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The butler guided Erick past the golden gate, into the low gardens beyond where bushes and garden beds held flowers of all kinds, and fruiting trees grew in the bright, ambient light of the Palace District. The fighting Shades were past another wall and to the right side of the Palace, and Erick was worried for a second when the butler guided Erick through another gate, into the proper city of the Palace, edging closer to the fight, but the butler took Erick to the left. Shadowflames and minor comets and ice blooms quickly went out of sight, on the other side of the Palace.

Fallopolis followed for only a short more while, before declaring, “We’ve arrived! Glad I could accompany you here, Erick. See you around!” She headed back the way they had come, toward the sounds of battle.

“See you around,” Erick said, to Fallopolis’s rapidly receding form.

She turned around and waved, and then she took a dark step and was gone. 

Erick turned a fraction, and looked up, to face Quilatalap. “So. Uh. What about you? Are you going this way too, or...?”

He smiled. “Yup. I sort of have a room next to yours.”

Well okay then.

Erick turned back to the butler, and resumed his walk. 

- - - -

The butler guided Erick over tiny bridges where water flowed freely, and past empty roads full of overlooks and nice little spaces for tea or breakfast. There were few visible shadelings, or anyone, actually, except for the automatons that stood like statues here and there in organized pairs, or quads. There were probably servant’s passages for the people? Erick wasn’t sure. He did look closely at the shadows, though. Usually, he could tell if someone was in them, because Meditation revealed some of the underlying structure of magic. It wasn’t Mana Sight, but it wasn’t nothing, either. 

There were no people in those shadows. So either they were hiding rather well, or there were hidden passages in the Palace. Erick bet on hidden passages. 

Eventually, the butler’s guidance ended at a small golden gate in the inner curtain wall to the back left of the Palace. Here lay a nice green land with a small pond, a myriad of grey stone walkways, and wild, yet obviously manicured and well-kept grasses and ‘wild’ flowers. Oak-like trees provided shade to a pond and a few other picturesque places, while the sounds of running water revealed the presence of streams before Erick could see them. 

And in the center of all that, was a two-story grey stone cottage with a high-peaked roof and a short tower, that also had a peaked roof. It had some nice windows all around and a nice little porch in the front that faced the Palace. 

And Quilatalap was right behind Erick. 

The butler stepped onto the cottage’s property, then lowered his arm toward the house, saying, “Your bags are already inside, Archmage Flatt. Your personal butler is also inside, waiting to receive you.” He turned to Quilatalap. “I have been informed that you have guests, too.”

“I wonder who they are?” Quilatalap happily said to himself.

Erick looked to the archlich, and was concerned, for a myriad of reasons. Was he really rooming with this guy? 

Quilatalap smiled at Erick, saying. “You can pick whatever room you want. I usually take the top floor main bedroom, but there’s another main bedroom on the lower floor. You can have the tower this year.”

This might as well happen! Everything was odd, and this might as well be odd, too.

Erick walked forward, saying to the butler, “Thank you.”

The butler simply bowed as Erick passed by, but Erick noticed that the man paid almost no deference to the archlich; he rose at Erick’s passing, and didn’t bother to say or even look favorably upon Quilatalap. Erick ignored, but cataloged, whatever drama that was, as he turned his attentions to Ophiel. Ophiel fluttered out into the grasses and the waters and began inspecting everything, both for Erick, and for himself.

“Soooo…” Erick said, making some small talk as they walked up to the house. “You stay here every year?”

“This is where I stay when I’m visiting Brightwater for whatever reason there might be for me to be in this District.” Quilatalap said, “But the Feast hasn’t been held in the Palace in twenty years. Not everyone is staying on site, either.” He gazed up at the house, smiling, saying, “I don’t get out here near often enough, so it’s nice to see this place looking well.”

The front door opened before Erick got too close, and a fast, poised pair of human corpses, one man, one woman, stepped out to either side of the entrance. Both of them had glowing blue eyes. Both of them wore dark robes. Both of them regarded Erick, instantly dismissed his presence, then locked onto the man behind Erick. Erick, for his part, sort of just froze. When he realized he stupidly froze, he forced himself to try to relax as he looked for a way to get out of whatever was happening here.

Both animated corpses exclaimed, “Mast—!”

Quilatalap interrupted the two newcomers, sighing out, “What are you two doing here.”

The man exclaimed, “We wish to learn again, Master!”

“We want to do better!” said the woman. “We can do better!”

While Quilatalap just frowned at the pair, Erick kinda, just, stood off to the side, not knowing what all this was about, not wishing to be involved, and yet not seeing an immediate way out of this. He was surrounded on all sides. He’d have to walk across the wild grasses to get away, and that seemed like a bad idea for some reason. 

And then a meek-looking incani woman with big black horns and dark skin came out of the house, shoving the other two aside. Okay. Maybe not so meek. The two undead just looked at her, angrily. 

This newcomer wore a sleek black business outfit with white accents, while her eyes were red and black. Now that she was known, she only had eyes for Erick, as she said, “Greetings, Archmage Flatt. I am your butler for the duration of your stay, and though I have been charged with keeping you safe and seeing to your needs, the last moment adjustments to the plan, which included a switch of location to Quilatalap’s abode, has allowed others into a space that should have been yours alone. Please excuse my inability to clear out the corpses.” Without acknowledging Quilatalap at all, she said to Erick, “Your bags have been deposited in your bedroom.” She stepped back into the house, offering Erick an out to whatever the corpses wanted, as she asked, “Would you care for a tour of the facilities? Or to see your rooms?”

Erick glanced to the undead, then said to Quilatalap, “I’ll leave you to your students, then,” as he walked forward, toward the door, saying, “I would love to see—”

The undead man said, “You do not deserve to be in his presence—”

Erick got too close to the man. He realized that as it happened, and even though he had a clear way forward. 

The man went to shove Erick, to bar his entry, but three things happened very fast. Erick put up a thin shell of sunform, and that should have been enough. But then the incani woman’s dark eyes went wild as she saw the open palm aiming for Erick. She did something too fast to see; the man’s arm separated at the elbow, and the wrist and hand went away. The body part went somewhere, Erick couldn’t tell, because then Quilatalap got involved. 

The undead man gained a hole through his center that rapidly expanded. Ribs, bones, spine, robe, and guts, all of that turned to a fine mist that billowed away from Erick, scattering red onto the white flowers near the house. The undead man’s head remained. That part of him bobbed in the air, as the light in his eyes went out. 

Erick froze in his tracks. 

The man’s head floated to Quilatalap’s hand. He held it up, and frowned, saying, “You and I are going to have a talk.” He looked to the undead woman, and his kind eyes were, for the first time, less than kind. “You, too.” To Erick, he mentioned, “See you at the opening ceremony in a few hours.” And then he walked down a path that led around the house. 

The undead woman followed, like a silent mouse, or a very chastised child. 

After a few steps, Quilatalap set the head in his hands into the air. A body reformed under the head. The remade man was naked, and skinny, but he didn’t look dead anymore. Color returned to the man’s body, as he fell in line with the woman, as they both followed Quilatalap’s march around the corner, out of sight. 

Erick turned to face the incani butler. “That was impressive. You cut right through that guy’s arm.”

The woman stood straighter. “Thank you, sir.” She backed up into the house, again. 

Erick allowed himself to be led into her vacancy, to step into the doorway, and into the foyer. His first impression of the place was that it was rather humble. And kinda nice. Nice stone walls and dense wooden floors and comfortable furniture. He turned back to the woman, who was herself comfortable, in an odd sort of way. Maybe it was the fact that she wasn’t a shadeling, and that threw Erick for a loop. 

“What’s your name?”

“Violet, sir.”

“Do you work for Queen, or what?”

“I do, sir.”

“How long have you been here at the Palace?”

“Born and raised, sir.”

Erick looked to the incani woman with a whole new appreciation in his eyes, and said, “I think I’m gonna want a lot of information from you about everything that is going on around here, including: How is an incani working for them? Is that normal?”

Violet bowed, then raised, saying, “This is why I was assigned to you, sir. But—” She indicated the grandfather-ish clock to the left, on the other side of a sitting area. “But the Opening Ceremony is scheduled to begin in one hour and thirty four minutes, and Queen has tasked me with getting you ready. I have gone through your clothes and set out the appropriate ones, as well as set out three outfits made for you, by Queen, in the proper style that should fit you well, should you choose to wear them. Your own clothes are only marginally approved.”

Erick smirked. He joked, “I paid almost 95,000 gold for those clothes! And from a world-renowned tailor, too!”

Violet bowed, saying, “Marginal is among the best qualifiers Queen gives.”

“Out of a list how long?”

“It varies, sir.”

“Fair enough.” Erick said, “Show me to my room, please. Mustn't keep royalty waiting!”

“I understand you are joking, sir, but these are true words.”

- - - -

Erick’s room was beyond the foyer, to the right, beside the entrance to the tower. Both his room and the tower had large windows with nice views of the crystal mountains to the south of the Palace, where streams fell from thirty kilometers up and hit a hundred patches of green on their ways down. The room itself was comfortably appointed, with a large bed in the center of the room, an open closet, and its own bathroom, complete with a bathtub and all the proper amenities to make this a high-class place. Erick inundated the room with tendrils of light, checking everything, from every angle. When that search returned nothing, he threw a [Cascade Imaging] into the center of the room, to form an eighth-scale map of the house. He wasn’t searching for anything in particular, for searching for something as nebulous as ‘traps’ would give no results. He was mainly just searching for the layout of the place. In this, he was successful, but the place was pretty darn normal, as far as Erick could tell. Rooms. Bathrooms. Hallways. From all angles, this place was just a house.

But about forty meters down, there was water and crystal under the veneer of the land the Palace, and this house, was built upon. Erick’s mapping showed lots of hidden places down there, in the brightwater.

Violet watched from the entrance, her eyes firmly directed toward the clothes she had set out. Erick would get to those soon enough. He thought the black robes were a bit much, but they were better than the rainbow ones, and certainly better than the all-white ones. Oh, there was no direct problem with them. Erick could even see himself wearing the rainbow ones as a gag, and having fun with it. That wasn’t the problem, at all.

He supposed he was done with his investigations. He turned to the robes, and decided to address the problem. “Are these really the approved options?” Erick had expected a certain amount of pushiness from Queen and all the rest, and he even expected her to go through all of his clothes, but to so blatantly pick out what he wore seemed to cross a line Erick didn’t know he had. And there was another problem. “Where are my own grey robes? I liked those ones. I know I had some of those in my bags, but they are absent from the closet. In fact, all my grey clothes are gone. The only ones I have are the ones I have on myself, right now.”

Violet bowed, then walked away. In four seconds, she entered a room on down the hallway, then came back with the grey robes, saying, “Queen would prefer you pick something more definitive than grey. In her words, grey is a spineless, muddled color.”

Erick frowned as he took his robes, and tossed them on the bed behind him. “Is this Feast going to be a hundred little power plays like this, Violet?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I noticed that this house was grey. Does that mean she thinks Quilatalap is spineless?”

“It is much more complicated than that, but yes, sir.”

“… Why is Quilatalap spineless?”

“Because he refuses to take the final steps and become a Shade.”

“Then I think I will wear nothing but grey this entire time.”

“That is your choice, sir, but I would advise against it.”

Erick frowned. “Why?”

“Queen is not a bad person, but she has certain tics that set her off. The argument of grey is an old one when it comes to her and Quilatalap, but she’s mostly over it. This doesn’t mean that she approves of the color. You wearing grey to the start of this important event would start you and her off on the wrong path. If you capitulate to this desire of hers, going forward will be a lot easier for you and for me.” 

“Explain this aversion to grey.” Erick wondered if it had something to do with Queen’s prismatic nature, or perhaps it had something to do with the greys of shadeling eyes. Or maybe something else?

“I cannot, for I do not know.”

“Speculate?”

“I will not, for I do not wish to be removed from employment.”

“Does that mean you will be killed if you displease Queen?”

“No. It means I will likely move to the Temple District, which is where my boyfriend lives.”

“… Fine.” Erick looked to the clothes laid on the bed. “In certain other circumstances, I would love to wear rainbows, but not here, and not now. So… Black. I guess.”

“Do you require assistance putting it on?”

“I do not.” Erick said, “Thank you, Violet. That is all.”

Violet bowed, then walked away. Erick shut the door.

Erick expended an Ophiel, propping up a [Prismatic Ward] into the room, the bedroom, and the closet, sticking the edges of the protected space into the walls, but no further. And then he poked around everything again, checking for holes or empty spaces in the dense air. He even lifted the bed up with his sunform. The thing looked to weigh a literal ton, since it was made of logs and sized to an orcol, but it was no match for Erick’s light. With over 200 Strength, he probably could have lifted it by hand, too, but that would have likely broken something. 

There were no empty spaces in the dense air. When a dozen seconds of a [Cleanse Aura] elicited no thick air from anything, Erick dismissed his conjured armor and stripped, taking off his belt, but leaving on his rings. 

It was stupid to take off his belt in an environment like this, but if they wanted to kill him, they would have done so already. So Erick decided to enjoy himself.

Standing there, naked, he decided he needed a bath. He’d been up for almost a full 24 hours at this point, and [Cleanse] was just beginning to feel like it wasn’t enough to feel clean. He stepped into the bathroom, and happily allowed three Ophiel into the room with him. They chirped in happy violins to be allowed into such a hallowed space. 

Turning on the water, the bathtub filled up rather fast. According to Erick’s previous Imaging, the pipes to this house, and this room, were coming from the Palace. Maybe shadelings used the pipes as hidden passages? Eh. Whatever. The [Prismatic Ward] would block most intruders; it was worth over 100,000 points of defense, too.

But, like, did that much defense even fucking matter, when it came to rooming with an archlich? 

Probably not.

Oh well! If they wanted to kill him, they would have!

Erick set his worries aside for a minute, because inside the dense air of his rooms, only the most dangerous could get inside, and what was the point of worrying, then? He still turned off the water and threw another [Cleanse] into the bath before he got in, though. No telling what sort of poisons could be in that water. Everything was getting a [Cleanse] before it went into his body, or touched his flesh, while he was on this trip. The [Cleanse] on the water turned up nothing. Erick felt a bit better about everything.

After a good soak to ease the tension in his shoulders, and a nice scrub with some soaps he had brought with him, that Violet or someone else had put in the bathroom, Erick [Watershape]d himself dry and went out into his room. 

He put on the black robes, and then he looked in the convenient mirror next to the door. 

He did not like the black robes. Not with his eyes as white as they were, nowadays. He switched to the white robes. With his hair combed and his robes fit, Erick put his belt back on and looked in the mirror. This was better. With some thin, yet strong conjured undergarments, both boxerbriefs and undershirt, Erick finished off his outfit with some conjured boots. None of those conjurings would do much with regard to actual defensive measures versus the big threats he had seen, but they would be fine for other, smaller threats…

“… If there were any smaller threats,” Erick mumbled. 

Did those corpses count as smaller threats?

Probably not. Violet was likely a threat, but she seemed more like a spy than an actual, physical danger.

Erick looked to the clock in his room. It was half an hour till the start of Shadow’s Feast. He had been here for almost 24 hours, meaning that 1 hour would have passed outside of Ar’Kendrithyst. The sun had set when he had entered the Dead City, but by now it was truly night out there, for tonight, even the moons were dark. 

He briefly tried to telepathically connect to Jane, to Poi, to Kiri, to anyone he knew, but he got nothing; they weren’t out of range, but they were still out of reach. Killzone had told Erick to expect this, but it was still disappointing. 

Erick exited his room. Violet waited at the end of the hall, but at Erick’s appearance, she came to attention. After a moment, Quilatalap stepped around the corner.

“Ah!” He said, “We good? We ready?”

Erick said, “Ready as ever. Or… Should I eat something, first?”

Quilatalap said, “The Telling only takes an hour and that’s a serious event, but there’s food and mingling afterward at the First Indulgence, and you might be able to relax a little. Tania will introduce Bulgan to the Clergy at that time, for this is his first year as a Shade, but other than that, the Indulgences are not formal at all, and everyone always brings guests.” He asked, “You’ve been up for a while. Are you good to go another full day?”

“Yes.” With his high Vitality and Immunity to Health Fatigue, Erick could stay awake for three days, no problem, but he didn’t want to. He hoped he wouldn’t have to, either.

“Good.” Quilatalap said, “There’s a rest after the first party. You can sleep on the third day.”

- - - -

Past a twist in the outer roads looping around the Palace, down a dark lane, in a certain place, there is a gate of black stone set into the curtain wall that nominally separates the Palace from the outside world. It is not a tall wall, and they are not tall doors, but they are still imposing. Black fangs extend from that door, and continue left and right along that curtain wall. This is the only place that has such decorations. The rest of the Palace is all about grandeur and brightness and airy beauty. This is a place of hard truths, and gnashing teeth. One might find other such places all throughout Ar’Kendrithyst, but this is the one that was active, on this night. 

The door is open; split down the center, the two halves swung inward. 

Beyond that door, lies a flooring of dark stone tiles scattered about, that supports dark pillars that reach up to nothing but empty air. This dark space dominates an otherwise pleasant field of wild flowers of every color, and lush green grasses, while the crystal mountain to the south stretches directly up to the sky, so far, far above, and far away. Rivers flow down upon that impressive crystalline height to touch upon more wild green spaces. This is a cultivated, wild space. Or maybe it is one that was broken long ago. Or maybe, this was the finished structure.

The dark flooring of this space does not form an organized square upon which the pillars rise to an organized roof, but the flooring is certainly made of square tiles. None are broken. All are polished to a harsh shine. And while there is a large, central area of black tiles, the edges of this space are not so easily defined by any simple shape. In many places, the tiles go off into the flowering field, and though there is no apparent design, there is the feeling that those spaces are just waiting for the right moment to come alive.

The pillars are not set to support any roof, either. They’re scattered about, like trees in a forest that have been burned black by a fire, and left in the ground. But they are not weak; thinking that a push would topple them would be a foolish thought. Their bottoms are wider than their tops, and though they might actually be obelisks, they are missing the final pyramid-peak common to those items; the tops are flat, as though waiting for something to be placed there. They’re polished to a high-shine, too.

This is not a wild space, though the strange architecture and the wild fields beyond might make it appear that way to some. If one were to look closely, they would see that the wild grasses grow over the edges of the black tiles, but they are trimmed to keep the dark stone flooring empty, and waiting. 

It is in this space, where almost fifty Shades, and Quilatalap, have gathered. 

And then there’s Erick. 

Mercifully, Erick has traversed the Hell that is ‘Panic’. 

He is currently in the embrace of ‘Acceptance’, the tendrils of ‘Whimsy’, and with a foot firmly planted in ‘Horny’.

- - - -

Introduction to Shade society had gone as well as Erick could have expected, in that there had been no introduction at all. Erick followed Quilatalap to the odd pavilion-like area, and then they waited, while the Shades talked to each other, and not at all to either Erick, or Quilatalap. Fallopolis winked at him, though, then went right back to talking to some other Shades. 

There was no blood, unless you counted the blood dripping off of that guy over there. There was no death, unless you counted the rather tall floating fellow, with every part of him made of either long bones, or floating black cloth. Almost no one cared to look Erick’s way, so he was free to look upon whoever he wished, and oh my, what sights there were! At least ten women had their righteous boobs on display. In dresses, in blouses, in corsets and otherwise. One was even topless, with her prodigious assets buoyed on clouds. 

And get a load of that lady, right beside the topless one! Big as cantaloupes! Those tits were overflowing her barely-there black dress that was likely made out of shadows, and nothing else. 

And the men! The men, or at least those who cared to put themselves on display, did so with gusto. Erick didn’t really care for the guy, but Hollowsaur was wearing a black satin loincloth that made him look like a porn star waiting to take the stage. Maybe his kilt had been burned or blown up? Whatever the case, he wore more than an incani man who simply wore a sock. 

A woman snatched the sock off of the man, and then the man was wearing nothing. 

He didn’t seem to mind.

Ah. He could be a pornstar, too. No one needs a dick that big. It’s Blood Magic, right? He had to have had some work done. At that thought, Erick looked to the other people in the crowd. They likely all had work done. Blood Magic could do that, right? Yeah. It could.

And then the skeleton-person was floating to Erick. He? She? They were the first person to do so. Erick had noticed the skeleton when he arrived, but now, he saw the white orb in their empty chest, the way the black cloth held onto flesh that was not there, and the white stars in their empty eye sockets. 

“Hello!” Erick happily said to the skeleton, not sure of what else to say.

With a melodious, feminine voice, the skeleton, who definitely seemed like a woman, said, “Hello, Erick. A pleasure to meet you. I’m Priestess. Have you heard of me before?”

Erick wracked his brain for a moment, before saying, “Yes! Killzone mentioned you; yes. You try to convert people, but you never kill, and you rarely show yourself.”

She chimed a pleasant laugh, then said, “Yes; that is me. I am glad that Killzone has given me such a glowing recommendation. I shall have to leave a gift waiting for him at Forward Base.” She added, “I am glad you have chosen to attend the Feast on your first year on Veird. It means much for your future that you have come to us so quickly in your journey.”

“… Uh? Okay?”

“And you’re wearing white! It’s a good color for the Fire of the Age. Your brightness fills the world, and empowers all others to reach a little higher and to cast a little deeper; to truly embrace magic.” Priestess sighed, happy, as she said, “And you even chose the harmonic path! It is a rare one that can make that work, who can call upon ritual and enact their will upon the world. You do this priestess proud.” She added, “Now you just need to free yourself from the constraints of the Script, and choose your true Wizardly Path.” 

“What?” Erick found himself walking right into Priestess’s mini-sermon, as he said, “What do you mean? Wizardly Path?”

“The Script is a noose that lifts you up while it chokes you out of true power. Since everyone can do Particle Magic, this is not True Wizardry. True Wizardry breaks the mold and remakes the world. It is unique to the individual. Creation, Destruction, and Paradox, all in one power. You would know your Wizardry if you saw it, and you have not seen it, have you?” Her voice took on a careful edge, as she said, “The first signs of your Wizardry would have appeared as Darkness to everyone else, but to you, it would have appeared as something else.”

Erick stumbled on his words, saying, “I don’t… I don’t think so?”

The skeleton breathed in, then out, seeming to relax, even though she had no visible lungs; the white orb in her chest did briefly glow brighter. “That is good to hear. You have likely used up some of your power to establish Particle Magic, but that is no bother.” She lifted her arms to her sides, just a bit. “I have some ideas for your Wizardry if you wish to speak to me about that. I will be here all week. I would love a private chat.”

Erick looked around. “Here, here?”

“My place is usually in the Temple District.” The Priestess said, “But for the duration of the Feast, I am here, in this humble place of worship, to hear and speak with whoever might wish to converse. I could also give you a personal visit, if that is more of a comfort to you. Aside from the holy duty of guiding people to the Dark, I administer the Tellings.” She glanced behind Erick, adding, “And it seems it is almost time for the First Telling. Hello, Queen.”

Erick turned, and saw a glamazon rainbow bride. Her skin was the palest violet, but her horns, her hair, and her eyes, were white, and glowing. Oh. No. Not white. Iridescent. A constellation of silver sat upon her head, behind her crown-like horns; a tiara made of stars. Her dress was rather ostentatious with all of its white layers, but as she moved, color appeared in that white, too. She was practically a hidden rainbow. 

And she was looking at Erick. 

Queen smiled, and it only added to her radiance. “Hello, Erick. A pleasure to meet you. I am glad you picked the white.” She turned to the Priestess. “That is everyone.”

The floating skeleton sighed a little, then said, “It’s not everyone, but it is a fair share. And it is time.”

“Better turnout this year than most years.” Queen regarded Quilatalap, losing some of her radiance in the process. “Quilatalap. I trust your home is up to standards?”

Quilatalap took the obvious hostility in stride, saying, “Of course it is. Thank you, Queen.”

She turned to Erick. “If you wish for other protections, I can get them for you. Just say the word.”

“I’m already moved in, but thank you.”

Queen took the rejection in stride, saying, “Very well.” She looked to Priestess. 

Priestess’s core glowed bright for a second, pulsing out a brief wave of minuscule power. All talking in the strange pavilion ceased. Priestess slowly turned away from Erick, to regard the crowd, as they regarded her. Someone gave the sock back to the one dude and he stuffed his junk back into it, as he winked at Erick, who was fine with looking if the dude was fine with showing. Behind Erick, Violet and a few other butlers grabbed the dark door and walked out, closing shut the ceremonial space with a whispered ‘click’. Though Erick and the Shades and everywhere here were technically outside, and there were no true walls, the closing of those doors still felt ominous. 

Priestess began floating through the gathered congregation. The Shades parted for her walk, as she began speaking, “The time is nigh. The sun has set.”

Every single Shade responded, “The time to break and make is met.”

Erick almost counter-cursed, but he dared not open his mouth. 

So instead, he felt the world seeming to shift under his feet. Nothing moved, but everything changed. The brightness of the Brightwater, on the other side of the Palace, dimmed. The crystal mountain in the distance became something darker, and from one moment to the next, the waterfalls began running black as ink. Darkness moved in. And then a bit of light came back, as the flowers all around began to glow; bioluminescent. 

Priestess hovered further into the air as she floated past the congregation. She took her spot in the southernmost part of the area. All eyes were on her, and on the air around her. Images appeared in the sky, as she began to narrate a story Erick had never heard before.

Erick was transported, maybe not in body, but in mind, to another world, another time, another place.

“In the beginning, there was Darkness.

“Endless! Boundless! Chaos without measure. Chaos without substance. 

“No Light. No Stone. Nor Air, nor Water, nor Fire. No Souls. No Order at all.

“But then! There came another. A brilliance upon the Darkness. A change upon the unchanging. A solidification of Chaos into something else. Something Ordered. Hear his name, and give prayer to the fallen: Xoat! The First Wizard.

“Xoat! Xoat! Xoat!

“The Primal Spark! 

“The Fire of the Age! 

“The First Wizard God. And yet, he was none of that at all, for he was never given a chance.

“Neither true wizard, nor true god, Xoat lived and died in Darkness. 

“And the Darkness bore witness, for when Xoat came into being, everything changed.

“Darkness had never seen anything like Xoat before. Darkness wanted Xoat to happen again. 

“And so, Darkness took Xoat’s corpse and made the First Cosmology. Bones became Stone. Breath became Air. Stilled movement was driven to move again, becoming Fire, while blood became Water. A soul was sundered into a million mirrors, creating the first bit of mana in the universe, in an attempt to create another Xoat. And yet, despite the powers of Pure Darkness, it was not enough. Xoat was dead. And there would never be another like him.

“Stone did not move on its own. Air did not move through dead lungs. Fire gave warmth to nothing, while Water sloshed, and stilled once again. He tried combining the Four Elements, but Ooze only wobbled. Plasma and Rain were pretty, but were not much more than that. Sand and Steam were less than useful, while Magma seemed nothing more than a source of deep Fire.

“And so, Darkness tried something else. 

“The souls had wandered around, doing nothing, but now, He forced those souls into the pieces of the First Cosmology He had created, and thus, there was sentient movement, for the first time. Mana, given form! Mana, turned to life!

“Darkness had created the first Ancients, and the first elementals. But these were not like Xoat. Though Darkness had spent little time with the First Wizard, He knew what He had created was not like what He had discovered. 

“And so, Darkness worked a bit more, not sure what was happening, or where He was going wrong. 

“Out of these second ministrations came Gloom, and Swamp, and Abyss, and Ash. Out of this trial, came the Second Cosmology. Primordial Elementals remade existence into their own images, but they cared not for Darkness. They were automatons, and they were boring.

“These things He had made were not clever. They acted on instinct. They were sentient, and they were varied, but they were not sapient. Their souls were dull, and they created nothing but what was already there. And when He tried to create more complicated lives, they perished, for unknown reasons. 

“Darkness was missing something essential. 

“After thinking for a long time, Darkness realized he was missing something that was not Darkness, for Xoat had stilled when he had appeared out of the Chaos. All complicated life perished in Pure Darkness.

“Darkness had the question, and the answer, and now, He simply searched for the solution.

“He found the answer to His problems at the most obvious of places: Xoat’s corpse.

“But these pieces were already used by the Second Cosmology, and so, He struck down automatons and useless attempts at life. And when He was done, there was not much left of His Second Creation, but He had managed to cobble together Xoat’s eyes, and ears, and brain, and most of his body. 

“He took these pieces into himself.

“Thus, Darkness imbued the First Dragon, and the First Dragon was something other than Darkness. And yet, the First Dragon was also complicated life, and also able to survive in the Pure Darkness. 

“Success!

“And also, terror.

“Darkness saw himself, from both angles. The Dragon was frightened. The Darkness was intrigued. The Darkness was frightened. The Dragon was intrigued. 

“For in looking upon Himself, He saw what Xoat saw, which was nothing. All was destruction. All was Darkness. 

“But then, He also saw the Fire upon the remnants of the Second Cosmology. How it lit up the Endless. How it enabled life in the pitiful wreckage of His Second Attempt. This Fire was the solution. But it was not perfect. It was weak. Something was missing. 

“Darkness pulled Himself away from the Fire, to better let it grow and move, and in doing so, He birthed the final necessity to life.

“Light! 

“Brilliant! Radiant! Incandescent! 

“With the final piece of the Puzzle of Life assembled, and the First Dragon to forge the way, to guide the elemental life that would come, and to create more complicated life, life began to spread and flourish and populate the universe. But that story is getting ahead of ourselves. 

“It was in this earliest time of the new Third Cosmology that the First Dragon met the Second Dragon, in the depths of Darkness. But that is a story for another day. 

“For now, it is enough to know that the Dragons gave birth to the First People with true souls, the first life outside of the elementals, and though they were not dragons themselves, these First People multiplied more than any other. With the Dragons to oversee them, Those Who Aspire began to populate the First Plane. The first world of the Third Cosmology.

“Darkness looked on the First Plane from the depths of the Void, and declared it good. 

“These new ‘people’ were not Xoat, but in time, more Wizards would come from those who He begat, from the dragons and the people, to forge more lands, to create more air, to fill more oceans, and to light the skies. They would open the paths through the mana ocean, carving the ways out past that First World, to the Second, and the Third, to spread among the glittering Darkness, to bring forth Order from Chaos, and to cause Chaos all their own. But we are getting ahead of ourselves, again.

“For there was a problem. 

“The First World was good, but Darkness wanted to be with us, and He could not. For as how Xoat had died inside the Darkness, Darkness overpowered all that He touched. 

“And lo! He already had a solution. 

“He was both the Darkness, and the Dragons. It was a simple matter to shift himself toward the flesh and power of His progeny, to become something lesser, in order to gain something more.

“And thus, Shadow was born. A mixing of Pure Light and Pure Darkness. A middle path. A way forward! The Dragon God was born. In His wisdom, He descended to us. He guided. He helped. He showed the way through the mana, and how to control the mana itself. He raised the first Wizards. He showed us the first river running through the Mana Ocean. He gave us the first boats, and showed us how to create new lands out of the mana.

“And thus, was born the Third Cosmology.

“And for a few precious moments, Existence was Balanced, for the first and only time in all of eternity. 

“And then it broke into pieces, because the people and Wizards therein desired this, but that was expected. Balance was stagnation, and Darkness had to break the balance of Himself in order to get anywhere with His Creations. It was only right and good that His children would do the same. 

“And Darkness was happy, for He could already see new Wizards being born in this Third Cosmology. New voices, to raise to the Darkness, so that He might speak to them, to join in Holy Thought, and Holy Action. To Create! To Destroy! To bring about new worlds, and new civilizations! To twist the Chaos and Elements into Order. To break Elements and Order into Chaos. To create new life! new possibility! 

“For He desired it. 

“And He would be there to see it all unfold, from behind the eyes of His children, to greet the new Wizards, to teach them magic, and help them forge everything that had yet to exist. And when Wizards did not come, He would still be there to help the nascent mage learn the possibilities of magic, to help them practice their craft, to expand upon what had already been laid down by himself, and by the Wizards of the past. He would even help the apprentice, and the priest. The governor and the governed. Any who touched mana, who reached for Darkness, were welcome to try their hand at the monumental Path of the Creator, the Path of the Destroyer, or the Path of the Paradox. 

“And when He could not be there directly, He would still be present behind the eyes of His Shades, to guide, and to take part, in the glory that is life.”

The sermon ended. 

The black pavilion was now full of conjured illusions holding in the air above every obelisk; images of the past, to better illustrate the story told by the Priestess. In the beginning of her speech, a few Shades had helped conjure those images. Everything was going exactly as it should. 

And then the Priestess spoke of Xoat like he was a planar, just popping into existence where nothing had existed before. Erick stood stunned. A few other Shades showed their disbelief, too.

And then the Priestess spoke the words that struck Erick to his core, like a spear through his heart, he was no longer stunned, but poleaxed. The Priestess had called Xoat the Fire of the Age. 

And every single Shade had flinched at that. The Shades who were helping to conjure images even flinched. They had not been let in on her revelations. She was obviously going off script. Some of the Shades turned to Erick at that moment, their eyes wider than normal. Fallopolis, who somehow moved to stand beside Erick, to flank him with Quilatalap, was openly weeping tears of light as the Priestess barreled on. 

The Priestess was now conjuring all the images in the sky on her own; her helpers stood back, not knowing what to do, except to glance from her, to Erick, and then back again.

For a long minute, the Priestess conjured the story on her own. And then her helpers regained themselves. They helped create images again. The Shades whispered amongst their small groups. The Priestess continued to talk.

Erick realized something deep in his soul. He found himself whispering, “This is the normal story. The one told every year, except…” He couldn’t say the words.

Quilatalap smiled, wide and happy, his lower fangs showing as he whispered, “Except now everyone knows what a ‘Fire of the Age’ truly is.” He chuckled, low and fulfilled, then added, “This makes you the first True Fire I’ve ever seen.”

The Priestess continued her sermon. Eventually, she finished. The sky brightened as light returned to the dark congregation. The rivers on the mountain flowed water, instead of shadows. The flowers lost their glows. Most people spoke amongst themselves, or stared at Erick. Or maybe they were sizing up Fallopolis on his right, and Quilatalap at his left; it was hard to tell with their eyes so white. 

The Priestess spoke, “Some of you might have noticed a change in the sermon.”

Someone commented, “That’s a fucking understatement.”

A lot seemed to agree with that, as murmurs carried on the air.

Priestess continued unabated, “I’m sure you have questions. I will answer none of them at this time. But I will give you some information: I was briefed on this change of the Telling as of ten hours ago by Tania, and then a few hours ago, by Melemizargo Himself, when He came to me after Erick called to Him in the Spire. We thought we knew what Erick’s designation as a Wizard and as the Fire of the Age meant. We were wrong.” With her starbright eye sockets radiating light, she said, “The Fire of the Age is so much more, and I will be doing my part to ensure that whatever may happen, happens as our God demands.”

In the brief lull of the Priestess’s words, Tania Webwalker stepped into the air, demanding attention with her presence alone. She spoke, “Erick. Take a break. We all need to talk. The Feast is delayed.”

Quilatalap said, “Of course.”

“I’m coming, too,” Fallopolis said.

Tania spoke out, “Fine. Both of you, go.”

“I expected this to be over, not to have a meeting.” Queen’s voice rose above the crowd, “I need to check on the party.”

A black dressed incani man said, “How can you fucking care about the fucking party now? Fuck.”

The Librarian spoke on the other side of the room, “Some of us knew enough to know this was a possibility.” She looked to Tania, saying, “I didn’t think it was quite like that, but it makes sense.”

A goldscale woman shouted, “Some of us have lives outside of the Library, psycho!”

As Shades began arguing and Tania stood in the air over it all, growing obviously angrier by the second, Erick found himself escorted out of the congregation. 

- - - -

Erick stood in the living room of Quilatalap’s cottage, by the window, looking out over the wild garden, to the golden gate that separated this land from the Palace. He was still in the middle of trying to figure out what the fuck just happened, but some people had already made their thoughts known by stepping to the closed gate of the property and kowtowing toward the house. Other people were simply kowtowing to the Ophiels he had set up on top of the wall. 

He closed the blinds and turned to the kitchen, just beyond the living room. Quilatalap had switched out of his armor and donned a dark, comfortable robe, and was now pulling items out of the cold box; thick steaks, onions, and even some of Erick’s vegetables; corn and potatoes, mostly. Fallopolis sat on the couch, smiling at Erick, waiting for him to speak. 

Erick asked whoever felt like answering, “What did you you think ‘Fire of the Age’ meant? Because I did not think it meant… that.”

Fallopolis looked to Quilatalap.

Quilatalap said, “Historically, it was the title given to those who brought about a fundamental shift in magic, on a grand scale, but you must understand that there hadn’t been a true, declared Fire of the Age in the Church of Melemizargo for… For hundreds of thousands of years before the Sundering. 

“After the Sundering, the Church lost most of its power, for as Melemizargo fell to insanity and began murdering whoever he could, so did they. There was a Fire of the Age declared every few decades in the beginning, whenever someone managed to murder a whole lot of people. There was that one time, in 210, where there were two Fires living at the same time. Each time, it was either Melemizargo himself, or his Clergy, who declared those Fires. 

“This is likely why no one cared about your own declaration until now.

“Personally, adding Particle Magic to the Script seemed like a ‘Fire’ thing to do. I never thought much of it. Maybe I forgot the truth of the title? Maybe I forgot that a Fire of the Age was something… Something more. I’ve forgotten a lot more than most will ever know, and those early centuries saw a lot of corruption.” He looked to Erick, saying, “The Mind Mages, and the Wrought led quite a few Forgotten Campaigns back then.” He smirked. “They never got me, though.”

Fallopolis sat enamored. She asked him, “What Fires do you remember from the Old Cosmology?”

“There’s the obvious one, but let me see… How did it go...” Quilatalap got to thinking as he set a large cast-iron top over the stove and turned on the heat. He picked up a bunch of chopped potatoes and tossed them in a bowl, along with oil and spices; Erick hadn’t seen him cut up the potatoes, or any of the other veggies, but it had happened. He tossed the potatoes onto the grill, and said, “Ah. Yes. That’s what it was called back then. Here’s the story: Hundreds of thousands of years ago there was a Fire of the Age who engraved her life upon the entire Cosmology, when she invented the Automagic Manaminer. I forget her name, but her invention quickly became a central part of every defensive structure in the Old Cosmology.”

“Oh!” Fallopolis said, “Yes. The manaminers.”

Quilatalap nodded to her, continuing, “The original item was changed in a million different ways by a billion different people, but the most notable manaminers to come about were the ‘Loremakers’, created by the dwarves in the Radiant Depths of the Old Cosmology, and then stolen by the elves of the Maelstrom Wave. Both the Loremaker and the elven ‘Sanguinizer’ became the top two manaminers on the open market. The first, because it denied access to the mana to anyone who was not an allowed person, and the security system on the manaminer involved the willing souls of the ancestors who would vet any possible users. The Loremakers’ security system was incredibly robust. The elven Sanguinizer was widely praised for similar reasons, except access was linked to bloodlines; a lot of people flocked to that one because they didn’t like soul magic. The reason the Automagic Manaminers were such a game changer was because they allowed the easy casting of specific spells, and the denial of those not approved.

“If this sounds similar to what you’ve already experienced, it should.”

“Oh my gods.” Erick said, “It’s the Script, isn’t it?” 

“You’ll hear more about this later, at the Second Telling.” Quilatalap said, “But I can just tell you now: At the time of the Sundering, Automagic Manaminer technology was already on Veird. At that time, it was one of a dozen such manaminers overseen by Rozeta, the previous Second to the then-current God of Magic, Melemizargo. The manaminer on Veird was even empowered by Koyabez, who was one of the few divinities who routinely split off pieces of himself in order to empower the defensive manaminers on his various worlds, to make them truly powerful; to protect his people.

“But even a divine manaminer was barely enough to survive the Sundering.

“Plane-sized Primal Lightning ripped across the Mana Ocean, killing all who even glimpsed those apocalyptic spells, or heard that world-ending thunder. The Yawning Depths left behind by passing Lightning pulled dying worlds inside, where forces beyond imagining ripped apart everything into their constituent Elements, which then separated into more Primal Lightning, to strike off into more parts of the Old Cosmology.

“In the dying of that universe, Veird was struck three times; two glancing blows, and one direct. By the time we were directly struck, countless trillions had already perished in the rest of the universe, and the manaminer of Veird had been further empowered by gods who fell here, or ran here, to get away. It was during those last days, with the universe truly dying, that we took the weaker divinities and the trillions of souls screaming in the Mana Ocean, looking for a home… That we took those who could not defend themselves and we turned them into power, laying the Foundational Bans and creating the Proto-Script.

“It was just in time, too. For the Yawning Depths were all around, and closing in. 

“Imagine the stars blinking out, and the void approaching. It wasn’t Darkness closing in, either. Some people make that mistake; some people tell this story that way to make Melemizargo look like the bad guy. But Melemizargo was on Veird at that point in time, and already going a little crazy at watching himself die, one piece at a time. 

“It wasn’t long till communication with the rest of the universe had gone silent. It only took days. We were the last parts of the Old Cosmology left alive. And then, as we watched the last rivers of the Mana Ocean fall into the Yawning Depths, we, too, fell in. 

“When we got to the other side, we witnessed a new universe more hostile to life than anyone could have ever imagined. People died as air flowed away from the world. Light from the new sun, made of the sunlights we had managed to gather, killed with a glance. For a short while, it was the Killing Sun. Veird used to be a flat-ish world. In this New Cosmology, Veird folded in on itself, killing countless billions. And then, the stone under our feet became like evaporating water. I watched thousands of students of the undead arts, who had yet to take the final step into their second life…” Quilatalap stopped. After a moment, he began again, “In this chaotic time...

“In this pandemonium, The Great Translation began as all great workings begin: With more sacrifice.

“The god of knowledge was comatose from the inundation of new knowledge, as the makeup of this new universe flowed through her divine being. We would have asked her to share, to help, to guide and inform, but she could not, and thus, we took her knowledge by force. We sacrificed her upon the altar of preservation. It was her death that allowed us to make the planets out there, and for gravity to work as it does now. Her sacrifice allowed the gods to turn the Killing Sun into a living sun, and to put people into bodies that wouldn’t die from exposure. We turned Veird into a sphere. We knew nothing of what we were doing; not truly. But it worked. That’s what happens when you sacrifice one of the most powerful gods that has ever existed, and all the knowledge of two universes.

“There were costs to sacrificing her, though. 

“There hasn’t been a new god of knowledge born since then, even though the position has been open for 1437 years. There should have been a new god of knowledge. But… It hasn’t happened, and no one knows why, exactly.

“I still remember… I still remember her staring, vacant purple eyes, looking up and out upon the new universe, as she was sprawled out atop the volcanic altar. I remember the knife we used...” Quilatalap shivered. He said, “It was a sight I will never forget. I will also never forget the aftermath. How people could breath, and how air was bound to Veird, and how Veird flexed to twice its size, as divine hands gathered the dissipating corpses of gods and remnant worlds strewn out around us, like ten thousand watery moons. That elemental Stone became solid stone, as more and more was changed in order for us to live.

“In a short time, but not short enough for many, the Great Translation was finished. The proto-Script became the First Script, though no one would call it that for a long time.” With a heavy sigh, Quilatalap finished tossing the grilled potatoes with the cooked onions and other veggies, and moved them off to the side. He slapped the meat on the grill, and it sizzled. He said, “The story got away from me, there. Naming you as a Fire of the Age… It’s got me reminiscing.”

Fallopolis frowned a little, as she said, “I forgot how little you believe in the Clergy. If Priestess heard you give the Second Telling like that I think she’d actually hurt someone.”

Quilatalap smirked, as he slapped the steaks on the grill, saying, “I’m not a part of your Clergy, Fallopolis. We do not believe the same things.”

A silence of searing meat filled the room. 

Erick broke the silence with a bit of callousness, by saying, “I expected a lot more sacrifice from that first Telling. One guy’s parts turned into a universe? That was pretty tame.” He asked, “Have you all considered that Melemizargo caused the Sundering? Your story already has the Darkness killing off no less than two universes. A third wouldn’t be a stretch.”

Fallopolis shook her head, saying, “Melemizargo did not cause the Sundering. No one knows what caused it.”

Erick knew this was probably going to cause a problem, but he asked anyway, “How much do you two even trust your own religion? You brought up Forgotten Campaigns earlier, Fallopolis. Are you all being duped into your beliefs? Wizards can do anything, right? And Melemizargo is a Wizard.”

“You’ve got it backwards, Erick. Melemizargo is not the bad guy, here.” Fallopolis smirked, like Erick was speaking nonsense. “Melemizargo doesn’t alter memories, or thoughts. Others will do that, and you’ll never know it was done to you. If you joined the Clergy, you’d become immune to harmful Mind Magic, too. That was one of the deciding factors for me joining the Shades.” She casually added, “And when I found out what I know now, I decided to go kill those who had taken from me. It’s a lot easier to let loose when you’re a Shade and they’re all fettered by the Script.”

Erick wanted to frown at her, but he couldn’t. What if she was speaking the truth?

Quilatalap said, “There are hundreds of versions of the Telling, Erick. Some might be more true than others.”

“Oh yeah.” Fallopolis said, “I always liked the one where Xoat was a time traveler, coming from our own distant future to start our universe.” She looked to Erick again, her eyes bright white. “But if you believed the Telling today: You’re partial to Phagar, right? Got any plans to sacrifice yourself to start a universe anytime soon?”

Erick felt his face drain of all blood.

Fallopolis just laughed. 

Quilatalap chided the Shade, saying, “Don’t tease him, Fallopolis.” 

“I’m just having fun!” She looked to Quilatalap, “You should have more fun, old man.”

Erick felt his blood return. He asked, “So that’s… Not possible? I’m not fated to enter your universe and kickstart it all with my dead body?”

Quilatalap said, “Time Magic can’t get back to before the Sundering. We’ve tried. We’ve tried a lot. Gods, Champions of Phagar, a Shade every now and then. Melemizargo himself, and every other week, probably. Before the Sundering, it was possible with Time Magic to go a hundred thousand years into the past, and the future. It wasn’t widespread, and I’m making it sound a lot easier than it was, but I flew in a few circles with Time Mages that routinely traveled all around the universe. Some Wizards really got into that line of work, but all of them found it to be mostly useless to travel those sorts of distances, because causality demanded… Well. That’s a big discussion I don’t feel like having. 

“Suffice it to say, that you can still get to the Sundering from here, but no further. You can’t visit the Old Cosmology. And even if you were to visit the Sundering yourself, you can't do anything, really, except to watch it all happen, all over again. 

“And the odd thing is, is that before the Sundering? Back in the Old Cosmology, there were Wizards going back and forth beyond the time of the Sundering. There was no warning when the first arc of Primal Lightning flashed across the universe, and destroyed a thousand worlds. With all the Time Mages I knew, there should have been at least some warning, but there was none.

“When that happened, every single Wizard that attempted to travel to the future to find out if we lived past the Sundering...” Quilatalap sighed.  “They never returned. Those that traveled to the past vanished, too. There was no getting away from the Sundering, and no one was able to find out how it started.”

Erick said, “Sounds like an over-deity decided to end your cosmology.”

“That’s one theory among many. But it’s just a theory with no basis in known reality.” Quilatalap pulled the steaks off of the grill, asking Erick and Fallopolis, “Hungry?”

It smelled good, but Erick asked, “It’s not from a human-cow, is it? Or any of the other people Hollowsaur transformed into cows? Hollowsaur slaughtered one in front of me and taunted that it would be at the Feast.”

Quilatalap almost spoke, but then he looked down to the meat. He held a hand above the steaks, and he must have cast a spell, but Erick didn’t see any magelight; the archlich’s magic was either invisible, or very, very well made. He said, “It’s showing up as ‘cow’ to me.” He looked to the cold box. “Queen fills that storage box for me when I come by, and I know not many would be willing to risk feeding me tormented meat. Hollowsaur is not one of those people.” He looked to Erick, adding, “He’ll definitely try to do that to you, though.”

“And that’s a good enough time as any.” Fallopolis got up from the couch, saying, “It doesn’t look like any immediate murder attempts are going to happen—”

Erick sighed. Obviously, someone trying to kill him was a possibility, but for Fallopolis to be so blatant about it...

Fallopolis continued, “So I should go see what nefarious plots are unfolding outside these walls.” She turned to Quilatalap. “Thanks for the offer, but no thank you.”

“Bye,” Erick said, to be friendly. 

Fallopolis turned to him, and smiled, “Bye!” She waved, took a shadowed step, and was gone. 

Quilatalap looked to Erick. “Care for some? You should throw a [Cleanse] at it, first, just so you know it’s safe.”

Erick had decided to be personable well before now, and so, in continuing that way of thinking and acting, he had an Ophiel throw a [Cleanse] into the room. No thick air. He said, “I’d love some. Thanks for the offer.”

“Queen might open up the party soon enough, so maybe don’t have too much. I’m only having a light snack.”

Erick tried to be casual and fun, as he looked to the three steaks, and piles of veggies, and said, “That’s a light snack?”

Quilatalap patted his tight belly, smiling as he said, “It is to me.”

Erick sat down at the kitchen table to eat a ‘light snack’ with the archlich of Ar’Kendrithyst. It was a bit surreal. But it was nice. At Erick’s first slice into the steak, he knew it would be a good one. And it was. The guy was a good cook. 

Hopefully Erick wasn’t eating people-cow.

Partway through, Erick looked around, and wondered where his butler had gone. He asked, “You didn’t happen to see where Violet went, did you?”

“She’s guarding the perimeter, along with Tobari and Dolorent.”

Erick cocked his head.

Quilatalap helpfully supplied, “The guy that tried to push you and the girl who I stopped from skewering you with a [Bloodspike].”

“… A [Bloodspike]?”

“She pulled her spell when I turned Tobari into dust and then recreated his body.”

“Oh?” Erick said, rolling with the revelation of his own attempted murder. There would be a lot of that, he was sure. After an odd second, he decided that a simple [Bloodspike] probably wouldn’t have done anything. He didn’t know what a [Bloodspike] was, but if it was anything like a [Mindspike], then it couldn’t be too bad. He asked, “What did they want, anyway?”

“I removed them from my tutelage years ago, when I found them using the knowledge I granted them on adventurers in Ar’Kendrithyst. I cursed them with corpse bodies for their transgressions. Oh. Thirty years ago. Not just a few years. Time flies, you know? Anyway. Every year since then they’ve invaded Shadow’s Feast, trying to gain an audience with me.” He said, “I put them on guard duty for you, so tell me how they do at the end of all this, if you want?”

That sounded fine, maybe. Erick asked, “A [Bloodspike] wouldn’t have actually done anything, would it?”

“Want to test it?” Quilatalap said, “It won’t hurt much.”

“… Sure.” Erick wrapped himself in his sunform, but kept it close. “Okay.”

A spike of red light flashed from Quilatalap’s shoulder, impacting the shoulder of Erick’s sunform. White flecks of his [Personal Ward] broke away as the spike turned to red light, and then vanished completely. The [Bloodspike] had gotten through his sunform and done actual damage to his form. If he had been in his mortal form, and that had been aimed at his head…

He had to know. Erick had a rod of [Treat Wounds] in his room. He dropped the sunform and asked, “Shoot me again, same spot.”

Quilatalap did so, without hesitation. 

The [Bloodspike] struck, and broke against Erick’s [Personal Ward]. It didn’t get through that layer of defense. [Ward] and Health were both the final layers of defense a person had, and Blood Magic couldn’t get past those? Good to know.

“So [Ward] and Health still work against Blood Magic?”

“Correct.” Quilatalap said, “Weaker Blood Magic would even be stopped by metal shields and such, but only novice Blood Mages cast those versions. My [Bloodspike], and Dolorent’s, too, are Ethereal, meaning that they will fly through metal shields and other such mundane defenses.”

Erick popped out the box for his [Blood Bolt], asking, “Is this Ethereal?”

--

BloodBolt, instant, long range, 10 mana + Variable

A bolt of your power unerringly strikes a target for Variable damage. 

--

Quilatalap said, “Nope.” He popped out a blue box, saying, “This is Ethereal.”

--

BloodSpike, instant, long range, 15 mana + Variable

An ethereal spike of power strikes for 50 damage + 5x Variable.

--

Erick chuckled. “You got a pretty good Variable on there! That’s almost the same one I read about in Esoteric Elements.”

Quilatalap grinned, saying, “It’s okay.”

- - - -

“So was Xoat a planar guy? You had those in the Old Cosmology?”

“It’s one of the rarer interpretations, but yes, we did have planars back then, too”

“How did planar people fall to your universe?”

“I’m sure someone figured out how it worked, exactly, but the most widely believed idea was that A Wizard Did It, since those guys operated outside of normal magical practices.”

Erick asked, “What is a Wizard, anyway?”

“A person gifted in some strange way by the mana, who produced more mana than most.

“Back then, everyone produced mana. Eh. That’s a big topic. Short version: Wizards made mana that was compatible with them, meaning that they could cast the exact magic they wanted, more than most.

“Using this mana, Wizards almost always followed a pattern. Either they Created. They Destroyed. Or they caused a Paradox. The Time Travelers were firmly in the third category, for only a Wizard could actually affect the past or the future and not affect themselves in the process. A really accomplished mage could mimic the ability of a Paradox Wizard, but if they stepped outside of certain bounds, they were as Unmade as any normal person was when attempting to fuck with time. 

“The Generators were the most well known Creator Wizards. They had their main headquarters in the Radiant Depths, but they had thousands of branch offices all throughout the known universe. They made worlds.

“Destruction Wizards didn’t last long whenever they happened. There were small groups of them that were attached to the Generators, though. Destruction and Creation could get along real well, if they felt like it. 

“No one could make themselves a Wizard, though. A person either had it, or they didn’t. Wizards all came from all walks of life; there were no bloodlines, or soullines, or anything like that.” Quilatalap cut his steak with his knife, saying, “Now that you’ve been declared a Wizard, they’re going to force you to choose something that will benefit Melemizargo, you know.”

“… They are, aren’t they.” Erick circled back to the other big news Quilatalap let loose. “But… Generating mana? How? What? How do you generate mana?” He said, “My daughter spoke of that, once. She wasn’t sure how to make a mana generating spell, but it was on her list of desired magics.”

“I can tell right now that you’re not generating any mana at all. I’ve heard that you’ve been observed during your spell creation, too, and even then you weren’t generating mana. No one is quite sure how you’ve been declared a Wizard, but we’re all pretty sure you are.” Quilatalap said, “Normally, it’s quite obvious when a person is a Wizard. Normally, all the natural mana generation of every living thing on Veird, is moved to be generated, instead, in the Core of Veird.” He added, “And that’s a complicated topic.”

Erick moved back to the topic of Wizardry, and rolling with everything he was hearing, he said, “So… Assuming I even am a Wizard, what are the choices?”

“Normally I’d just tell you, but I should get Priestess in here. She’s impossible to live with when anyone messes up her plans for the Feast.”

“… Shit.”

Quilatalap added, “But if it makes you feel any better, I can show you some soul magic to protect yourself from mental and ethereal attacks. You seem strategically important to Melemizargo, so I feel like I should offer you this opportunity now, before you get a hundred such offers.” He looked serious for a moment, adding, “Most of those offers will be tainted by the motives of those offering, you should understand.”

“Yeah. I… I got that.” Erick asked, “So what’s your motive?”

“I wish to remain neutral, and if you pick one of those Shades out there to help you move forward, then my neutrality will be impossible to maintain.” Quilatalap said, “Big things are coming, Erick. Big, world-changing events.”

- - - -

The Priestess sat upon a nice stone bench beside the pond, at Quilatalap’s house. Her bones and black-ribbon robes directly touched the stone. Erick suddenly wondered at her quality of life. Did she choose to be like this? Or was this a curse of some sort? It couldn’t have been pleasant to be a skeleton.

Erick sat upon a similar stone bench, a meter from the tall skeleton that was Melemizargo’s Priestess. Quilatalap sat on the other side of the pond, at a small table with his two apprentices, Tobari and Dolorent. Tobari was back to looking like a corpse; the brief respite Quilatalap had given him from having sagging flesh and protruding bones, seemed to be over.

Priestess began with a happy tone, saying, “Thank you for the invitation, Erick. I had expected to speak to you tomorrow, but… The pavilion is occupied with arguments that are outside of my control.” She gave a dismissive nod toward where the black pavilion lay, on the other side of so many parts of the scattered Palace District. “Those young ones. They’re so perturbed by the revelations of this past year.” She looked to Erick with her constellation-filled eye sockets, asking, “How are you weathering this storm?”

“I’ve made this storm myself, so I’ll just have to get over it.”

She giggled; a chiming sound. “It is a good thing you can control the weather.” 

Erick found himself smiling at Priestess’s pleasant attitude. And then she had to ruin it.

“Have you considered controlling your own future? One where you aren’t a slave to the gods?” She added, “It’s my understanding that My God offered you Shadedom, and you hesitated, but I am here to offer it to you again. As the Fire of the Age, you would be a beacon of light to guide the way for the rest of us lost Shades of Melemizargo, and thus the rest of the world.”

Erick tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, as he said, “You don’t offer [Cleanse], and that’s literally my favorite spell. I cast the equivalent of thousands and thousands of [Cleanse]s in Candlepoint, every day. Not to mention the ones I cast upon myself.”

She looked down at Erick, for the simple fact that she was a good head or three taller than him, even when sitting. She asked, “And if Melemizargo provided [Cleanse]?”

With a discarded thought given to wondering how he had managed to get himself into a religious conversion attempt, let alone the Shade-conversion attempt, Erick brushed over all that, and said, “It would be a start, but I cannot overlook the pain and suffering that is constantly committed by the people who follow him. I was just talking about the people Hollowsaur had transformed into cows, and how he killed one of them in front of me, and how he’s probably going to try and feed me some of that meat at this Feast, if he didn’t already manage to sneak it into the storage box in Quilatalap’s house.”

Priestess confidently said, “All of that is going to change. It started with Candlepoint, and in a few years, all of the rougher Shades will be brought to heel.” 

“… What does that mean?” Erick probably injected too much emotion into those words.

Priestess stoically said, “We cannot cull all of those who are detrimental to the world we wish to make, for that would be giving up our defenses, and we are all too aware of the desired vengeance of the outside world. But if the current rate of improvement continues, the Kendrithyst that you know as Ar’Kendrithyst will not exist in ten years.” She happily declared, “I have already put forth a motion to the Shades of the Spire to hunt down and end every Shade who failed to attend this year, or who we decide are too far gone. There are a lot more crazy ones out there than Dorofiend. Poor things. They’re not who they used to be.” She turned her gaze upward, saying, “By this time next year, we might even have Dark Temples out in the rest of the world!” She turned back to Erick. “Oh, sure, they’re going to have to be careful and quiet and reach out slowly, but we’ll look into joining the Interfaith Church, too, and eventually we’ll be all out in the open.”

Erick sat dumbfounded. He quickly found his voice, and asked, “But what about the horrors already committed?”

“We’ll sacrifice about ten Shades. That should clear the way for a much more unified Clergy. When we’re unified, we can begin to make amends.” She said, “One of the ways we’re thinking of beginning to make amends is that we help to eliminate the Crystal Mimics in the Crystal Forest, and then we start transforming it into arable land. Once that is done, we’ll cast a few [City Shape]s out there, and then there will be tax and safety incentives for new people. We’ll create a nation in the Crystal Forest, with Kendrithyst as the capital.” She added, “We can’t stop the monsters, or even control most of them, but we can surely provide safety.”

Erick’s emotions were a jumble at the moment. He spoke without considering his words, “You wish to become… a nation? You wish to rule that way? Instead of killing all who come for you? You might need to drop the megalomania if you wish to be peaceful.”

Priestess’s laugh was a wonderful chime, which flowed to something more normal. She looked down at the mortal, saying, “Erick. There is no megalomania here, for we already rule the world. I am not boasting or lying when I say that, either. We’ve been rather disordered for a while, but we’re finally getting better.” 

Erick just looked at the skeleton woman, uncomprehending. 

Priestess noticed. She explained, “We have well over sixty archmage-level casters. Do you know how many archmages there are in the Wasteland? The answer is three. In the rest of the world? 47, with most of them being wrought who hide down in the Geodes who deal with their own problems, divorced from the rest of the world. On the surface? There are 17, and you, makes 18. We have more archmages than the rest of the world combined. And we know where every single one of them hides.

“Even if they were to fight us, we would win in the long run.” She added, “And even if we lose the initial confrontation, we just resurrect the fallen. The only ones capable of true resurrections out in the world are the Lifebinder, with her imperfect spells, and a handful of others down at the Fractured Citadels. Only Messalina is a free agent, but even with her, whom we would just kill at the first real instance of her joining a war, all of them are hindered by the Headmaster’s hatred of [Resurrection]. 

“We have already won any true war. And even if we Shades and the other archmages wisely stayed off of the field of battle, all of this—” She gestured out over the waters of the pond in front of them, to the Palace, to the air above, then back to Erick. “All of this is veneer to our true power. You saw the souls wandering the crystal roads near the Spire, did you not? Those ones are capable of being raised into generals, and commanders. But out in the city? Those wild shadows? They’re all alive, and we could turn them into a chaotic force to cleanse the world nine times over, before the Geodes could ever respond. There are hundreds of thousands of waiting soldiers in every single kendrithyst spire in this city. 

“We have already won any possible martial victory, Erick.” She said, “This is what victory looks like for us. Every day, we Shades challenge those who would challenge God, in order to forge the world stronger than it was the day before. I will admit that the horror and the bloodshed can be a bit much sometimes, but you cannot bake a cake without breaking eggs.”

Anger rose in Erick as the skeleton spoke. When she was done with her sermon, for of course, priests couldn’t speak without giving a sermon, Erick shot back, “Then why does Melemizargo believe himself in a [Mesmerize]? Why haven’t you broken the world completely?”

“We have helped him when he has asked. He’s usually only asked for oddities or for generalities, but this Candlepoint thing was his idea, from start to finish, and we Clergy readily followed his commands. But before you came along and lit a Fire for Melemizargo, it was much, much harder to organize the crazed and the murderous Shades into a cohesive whole.” She added, “We don’t destroy the world, because that is not who we are, though our doctrines do tend to draw those types to the Clergy. In the end, we support all who would make the world stronger than it was before.”

Erick felt like that was a lie. He couldn’t quite tell how he could tell, but something about this whole conversation felt off. He looked to the stretched-skeleton of the Priestess, and said, “You have no facial features so that you can lie easier.” 

She looked down, and folded her bare-bones hands over each other, on top of her black-cloth wrapped legs. “That is not why I am like this, but you are not the first to level this complaint at me.” She spoke with a heavy voice. “I used to be alvani; the child of the love between an angel and a human. But then the Ancient Demons acted as Ancient Demons did, and killed my people, and every other Half on Veird, in an attempt to murder the remaining angels. 

“I keep this form because it is as close to my own as I can, but I cannot ever regain who I was, because the Script denies me my truth. When the Ancient Demons killed the Halves, their changes to the Script collapsed part of that great and terrible magic, ensuring that their damage could never be undone.” She looked across the pond, to Quilatalap, and his people. The orcol glanced her way, but turned back to his students, as Priestess said, “Have you not wondered why Quilatalap is an orcol? Those people did not exist before the Sundering, before the treachery of the Ancient Demons, and the creation of the incani. He might be a lich twice as old as the Script itself, but even he cannot circumvent this particular problem of the over-magic that strangles this world.”

As Priestess went quiet, Erick simply sat there, and wondered at her words. He imagined that he would be wondering at her words for a long time, but right now, words only laid the foundation for further words, and that seemed rather useless. Maybe Priestess was telling him the truth, or maybe she was simply speaking of truths that Erick wanted to hear. Whatever the case, she had implied that she was older than the Script, and had lived through the Sundering. 

“How old were you when the Sundering happened?”

Priestess said, “A hundred and one.” She added, “After the Sundering, I perished. I have come back since then, occasionally, but only when Melemizargo demands. My life is in His hands, and though I have seen many horrors carried out in His name, I have always stood by His side. But I have only lived a handful of centuries since the Script took hold of Veird.” She lifted her right arm and regarded the bones, and the black cloth that wrapped around invisible flesh. The bones were cracking; tiny hairline fractures that leaked shadow, but at her directed sight, the bone returned to solid. Erick hadn’t noticed, until that moment, but her whole body was in a constant state of decay. “It is painful to live this life, but I am the only one of my kind left, and it is impossible to simply move on to a new vessel; I have tried. My soul is held together by His Wizardry, Erick, for the only other option is the End, and I will not go quietly into oblivion.”

Erick looked away, not sure how to respond to the depth of the conviction in her voice. Eventually, he managed to say, “Sorry that happened to you.”

She sat straight. “Yes. It is a sorry thing.” She asked, “What do you know of Wizards?”

Erick rolled with the conversation, saying, “They cause magic to manifest in odd ways and they’re capable of feats outside of the Script. And that they caused the Sundering.” He added, “And I just learned that they produce mana.”

Priestess nodded. “It is entirely possible that the Old Wizards caused the Sundering, but that is doubtful. They were not all-powerful. Even before the Script, with its Propagation Ban, replication magic was rather limited in scope because the Darkness was there to prevent the more horrendous abuses of magic. But speaking of the Bans of the Script is a good segue into Wizardry. 

“We do not know how the Sundering happened, but all of the Bans were created to stop the most obvious ways that the Sundering could have occurred. Propagation, for obvious reasons. Dimensional, for similarly obvious reasons. The Infinitesimal Ban was not to stop Particle Magic, though that is probably what led to Particle Magic never being discovered until now. That third Ban was enacted to prevent people from interacting with the Script itself, and to limit the creation of Wizards.” She looked to Erick, adding, “Though some Wizards still exist, by proof of your own existence sitting right in front of me.” 

Erick scrunched his eyebrows at the woman.

“I can see you are confused. It is a confusing topic, with many, many parallels into your current situation. Keep in mind, though, that I feel you have not fully explored your own Wizardry, and I wish to help you make the final leap, as it were, to True Wizardry. You must also keep in mind that some of the facts of the Old Cosmology are still true to this day. Let me explain:

“Before the Sundering, Wizards created new magics. 

“This creation was due entirely to the fact that Wizards created mana. Like Xoat who came First, all Wizards naturally create mana that is perfectly attuned to them. 

“As an aside: All creatures created mana back before the Sundering, but only Wizards did so in a measurable abundance. Even the strongest Archmage had to use exterior mana in order to cast. 

“This mana used to need to be refined into usable mana and held in your ‘core’, which was your mana pool. Then you took your core and cast your spells.” She pointed to the white core in the center of her own ribcage. “Shades use this old method of casting. This method of casting is not blockable by the Script if you gain Melemizargo’s favor and are broken from the Script with His Wizardry. 

“Anyway: Wizards created more mana than any other creature or person or sunstone, or anything else. Taking this perfectly attuned mana, they Created, Destroyed, and caused Paradoxes. For mana is possibility, and when mana is perfectly tuned to a person, the possibilities are infinite. 

“Wizards created mana. Their students, the mages, could take this excess environmental mana into their own cores, and cast the spells of their Wizard patrons. This was how the mage dynasties came into being.

“The Script stopped all of that, with the Infinitesimal Ban. Whatever minuscule personal mana is generated by the people of Veird these days is automagically manifested in the Core of Veird.”

Erick wasn’t sure about any of that. His understanding of the Infinitesimal Ban was not Priestess’s understanding. But. Sure, some of her words might be true, but when the gods took Erick up to be judged by Atunir, Sininindi, and Phagar, they had used the words ‘Atomic Magic’ and ‘fusion and fission are not possible under the Sundering Bans’, or something like that. They had certainly used ‘infinitesimal’ to mean the same thing as ‘atomic’, hadn’t they?

… There was something strange going on here. Either this woman was lying to him, or the gods were. Or maybe they were both telling the truth? Maybe the Infinitesimal Ban worked on more than just Particles, and it was a happy coincidence that atomic bombs weren’t possible under the Script? Stranger things had happened?

Or. Hmm... 

Rozeta had once said that other planar people had fallen to Veird who held similar knowledge as Erick. During that conversation in that black volcano, someone had asked after the possibility of creating another Ban. Maybe they had already created an ‘Atomic Ban’, and Erick had been conflating that one with ‘Infinitesimal Ban’ this whole time? The gods were known to let people think whatever they wanted to think, after all; Rozeta, in particular, was heavily guilty of this. 

If an ‘Atomic Ban’ was out there, and specifically killed all atomic weaponry… 

How come no one had ever heard of ‘Particles’ before? 

Ah. Right. The gods might have released a Forgotten Campaign to kill that magic. Maybe… Maybe the mage who made Atomic Magic had never shared their magic like Erick had, and the choice to enact a Forgotten Campaign was much easier against that forgotten mage?

How would Erick even go about searching for that sort of magic? To see if he was right? He could just talk to Phagar, maybe. If knowledge of all atomic spells were truly erased from Veird, then Phagar would know. 

Should he ask Phagar that question, though?

Priestess continued, “But as a Wizard, it is possible to focus on increasing your own production of mana, on drawing out infinity through the void as the Wizards of Old once did.” Now excited, Priestess said, “And then you can condense a core, and with a core, you can cast true Wizardry! You can do anything you want! You might even be able to create [Gate]s back to your own world, or guard yourself against any exterior magic, or any number of other techniques.”

Oh, yeah. That. Erick saw right through all of that. “You mean I can cause a mana rad to condense around my heart, and thus fall to monsterfication and into Melemizargo’s claws.”

Priestess lightly shook her head, as she said, “Ah. No. That would not happen, but I can see how you would think this. I can see you don’t trust me, or any of us, and that is sad, but understandable. Thank you for listening to me. Even this much is more than I could have hoped for.” She slowly stood, to float into the air away from Erick. 

Erick stood, to bid her farewell, but—

She turned to Erick, saying, “I will leave you with this: Wizards, once they create their core and solidify their Wizardry, cannot change their choice. Creation, Destruction, Paradox. Whichever one you choose, that is you, forever. 

“You have likely used some of your Wizardry to create Particle Magic, but you cannot have used much of it, since you have only been on Veird for a very short time, and people the entire world over are inventing Particle Spells. In addition to that, I cannot feel any mana coming off from you, so if it were not for My God, I would not consider you a Wizard at all. 

“It is my guess that in the creation of Particle Magic, you merely unlocked something that was already here to begin with.

“But even if you did use your Wizardry to craft Particle Magic into the world, without a core you cannot have done much harm to your future power. 

“Whatever choice you make with your power, sundering souls is how most people create excess mana these days. If you used your Wizardry specifically to create more mana, then when we eventually spread to the other worlds of this New Cosmology, we won’t have to sunder souls in order to fill these new worlds with mana.”

Erick froze. 

Priestess spoke with a terrible, soft voice, “We never hid the fact that Melemizargo wants to spread from this Scripted world. You and many, many world leaders have already put all the clues together. Good for you. 

“But know this:

“When we are successful in our travels to new worlds, there will be a problem. A problem for you. Not for us.

“When I say ‘us’ I’m not speaking of just us Shades and of the Clergy. I mean everyone on Veird. The Interfaith Church. The rulers of all the nations of Veird. All of us! Once word gets out that we can travel to new worlds and turn those dead hunks of rock out there into living worlds, everyone will want a piece, and Melemizargo will give it to them, as the God of Magic always has.

“But these new worlds would be empty of mana, for they have had no Script to hold in that mana.” The Priestess said, “Worlds without mana are useless, and we will all look to the Wizards and the condemned to power these new worlds, and the result won’t be pretty, for you, or for others.

“They would never give you and the dregs of society a house on an empty planet and tell you all to live for a thousand years, while they wait for that world’s mana to fill to an acceptable level. They will tear you apart. They will sunder your soul just like the Darkness did to Xoat, all those millions of years ago, to create the Old Cosmology.

“So I helpfully suggest that you attune your Wizard core into a mana generator, and that you give that ability to your Yggdrasil, so that you can then plant him on every world of this system. He will do all the heavy lifting. World Trees are good like that.

“This is the only way everyone wins.”

Erick frowned at her, for many, many reasons. So many reasons, he was having a hard time of what to say next. So he said nothing, and left it at that. 

Priestess acknowledged Erick’s silence with a slight dip in her floating form, then departed. 

Erick stared at the pond in front of him. Eventually Quilatalap walked over. 

The archlich said, “I think the first Feast is starting soon. Ready for some mingling?”

Erick looked up at the man. “Got some good booze in this place?”

“Only the best.”

“Good.”