, but at Fallopolis’s words, they ran. Some dropped into the roads, turning to shadows, flowing alongside the dark veins in the crystal. Some raced into the air. Some huddled behind their counters. 

Rodel spoke, “Fallopolis would see you dead, Erick. Now that our Lord has a favorable impression, this is the perfect time for you to die and disappear.”

Fallopolis countered, “You overplay your hand, Rodel! Now who’s the miser who only sees greed?”

Another Shade slipped into the room; Erick saw her arrival. Fallopolis and Rodel did not instantly notice, but they both jolted at the second step in the room of Tania Webwalker, the Champion of Melemizargo. She looked exactly as Erick remembered; pale skin, a dress that seemed made of loose, white silks, and a veil that did nothing to hide her bright white eyes. Her white spider was nowhere to be seen, but she had a diner-plate sized, white tarantula upon her right shoulder. She spoke, and her words allowed no argument. “No one is killing anyone. We’re not doing that this year.” 

“Then what are we doing this year?” Another voice joined the fray, belonging to a tall, dark-skinned man in flowing red robes. He was strong-looking, with perfect features and glowing, white eyes. Erick would have called him handsome in any other setting. He said, “I had planned to guard Erick with a minion, but I’ll need to know if I need to guard him directly.” 

Erick found himself staring at the man.

The man noticed. He turned to Erick and bowed, then rose, saying, “I’m Crimsonair, Healer of Brightwater, and also the Shade of Blood. A pleasure to meet you.”

Erick tried to be polite, since it was his first instinct, “A pleasure,” and then he realized he didn’t want a blood mage anywhere near him, “But I do not wish for your guarding services at this time.”

“Afraid that’s not one of your choices, Erick. Someone will try to kill you and keep you dead, but I cannot allow such a thing, as I have hopes for this new world order.” Crimsonair said, “But if you don’t want me, then the task will likely fall to my teacher; Quilatalap.”

“Ah.” Erick had no idea how to respond to that. Everything was happening very fast.

“That’s fine.” Quilatalap, orcol archlich and Caretaker of the Armory, stepped onto the road behind Erick. “I can do that.” He said to Erick, “Hello, again.”

“Hell—” Erick’s voice broke. “Hello.”

Tania decreed, “We are going to have a perfectly normal Shadow’s Feast, and everyone is going to pretend that Erick is the help, for that is all that he had earned. You will also all do well to not involve him in our disputes.”

Erick had suddenly had had enough. 

“Fine by me!” he declared, as he put both arms at his sides, like they usually were, and then some feet went in front of feet, and steps were taken. “Thanks, everyone!” he said, as he walked through the Spire and out the other side, exaggerating swinging his arms, which were still at his sides, like they usually were. “Oh, wow! That’s pretty! Isn’t that pretty, Ophiel?”

Ophiels chirped in concerned flute sounds as the ten of them floated fast to catch up with Erick.

“Oh! It’s not that bad, Ophiel,” Erick said, “Look at that giant black sun! And the city below! That’s a big lake, too.”

By now, he was well out of the Spire, and almost a kilometer down the skyroad. A quick glance behind him showed five more Shades standing in the center of the Spire, where he had left them. The total number of Shades in that room would soon reach a critical mass.

They were arguing. Loudly.

Erick stepped forward, ignoring the growing cacophony behind him, as he walked down a crystal skyroad, over a crystal city full of people of questionable sapience, and then stepped past a circular platform, to head down, down, down. Beyond this space, the upper levels of the crystal city formed a more or less a slope of tower tops toward the waters, far, far below. 

As the world exploded behind him and dark shrapnel careened through the sky above, he rushed down the unobstructed sky between him and the lake. 

The skyroad broke behind him. The circular platform crashed down through a skyroad, but stopped on the next. These crystals were pretty sturdy! Someone would probably be by to clean that up, soon enough. Who did Killzone say did that? Cludolphis, the Shade of Mending, right? 

“They probably do this all the time, right?” Erick said to himself.

Ophiel chirped in guitar and flute sounds—

Quilatalap stepped into the air beside him, keeping up with his race down to the lake, saying, “They do—”

“Holy FUCK—!” Erick reflexively threw a [Luminous Trap] at the man and launched himself to the left, becoming his sunform.

The lich just stepped through the dark space, smiling, saying, “Good instincts, but an ineffective target.” He thumbed back the way they had come, saying, “They do that all the time. Cludolphis will fix it all up fast enough. You heard of her? She’s the Shade of Mending.”

Erick retreated back to human form to catch his breath as he hovered, unmoving, staring at the orcol archlich. He stared a bit harder. And then he dismissed the dark blot of void which was now fifty meters back the way they had come; Erick had moved rather far from where he had cast that spell. Quilatalap had, too.

“What the FUCK,” Erick said, unsure of what else to say.

“You’re in danger.” Quilatalap said, “So here I am. A neutral party.”

“… Great.”

- - - -

Erick strode through the sky, walking down airy paths, beside crystalline towers. A bright lake glowed far ahead, but much closer than five minutes ago. With a few more steps, he finished his thirty kilometer descent, to arrive in a place that was practically the Underworld, but was still exposed to the sky. Bright waters stretched off past the horizon, where another land of crystal towers reached all the way back up to the sky. But where Erick was right now, the Brightwater Expanse flowed back the way he had come, the glowing waters flowing around thick crystal towers, and adding a whole new depth to the waters that Erick hadn’t expected. He looked down into those waters for a moment, and saw merpeople and frog people shadelings down below the waves, living their afterlives, he supposed. 

Raising his head, and looking east, Erick wouldn’t have been surprised if the glowing waters of Brightwater Expanse continued all the way to the pink curtain wall around this whole place. 

Turning back to the lake, Erick regarded the dark sun above the center of it all. It was an eclipse; black in substance, yet radiant on the edges.

… This whole place was rather bright. Erick almost considered sunglasses, but he could see just fine if he used his lightform, or sunform, to see. His human eyes, though, were very taxed by the brightness. 

His current companion seemed to have no visible troubles with the light. 

Ha! ‘Visible troubles’. 

… Erick was fine. He wasn’t losing it. He was just in the ‘gallows humor’ stage of panicking. This was fine. This was fine. This was fine. Quilatalap was fine. Quilatalap was of normal orcol stock, with thick black armor, and a large grin. He stared out into the lake alongside Erick. He didn’t look like a lich, but he was, apparently. 

Erick had remembered a bit more about liches since his current introduction to the concept. Jane had spoken of ‘undead necromantic spell casters’ more than a few times when she was growing up. Hearing the term ‘lich’ had knocked loose some other, more recent memories. Liches were the undead mages who ruled the Fractured Citadels in Central Quintlan, weren’t they? Weren’t they supposed to look like corpses? The zombies and undead Erick had seen all looked like corpses in varying states of decay.

Erick asked, “Are you related to the Fractured Citadels in Quintlan?”

“The better question, is how are they related to me.” Quilatalap said, “And to answer that one, I would need to regale you of my family tree. Do you want to hear that?”

“Not at this moment.” Erick said, “But like… Sons and daughters?”

“Adopted children who then go out to make more of themselves. I’m just a teacher for the more promising ones. Or when one of them begs me to teach an outcast, or something.” He added, “It happens more often than you might think.”

Erick admitted, “I have never truly considered necromancy, before, so right now, all of my thoughts are on the subject. I’m thinking that ‘as often as I might think’ is every other month.” 

Quilatalap smirked. “Oh?”

Erick brushed away those thoughts, and changed the subject, “How does Rozeta not smack you down? The Shades get sanctions, don’t they? What is the difference?”

Quilatalap breathed in deep, expanding his massive chest, lifting his humongous shoulders and huge arms and—

And stop that, Erick.

Quilatalap said, “All Shades are removed from the Script only because them having power gives Melemizargo power. They’re the only exception to the rule that ‘all magic is controlled by the Script’, because Shades are tied so directly to the Dark Dragon.” Quilatalap said, “I’m just a Soul Mage, by comparison. I’ve never had their particular qualms regarding a lot of their particular problems with the world.”

Erick studied the orcol for a moment, for purely non-sexual reasons. “You don’t care about the Shades’ problems with the Script?”

“I care, but… I was born in a small village on the original Veird, 1600 years before the Sundering, and a good 6000 kilometers below the current surface of this world. I was there when they laid the Script. I even helped.” He smiled at the waters ahead, saying, “Back then, Melemizargo was just the God of Magic. And now, he’s a constrained god. I’ve always held out hope that he could get better, and it seems that he might.” He shrugged. “But you are right about me not caring as much about the Script versus ‘free magic’ that the Shades have always worked toward. I’ve always held myself apart from their True Faith, for I have always worshiped three Gods, and the other two are just as big a part of my life as Melemizargo.”

The man seemed a bit sad. A bit approachable. 

Erick wasn’t going to fall into that trap. 

But at the same time… Who was Erick, if he stopped believing in people. Here was a man, who was not a Shade—

“Can you show me a Script box?” Erick asked.

The man laughed. “Sure.” He looked to the air, read, and tilted his head a little as if debating which apple on a tree was ripe for picking. After deliberation, he plucked a blue box from the air, and handed it to Erick. Erick read, and his eyes went wide.

--

Greater Phylactery, special cast time, super long range, 100,000 mana + special costs 

Using the right materials, create a soul vessel of your choosing that will automatically capture your soul upon your death and recreate your body in whatever state you wish your body to be. You may have 5 Greater Phylacteries at any one time. When you die, you can choose which Greater Phylactery where you are reborn.

--

Erick had very little idea of what to make of the blue box sitting in his hands, but he put it away and pulled it out again; it was a real Script spell. He was holding in his hands a real spell, that allowed real resurrections. So what did that mean?

He asked, “What about Phagar?”

“People often confuse Phagar for the God of Death, and no one in his clergy or even he himself does much to dissuade this notion. But he has always been the God of the End. He doesn’t drag you to death; he’s not that kind of God, and long ago I chose to choose my own End.” Quilatalap said, “Phagar is one of the gods I worship.”

“… Who are the other two?”

“Melemizargo, of course. But also Koyabez.” 

“… I almost believe that, but peace has a limit.” He added, “Besides, Koyabez works to kill errant angels, demons, and undead, doesn’t he?”

“I juggle three gods, Erick.” Quilatalap said, “And my faith is much, much older than the Quiet War. Besides that, I don’t like killing. The days I kill someone are days when there is no other choice.”

Erick just looked at the man; confused. 

Quilatalap noticed. “What?”

“The Armory! Killing people who invade! Allowing people to leave with artifacts that kill and destroy the balance of the world! What the fuck!”

“Ah?” Quilatalap stood straighter. “I would have thought Fallopolis would have said, but those people who cleared the hard-mode trial today? They’re people from the Wasteland, who were looking for items to kill the Converter Angel. They got them. You’ll likely hear from those people later, and during the Feast, when they’re invited into the party.” He said, “I have a whole lot of images from all the other groups that won this year, who then went on to avenge the murders of their parents, or kill the people who killed their loved ones… There’s a whole lot of that, actually. The ones that failed the trials were those people who wanted to commit more murders, or who wanted to use their power to raze a city.”

Erick looked at the armored orcol. He narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying you orchestrate who wins whatever it is they win?”

“Absolutely not; I am not saying that.”

There was an inflection to his voice in the middle of his response; barely noticeable, but still there.

If this was Erick’s only problem of the day, he might have pursued that conversation to its end. But another one of the day’s problems was rapidly approaching from above, and behind. 

“Yoo-hoo!” Fallopolis called out, as she stepped down toward Erick and Quilatalap, saying, “You waited for me! How nice!” She came up beside Erick, saying, “Did you two have a nice little talk? Well! Just in case you didn’t:” She moved from one of them to the other, saying, “Like any proper immortal, Erick here likes guys and gals, and I think he has a particular raised-bridge for fine, fit, orcols. While our resident archlich here likes anyone who can hold a conversation and is capable of giving informed consent.” She looked to Erick and did a great job of fake-whispering, saying, “He’s into you. Go for it!” And now speaking, “After our own time is at an end, and we arrive together at the Palace, of course.” She started walking ahead, and when Erick stood stunned, not following, she added, “Come on, Erick! I want more than just a cupcake! You gotta tell me what’s good.”

Erick had no idea how he accomplished such a feat in view of all the revelations all around him, but he loosened his legs and began walking south, following Fallopolis. The crystal towers of the Spire rose like sheer mountains on his left; shadowed and rainbow due to the Brightwater Expanse that glowed to his right, under a black sun. 

Quilatalap followed, soon catching up, for Fallopolis did not walk fast; they were close to their destination. 

- - - -

In a few steps, the space where crystal towers vanished down into the Brightwater Expanse became less like towers sticking out of the glowing water, and more like towers broken and laid on their sides. Those broken crystals quickly turned into beaches, where stone crusted over the crystal, the light wasn’t quite as bright, and green trees grew along the banks. In the distance, to the south east, the crystal towers formed a thirty-kilometer tall wall that reached up into the sky, while houses dotted hills and smaller mountains scattered here and there, and the glows of crystals were locked away under normal-looking rock, dirt, and sand. Trees grew in this place, while roads connected houses to houses, and to markets. People walked under those trees, as they shopped at food stalls and ate at restaurants and seemed to be living normal lives. 

Erick walked atop the white sands of the beach, his footfalls stepping onto the light, his conjured boots never sinking into the soft sands. Quilatalap, a step to Erick’s left, and further up the beach, walked the same, though Erick saw no change in the sands to indicate a [Stone Body], like Ava, or the flashes of light that showed under Erick’s steps. Maybe he just weighed nothing in all that dark armor? Who knew. 

Fallopolis was barefoot and skipping along in the shallow surf, kicking sand with each step, and sinking in when she felt like it. By all outward appearances she was thoroughly enjoying herself. She wasn’t the only one. The waters of the glowing lake lapped at the beach, while children played in the waters and parents watched. A young man whispered to a young woman, under a tall tree, both of them with eyes only for themselves. A woman on the boardwalk beyond the beach argued with a man over something quiet, while the woman changed the diaper of a baby. Only some of them were shadelings. 

All of them noticed either Fallopolis, or Quilatalap, and though some paid attention to Erick and Ophiel, all eyes eventually turned to the Shade or the lich. There were a few silent stares, a few open prayers. Some bowed. Some kowtowed. Neither Fallopolis nor Quilatalap did anything to acknowledge the attention.

After a fifteen minute hike on the beach, and seeing a dozen different little communities on the shores and up the hills to the south, Erick saw the end of this beach up ahead, where sands gave way to crystal. No one had said anything about the community to the left, yet, and Erick couldn’t take it anymore. 

He said, “I thought you all were incapable of society.”

“That’s a harsh thing to say,” Fallopolis merrily chided.

“It’s a true thing to say.” Quilatalap said, “Historically, to be a Shade is to be a beacon of civilization, and some of the old demands of their station are hardwired into their souls. What you saw there in the Spire, and what you see here in the Platinum Market, and what you will see all around in the Brightwater District? These are the true natures of the Shades. What you see out in Kendrithyst, and elsewhere? The horrors and the murders? Those are Shades mutated by Melemizargo’s insanity. For a very long time, there was more insanity than true purpose.” He spoke to Fallopolis, “So while it was a harsh thing to say, it was true.”

“Which is why I try to get every Shade as dead as I can get them,” Fallopolis said. “The sooner they die, the sooner that Melemizargo can appoint those who would be true to the purpose of the Shades.”

Quilatalap hummed a tiny disapproval, but said nothing else.

Erick returned to watching the world around him, to hearing the waves, to smelling the air. This place smelled good; like a freshwater lake and civilization. But metaphorically, something smelled rotten. Erick looked to the people at the beach, and in the city beyond; he had a good eye on the place, with his Ophiels floating in the air behind and above. Seeing the people here reminded him a lot of the people of Candlepoint, but surely a place like this would have been known to the outside world, right? Unless it happened in the last year? 

But even then, Killzone or someone would have told Erick about a place in Ar’Kendrithyst that seemed like it held a true civilization. Silverite would have said. Someone would have spilled this secret, here, well before now. 

What about the orcols that came to the Spire and got cleansed of their shadeling Status? Did they see the people in the crystal towers around the Spire? Did they see the workers in the Spire itself?

Maybe they did see all of this, and those memories were wiped from them?

“Was this place like this, last year?” Erick asked.

Quilatalap said, “Yup.”

Fallopolis said, “The population moves around. The Platinum Market is more of a vacation area than the other parts of Brightwater.”

Hmm. 

Erick asked, “Why is this place called the Platinum Market? Killzone’s map named it as a ‘market’, too.”

Fallopolis said, “It used to be a market. Sometimes it’s still a market. These days, people mostly just live here.”

Erick asked, “What do they do, here?”

Fallopolis glanced back at Quilatalap.

Quilatalap said, “Some of them live their lives here, supporting their communities, but most of them, most of the time, make continuous pilgrimages out into the depths of the Spire or elsewhere around the District, searching for Lost Ones. Once a Lost One is found, they bring them to the Temple District. Sometimes the Lost Ones regain themselves and become a part of the community here. But most of the time, their soul damage is too deep, and they completely lose the memories of their previous life, or they’re too violent to let into Brightwater. Those ones are given over to the Shades, for work out in Kendrithyst, or elsewhere. Those ones are the shadelings you see out in the world. Those are the ones you gained at Candlepoint.

“Some of the Shades use this allocation of people as a horror, but for the longest time, none of the Clergy believed this world was real. So what was the bother with using the faithful against horrors perpetrated by the other gods? When shadelings die in service to their truth and their faith, they never actually die. Maybe in their next attempt they would come back stronger than before.” Quilatalap ended with, “That is the normal doctrine.”

Erick sighed. “What you’re saying sounds like a lie, and that all of this here is only here to dupe people like me who want to believe.”

Fallopolis spun around in the sand, smiling to Erick as she asked, “How can you possibly think that we’re lying, when you see all of this around you? We’re not hiding anything from you.” Losing her smile, yet trying to stay upbeat, she said, “But the gods! The gods have erased more knowledge from this world than you or I will ever know. The Geodes rise up and slaughter whatever they cannot control. Rozeta incentives handwritten books! And then there’s people like you, who believe what they’re told—” She suddenly stopped, then said, “You know what? Never mind. Telling people the truth never works. They always have to find out for themselves.”

Quilatalap chuckled, saying, “It is good you are skeptical, Erick, but to deny what is right in front of you is to deny the world, and that way leads to madness.”

The reached the end of the beach without further comment. 

Beyond the white sands, laid more crystal towers, but they did not rise up to the sky like the ones in the far distance. Beyond a low divider of crystal, and the glowing waters flowing through the space, parts of the Palace District rose up high enough to be visible. Spires of white stone lifted above the intervening crystal, while floating gardens drifted through the space, pouring waterfalls onto the hidden lands beyond. 

Fallopolis stepped onto the air beyond the beach, leading the way, her feet splashing shadows as she stepped. Erick and Quilatalap followed. 

A short walk later, Erick truly saw the Palace District. 

Beyond a long beach, beyond manicured green grass and flowered bushes, laid a tiered land of white towers, wide roads, and roofs of every color. It was a palace in the style of Kal’Duresh, for sure, but it was also a small city, with people dressed in white and black, and guards wearing white metal. Beyond the Palace, to the south, waterfalls fell from mountains of crystal beyond, cascading down thirty kilometers, hitting thousands of small green spaces on its way before falling out of sight. Straight ahead, was a gate, twenty meters wide, made of gold, cast in decorative whorls and lines. The gate stood wide open with guards on both sides— Oh. wait. 

The guards were not people, but they weren’t shadelings, either. There were spaces between their metal arms and torso and helmets, and every other part of them; they were the same type of automatons that Bulgan had in Candlepoint. They were also motionless.

A familiar butler and his two accomplices in black stood in the center of the open gate. He was the one who had taken Erick’s bags. He ignored Fallopolis completely, and only had white eyes for Erick. 

After a short bow, the butler rose, and said, “Welcome to the Pala—”

An explosion of shadows and fire rocked one of the white towers up ahead, breaking one of them at the base, sending a spire of white stone toppling like a tree to smash down the layers of the tiered cake of the Palace. Clouds of dirt and smaller fires erupted in its short, violent journey, while a beam of darkness carved across the sky, and a woman laughed loud, dancing through the air. The beam connected against the woman, then scattered wide, turning to flaming shrapnel that caught on varied parts of the Palace, eliciting more flames from the stone. 

The butler had been interrupted by the fight going on not a kilometer away, but he recaptured his lost composure and spoke over the battle, saying, “Welcome to the Palace, Archmage Erick Flatt. Your rooms are—”

A chaining explosion of fire on the side of the Palace turned to glowing ice, like ten meter wide flowers blooming, one after the other. The sudden spellwork cast booms of sound into the air. Automatons floated above the fight, then threw bolts of ice at both the woman in the air and at someone down below. The woman danced through the sky, evading fire and ice, and leaving a trail of shadow that spread and filled with motes of light. That light crashed down, like hundreds of Erick’s own [Shooting Star]s, racing into the ice and the fire below, destroying every single automaton, and much of the ice and fire.

The butler attempted to continue, “Your rooms are on the edge of the Palace, Archmage Flatt, away from our more excitable guests. Would you care to follow—”

Fallopolis spoke up, “I think Stardust is fighting Hollowsaur.”

“It’s not Hollowsaur.” Quilatalap said, “It’s Welodio.”

Erick had heard that name before. Killzone had said that if he ever met a white dragonkin who used fire magics, that he was to run the other way as fast as possible.

“That asshole showed up this year?” Fallopolis turned to Erick, saying, “I was hoping we’d meet him out in the city. He couldn’t not try to kill you, so you would have had to kill him back. You could take him.”

Erick frowned. “Killzone seemed to be of the opinion that I couldn’t take him.”

“You could.” Quilatalap said, “Especially since you’ve gained a Domain so in tune with your other magics.”

Erick changed the subject. “Who’s casting the ice?”

“Queen,” Fallopolis and Quilatalap said, at the same time.

Quilatalap added, “She can can cast anything, but she prefers to match against her opponent’s magic in a perfect counter.”

Fallopolis said, “That’s actually glow-ice. Not ‘ice’. It subdues fire magics in its area of effect. Queen was a Prismatic Mage with every Greater Elemental Body before she came to us 160 years ago, and she’s been here in the Brightwater District ever since. She’s pretty far down on my list of Shades-who-need-to-die, but if you see an opportunity, you should take it, Erick. There’s not a single redeemable one in the whole crowd.”

Erick watched as ice and fire and stars battled for dominance.

When no one else spoke for a few moments, the butler spoke up, “Would you care to see your room, Archmage Flatt?”

An explosion of shadowflames rocked the sky, as a orcol in a kilt rocketed up from below to strike at the flying woman. 

“My mistake.” Quilatalap said, “It’s Hollowsaur.”

Fallopolis smiled. “Stardust must have felt like poking him after his humiliating defeat by a single spell.” She looked to Erick, saying, “Not the preferred outcome, but it works well enough. Maybe they’ll kill each other, so good job.”

Stardust was the Shade of the Edge, if Erick remembered correctly. She lived in the Spire, and oversaw the space above Ar’Kendrithyst, near the upper atmosphere, at the edge of the Script. Last Erick heard, Stardust was gunning for the death of Spinner, the Shade of the Sky, over the rights to all of Ar’Kendrithyst’s airspace. 

Spinner lived in the Aerie, and Hollowsaur and Undine had asked Erick to kill Spinner. But Spinner was friends with Skyhook, the Shade of the Breeze, and both of those Shades lived in the Aerie. Erick wouldn’t have been able to fight one without fighting the other. 

So why was Stardust fighting Hollowsaur? With Erick’s rudimentary understanding of the situation, shouldn’t Hollowsaur be aligned with Stardust’s hatred of Spinner?

… It was likely more complicated than that.

Whatever the case, Stardust fought with Hollowsaur. Flames spread. And then another Shade appeared. A woman in rainbow clothing stepped out into the sky near the tiered Palace, but only hovered in the air near the buildings. She cast ice whenever fire spread, and used darkness to banish every glowing [Shooting Star] that got near the structures below. Must be Queen? She seemed focused on the defense of the Palace, above all else.

Erick tore his eyes away from the scene, asking, “Are Stardust and Hollowsaur actually going to kill each other?”

“Doubtful,” Quilatalap said.

“One can only hope!” Fallopolis said, “My grand-rads are on Stardust.”

Quilatalap said, “Hollowsaur is going to win. He has to; he’s running hard to restore face. Stardust will play off her attack as a simple test if she loses, but will kill him if she can.”

Fallopolis said, “His star is falling out of favor.” She smiled at her own pun, adding, “And Stardust is on the rise!”

Erick said to the butler, “I’d like to see my room.”

The butler bowed, saying, “Right this way.”