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Erick stepped out of the light, down onto the stone courtyard of Tenebrae’s Castle, along with Jane, Poi, and Teressa. The door to Tenebrae’s tower, on the other side of the courtyard, closed. Tenebrae had just vanished inside, along with a Rocky.

Ophelia was nowhere to be seen. Erick did not expect to see her here after what she had said, but newly sapient [Familiar]s were not something he had ever dealt with before. She could have been here. Jane was certainly a handful sometimes, when she was younger, and though harsh words went back and forth sometimes, he would still have wanted to see her. Whatever the case, Ophelia was not there in the courtyard, and Erick had no idea where she had gone, but news of what Ophelia had done was here, for sure.

Rockys stepped outside of their houses, concern in their posture, if not their stone-solid faces. And then the cafeteria door slammed open. Palodia rushed out, straight for Tenebrae’s tower— She stopped as she saw Erick and everyone else.

“What happened!” she demanded, her voice frail.

Rockys, who had been avoiding Erick and his people since they moved into the guest house, all turned toward Erick, with more coming out of their houses as stressful moments piled onto each other. Some went right for Tenebrae’s tower, completely avoiding whatever talk was happening in the courtyard.

Erick spoke, “A Rocky interrupted the expedition with a bit of trickery which indicates a conspiracy of some sort that involved multiple Rockys, but after she transformed into a fully unique soul and took the name Ophelia, she denounced Tenebrae because she couldn’t stand to watch him die. She left. Tenebrae is not taking it well.”

Gasps echoed around the courtyard. Immediately, several Rockys turned toward two Rockys in particular, their near-expressionless faces gaining hateful accents. Palodia went blank for a long moment, looking out past Erick at nothing in particular.

Palodia spat, “Shit! Dammit.” She scowled. She turned and eyed one of the Rockys who everyone else was looking at; the one on the staircase leading to the walls. “Volcanus. Who did this? Was it Igma?”

Most every Rocky looked more or less the same. There was variation on a theme, for sure, but picking out one Rocky from another would be like picking out an Ophiel from another; impossible. The Rocky that Palodia and everyone else looked at, however, had dark stone eyes that were almost black. It was the barest nod to individuality.

Oh. And this had been the Rocky who Erick first saw when he intruded upon the Castle, days ago, back when it was flying near the Firemaw. This was the one who had overheard Erick talk about Redarrow’s prediction.

Volcanus said, “Igma apparently made her choice of name and residence. Ophelia is cut off from the Estate.”

Palodia said, “Dammit! Ig— Ophelia— That bitch really had to pick that name, huh? She just had to be as much of a cunt as she could have—” She stopped herself. “Fine. Ophelia can deal with the loss of her ability to see her father on her own.” She ignored everyone and went straight for Tenebrae’s tower, muttering, “I can’t believe she did that. Of all the fool—” She tried the latch.

It was locked.

She scowled, flickered with red light, and the door swung open. She rushed inside. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving the courtyard in silence once again.

Volcanus drew everyone’s attention as he spoke to all, “Master Tenebrae is now indisposed. It is our duty to prepare to receive our Seniors. They will likely show in the next few hours.” He stepped down the staircase and into the courtyard, moving toward Erick.

Other Rockys began moving in a quick rush throughout the Estate, toward destinations and purposes that Erick could only guess at. Events seemed to be happening rather fast, and Erick felt something like an outsider.

Volcanus walked up to Erick. He said, “We of Tenebrae’s Estate apologize on our Master’s behalf, Archmage Flatt. He will likely not be able to receive you or venture into the Green Labyrinth for the foreseeable future. At least a week. We will gratefully host you during this time, or, you can leave, and venture forth on your own. Or… Master Tenebrae has authorized me to hand over copies of his own [Gate] research. He authorized this yesterday, in case the worst should happen. Thankfully, all that happened was a major fright. Do you wish for this option?”

Erick’s eyebrows rose. He said, “No— I mean. Yeah. I’ll look at notes, but if he’s not there to help me with them, then I know I won’t get far— Is he going to be okay? He did not look good.”

Other Rockys paused in the courtyard as Volcanus and Erick spoke. Volcanus noticed, and swished a hand at them. They took off again, headed toward wherever it was they were going, to do whatever it was they were doing.

Some Rocky came out of a house with a white carpet, and laid it out on the ground outside of the door to a house across the courtyard from Erick’s guesthouse. A hole opened up in the courtyard, and a pair of Rockys came up the unseen-until-now staircase, carrying a mattress made of white stone.

They were... decorating?

Volcanus continued, “Master Tenebrae has occasionally had bouts like this over his long life, but he has come back from them before, and he will again. He is not that old, yet. But if you do not wish to wait, then we will wish you good luck. As for now, we will be moving the Estate into safer territory while he convalesces.”

“You all want to leave the Green Labyrinth?” Erick said, “No. Can we not do that? I’m not ready to move on and I don’t think Tenebrae would either. Is protection a problem? I can have Ophiel patrol if needed.”

Volcanus smiled, a little. “I am in charge of defense when problems arise, and Master falling ill is one of them. I am attempting to solve possible problems as fast as I am able. I apologize for the quick pace.”

“That’s not a problem.” Erick was keeping up, just fine.

Volcanus nodded. “Then, I will accept your offer of the protection of the Estate on my Master’s behalf. I know he would not want us to move you from your Path unless absolutely necessary, and so your offer will likely bring him comfort while he recovers. Thank you. We will merely move the Estate higher into the sky, then, after—”

A thrum vibrated the courtyard, right before the air in front of the tree shimmered with purple light.

Volcanus turned toward the shimmer, saying, “Right after the Seniors show, for you can’t [Gate] into a moving location.”

The purple shimmer in the air opened, like mist separating. A [Gate] appeared, leading to another courtyard, in another place, where the stars shone in the sky and wardlights illuminated a small gathering of stone people. Seven stood out in the open, but more watched from behind pillars, or from elsewhere in the illuminated space.

Three of the stone people stepped forward, through the purple portal. The magic shut behind them.

The first was a woman of black stone, and thick like she had eaten well her whole life. The second was a man of grey, thin to the point of appearing breakable. Both of them wore their own stone flesh like it was thin clothes; pants and shirts and shoes, but nothing too fancy. The last person out of the [Gate] was a Rocky who wore clothes, with flesh fully animated, unlike the other Rockys all around who looked more like broken stone statues.

None of them wore happy expressions.

‘Rocky’ stepped down into the courtyard, saw Volcanus, and asked, “Where is he?”

“Tower,” Volcanus said, not wasting time.

Two of the newcomers rushed toward the tower. ‘Rocky’ flickered with white light as the grey one reached the handle. The grey one opened the door both he and ‘Rocky’ vanished into the tower.

The black one remained behind. She asked Volcanus, but eyed Erick, “How bad was it?”

Volcanus said to Erick, “I apologize for asking this rude question, but could you please make yourself scarce? I must deal with family matters, now.”

Erick said, “I will, if there is nothing I can do for him, or for the Estate, or anything else.”

The black one asked, “Do you know immortality magics? Full body restorations? Any of that? [True Restoration].”

Erick would have taken those words as sarcasm from anyone else, but the black rock woman sounded completely sincere. Erick said, “I do not. Sorry.”

The woman nodded. She turned to Volcanus. “Do we need to find a lawbreaker for [Polymorph] extensions? I can get one, tonight. Eidolon has jailfulls.”

Volcanus said, “No.”

Erick walked away, into the guesthouse, feeling like someone who was escaping from a series of unfortunate events.

Jane was already inside the house, waiting for him, but Teressa and Poi had only abandoned the courtyard when Erick did. He shut the door behind him, while Volcanus and the black rock woman argued about bodies and magics. ‘Messalina, the Life Binder,’ got rapidly offered; the black rock woman would search for and find the woman if it was necessary. Volcanus denied the necessity of such a drastic action.

… And Erick sent out some Ophiels to patrol the air outside of the Castle, while everything changed inside the Castle walls, and Erick tried not to listen in on the various conversations happening right outside his temporary residence.

Erick went to his stacks of books and picked one out, trying to take his mind off of what he was hearing outside, through his patrolling Ophiels who were both on the Castle walls, and in the air beyond. He felt his stomach sink as he could not help but listen.

Jane came right up to him, asking, “Is that Rocky out there the original, you think?”

“Yes. He is.” Erick said, “I can hear some of them speaking of a few things, and that is what someone said out there. He calls himself Rock, now. The black one is Obsidia. The grey one is Slate. They’re the Seniors; some of the first Rockys to become their own person over the years. There’s a lot of them living in Eidolon, down in continental Nergal.” He said, “Volcanus lied about Tenebrae being okay. He might not make it.”

Jane paled.

Erick continued, “Heart failure. Stress. Circumstances. Rock gated in some doctors from somewhere not a minute ago. Imperial doctors.”

Wide-eyed, Jane sat down on a conjured chair next to her father. She picked up a book, and read next to him for a while, also trying to take her mind off of what was happening outside.

- - - -

There was a knock on the door.

Erick briefly panicked, assuming the worst possible news.

He rushed the door, answering it quickly.

A normal, mostly-put-together Rocky handed him a delivery of tomes and wardlights. Erick asked after Tenebrae. Tenebrae was okay. Tenebrae was stable. Tenebrae was okay. The Rocky repeated himself. Erick knew he was lying.

But what could Erick do? Nothing. And so, he read, while the Rockys of the Estate and the Seniors who had come before all walked around the courtyard, or stared at the door to Tenebrae’s tower, or sat in the shadows to the side, waiting for news. Erick could not help but overhear their small, deep conversations, or their names, or what they thought of Ophelia, while a part of him oversaw the whole event through Ophiel’s eyes.

Erick focused on the books before him.

The tomes were the work of decades of attempts at [Gate], and only a small portion of those notes were from the Gates of the Green Labyrinth. Everything else came from the demon and the angel of Oceanside, and various immortals around the world, and other archmages, and everyone who he could ever track down who had completed the Worldly Path.

That last one sunk Erick’s heart; Tenebrae had never found anyone who had managed to complete the Path in the correct way. Everyone either paid the 10 points, or gave up. Apparently, people in ages past had completed the Worldly Path, but no one had completed it in recent memory.

- - - -

Another knock came from the front door. Hours had passed. Erick rapidly answered the caller as Jane came up right behind him, eager to see who was on the other side.

Rock stood on the other side, looking well-put together, but that could mean anything. Erick felt a twist in his chest.

Erick asked, “Is Tenebrae…?”

Rock said, “He’s not okay, but he will live for at least 20 more years—”

Erick felt a tension leave his gut, and his shoulders. He sighed.

“—if he never has another scare like that.” Rock looked at Erick, as though waiting for confirmation of an unsaid understanding.

Erick said, “And you don’t want him to continue, but he wants to continue.”

Rock nodded. “That is correct.”

Erick’s curiosity got the better of him. He asked, “Why was what happened so traumatic, if you don’t mind me asking? Was it something I did? Was it something Ophelia did? Feel free to tell me off; that I have overstepped.”

Moments passed, as Rock seemed to weigh some ineffable thing, then he said, “I will answer, because he will answer this without you asking, and he will lie, and more problems may arise from his lies, as they usually do.” He paused. He said, “The only variety Tenebrae likes is in his food. Everything else reminds him of what he has lost. So when Ophelia did what she did…” Rage. And then, not so much rage. Rock calmed himself, then continued, “Tenebrae summons as many ‘Rockys’ as he needs, all the time, and while we all originally belong to the same hive mind, that same hive mind crystallizes all the time into new, individualized lives. When we do differentiate, we try to do so out of sight. Ophelia did not. Thus… Today’s issue. Tenebrae’s issues. It came together to give him several heart strikes.” He added, “In case you haven’t noticed, Tenebrae is a rather emotionally stunted, angry man. It is… a problem.”

Erick was polite, “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Haaa.” Rock sighed, then he asked, “Will you please leave him behind while you journey into the Labyrinth?”

“I will have to talk to him about that.” Erick said, “But Redarrow didn’t say that it was a sure thing that Tenebrae would die if he came along.”

Rock glared, but then softened. “If Redarrow even hinted at the possibility that my father could die, then I must ask you again to please take the old man’s wellbeing into consideration, even when he will not, and leave him behind. He is too old to go chasing fantasies anymore. He had four children who could cast [Gate]. Any of us will be here for him and be personal [Gate] mages, if he wants. But please. I ask you: Leave our father out of this fantasy.”

Their father. Ah. It’s like that.

Erick felt warmth in his chest.

“Can I see him?” Erick asked.

“Yes.” Rock said, “That is why I came down. To talk to you and tell you what everyone else wants, what father wants, and to ask you to do the right thing. Will you see him, now?”

Erick agreed, leaving behind Jane and Teressa, but took along Poi.

The courtyard had changed while Erick had been holed up in his rooms. Carpets of all colors and wardpaints of all kinds had dressed up the courtyard into something that Erick did not recognize, but the main colors were tans and whites. Reds, yellow, blues; these were accents here and there, except for on the roofs, where they had been fully wardpainted into pastel colors.

From inside, the place looked a lot nicer. From above, the place looked like a rainbow village on an Italian coast. The castle looked wonderful.

Erick instantly knew that Tenebrae would hate it, for sure, otherwise it would have looked like this all the time.

They followed Rock through the door into Tenebrae’s tower, into a place full of trinkets and paintings and books and carpets and lush wood. A staircase wound upward, and the three of them took it, passing reading rooms and drawing rooms and libraries. One floor had closed doors, each of which had a space for a nameplate on them, but each nameplate was empty, except for one, labeled ‘Rocky’; it was the only one open. Obsidia sat on a stone bed inside. She looked up as Erick passed by.

The next floor was a living space with a kitchenette and assorted furniture. The next floor held one room, with a door between it and the staircase. The door was open. Slate was inside, next to Palodia. Both of them stood on one side of a large bed. A dragonkin stood on the other side, speaking of medicine and gesturing toward bottles, laid out on a dresser.

Tenebrae laid in his bed, surrounded and buoyed by pillows and under the covers, looking sickly, with bags under his closed eyes and sweat upon his forehead.

Rock moved into the room and was acknowledged by everyone, but the doctor kept talking of medicine regimes to Palodia and Slate. Erick stepped in, but remained to the side, exactly like Poi usually did. Poi stepped in and stood beside Erick.

The doctor finished his instructions, and asked, “Any questions?”

Palodia said, “No sir. Everything is understood and we even have the notes. Thank you for responding so fast.”

The dragonkin said, “I’m glad I could help. If not for Archmage Tenebrae… It would have been bad. We would have lost an entire city to those Rivergrieves. He’s a great man. I hope he gets better.” He looked toward Rock. “Now I’d hate to be pushy, but we are in the middle of a battle and Tenebrae is fine. Can I get that [Gate] back, now?”

Rock lifted his hand. A purple-rimmed [Gate] appeared. A throne room appeared on the other side. A man on the throne threw his hands up in relief, shouting about how it took them long enough. Rock said, “Thank you for your assistance, Grand Alchemist Irikilo.”

Tenebrae opened his eyes.

Irikilo looked down on Tenebrae, and said, “You’re in good hands, Archmage. Get better! Bed rest for a while. Doctor’s orders!”

Tenebrae grumbled in annoyance, then closed his eyes again.

Irikilo nodded, then walked through the [Gate]. It closed behind him.

Tenebrae’s voice was weak, as he asked, “All clear?”

Slate said, “Clear. All medicines are what they appear to be. He was truthful. No soul problems, either.” He spoke down to Tenebrae. “You should get better, if you follow his orders.”

“I will make him follow the doctor’s orders,” Palodia declared.

Tenebrae scowled, his eyes still closed, and said, “Bastard has the gall to charge me that much money, I should damned well get better, or I should go and destroy those towns that I saved.”

Rock said, “None of that, please. Besides: Erick is here.”

Tenebrae breathed deep. He opened one eye, lifted up his head, and peered at Erick.

Erick waved. “Hello.”

Tenebrae’s eye snapped shut as he laid back onto his pillows. “Bah. Stupid. I swear, I am not this feeble! Ophelia just surprised me, because...” His voice trailed off, then came back as he asked, “Did you understand all my notes yet? I’m not going to die without learning [Gate]! So if you have learned it already, maybe don’t break this old man’s psyche until next week!”

Erick tried to lighten the sudden dark mood by saying, “I’ve got some better theories than I had before, but nothing too solid; I’ve only had them for a few hours, after all. You’re still necessary, Tenebrae, for who else would I astound with my ability at magic if you die? Everyone else is already accustomed.”

While everyone else in the room winced, Tenebrae laughed.

“Ha!” Tenebrae smiled, and said, “Idiot-savant planar-archmage. Can’t enchant a gods-damned Grand [Prestidigitation] Stove, yet expecting to make a Gate in his first year on this planet! Ha.” He sighed, then said, “I feel better now—”

He tried to get up, but Palodia and Slate were right there, gently nudging him back to horizontal, saying that the doctor ordered bed rest.

Tenebrae said, “Well I gotta shit! You want me to shit the bed?”

“That’s why the gods made [Cleanse].” Palodia glared, and without a single hint of amusement in her voice, said, “Shit the bed.”

“Dammit.” Tenebrae said, “At least help me put the pillows behind my head. I need to talk to Erick.”

Rock said, “Erick cannot stay long because you need to sleep.”

Slate helped to put a small pillow behind Tenebrae’s head.

Erick stood at the foot of his bed.

“This is a minor setback. I am not this old. 90 is not that old. I am fine. But my Rockys are overprotective.” Tenebrae eyed Erick, saying, “We are still going into that Labyrinth, you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“Read my notes if you have to do something. Or whatever. You’re not leaving me behind when you go in there, understood? I don’t trust you in that place yet! It’s dangerous.”

Rock, Slate, and Palodia frowned.

Erick said, “I understand.”

Tenebrae’s voice turned harder, “This is my life’s dream. I don’t have many of them left, and you’re not going to take this from me without my direct consent. Don’t fuck with the dragons. Don’t explore there. Wait for me to get better.”

Erick said, “I’m on vacation, Tenebrae. Relaxing with magic books seems wonderful.”

Tenebrae sighed out as he smiled wide. He closed his eyes, saying, “Good. Now someone take this pillow out from behind my neck—” Slate removed the pillow. Tenebrae muttered, “I’m not going to be comfortable for days, am I.”

“Nope.” Palodia said, “Ready for sleep? It’s time for sleep. Slate is going to watch over you. Then it's Obsidia’s shift. Rock and Volcanus have the night shift.”

Tenebrae muttered, “Stupid rock names. Why did you idiots all pick rock names. I swear, it’s to torture me because I was so unoriginal…” His voice trailed off.

Rock gestured Erick toward the door, then walked that way. Erick and Poi followed Rock down the stairs. A sudden argument exploded back in Tenebrae’s room as the old archmage quarreled with Palodia and Slate about his healthcare needs. Erick heard something about Shaped [Cleanse].

Tenebrae’s voice carried far, “You want me to get rads, woman? I oughta write you out of my will! I will not shit my bed!”

“You will if you have to! If it weren’t for the potions you couldn’t even talk!” Palodia declared, “We’ll just have to deny you those potions then, won’t we? I’ll get much better compliance out of you if you’re weaker than a mouse!”

Tenebrae protested—

Rock stopped at the drawing room, rounding on Erick, bringing him back to the moment as he demanded, “Are you going to let him follow you into the Labyrinth?”

Erick’s plan had been smashed from a direction he hadn’t even considered. But Rock’s words lit a discordant flame in Erick’s heart.

‘Let him’?

What trash! Erick was following Tenebrae along paths the old archmage had charted long ago, and he was thankful for that help! And what was this, now coming from Rock, except for an attempt to control Tenebrae’s freedoms?

Now, obviously, Erick understood that Tenebrae probably shouldn’t be running around in a Twisted Vision full of hidden dragons and assorted [Gate]s, but—

Trying not to let his anger into his voice, Erick said, “I am going to honor his wishes, and you should do the same. It is not right for you to take away his dreams.” He offered, “Or! You have a week to get him to change his mind. Maybe this is just what he needs to realize he shouldn’t be doing something like this anymore. Redarrow spoke of that possibility, too.”

Rock demanded, “What were Redarrow’s words, exactly? Did you write them down?”

“No need to write them down. I remember them just fine.” Erick recalled, “They were… ‘If Tenebrae accompanies you, he will die. If he does not, others will die. Hmm. What is the value of a life? A pinprick of light upon the background of reality? A beacon in the darkness; a lighthouse, perhaps. What is the value of a life, when comparing bonfires to candles? All of that is barely-there misty Fate. Choose as you will and already have. Maybe Tenebrae will simply be humbled. Maybe everyone will live. The chances of either are rather low. But! What I see does not always come to pass, while what comes to pass, is always seen before it arrives.’ And that was all of that.” Erick added, “Except… Redarrow did have to revise his conversation with me a hundred times, and he still failed to predict everything that I would ask of him.”

Rock glared, but his stony facade softened when Erick spoke of humbling, and that ‘everyone might live’. He said, “That’s not as bad as I was led to believe... And yet...” He gestured toward the staircase, saying, “Please find your own way to the guesthouse. I must think.”

Erick said, “I’m sorry for that episode, or whatever it was. I never expected… Ophelia.”

Rock turned away, sighing. Silent.

Erick and Poi left Tenebrae’s tower and made their way back to the guest house, through the decorated courtyard.

- - - -

Flying through the cold air, high above the Forest, Ophiel dissuaded many different attackers from approaching the Castle. Flocks of man-eater birds. Sky serpents that moved like flying snakes. Forest couatls, which were almost like flying snakes, but with feathers. Small attackers couldn’t get past the [Air Shield], but the larger ones could… if Ophiel hadn’t been there. Mostly, he used [Merciful Suffocation], dealing large amounts of damage every time the animal attackers breathed. Erick tried the same defensive measures against monsters, but monsters just enraged when they found out their prey fought back.

And so, sliced up monstrous attackers fell down, down, down to the Forest, after they failed to navigate the molecular wires of [Hermetic Shredder]. Occasionally, notifications for brand new monsters would ping in Erick’s view. Skyborn Owls. Airfrost Elementals. Snakes. Variant couatls. A ballooning spider! How weird. Weren’t those all gone? Apparently not.

Even more elementals.

There were a lot more high-flying monsters out there than Erick had ever known.

At dinner time, a knock came from the door to the guest rooms. A Rocky delivered sandwiches and soup that Palodia had made; there would be no communal dinner this night. Maybe tomorrow.

- - - -

An undulating not-couatl blipped into the night sky between the city of Spur, and the Dead City, Ar’Kendrithyst. Her name was Sunny. A second Sunny blipped in beside the first. Both were bright green and glowing brighter. The clouded sky turned darker as roiling moisture hid the moons, and the stars. The [Familiar]s were preparing for what was to come.

It appeared, exactly as usual.

Above the walls of Ar’Kendrithyst, where purple and red light played in the night, a darkness swelled, like a rising tide. The crystal lights of the Dead City dimmed as a new type of monster lifted beyond the walls, preparing to crash over the edge.

A new type of monster. A tide of shadows.

It swelled up, and then over, falling like a sudden river, over the wall, to the sands below. Like an ooze, too big to be believed, it crashed over the wall, and Ar’Kendrithyst was brighter for its absence.

No one really knew what the new monster was, only that it was dangerous. The powers of Spur had named it the Dark Tide, but if it had an actual, Script-appointed name, Kiri had not found it out. No one had. For the damned thing didn’t seem killable.

The great shadow ooze crawled across the orange desert, swallowing all life as it passed. The few Crystal Mimics that had repopulated the space between Spur and the Dead City during the day were swallowed in the Dark Tide’s passing. They were nothing more than tiny morsels of meat and magic that added to its bulk, like drops of rain adding to a kilometers-wide sudden sea that spread out and forward.

Some, who heard the stories coming out of Spur, were calling the new monster a whole lot of slimes. Most were calling it a new type of ooze. The people who actually fought the phenomenon had no real designation for the beast, whatever it was, but they did not call it a slime, for the Dark Tide had no core; Kiri and everyone else on duty tonight had checked for that many times. It could have been an ooze, but… no. That was too fantastical. An ooze this size would destroy civilization, and an ooze this size would not be so ‘easily’ beaten back, each night.

Lightning flickered overhead.

And then the storm unleashed.

Rain fell; a sudden onslaught of water, turning the sands to wet mud. Lightning flashed down, striking the Dark Tide where it flickered throughout the whole intact mass like the undulating shadows were some dark reflection of the skies overhead.

Where lightning crawled, shadows evaporated.

Where shadows crawled, they ripped past stone walls set up in the daytime, like concentric rings between Spur and the Dead City, put there by the defenders in order to give the Dark Tide pause, and themselves a bit more time to fight. The Dark Tide paused, yes, but it crashed through those walls, just the same.

More lightning came. More of the Dark Tide evaporated in sudden bursts of liquid shadows becoming gloom, becoming air, becoming nothing.

More Sunnys took to the sky. Lightning fell every second. Kiri dismantled most of the ‘ooze’, but not all of it. Smaller pools of liquid shadows, separated from the whole, made it closer to Spur, and that’s why people did not think this monster was an ooze. When oozes got pieces chopped off of them, usually those separate pieces just died. Sure, they might have fought on for a while, but they did die. These separate pieces just kept fighting.

Of course, then people were quick to point out that some species of ooze would separate into individual killers if the parent was split into pieces. No one liked hearing those people talk.

And besides! These pools of shadows were easy to kill. Oozes were not this easy to kill.

As the smaller pools of shadows came for Spur, other people took over, where Kiri left off.

For half an hour, lightning turned the night into day and booms echoed across the desert, while fields of fire, ice, and decay, all tinged with Light, burned, froze, and melted the smaller pools of shadows.

But not everyone had someone like Kiri on their side, and Kiri was herself just filling in for the archmages who wanted breaks.

In the morning, the people of Spur would hear that Frontier had fallen, but that came as no surprise for Frontier had almost fallen yesterday. They had already evacuated all non-essential personnel the night before. They had been planning to try some new tactics to combat the Dark Tide, but obviously, those new tactics did not work. The real problem was that Frontier hadn’t had an archmage in years, and thus, they fell.

Shadows almost took Kal’Duresh the day before that, but the incani city had somehow gotten the Poison Archmage, Orenza, to come to town. 50-kilometer wide fields of glowing orange mist did wonders against the Dark Tide. Kal’Duresh would last for a while, or until they made Orenza unhappy. From what people were hearing, keeping the Poison Archmage happy was a difficult task.

At least the Dark Tide could not survive under the sun. It could not survive under any bright light. It could not make it to any other cities of the Crystal Forest before the sun would come up the next day.

Too bad it usually stayed in the Lower Reaches of Ar’Kendrithyst, until the sun set.

The Brightwater might have been a part of those Lower Reaches, but it was still filled with brightness and Light, so this helped the people of the Brightwater to ward off the Dark Tide, but it was not a perfect defense.

As the sun crested over the walls of Ar’Kendrithyst, a Sunny popped into the air above the Brightwater to see what damage had been done by the night’s battles. What Kiri saw was what she expected to see.

The Dark Tide had captured another kilometer of the white crystals surrounding the place. Just a single kilometer of the edge. Deeper in some places. Shallower in others. The frantic actions of the people and shadelings there had done much to prevent an overrun in the middle of the night, but they were losing ground. Eventually…

Well. The fate of the Brightwater was obvious to anyone with eyes to see.

Kiri moved Sunny along.

She watched as the agents of Frontier, who had lost their city the night before, decided to make sure that the people of the Brightwater lost their homes, too. As daylight came upon the world, yet another assault began on the last remaining brightness of Ar’Kendrithyst.

Kiri sent her Sunnys around, checking on certain parts of the defense of Spur that needed checking.

One place that didn’t need checking was Forward Base. It had fallen to the Dark Tide at the Dark Tide’s first appearance, and was now nothing more than rubble scattered in the air of the Middle Reaches. No one knew where the liquid shadows came from, exactly, but there were a lot of fingers pointed at the Brightwater, which, to be fair, might have been responsible for the Dark Tide. Shades and their whole society had been responsible for a lot of evil in the world, after all.

Silverite was in talks with the people of the Brightwater, though, and news was that the Brightwater was saying that they had nothing to do with the Dark Tide.

Which. Again. Lies, probably.

We were talking about Shades and their ilk, here.

Except, that the Dark Tide did attack the Brightwater from every direction, every night; that much was true, for sure. Kiri had even seen as much.

Kiri didn’t know much about all that, though. Not really. Whatever rumors came around were rather baseless, as was the nature of such things. All she knew, for sure, was that the Shade known as the Professor, the Chancellor of Truedark, and also just ‘Farix’, had publicly announced that the Brightwater was not responsible for the Dark Tide, using the walls of Ar’Kendrithyst to speak that ‘truth’ to everyone both inside and outside the city, and to also ask for people to ‘please stop trying to kill him’.

He had actually said ‘please’, too!

Unheard of.

There had been many attempts on his life, apparently, but all those who tried to attack him left those encounters with no memories of what had happened, except of Farix saying he was sorry, and that he was trying to do better, and ‘would you like to work with us and help us do better?’. A [Cleanse] had fixed whatever fuckery was going on with the assassins Farix had released, but after such a [Cleanse], all memories of their attempted assassinations were completely gone, from the time of their departures for their mission, to the point when they were [Cleanse]d and in the middle of debriefing.

Kiri flew Sunny across the lands between Spur and Ar’Kendrithyst, watching as broken walls were rebuilt and the killing fields were repaired for easier killing, for tomorrow’s battle. The sun had risen hours ago, and the land was almost reset for tomorrow. Kiri came back to herself and yawned, as she finalized the details in her nightly report and signed her name. She handed the report to Sunny, then Sunny blipped over to Quartermaster Liquid’s office in the Courthouse and deposited the report into a small box made for such. Hers was the fourth such report to arrive.

Kiri hadn’t done much physical action in the last week, but she had cast more magic than she ever had before. Scion of Focus was the best.

She had wanted to read a little before sleeping, but that plan failed as soon as she tucked herself in and her head hit the pillow. She gave one final glance, through Sunny, to a bastion of defense located in Ar’Kendrithyst that had failed to fall in the middle of the night, and that had actually expanded since last she looked.

… It looked fine, still.

Kiri slept.

- - - -

Anhelia stood resplendent upon a rose-pink crystal skyroad, while lavender glows reached up from far below, and the bright yellow sun crested the walls of Ar’Kendrithyst, bringing even more light to her little slice of eventual-heaven. Crystal towers loomed behind her, with nary a single shadow in a single crystal depth. From the roof of the Dead City, all the way down to the Lower Reaches, she and her family had carved away the darkness from seven different towers. A tower a day, so far! One of those towers was more special than the rest, though.

Anhelia started her conquest by aiming for the rivers, or rather one river in particular. River Tower North was hers. But for all the logistical power that the River Tower represented, with its gardens and defensible fortifications and living quarters, it was only one third of the original river system of the dead city of Kendrithyst.

Over a millennium ago, back when Ar’Kendrithyst was still under the ground and wrought walked these roads, and lived in this land, a three-part river had flowed throughout the entire mega-metropolis. It was known as the Vital. The Vital hadn’t been called by its true name in a long time, but eventually, it would be called that again.

Surrounded by cleansed towers and purified itself, the river tower drew dark water up from the deep depths, then Anhelia’s magics went to work. Bright with power and anathema to all shadows, [Cleanse]d and Light-Altered water cascaded down onto crystal washways and aqueducts. That water churned with purifying power as it moved through pipes and flowed in the open air, banishing all shadows that got too close to its cleansed brilliance. This single River Tower, properly adjusted, as Anhelia had done, would push back the dark. It would enforce a new status quo upon the Dead City.

It would bring Ar’Kendrithyst back from the dead, eventually.

It was all a part of the plan. And what a plan it was!

All the threats around them, from the monsters both old and new, and the unknown threat of the Dark Tide impinging on their borders, desiring their lives, could not compare to the preparation that had gone into Anhelia’s conquest of her grandmother’s home. Now that the Shades were gone, all obstacles were merely tribulations to overcome. Nothing would stop her conquest. Nothing. She hadn’t known that there would be a ‘Dark Tide’, but it was within expected parameters. That was why she had set up River Tower North as she had. The light from those cleansed waters pushed back most everything that was actually a threat, and the Dark Tide was no exception.

Anhelia smiled.

She turned, a little, and regarded her family, and all the others she had hired and bargained for into being here, for this. Her family was with her, of course; eleven wrought of the iron-caste, just like herself, though only a few of them resembled incani like her. There were incani from the Wasteland; people who she had always been close to, but never truly a part of. Orcols from Treehome; only a few of them, and only because they were the best at taking down large threats. A few shifters of varying talents. There was even one harpy. Ikawa Kali had been the granddaughter of Krakina, the Weather Witch of Spur. The young woman would have eventually taken Krakina’s place as Spur’s Weather Witch, but then Erick came along and changed the way the weather worked! Ikawa worked well here, though; Anhelia had plenty of work for a young prognosticator such as Ikawa.

She had use for anyone with spellcasting talents. She even had some humans, but only three of them, as they were the ones the Headmaster had sent to Spur and were therefore reliable. Eduard, Maia, and Ramizi. There seemed to be some inter-party trouble there, but they kept that problem to themselves. Anhelia had been close to many humans in the past, but not since Erick’s reintroduction of humans to Spur, had she had many chances to meet more that had not immediately thought of her as a threat since her form was incani. These three were decent, and they doubled as a connection to the Headmaster, which allowed Anhelia to ‘excuse their inclusion’ to the incani in her employ.

The Quiet War was quite tiring, sometimes.

And then there were the three wrought from Stratagold. They were of adamantine-caste; Royalty. Each of them were as dark as Dark, though some had green hints in their reflective surfaces. They were overseers, and completely uninterested in ‘taking back Ar’Kendrithyst’. They were only here because they had to be here, according to their own imperialistic laws, to ensure that no wrought secrets would be unleashed on the public. They were something that Anhelia was forced to accept, or else there would be problems of entirely different sorts. At least she had gotten good royalty. Most of them weren’t worth a damn.

Killzone was also of the adamantine-caste, and Anhelia liked him well enough, but—

Enough problems! Today will be a good day! Thank you for giving me this opportunity, Erick! If you ever come back to Spur, I’ll be sure to give you a 90% discount on all information.

Anhelia had regarded her forces to see that they were ready, taking just a moment to do so. And now, she turned forward, chuckling.

Her forces waited behind her, in the rose and lavender sunlight.

But in front of her laid the next conquest. The next tower of the Dead City.

Dark red, like blood. Shadowed purple, like the color of deathberries. Mists of gloom and abyss and shadow swirled in the depths of a 40-kilometer tall crystal spire, exactly as they had swirled for the last millennium. Exactly as they had been ever since Melemizargo killed Kendrithyst, and made it his own dark home.

Anhelia stepped forward. Her footsteps clinked on the rose-colored crystal, until she reached a line in the air. On her side was daylight and brightness. On the other side, in front of Anhelia, was shadow and darkness. This was the edge of her [Domain of Light].

Anhelia did not have many powerful spells, for she was not an archmage. She did not have the [Call Lightning] of Erick, or his apprentice. She did not have the [Grand Shield] of Archmage Opal. She did not have the raw ability to shape the world to her whim, like Archmage Wave or Archmage Obsidian.

But she was immortal, and she had been planning and preparing for this day for a long time. Time and information can make mockery of skill, after all.

With a cast, she expanded her Domain.

Light flooded the next crystal conquest from top to bottom, like strings of radiant fireballs exploding downward, as far as the eyes could see, deep into the depths, rapidly passing the Middle Layer, crashing down into the darkness of the Lower Reaches, pushing out the invading shadows of the crystal spire.

Leaving behind another home for more people who would eventually come and have children of their own and repopulate the—

The expected reprisal shook Anhelia out of her reverie, but it was expected, and so, she was prepared. She just let her hopes get away from her for a little while.

The screams of displaced shadows and disturbed monsters echoed up from the depths. And then came the scratching and the clawing. Monsters raced up the soon-to-be-reclaimed crystal tower, right into the jaws of death.

With a joy unbounded, Anhelia commanded her forces, “To war!”

She was being melodramatic, she knew. ‘To war’? What nonsense. What slag! On the first day of this she had yelled ‘Take back the homeland!’ That had earned her a lot of side-eyes and small laughs. These people were here for treasure and levels and power, and that was it. Some of them even wanted rings like the ones on her own fingers; Erick’s artifact-level Stat rings, that never broke. She had already given out many such rings, but once people got a taste for power, one ring wasn’t good enough. They wanted two, and then the better versions. Ah! Greed. Such a good motivator.

If it weren’t for these rings, then… Well. It would cost more to do what she was doing, but Anhelia had been preparing for this for a long time. All Erick’s rings did was save her some yellow…

Erick had done a lot for her. Maybe she’d give him a 95% discount.

Ah! This was fun.

Anhelia smiled as the spells of her family and hired mercenaries rained down on oncoming kilometer-long centipedes, sword-birds, ethereal ghasts, and all manner of shadow monsters. She worked on maintaining her Domain; that was the only true heavy lifting necessary in this conquest of the Dead City, now that the Shades were gone. Only one was still inside Ar’Kendrithyst. The rest?

Anhelia knew where a few of them were.

- - - -

Caizoa had not slept in two days. With the Black Star on her chest and a map of the world on the desk in front of her, she pointed out the locations of the Converted. Her teams of assistants moved out at her command. In minutes, they were on site and telepathically linked to the holder of the Black Star, asking for confirmation on their targets that they had standing, or sitting, or sleeping, in front of them.

Caizoa sent out ‘Yes’, then ‘Yes’, then ‘Yes. Both of them.’, then ‘No, it’s the other one, to the right.’.

Takedowns commenced. Slave collars were wrapped around necks. People got shoved through [Gate]s, right into holding cells.

Minutes late, after everything was calm, a letter carrier delivered letters to Caizoa’s war rooms. He wore the livery of King Rashi, as usual, for Caizoa had taken up residence in the King of the West Bank’s castle, located on the Grace, in the center of the Wasteland. King Rashi had thrown his full support behind Caizoa after she had liberated his daughter from Converter Angel control and brought her back home.

She’d be more grateful to the rest of the world if they would follow King Rashi’s example.

She did not want to read the letters, but she did. Some of the letters were declarations of war if their people were not released. Others were strongly worded threats. All of them were official notices of anger at her actions, sent to her because she, or rather her teams, had left letters at every single abduction site, detailing what they were doing and why, and that if they wanted to blame anyone, then they should blame the Angels.

The only reason she hadn’t sparked a full war against the Wasteland, for she had abducted nobles and commoners alike, is because most of those so abducted had already been released back into the world, without the Angel’s Conversion upon their souls.

King Rashi was fielding most of that diplomatic hassle; thank the gods. But Caizoa still needed to be updated on the threats, according to King Rashi, and so, she was.

Such soul cleansing had been difficult at first, taking days, or longer, because Caizoa knew no real Soul Mages. She was not a noble, after all, and all the nobles who had been in her party had been killed in the Trials of the Armory, or by Skorka, later, in the mass poisoning that Caizoa took part in.

Caizoa only knew that the kings and queens of the Wasteland had such Soul Mages in their courts, but none of them had been willing to show their hand; to reveal the existence of the soul shifting that every noble took part of, behind closed doors. Nobles all Matriculated with 20 in every Stat, as everyone well knew, and they did not get there by hard work or good eating. King Rashi actually didn’t have a Soul Mage in his employ, and he might have been one of the few.

Or maybe he was lying to her, too.

So Caizoa had to find other Soul Mages.

She had found one fast enough.

“You should get some rest, Caizoa,” said the ‘soul mage’, after everyone else had left the room. “You’re losing weight and dignity. King Rashi is going to start testing you again if you appear weak.”

Caizoa looked to the dark-skinned ‘soul mage’. The soul mage could have passed for a man, or a woman, depending on lighting, but though she appeared incani, with horns that looked like horns and eyes that looked like eyes, Caizoa wasn’t fooled. She was not what she appeared to be, but Caizoa didn’t really mind the deception. So far, the Black Star had vetted her soul surgeries at 100% perfect.

Caizoa said, “Since you’re here, I can only assume that the last batch of healings went well?”

“Correct. You can send them away whenever you want, or whenever King Rashi feels like he’s gotten enough ransoms or concessions, as usual. I’m not a part of that ugly business.”

Caizoa turned back to her map, asking, “What is your business, then?”

The Soul Mage smiled, “Just doing my part to help the world, Caizoa.”

Caizoa wished she could truly believe that. Uncle Anopix had said never to trust the other Shades.

But.

Well...

Without Lapis, the Shade of Enchantment, there was no way to fix the Converted without extensive damage and long recovery times and fuck ups which included death, mutations, or worse: soul mutilations. Without Lapis, Caizoa certainly would have inadvertently started a war, for the Black Star had revealed harbormasters and mayors and sergeants and so many nobles were all Converted, just waiting for the Converter Angel to call for Total War. The Angels had been very close to winning that war before it had even begun. Now, the Converter Angel was on the Moon, Celes, just biding her time, doing gods-only-knew what.

And so…

It was what it was.

Lapis was a vital part of the fight. For now.

Better Lapis than Erick!

- - - -

Yggdrasil’s sight around his father had failed him too many times in the last few days. Mostly, when Erick went into the space between the trees. That space was tough to navigate. The mana went all sideways and stretchy in ways that Yggdrasil did not understand.

So while all of that was happening, Yggdrasil contented himself to look upon the world outside of his father’s current odd obsession. The man certainly did run through them all rather fast, didn’t he? Yggdrasil felt more ‘laid back’ than that… Yes. ‘Laid back’, a term that Yggdrasil liked.

He quickly counted himself lucky that, though he might be at the bottom of a liquid darkness that was filled with monsters and strange people, and that he was not ready to poke above the single surface that he was close enough to poke out of, he was not in the Forest. Thank the gods!

This dark place was sometimes scary when people or shadows prowled around, but that dark place was full of problems. Everything was always eating everything else, and, if he was being honest, shitting everywhere. So much shit! Why so much?

Yggdrasil suspected that living trees liked all the fertilizer. Currently, Yggdrasil just liked the mana, and the light. Maybe, when he grew up, he’d like all that poop on his roots, too, but right now? Eww.

The other trees made the space for other things to live, though, and Yggdrasil liked that whole idea a whole lot.

… And not only because it involved a lot of him ‘being himself’, and ‘going with the flow’. He wasn’t lazy. He was just going with the flow! Exactly like his creator.

… His… Father?

Eh. Yggdrasil wasn’t sure if he approved of that designation. That other archmage’s former [Familiar]s seemed to call their creator their ‘father’. Seemed kinda needy, if you asked Yggdrasil.

… Such strange thoughts flowing through his trunk these days. Maybe, next week, he’d like to call his creator his ‘father’? He didn’t know right now. Maybe he’d never know.

Meh. He’d know, sooner or later.

Oh. Wait. He had already thought of Erick as his father, didn’t he?

Well there’s the answer, right there! Or maybe not. He’d think about it.

What he certainly knew, is that he didn’t like it when the shadelings or anyone else came down to look at him. It made him feel all weird. One of them was doing so right now, but whoever it was, was disguising himself like a pile of mud, slowly drawing closer. That tumbling bit of mud couldn’t fool him! Yggdrasil had [True Sight]! But why was this person trying this? Hmm.

‘Bout to find out.

Yggdrasil’s white roots were arced into the muddy soil all around, like the bones of creation, holding him steady atop a plateau deep under the surface of the lake of Candlepoint. His trunk was a growing, twisting curve the size of a tower, while branches spread out, filled with neon green leaves. Light spread into the dark waters all around, like rainbow glitters.

And a person, little more than the size of one of Yggdrasil’s leaves, in the form of a mud slime, plip-plopped across the silt, drawing closer to one of Yggdrasil’s further roots like a mosquito coming in for a snack. It extended a small glass vial from itself, moving quick but hidden, thinking itself beneath Yggdrasil’s notice. It was beneath the tree’s notice, in truth. Or it would have been, in most other cases. But Yggdrasil’s sight was on his surroundings at the moment—

Oh. This mudball had come before today, hadn’t it?

Yggdrasil had forgotten. They had taken leaves. Just… Pluck-pluck! Snatchy-grab. Those leaves had been about to fall off anyway, but they hadn’t actually fallen off. They had been taken. Not a big deal, now that Yggdrasil thought of it. But best to discourage theft. This mudball was obviously not a monster trying to eat it. Yggdrasil had chased off plenty of those. It was more like the fish in his boughs that swam around in his light and leaves like they were birds.

Except… A bit more parasitic.

This required a small touch. How to defend…

Now where was… Oh. His twisted silver shield had been broken? Or maybe it had drifted off? Maybe Yggdrasil forgot to hold onto it. Yeah. That was probably it.

And. Huh. He should remake his [Prismatic Ward] around himself. He had outgrown that warding a while ago. Somehow, though, he got the impression that he couldn’t make it much bigger than it already was. Maybe he could sculpt it to the shape of his body? Yeah. That would extend the range by a lot.

The mudball scraped off some bits of tender, newgrown roots.

And then it retreated, fast as it could.

Ah. Too late. Yggdrasil missed his opportunity to defend himself.

Oh well. Besides, grasses and fishes and all sorts of life were growing up all around him, anyway. Big deal if some person takes some roots! How long would they even last outside of his body? He was a [Familiar], after all. Nothing remained once it was cut from him. Even the fish that tried to eat his leaves only found themselves munching on glimmers of light.

But, still! Fish were one thing, but Yggdrasil didn’t like being poked by mudballs, and he had a solution to this problem. He recast his [Animadversion]. A twisted hunk of silver metal took form out of the waters, to hover in front of Yggdrasil’s trunk. That shield slowly began to circle Yggdrasil, like a slowly orbiting moon.

… He liked it like that. It reminded him of the Silver Star in the sky.

His father had called him a ‘World Tree’. Maybe one day he’d have a real moon of his own!

That sounded pretty ‘cool’.

Yggdrasil liked that word, too. It did not mean exactly what it meant! How cool was that!

The mudball came back the next day. The mudball struck at another root with another glass vial. The vial bounced off of Yggdrasil’s white roots; reflected! The little vial must have been a lot of magic to actually reflect like that. How odd! How funny!

Ha! Yggdrasil laughed a little as the mudball kept trying.

His laugh sent vibrations through the lake.

That mudball froze as the fishes that swam around Yggdrasil all suddenly billowed out of the [Familiar], like flocks of birds disturbed by a great threat. The mudball seemed to look up at Yggdrasil.

Yggdrasil popped a [Scry] orb, big as the mudball and as shifting as a kaleidoscope, right on top of the mudball, staring down at the camouflaged creature.

The mudball blipped away.

… But would it come back?

Whatever!

Yggdrasil turned his attention back to his ‘father’, and realized that he liked that term the more he used it. ‘Creator’ was too… was not… was inadequate. Yes. ‘Creator’ was inadequate. Creators created and then did whatever. Fathers raised.

He watched his father try to understand [Gate].

He copied some of what he saw with his roots, and branches, but he didn’t understand what he was seeing, either. Oh well!

- - - -

Justine walked along the shores of Candlepoint’s lake, her shoes tapping on the dark stone boardwalk as her new dress fluttered in the breeze. It was a nice day, made nicer for the fact that her current guest was a rather pleasant person, most of the time, and that the boardwalk was actually ready to be visited. It did not look this good yesterday!

Princess Weilux pointed out a restaurant, saying, “That was a pile of bricks. And now it is much more than that.” She sniffed the air, and smiling, said, “Now it smells like lunch. Let’s go!” She walked off, her pace quicker than before.

Justine kept up with the younger woman, saying, “Of course, Princess.”

The princess’s guard scowled, as always, but said nothing, as always. She was a rather taciturn woman with too many scars upon her face and enough plate to her fullplate to mark her as a rather high-powered warrior, but she moved without making a sound, keeping right up with her charge, and with Justine. There was another hidden bodyguard not ten meters away that kept up with the princess, too, but that bodyguard was more of a nightmare figment than an actual presence on the field.

Neither of the Princess’s charges spoke, for whatever reason. Justine had asked after the princess’s guards, once. She had tried to make the three of them comfortable when they arrived two days ago, but for all of the 19 year-old’s child-like acting and niceties, the Princess of the West Bank, daughter to King Rashi and second in line for the throne, only acted like this to put people at ease, before she went for the throat.

She did not see to the comfort of her subordinates. She did not actually care for the desires of other people. She was probably a sociopath, according to the dossier that Mephistopheles had put together for Justine. Or maybe she was just exactly as much of a ‘princess’ as she had to be, which, in her case, was pretty damned scary. She had gotten even more scary after it was revealed that her younger sister had been Converted, and then unconverted.

But for all that, Princess Weilux was not as scary as a Shade, for she was first and foremost a diplomat.

The only power she truly held was the ability to angle the entire Wasteland toward war with Candlepoint, or away from war. So, she wasn’t as scary as a Shade, but all-out war was scary in its own way, for there was no way that Candlepoint could survive. Oh, sure, they could all run away and hide like they were cultists, or some shit like that.

But Candlepoint was the chance for shadelings to live in the open, under their own power. And sure, Justine wasn’t a shadeling anymore, but that had been a large part of her life, and she would never abandon her people. Even if she hadn’t been reborn under Koyabez’s power and charged with bringing lasting peace between shadelings and the rest of civilization, she would still be here, still doing exactly this, but in some other, unknown way.

The princess stopped at the outdoor settings, just outside the restaurant, where other people were already sitting down and eating. The Princess looked to a seat that was occupied, near the waters; the perfect seat, hence the current occupation.

… And then she chose the second best seating, a bit closer to the water, a bit more in the wind. The table had yet to be cleaned, but that didn’t bother the princess. She threw a [Cleanse] at the space and sat down, then organized the now-clean plates with a quick [Telekinesis] and moved them off to another table.

Other people watched this. So did Justine. But Justine sat down across from the princess and said not a word. The entire action had taken less than five seconds.

Princess Weilux was a dangerous person, because she tried to put you at ease. Justine recognized this. Unlike how Erick tried to put people at ease because he wanted peace and prosperity for all, Princess Weilux wanted power for the Wasteland above all, and she wasn’t afraid to murder to get it.

Her dossier put her first murder at age 7, when a nanny came into her rooms with poisoned cupcakes.

Princess Weilux snapped her fingers at the waiter looking at her, who was likely wondering ‘who the fuck this bitch was’. But he got with the program fast enough. Most shadelings could do that, if given enough context clues, and there certainly were a lot of those clues going on around here right now. For starters, Justine was well known, and she would have been in Mephistopheles’s position if fate had been slightly different.

The waiter ignored his other shadeling guests and came right over, saying, “What may I serve you today?”

“A nice wine, purple, if you got it, and three of your best fish dishes.” Princess Weilux asked, “And how did you get a clientele when you weren’t open yesterday?”

“Right away ma’am.” The waiter noticed that the Princess was testing him, though he did not know the test. How could he know the test? He couldn’t. So he said, “And our cook and a few of us have been cooking in the neighborhood for a while, just trying to make it, but then the lake happened and then all the fish, too. It’s been going well, and so we decided to open this place. We got our approval for this place a few days ago, but it wasn’t till last night that the building crew got to us, and so today is our first day. Thank you for blessing us with your business.” He waited.

Princess Weilux smiled; a mask. “Good luck on making your fortune. You’ve certainly got a good location.”

The waiter smiled, also a mask. “It is our good fortune.” He bowed a little, then said, “I’ll go put your order in.” He walked away; not too fast, not too slow. He ignored the people at the other table that he had been serving. Those others were just more shadelings, like himself, and there was a hierarchy in all the world that demanded he serve this unknown incani guest, first.

Or at least get her order into the kitchen before coming back to the tables.

Princess Weilux said, “I know it was seeded a while ago, but fish do take time to grow, especially in a new lake.” In a way that was both casual and not, she asked, “You didn’t even have a fish restaurant open in this city when I booked my trip. And today, you do. Are the fish old enough to be served?”

There were many ways this could go. Justine considered telling Weilux that her known love for fish dishes was considered by Mephistopheles and herself, and thus this restaurant was fast-tracked through the system, all in an effort to make the princess feel more comfortable. This was the most truthful statement.

Another ‘truth’ would be that they were hurrying to develop everything that they could develop, and that included restaurants on the boardwalk. This was closer to a lie. Despite all of the bounty that was available to Candlepoint, utilizing that bounty would require trade and resources that the city just did not have. Restaurants with luxury food were low on the list of necessities. This new fishery was an extravagant endeavor. It would have been better to spend resources, both in the collective manapower and time of Candlepoint’s residents, on developing the cottonfruit fields and the textile industry. Now there was an industry. Something that could be exported. Restaurants? Not so much.

But people gotta eat, and bad food is one of the ways that people just stopped caring about everything else, and retreated back into that servile fugue-state of the before times. Justine had seen that specific backslide many times when she was a shadeling in Ar’Kendrithyst, and a few times more recently.

Justine chose a middle ground, deflecting the answer into another way that would entice Weilux to learn more, and explore more. “Our sewermaster, Ava Jadescale, is spearheading the development of the luxuries of Candlepoint. One of those luxury items is good food, but we could all use some good food. This fishery is just one such place.”

“Hmm.” Princess Weilux nodded, then asked, “How much is this meal going to cost?”

Another question with a few good answers.

Justine picked out the best truth for the moment, saying, “We don’t operate on a gold-currency right now, so this makes a normal economy difficult at the moment. All the people you see here are here on work-vouchers. Anyone who works gets vouchers; the darkchips that Candlepoint started with. A lot of people work in the fields, but I’m sure that once the fish start truly populating the lake, then we’ll open up that industry, too.” She added, “As for how much this meal will cost? It’s free, for you are a guest of Candlepoint.”

“… Adequate.” Weilux asked, “But how much would it cost, in gold, if you had access to the economies of our Wasteland?”

“3 silver for a good meal. 5 silver for a meal here.” Justine said, “We are working to provide luxuries, but this is as good as we can do at the moment.”

“I suppose it would have been rude of me to expect a 10 gold fillet.”

Justine did not respond to that except to put on a tiny smile and pretend like everything was okay.

The waiter brought out three dishes and set them before Weilux. Each of them was normal fish fare, dressed up as nice as could be, given the circumstances. One was breaded and fried, with some fries on the side; lotta grease, there, but it was a popular meal and a nod toward Erick bringing potatoes to the world. The other fillet was steamed, and served with citrus from Erick’s Myriad Citrus trees; that would be the best one, in Justine’s opinion. The third was some sweet sauced fish on rice; a staple dish of the Wasteland.

Each of the dishes were made of singular fillets of fish. Each of those fillets were barely half the size of Justine’s own hand. They were full fillets, too. Young fish. Too young. Justine winced, internally.

Weilux smirked at the fish, saying, “Young fish. Too young. Oh well. They’ll grow up, I’m sure.” She gestured to the dishes. “Would you like one? I had expected to share, but I didn’t expect to need to share quite this much. If I like one, I might have to order another, if that’s okay with your voucher system?”

Justine zeroed in on the citrus one, saying, “That one. I love the citrus trees that Erick— that Archmage Flatt has provided us.”

Weilux slid the plate toward Justine, saying, “You were a part of his household for a little while, I understand—”

The waiter rushed out with the wine, his white eyes too wide. He had panicked and not served the wine first. A mistake like that would have gotten him killed in Ar’Kendrithyst, but here—

Weilux did not look to the man, as she said, “Wine generally comes before the meal.”

“A thousand apologies, Prin—” He shut up.

Weilux brightened, though. She turned to him, saying, “So you do know of me!”

The man, who was named Grett, and who Justine had known for months, now, said, “Uh.” And then he left the bottle and got out of there as fast as possible.

Not the best strategy, in Justine’s opinion, but he didn’t have to deal with Weilux anymore if he wasn’t actually here anymore. So? If it works, it works.

Weilux served herself some wine, happy as a cat who caught a mouse, as she asked, “I know that Candlepoint is poor, and that you throw resources at diplomats in order to make yourself look better, or to woo us, but I’d like to not do that anymore. If we’re to trade, I need to see Candlepoint for what it is.”

Justine shrugged, going with the flow as she grabbed a lemon slice and squirted it on her fish, saying, “Sure. You know, I expected your tour to break down yesterday when we were walking through the threadspinner fields. Some people barely know how to raise a good spider, but we’re learning.”

Weilux held up her wine glass, asking, “How much did you learn under Archmage Flatt?”

Without missing a beat, Justine said, “Enough to know that he’s a man too good for this world, and so he’ll make some new ones, for sure.”

Weilux paused, her drink halfway to her lips. And then she took a sip. She set down her glass, not taking her eyes off of Justine for a single moment. She said, “You really think that.”

“It’s a fact.” Justine said, “I could stop the whole tour right now, if that’s all you want to know. One day, Candlepoint will be the gateway to the stars. Do you want to get in on that? A lot of people have, so far. A lot of people have decided otherwise.”

Weilux hummed, then ate a bite of her fish. She smiled, saying, “This is rather good sweet-sauced fish for 5 silver, even if the portions are rather small. Ripping xerix, if I’m not mistaken.”

Justine said, “We’ve got fields and fields of million fish grass out there, and yes, ripping xerix. Several types of xerix, from silverscale to pin to zorut. We’ve the three reservoir fish going strong. Rainbow flits. Goldscale slippers. Striped silvertail. Bountiful fortuna, too, but those will take years to mature to a proper sport-size. Right now they mostly hide out in Yggdrasil’s underwater boughs.”

Weilux asked, “Is Yggdrasil on the tour?”

“If you want him to be, though I suggest you just look at him from afar, with a [Scry]. People started to gather around him too much and he didn’t seem to like that. I can point him out on a map for you.”

“You give out his location so easily.” In the most non-threatening manner, Weilux asked, “You’re not worried that someone will just [Dispel] him, erasing Candlepoint’s future at the same time?”

In the same non-threatening manner, Justine said, “Not an issue. People have tried to [Dispel Familiar] him along with a whole mess of other erasing magic. None of it worked. We’re not sure of all of his protections, but there’s a lot of them.”

You’d need a Wizard to [Dispel] Yggdrasil, but Justine did not say that.

Weilux smirked.

They resumed their lunch.

- - - -

It had been three days since the older archmage had fallen ill after a sudden scare. The Senior Rockys had come to Tenebrae’s Estate and made themselves at home, though not many of them were willing to speak to Erick, or anyone else in Erick’s party. Jane and Teressa had decided on the second day of inactivity that they wanted to explore the Forest, or rather, Jane had decided, and Teressa looked like she wanted to go, so Erick made the suggestion that Teressa go with Jane.

Teressa readily accepted.

What was there to explore? Erick had no fucking idea, and the excuse of ‘more monster forms!’ seemed pretty damn thin. The two women weren’t going into the Green Labyrinth, though, which was the most dangerous place around, so they were probably fine. Erick sent along a pair of Ophiel with them so he could watch and rescue them, if needed, but he shouldn’t have bothered. All he ended up doing was making himself a worried mess.

The two women were absolute powerhouses. Lesser Armed Sloths came out of the trees, slamming into Teressa from every angle, hitting her shield, or her armor, or getting blocked by her mace, failing to harm the Juggernaut at all. Teressa just roared, flickering with grey light as she taunted the beast, drawing the monster’s full attention as Jane moved to kill.

His daughter was a blur of shadows and ethereal armor. The sloth struck toward her with two long, multi-joined arms, claws ready to pierce and slash. Jane ghosted through the attack and clipped off the offending arms with a snicker-snack of her meters-long sword; her usual weapon.

Erick had yet to see her pull out her [Prismatic Body], and he doubted that he would. The monsters around here were deadly, yes, but Jane and Teressa were both outfitted with artifacts on their fingers, boosting their Stats to powerful heights, and they both had lots of experience with dark places and big monsters. Were they actually in danger?

… Erick told himself that they weren’t. That they knew their limits, and that neither of them were using their major spells or abilities. Teressa moved like she had eyes in the back of her head. Erick watched as she sidestepped poison darts that exploded from vines twining up trees in the dark; her mana sense was active, for sure. Jane did much the same, as she bobbed through the suddenly-there spider webs from a particularly red, person-sized spider that was hanging on the tree, and that had not been red before that moment—

Erick’s heart caught in his chest as the unmoving spider threads suddenly moved, detaching from where they anchored, twisting up and around Jane like—

Jane turned prismatic, easily slipping out of the spider threads. In a quick click of movement, Jane was suddenly standing in the air beside the spider, her longsword embedded in the bark under the spider.

The bottom half and then the top half of the spider slipped off of the tree, falling down to the loam below. Jane turned back to human, laughing, eyes wide. Teressa’s eyes were wide, too. They gave each other some mental back-and-forth in their telepathic connection, no doubt. Jane shrugged.

The red spider was dead.

Jane turned into a black spider and began eating.

… Erick looked away.

Erick read over a particular account of Tenebrae’s trip through the Green Labyrinth for the tenth time, the words mostly flitting in and out of his head as he tried not to worry over something he shouldn’t even worry about. Jane and Teressa were fine. Everything was fine.

- - - -

One of the fun things about being a Polymage, Jane thought, was that with her Class Ability, Shifting Form, she could integrate most any piece of any Familiar Form into any other Familiar Form. Some things just did not translate, though, like the High Flier of her Frost Owl and any form that did not naturally fly, like the new barnacles she got at the auction.

It was rather difficult to integrate the camouflage ability of her Prismatic Octopus into any other form, too, because that particular ability required malleable skin and a malleable body. Shadow Spiders did not have skin, for instance. She could partially integrate the Octopus’s color changing ability into every form, but in most cases, all she could do was to make herself be able to change color. Great for having options, but it was not the best.

But having two Familiar Forms that were as close as her Shadow Spider and this new Red Thread Weaver? Brilliant! This new spider form had [Telekinetic Threads]. It was a much improved version of [Telekinesis], but only with regard to the threads that Jane laid, and much cheaper on the mana. A lot of man-eater spiders had this ability, but Shadow Spiders did not; they were more tarantulas than other species.

Jane had almost picked up a Ballooning Spider form to get this Ability, but those ones had an ability that was more air control focused than the [Telekinetic Threads] of this beautiful Red Thread Weaver.

And with Shifting Form, she was even able to give herself a red hourglass on her butt! How cute!

And thus, some childish part of her was overjoyed!

Teressa spoke up, “You’re cackling, Jane. It’s disconcerting.”

Jane abruptly stopped cackling. And then she slipped through the shadows to stand a few meters from Teressa. “Boo!”

Teressa inhaled sharply. She did not break stride. After a moment, she sent, ‘So why the red triangles?’

Jane ‘walked’ alongside Teressa, but it was more like floating. Her black legs held onto wispy threads that moved her along like a bacteria with a thousand well-controlled flagellum. [Telekinetic Threads] was pretty cool! As soon as the next monster appeared, Jane was gonna wrap it up with her already-prepared threads.

Jane sent, ‘It’s called an ‘hourglass’ pattern, and it’s the marker of one of the deadliest spiders on Earth, though the spider on Earth is only the size of your smallest fingernail, and it’s not all that deadly with modern medicine. Also, I’ve taken a lot of liberties with the form. The original spot for the hourglass is on the abdomen, but you can’t really see that, can you?’

‘It’s certainly making you stand out.’

‘… Yeah… Maybe it’s not the best.’ Happily, Jane sent, ‘Still, though! I didn’t expect to find a Red Thread Weaver out here.’

‘We could find you a Furry Stalker if you want something truly deadly.’

‘… Um. I’m not sure I like the name of that one.’

‘What is this hangup?’ Teressa smiled as she bent down, just a little, then vaulted five meters up, onto a fallen tree that blocked their path. She looked down at Jane. ‘What’s wrong with Furry Stalkers? Do you even know it? I assure you, it is deadly!’

Jane guided her threads to move her up the tree, like a queen on a palanquin. She rejoined Teressa, and sent, ‘I heard of them. They spread fine fur in the air that chokes and kills.’

Teressa nodded. Then she leapt off the other side of the fallen tree, landing in a mound of deadfall and sinking up to her knees. She trudged out of that like it was nothing, breaking rotten branches and making way too much noise, in Jane’s opinion.

Jane decided to try something. She expanded her threads outward, catching the air, falling much quieter than the orcol woman, but much less controlled. As her threads left the solid surfaces all around her, Jane slipped left and right in the air. She sent threads back to the tree behind her, guiding her controlled fall. She landed beside Teressa.

[Telekinetic Threads] did not mean [Air Threads], apparently.

… Maybe she should have gone for one of those Ballooning Spiders when she had the chance, but they were all underground, now.

Teressa gave words to Jane’s newest thought, seconds before Jane had it, ‘There are lots of spiders out there with lots of special abilities.’

‘Despite my fondness for deadly things, I don’t want to be a Spider Polymage,’ Jane sent, deciding that right there and then. ‘I did consider going into Ar’Kendrithyst and plundering the Weaver’s Quarters. But… No.’

She didn’t need [Air Threads], either. She might have tripled her Familiar Form slots to give her the capability to hold 33 forms, but each of those slots was precious. Another slot used on another spider? No thanks.

… And yet...

Teressa suddenly opened up, saying, ‘My old team, back when we were starting…’ She smiled behind her fullplate helmet. ‘One summer, we were finally old enough to help clear the way forward, so that the rest of the tribe could be safe as we trekked to the summer valley. That was the first year that we got to actually join the veterans out front. My brother… He was just learning how to be a Druid from the Elders.

‘Long story short, we found some Furry Stalkers, and we killed them exactly as we knew; from a distance, and with fire. As all young idiot adventurers have done long before us, we missed some.’ Teressa’s mirth came through as she sent, ‘My brother got facefuls of fragmented hair. Ahh. Ha.’ Slightly more serious. ‘Course, he could have died if we didn’t have the Elders there. That hair burned through his Health like it was nothing. I got a small exposure and even that dropped me to minimal Health. It’s just constant, small bits of damage. If we’d have gotten a Variant Furry Stalker with a Decay effect, my brother could have died. Easily.’

‘… Okay. You sold me on the idea. I need a Furry Stalker.’ Jane sent, ‘I can make the Decay effect myself.’

‘Did you see that giant spider back there, a few days ago?’ Teressa sent, ‘It hasn’t moved! Except to eat what it catches, of course. Did you think about that spider?’

‘I did, actually. It looks like a Woodshaper Hardspine, behemoth variant. The normal ones are only person-sized.’ Jane sent, ‘A lot of monsters are person-sized. You’d think that the Cult would make smaller monsters. Horde-types.’

‘They do, occasionally.’ Teressa sent, ‘Smaller monsters don’t get the same levels that larger ones do, so they’re naturally weaker. A good [Chain Lightning] from any decent mage would take out a good forty smaller monsters, and the larger monsters have abilities like that. Have you considered a Spark Skitterer?’

‘I have not even heard of that one.’ Jane asked, ‘How many spider species do you know of?’

‘Not all, but a lot.’ Teressa said, ‘I can shrug off a lot of damage as a Juggernaut, but you need to know roughly how much damage some monsters will do, so that you know if you can have fun, or if you need to fight properly, or of it you need to run.’ She added, ‘Spark Skitterers have electrified webs. It doesn’t do as much damage as [Chain Lightning], but it can do a lot, and it recharges. I could step on one just fine, but a mage probably couldn’t… Erick could.’

Jane laughed. The sound came out like a grating cackle and endless chittering, filling their small, insignificant part of the Forest, echoing into the darkness all around them.

Teressa said, ‘Wow, is that creepy.’

Jane laughed again—

She stopped.

Something chittered up above, and it was not an echo.

A low buzzing filled the gloom. Bits of moss and bark fell to the Forest floor.

Teressa noticed, too.

“Whelp!” Jane said, loud as she could, for there was no avoiding this monster. “Here comes a lot of things!”

Teressa hefted her shield, happily sending, ‘Forest Wasps! Just in time for your web control.’

Jane released a minor storm of webbing into the air, suddenly spreading out threads from every nearby tree, blanketing the roof of their small, shared space. And then she controlled that thread to part, like opening holes in a trap. She waited for the wasps to get closer, and when they did, that thread would wrap them tight.

As the first person-sized wasp descended they completely avoided the webs by flying fast and whipping around to attack from the sides that Jane had not covered in thread.

These were not normal wasps. Ah. Shit. They were spider hunters. Probably parasitic. Shit.

Suddenly serious, Teressa sent their prearranged ‘Oh Shit’ command, ‘[Beautification Aura].’

As Teressa bounced three wasps away and smashed another one to the ground, Jane flitted to the side, an untouchable shadow, avoiding wasps that were eager to inject their venom. She twisted her form, casting a partial [Polymorph]. Brilliant twists of crystallized light erupted out of the first joints of her long legs.

The next second, the land filled with light. Flowers sprung up from the ground. The dark Forest had transformed into a sunny spring meadow, and Jane and Teressa were nowhere to be found. Nothing was to be found. Only the meadow.

Wasps still flew through the space, though they were blinded and lost. Almost all of them crashed into each other or into the ground.

Others were not so lucky.

A wasp fell to the ground, smashed. Another tangled in webs that they couldn’t see. The main flock arrived, diving into the meadow, vanishing from their own sights as they did, and suddenly, ten wasps were tangled in invisible webs. Another three became splatters on the ground, or against an unseen tree. The wasps attacked anything they could. Sometimes, they attacked each other. They died from unseen enemies, lurking in the light. A spider leg, tipped with spears. A mace, powerful and swift. A [Fireball], unseen by all, but felt by the breeze of heat that washed, unseen across the meadow.

A few more [Fireball]s, just because they could, and the flames from the first one already destroyed all the webbing. Jane already had ideas about how she could counter that; she just hadn’t gotten to them yet. Shadow Spiders could already spin fire-immune webbing —and also magic-blocking webbing and magic-blocking venom which were ostensibly better options— but, like so many monster abilities, that came from their diet and biology, and was not manifested by the [Polymorph] spell. Jane knew what she had to do to get that power, though.

10 points for a Class Ability Slot Increase Quest. She was only level 71. All she had to do was find the right monster, then kill it, and she could get those points. Or, she could do Quests. There was more hope for the second option, since she would be lucky to ever gain more levels, and her father did have that Quest Board. Jane just… had to ask him for some Quests. Yeah…

Anywho! The wasps were dead. It would have been a horrific fight, except for all of Jane’s nice little abilities. Polymage truly was awesome!

The meadow vanished.

Teressa opened her eyes again, happily saying, “Gods damn, do I love having a mana sense!” She sent, ‘Holy shit. Uh… Haha! We could have died there! Not Forest Wasps. Deep Forest Wasps! Ha! Good fight.’

‘We were fiiiiinnne. Wanna find the nest?’

‘Very much; yes. No need to search, though. It’s right there.’ Teressa pointed upward. ‘About a kilometer up. HUGE nest. I just tracked them with [Witness].’

‘Awesome.’ Jane laughed. ‘Ahh! I need a mana sense.’

Maybe she should ask her father to make a Perception necklace, or something to unlock that Stat. One New Stat couldn’t hurt, right? … Truthfully, though, Jane was still torn about which New Stat was the best. Practically free spells, or practically immune to damage, or the ability to see and react to everything that came her way, or … free attacks. Okay. Dexterity was probably not worth it. Jane was on the fence between Perception and Intelligence. Both would lead to better magery, but a mana sense, according to Tenebrae, would enable easier understanding of aura work, and aura work would lead to better spells...

Teressa smiled as she sent, ‘Time to try out this spell—’

She stepped into the air; surefooted, but unsure. And then she kept stepping into the air. She giggled. Jane followed, except she stepped on the shadows. Teressa was not stepping on the shadows.

‘What spell is that?’

Teressa sent, ‘[Personal Ward], [Force Platform], and [Force Wall], make [Force Step]. Only thing that could hold my weight! Gridwork is amazing.’

‘You should get [Lightwalk].’

‘Yeah. I talked to your father about that. We’ll head over to Oceanside, eventually.’ Teressa looked up, toward the nest, sending, ‘Lots of places to go and things to kill!’

‘World tour, wooo!’

‘World tour!’

- - - -

Erick watched as [Fireball]s tore apart a wasp nest the size of a small mansion that hung between three trees, halfway between the Forest floor and the canopy, while a meadow of flowers grew nearby, in the middle of the air, and wasps fell through the sky, burning.

[Beautification Aura] seemed like it was cheating.

… Unless you had some of the many, many Sight spells, or even a mana sense, to see through it all. Wasps did not have that, though.

Erick paused in his reading.

Were there, perhaps, illusions in the [Gate] designs that Tenebrae had seen before? Erick flickered through his memory of everything he had read in the past three days—

He shot up from his chair.

“Ah. There’s illusions in the Green Labyrinth.” Erick said, “I’m sure of it.” He paused. “Or maybe that’s too simple. Poi? How would you know if you were afflicted by a mind blocking magic?”

Poi looked up from his book, taking a second to replay what he had just heard. He went back to reading, saying, “You’re not afflicted by mind magic and you’ve never been.”

“Okay. Okay. I realize now that that was a bit rude, but how do you know?”

“Mind Mage secrets.” Poi added, “Tricking the mind to miss a piece of reality is easy to check, Erick. Hiding such a trick is difficult, but also doable, except in your case. You are highly visible. I won’t let anything affect your mind. I promise.”

Erick felt a warmth in his chest at those words. “Thank you, Poi.”

Poi nodded, then said, “A much safer method of obfuscation is to make a piece of reality not be able to be seen in the first place. I can’t check for that. Jane’s [Beautification Aura] falls into this category. There’s also obfuscation through false positives.”

Erick considered all of that, then he said, “That’s all well and good, but what about memetic threats? Take, for instance, Jane’s Prismatic Octopus. She can flicker the skin to induce seizure and disorientation-like effects in prey. She told me it was called [Hypnotic Pattern]. What about physical magic effects that work in similar manners, that erase itself and other parts of itself from the brain, the second they are conceived?”

Poi looked up from his book. He frowned. “Yes. Those types of threats exist. But we do a good job of picking them out whenever they’re found. All you have to do is behold small parts of the whole and then recognize those smaller parts—” He paused. He said, “We have departments dedicated to erasing memetic threats. I regularly submit myself for decontamination to ensure I haven’t been compromised. I did so last night. Nothing is wrong with anything I have seen.”

“But what about what I have seen?”

“Okay.” Poi stood up. “Let’s do a scan.”

Erick clapped his hands together, saying, “Excellent!”

Three minutes and one longer-than-usual scan later...

Poi said, “Clear.”

Erick frowned. “Clear? Why’d it take so long?”

“Intelligence complicates scans.” Poi looked to Tenebrae’s [Gate] tomes and wardlight images, saying, “There’s no trickery, here. Or at least none that Tenebrae recorded. I doubt he would submit to a scan, though.”

“So much for that easy answer.” Erick frowned. “I just don’t see how these twists of mana and intent make [Gate] work.” With a smirk, Erick asked Poi, “But since you now know everything I know…”

“Sadly, I cannot talk to you about [Gate]. That would be violating the Mind Mage credo.”

“But it wouldn’t be divulging the secrets that other people know! Just talking to me about my own. Like a sounding board.” Erick knew he was doomed to failure, but he asked anyway. “Please?”

“Nope.”

“Bah! Fine. Then let’s go bother Tenebrae. It’s been days and he should be somewhat better, right?”

- - - -

“Absolutely not.”

Rock came out to meet them when they approached the door to Tenebrae’s tower, before they even had a chance to knock on the door. After Erick’s inquiry about a visit, Rock emphatically declared his decision.

“You will upset him and I cannot have that.” Rock said, “He is recovering.”

Erick countered, “I won’t purposefully upset him.”

“Very few people go around purposefully upsetting Tenebrae, and those that do don’t upset him for very long.”

“… I still want to talk to him.”

“No.”

Rock shut the door in his face.

Erick went over to the cafeteria, searching for his other way to get to Tenebrae.

Palodia’s room was beyond the kitchen, beyond the dining room. Erick had been in the kitchen a few times to get a few items, which he then brought over to the guesthouse to prepare in their kitchenette since Palodia was mostly watching over Tenebrae and not cooking that much.

But he had never knocked on Palodia’s door.

He did so, now.

No answer.

… He’d try again later.

On the way back to his guestrooms, he met Palodia in the courtyard beside the tree. She had just come out of Tenebrae’s tower. She locked eyes with him the second she saw him.

“Just the man I wanted to see!” Palodia went back to Tenebrae’s tower, motioning for him to come along. “I brought him his early dinner and he asked after you. Saw you down here. Saw Rock shoo you away, too.” She re-entered the tower, saying, “Tenebrae does want to talk but his kids are overprotective.”

Erick smiled, as he walked into Tenebrae’s tower. A few floors up, he noticed Rock and Slate standing together in the room labeled for ‘Rocky’. They glared at Erick, as Erick ascended past them, up to Tenebrae’s room.

Tenebrae sat up in bed, surrounded by pillows. A covered dish sat to the side; dinner, waiting. The old archmage didn’t care for that dinner. His eyes focused on Erick as the younger archmage came into view.

“Erick!” Tenebrae demanded, “What have you made of my notes! Tell me. Sit. Speak your mind.”

Palodia had a much calmer voice. “He’s juiced up on several different potions right now—”

“I am fine, woman!”

“— so he might not be all there, but he still noticed Rock rush downstairs to shoo you away and he wanted this conversation—”

“Yes! So you can go away, now, too, woman!”

“—but I’m going to stay in case he needs more medication.” Palodia sat in a chair beside a window, saying. “Don’t mind me. Try not to upset him.”

“I am perfectly in control of my own facilities, wretched woman!” Tenebrae ignored Palodia, and locked eyes with Erick. “What do you think of my notes? Speak, dammit!”

Erick said, “How likely is it that you’re missing something in your various scans and reproductions of the Gates?”

“Extremely!” Tenebrae said, “Hundred percent! I’m missing a lot in those scans and there is degradation in the wardlights, for sure. I doubt I captured 60% of the various Gates I have seen in the Green Labyrinth, for I got chased off every time, except for once, and that once was around a twisted Gate that barely functioned as a [Gate]. It flickered off and on every few minutes. You read about that one, didn’t you?” His voice raised, “You did read what I—”

Before Tenebrae could make himself angry, Erick interrupted, “I read everything at least three times.”

Tenebrae relaxed. “Good.”

Palodia scowled at Tenebrae, but said nothing.

“Why do you think you’ve missed something, physical?” Erick said, “You have pieces of thirty seven Gates, and each of those pieces come together to form a whole. Theoretically, you should have a full Gate in your notes. So why do you not? I cannot believe that you missed this potential answer. So… What is happening there?”

Tenebrae relaxed further. “Good. We are here, then.” He said, “Yes. I have a whole map of a ‘complete Gate’, if you take the pieces of what I’ve scanned and put them together.” He held his hand out. A book flew to his hand. He held the book toward Erick. “Here.”

Erick opened the book. It reminded him of graphpaper notebooks, for it was a book of gridwork. Flipping through a few pages, he recognized that this tome was the culmination of Tenebrae’s attempts to stitch together all the individual pieces of the Gates he had found into a coherent whole. It was exactly as Erick had guessed; it was the next step to the work he had already seen.

While Erick read, Tenebrae said, “I produced two of these objects, for each side of the [Gate].” He added, “I produced one. Then I had the Headmaster [Duplicate] it. Didn’t work. Likely because I didn’t have [Gate], and the Script does not let you enchant spells that you do not have.” Like a sad story, he continued, “And then I went and helped an enchanter I trusted to get him [Gate] by him paying the 10 points, and then I helped him to learn [Duplicate] from the Book Binders. All things being equal, that should have worked. It did not.” He added, “Incidentally, that enchanter died a few years ago.”

Erick asked, “What metals did you use?”

Tenebrae waved him off. “If you are looking for small problems that we could have overseen, you should spend your attention elsewhere. We did everything we could with top-quality materials, and none of it worked. Deep Sky Silver, [Duplicate]d so I would have enough to make the first Gate, made wrought-quality through the best methods. We also did gold and silver and all sorts of metals. Nothing went wrong, there.”

Erick considered speaking of using [Duplicate] in a Restful space, to automatically make metals wrought-quality… And hell. He went for it. “Did you use a Restful space? [Duplicate] your Gate inside of there?”

Tenebrae smirked. “Yup.”

“Ah.” Erick said, “Then have you considered that there were illusions on the various Gates you found?”

“Of course.” Tenebrae said, “I also considered the fact that the Green Labyrinth can confound my scans through the power of its Domain. All of that has been mitigated as much as it could have been mitigated.”

“Okay. Then. Did you ever talk to Apogee, the Wayfarer Guildmaster of Spur?”

Tenebrae scowled. “I have spoken to the Wayfarers more than you could ever know. They have a theory about how the two spaces have to be ‘perfectly similar, so you can walk from one to the other’. That’s cowshit, too. I did all that, as well. Never managed to make [Gate]. With regard to Apogee in particular: Yes, I did talk to him. At length. He never helped me, and he still—”

Erick smiled.

Tenebrae spat, “What’s with that dumb look!”

Palodia spoke up, “Don’t make me knock you out, you old bastard.”

Tenebrae sighed. He repeated, “What’s with that dumb look?”

“You’ve done a lot of legwork, here. And I agree with the Wayfarer theory, but from a different angle than how you probably see the problem. So. How about this?” Erick laid out his current top-contender for ‘how [Gate] works’, saying, “Have you considered that the creation of a [Gate] is the linking of two spaces through their vibrations? That all of everything vibrates at certain frequencies and strengths, and that duplicating that same resonance in two different locations might be the secret to [Gate]? To make them resonate, and therefore make their spaces become ‘perfectly similar, so you can walk from one to the other’? Maybe the Wayfarers are onto something, but— You once told me that you believed that Force was responsible for Sound, and therefore you didn’t truly understand what ‘sound’ was, so maybe your entire approach to [Gate] is wrong, too, at a fundamental level. Maybe everyone’s approach is wrong.”

Tenebrae frowned, and then he looked away. After a moment, he turned back to Erick. “Are you talking about resonant Force? That’s an obscure field of magical study. Not much power to it. I suppose… There could be something to pursue in that direction.”

Erick was instantly dumbfounded. He wasn’t sure what he expected out of his unfounded theory on [Gate], but he did not expect Tenebrae to call ‘resonant Force’, whatever that was, an ‘obscure field of magical study, without much power’. Erick said, “Resonance should be really strong. Like. Stupidly strong.” He instantly reevaluated his idea. “Or maybe Health blocks it. That could be… Hmm.”

Tenebrae scrunched his eyebrows, disbelieving. “How much Sound magic do you have?”

“Ah. Just the one.” Erick said, “Actually. That’s a really good thing to make. I need to make a resonant sound spell. I’m going to work on that, and then come and tell you when I’m ready, if you want to watch me create the actual spell?”

Tenebrae raised a bushy white eyebrow. “I would be delighted to see that. Tomorrow?”

“Actually… I just thought of everything I needed to make the spell, right now. So? Want to go now?”

Tenebrae started laughing—

Palodia spoke up, “Nope! He’s had enough excitement for a day. He’s going to crash after he eats dinner.”

Tenebrae scowled again, saying, “I won’t leave the bed. I can [Scry] him. I can even eat while he does his cowshit singing magic! It’ll be like my own personal court clown. Everyone needs entertainment in their life, Palodia.”

Rock came up from outside, where he had been listening, saying, “Nope. Eat. Then sleep. If you don’t need potions to wake under your own strength tomorrow, then you can watch Erick make his magic tomorrow.”

Erick’s eyes widened. “It’s that bad?”

Tenebrae called out, “I am FIN—” He clutched his chest.

Two sudden, frantic minutes later, Tenebrae was awake, but barely. Rock and Palodia had moved the fastest, but now, they just looked down at Tenebrae, and said nothing. Slate organized the potions on the shelf for the third time; a nervous tic, no doubt. Obsidia stood in a corner, a curled hand nervously covering her mouth while her other hand was held tight against her chest.

With lidded eyes, Tenebrae stared at Erick. A ferocity lurked in those powerful grey depths that was not present in the rest of him. He said, “Tomorrow, Erick. I will see this magic… Tomorrow.”

Erick said, “I’ll be waiting.”

Rock turned, glanced at Erick, then turned back to Tenebrae.

Erick excused himself.