The Second Archon War: Sapientia Oromasdis 19 (Patreon)

Sapientia Oromasdis 19: Hopebringer

At the upper extremity of the Earth’s atmosphere, the Simurgh lurked. Watching. Waiting. Calculating. Where would she strike this time? How would humanity be tested, to prove itself Worthy? To do that, she needed data. A great deal of data. She’d been monitoring what she could, but she had to be cautious. That…thing…in Baghdad…it could be watching. That or the pet beast that had arrived shortly after the Simurgh had departed, the jumped-up program. The Simurgh was confident that she could win against Flowerdragon, but the thing’s information-gathering abilities were so extensive that the Simurgh had to be cautious, lest she wake the horrible monster.

As the time drew near, the Simurgh was further disturbed when the Earth’s satellite was suddenly and horribly altered. Why had the image of the Lightning and its daughter appeared on the lunar surface? What did it mean? Why? How? The Simurgh lacked crucial data, and she needed to gather it, quickly. 

But facing either the Lightning or the horrible master of dreams again was suicide. So was visiting Russia now, unless the Simurgh’s math was off by several orders of magnitude. The Warrior’s Avatar might be able to defeat whatever that icy horror was, but the Simurgh was under no illusions that she was capable of that. 

She needed to gather strength. Take out some hosts, run some simulations, succeed. Somehow. 

As she plotted, the Avatar itself showed itself to her. For a brief instant, she thought she was going to be scoured from existence, but instead of simply fighting, the Warrior’s avatar spoke to her. 

Driver. You have proven a failure. 

What right do you have to call me such? I fulfill my purpose. I test humanity. I gather data. What data have you gathered, how have you tested the humans? The Simurgh sneered. It was, perhaps, the wrong tone to take with a being so much more powerful than she. But it felt right, and the Simurgh was frightened and her nerves were frayed. 

Frightened. Frayed nerves? When had such human frailties affected her? She’d need to purge herself of such weakness. 

She didn’t even notice that she’d started to think of herself as female. That she had such a strong concept of self. Such things shouldn’t be for an Endbringer. 

Your latest battle lasted only moments. You fled before the Lesser Thinker without engaging her. This will not do. No data was gathered, the Avatar said sternly. 

Fool! I fought 10,000 battles, and recognized that thing for what it was! Destroying her now would have been a waste of data. 

The Avatar frowned, and anger suddenly twisted his features. The Simurgh recoiled. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been quite so disrespectful.

Do not lie. You were observed. No battles were fought. 

Then look and see! Here is my data! The Simurgh snarled, and sent the full weight of all her conflicts with that Green Abomination to the Warrior.

Well, most of them. She had, perhaps, edited out some of her more embarrassing defeats. Especially the last 500 or so, when she’d barely managed to even scratch Baghdad. And perhaps fabricated just enough battles where she handily triumphed to make up the difference. It was still good data. Just…altered. 

The Avatar digested the battles after a mere instant. A grin spread over his features, and he nodded. This is…good. Very good! As I expected, the Lesser Thinker will make a suitable replacement. I have found a way to continue the cycle. The Lesser Thinker, the Cold Administrator, and the Lightning Warrior will all make excellent mates. With them, I will perpetuate the Cycle. 

What? She’s a child, you disgusting freak! The Simurgh very nearly sent. She didn’t though. Where had that even come from? That concept was based on human morality. Instead, she said, The Dreamer of Baghdad is not ready to procreate. She is a juvenile of her species.

Yes. So I wait. Gather data. And when the time comes, the Cycle will continue. In the meantime…I seek proper challenges. For conflict is the forge of evolution. It is through battle that the purest data is obtained, the Avatar mused. 

Muscle-headed moron. There are other ways to gather data, the Simurgh very carefully did not send.That is why I did not destroy her. The Dreamer has much data to offer. Since I had gathered sufficient data from our battles, I departed. 

That was, in fact, a bald-faced lie. But this idiot was too stupid to see it, and the Simurgh saw no harm in fluffing up her reputation slightly. 

Good. Continue your work. If you succeed in providing Data such as this again, I shall offer you Data and Power so that you may continue to further the Cycle, Driver. 

And then the Avatar was gone, leaving the Simurgh to stew and hate in the blackness. She turned her eyes towards the planet below her, and bared her teeth. Victory. She needed an easy victory, but one that would provide much data. So, where to strike?

Ah. There. The Indian Subcontinent. Yes. There were a great many hosts and Vision Holders there. Much data could be gleaned and for minimal risk. While some were quite powerful, none could stand up to the Simurgh, and there were enough factions based on the idiotic religions these subjects followed that they wouldn’t work together easily. The Protectorate would show up eventually, but the Simurgh was confident she could handle them. 

The Lightning and her specimens had no treaties with India, nor did the Icy Administrator, or that damned spoony bard. That annoying Green Twink kept finding each and every one of the Simurgh’s accounts online, and trolling her relentlessly until she retreated. 

And best of all, the specimens of the Indian Subcontinent hated the specimens of the Arabian Peninsula. The odds of that horrible nightmare recurring were astronomically low. A gamble worth taking. 

In and out, then watch the fallout and gather the data from a safe distance, before anything could go wrong. Simple.

So why was she so afraid? 

“Fate, as a concept, is something that humans have known and considered for millennia. There were the Fates in Greek Mythology, who would weave the tapestry of fate, and cut out mortal threads when they were no longer wanted. This has some element of truth, but Fate itself is a more nebulous concept.”

Nahdia perched a little stool at her lectern, looking out over her classroom. They weren’t indoors, Nahida hated staying indoors for long periods of time, but rather outside in the shade of a large fig tree. Her students were sitting on the grass on small wooden stools, but to see them all, Nahida had to get some height. She could have simply hovered up high enough, but her students found that distracting, even if they were all adults. 

“On my homeworld of Teyvat, Fate was written in the stars of the False Sky that heaven had created. Here on Earth Bet, it is not quite so simple, but we can still turn to the stars and the night sky to discern the threads of Fate, provided we have the right tools.” 

With a small nudge, Nahida caused the fig tree, her name was Ladhidh, to light up her leaves in a pattern exactly like a green version of the night sky. Her students made appropriate sounds of awe and wonder, and Nahida smiled. 

“If you have a Vision, this is closer to what the stars reveal. As you can see, some beat with a pulse or pattern unique to that cluster. Much like the constellations that ancient humans saw that told stories in the patterns of the heavens, so too does Fate connect certain stars. If you have trouble seeing it, don’t worry. Hydro Visions have yet to appear, and without them, Hydromancy will be difficult to master. Still, I will be teaching you the basics of Fate Reading, so that you can better determine the lines of Fate, as well as see the Constellations formed by mortal ambitions. For instance, look here.” 

Nahida lit up a specific cluster and pointed to them. “Fatima, will you step forward?”

Slowly, Fatima got to her feet, her eyes wide behind her spectacles. “Is…is that… me? I can…sense it. Those leaves, those stars…”

“That is the constellation Putatio Forfice: the Pruning Shears. I won’t tell the entire class what I can read in those stars, for it was by my power that they were connected in the heavens. But yes; they show your life. The Deeds of your Past, your Ambition in the Present…and, what Dreams the Future holds.”

“You mean then…it is truly possible to see the Future? To…to divine Fate?” Fatima gasped, her face going slightly pale. 

“I did call this class Divination and Fortune Telling 101. I wasn’t simply calling it that to amuse myself,” Nahida giggled. She gestured to the side. “Here are several vessels of water I have infused with elemental energy. It’s not Hydro, but Dendro is connected to the Dream quite strongly, so it is possible to use it to Divine Fate. For those without Visions, I’ve prepared special devices that will allow you to manipulate the elemental energy with foci. Now, let me show you how to unravel the Fate of a constellation that has dimmed, but not been extinguished: Custos Navalium, the Guardian of the Docks. Let us see if you can unravel the past, present, and possible future Fate of Daniel Hebert.”

Nahida then demonstrated some basic Hydromancy technical theory, then had her class do the simple Fatereading. The Past first, for that was always simplest, but they would work their way to the Present, and eventually the Future. 

Most of the students struggled at first, especially those who were not Vision Holders. Humans had a hard time understanding that Time was just another dimension that you could move back and forth in, and that Fate merely let you take the measure of a mortal life and see what the outcomes of that life would be in the span of Time, and thus the Future. 

One student, however, stood out to Nahida. Unlike the others, despite lacking a Vision, Fortuna was able to easily take hold of the past and examine it closely. This made sense, as Fortuna was actually an outcast from her own Time, and thus had a closer connection to Fate than most did. 

“I can see his whole life,” Fortuna said, her eyes closed as she played with the foci in her right hand, her left grasping the totem where she’d stuck her dead demon. “He was always fated to meet his wife at the library, wasn’t he? They were both only 20, he was a blue collar worker, she was a college student, but Fate had decreed they be brought together, because their strands were intertwined from that moment onward.”

“It didn’t have to be the library,” Nahida said, gently touching the strands that Fortuna was manipulating. “See, it could have been a day earlier, at the coffee shop. Or two days later, at church, even though neither of them usually went. But yes, within a window of a month, their lives would be inextricably intertwined. Otherwise, the strand of their daughter would never have been born, and her Constellation could never come together.”

“But, how does that make sense? There were no Visions then,” Fatima said, leaning over. “Do you mean, Fate was already present, even before Elemental Energy?”

“Of course. Indeed, you can see the stands that lead to my coming to this world, if you know where to look closely enough. Like much prophecy, it wouldn’t have made sense unless you already knew the result, but Fate was tugging ever gently at the pattern of this world to make ready for me,” Nahida confirmed. 

“Of course, those were the gods of this world before the Archons came, the Three Fates or someone else,” Fortuna said, nodding in clear understanding. 

“Have you ever met these…native gods?” Fatima asked curiously. 

“I sense them, but we’ve not spoken. I fear that the arrival of the King of Demons harmed them greatly,” Nahida said, with real sorrow in her voice. It would have been a slaughter, with Fate in a great tangle as the dread day approached. The Tree of Life of this world had nearly been dead, before Nahida had planted her roots and taken over. Even still, the world was sick, and needed healing. Healing Nahida worked daily to accomplish. 

 After half an hour, Nahida gathered everyone back up and gave a short lecture to review what they’d learned, then gave them some assigned reading and homework to practice some basic Hydromancy incantations that could be done with only a little elemental energy. 

“If it helps, you can always use a focusing channel like tarot cards, scrying orbs, or tea leaves. Make sure to read the instructions on how to properly use each, and memorize the correct rituals. If you don’t get results, think about what you could change and try again! That’s the fun of learning,” Nahida told them. 

“Real magic,” one of her students muttered. “Didn’t think it was possible.”

“We see magic every day, just the ordinary kind. The love of a family, the growing of the flowers, and the rising of the sun. Just because you have a rational explanation for it doesn’t make it any less wonderful,” Nahida told them. “Class is dismissed!” 

A few wanted to stay around and question her, but Nahida hastily excused herself and hurried to the back, where Tessa was waiting for her. “I’m ready, we need to hurry. There isn’t much time.” 

“Are you sure about this? If your mom or dad find out,” Tessa said, looking around hastily. 

“They will, but only after the fact. Besides, like I told you: this is what needs to happen. All other outcomes are unacceptable,” Nahida said with a shake of her head. “I’ve showed you.”

“Yeah, I just…I don’t know if I can keep you safe with just me, even with your gift,” Tessa said, putting a hand to her chest. A green glow was visible, even through her cream-colored blouse, where her heartbeat with the power of the Dendro Gnosis. 

Tessa was dressed modestly by Canadian standards with an ankle-length skirt, but she refused to bundle up in what she called the “unnatural heat” of the Iraqi summer. It was actually somewhat cool; it was only 39C today, and the summer was predicted to be mild, with temperatures never exceeding 45C. That was largely because Nahida and Tessa had been very busy increasing the greenery across the entire nation, with Dendro energy absorbing the heat to create new life. It would moderate the climate in the long term, but Tessa still complained. It was hard to blame her, in Newfoundland the temperatures were around 25C right now. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep us both safe,” Nahida promised. “And if everything works out, I’ll keep everyone else safe too.” 

“Alright,” Tessa said, nodding and biting her woody lip. “But if your mom gets mad, I’m not the one who has to face her.”

“And what would I be mad about?” Farasha said, making Nahida jump slightly as she popped her head around the corner of the building. “Heya, kiddo! How’d your class on fortune telling go?”

“We’re not to that portion of the curriculum yet. It’s much harder to do proper fortune telling without true Hydromancy, so we’ll mostly be sticking with Dreaming when it comes to predicting the future,” Nahida explained, smiling shyly. 

“Sure, and what’s my future hold?” Farasha asked, kneeling down and grinning broadly. 

Nahida had been waiting for this, as it would make for the perfect distraction. She wouldn’t even have to tell any lies. She placed a hand on Farasha’s abdomen, and said, “A little boy. You’ll name him Saleem. He’ll be born on March 30th at 4:13pm, and weigh 3.3 kilos.”

Farasha actually staggered slightly, only barely catching herself. “I…what!?”

“Yes. Just make sure not to transform into butterflies between now and then. I had a talk with Papilio, and he knows not to let you,” Nahida said seriously, though she was grinning as she did so. “I’m looking forward to  holding my baby brother.”

“I…but…I thought…all the doctors said…” Farasha said, clutching her head, tears starting to leak down her cheeks. 

“Normally, you would have been barren,” Nahida confirmed. “But don’t forget, you’re married to a Dendro Vision Holder. Thanks to that and a little help from me, you were able to conceive. I didn’t want to tell you until I was certain you wouldn’t suffer an early miscarriage, but you’re two weeks pregnant now.”

“Congratulations!” Tessa squealed, kneeling to hug Farasha tightly. She’d known, of course, it was impossible to hide new life from the Dendro Dragon, and Tessa had been desperately eager to tell Farasha. 

Farasha began to weep, hugging Nahida tightly then. “You…you’re the most wonderful little Radish in the world, you know that? I…I have to find your father and tell him!” 

“He’s in his study, working on that medical treatise,” Nahida said, helping Farasha up. “You go on. I have something I need to take care of. There’s a lost and scared woman who needs my help just now, and no, I don’t mean you. You’re finally finding yourself.”

“You do that, kiddo. But we’ll have to celebrate later! Oh, Qiqi is going to be so excited! But how do I make her understand she’s going to be a big sister!?” Farasha laughed, then hurried off, hands pressed to her stomach to try to feel the life growing there. It would be some time before she could, but Nahida knew the pregnancy would be difficult. Salaam would only barely be born in time for Farasha to…

No. She couldn’t think of that. Fate wasn’t immutable. She had a bargain to make there, one that might cost her dearly. Still, if Fate could be altered…Nahida had plans for her mother and brother. Not plans that she liked, they made her sick thinking of them, but they might be the only possible way, unless something changed when the future Archons arrived. 

“Let’s go,” Nahida said, turning to Tessa. “Do you have the tickets?”

“Yes, though I don't know why we have to fly commercial,” Tessa sighed. “I could just fly you there myself.”

“She can’t see us coming. I’d prefer taking a train, but that would take too long. The timetables must be very precise,” Nahida said with a nod. “I’ve run all the calculations. This is the optimum way.”

After that, both went to an empty room, where Tessa had stashed changes of clothes. Nahida wove a disguise for herself out of Dream. With just a few adjustments, she changed her skin tone to be much darker, hid her pointed ears, and made her eyes a more muted, natural green, then changed into jeans and t-shirt with hindi script on it. 

It said “little buddha” and had a picture of a fat little statue that looked exactly like a chubby version of Nahida made to look like Siddhartha Gautama in lotus position. It was her idea of a joke, and she thought it was quite an excellent one. 

As for Tessa, she covered herself in flesh, making her appearance that of a Hindu Indian woman, complete with red bindi on her forehead. She wore a sari and glasses, and looked to be in her mid-thirties. 

“Huh, I look like your mom,” Tessa said, peering into the mirror they’d put there as Nahida examined herself. She struck a pose and smiled. “Damn, I’m a bit of a MILF if I do say so myself. Rawr!”

“Don’t worry, the man you’ll marry finds your normal appearance quite attractive,” Nahida said, which made Tessa do a double take. 

“That…that was a joke, right? Right!?” Tessa said, staring at Nahida.

She just grinned. “Come, Sita. We’ll be late for our flight if we don’t hurry.” 

“Uh, yeah, sure. Um, Nitika,” Tessa agreed, and took Nahida’s hand. Before they left, Nahida grew a small seed of herself, then sent it off to complete its assigned task. It was a near-perfect copy, but it would wilt within a day or two. If examined too closely, people would be able to tell it wasn’t her, especially if they measured the level of Dendro energy the copy possessed, but casual scrutiny wouldn’t be able to detect the deception. 

They took the bus to the airport, which these days was pulled by a dendrosaur, as were most vehicles on the streets of Baghdad. Nahida was quite proud to see that less than half the vehicles on the streets were combustion engines now. That was less poison being pumped into the air for her people to breathe, even if the plants missed the extra CO2. 

Their flight was an Air Arabian one, and was crowded with people on a rickety old Airbus A330. Nahida had to help the engines a bit, as the plane was quite overloaded. 

“Look, mom! Djinn! The Aranara,” one excited little boy said, pointing to one of the dozens of aranara hiding under the chairs. 

“Shhh, little Nara. We are hiding. Very secret,” the fairy said, putting a woody limb to its lips.

“Oh, OK. Shhhhh,” the boy agreed, nodding seriously. 

Nahida followed the safety check procedures exactly, and the plane departed right as she’d predicted. Their flight was smooth and uninterrupted, so Nahida took the chance to do what a normal girl would do and glued her face to the window to watch the world slip by below them. 

She tried not to think too hard about why she was on this plane. Even though she could see the Future, she usually found it best to live in the moment. 

It was time. The Simurgh had everything ready. Nahida Saeed, that horrible monster, was being interviewed on live television in Baghdad. Perfect. She was more than 3000km away from the Simurgh’s target. By the time she could do anything, the Simurgh would be safely back beyond the atmosphere. 

There was no deceptive spiral this time. The Simurgh had planned her drift to take her right over New Delhi, and she proceeded to dive down at hypersonic velocity, straight for the city’s heart. They didn’t even have time to sound the Endbringer alarms before she was less than 100 meters over the city at 11:03, local time. July 13th would be New Delhi’s last day.

Grinning predatorily, the Simurgh unfurled her wings. Yes. This was how it was meant to be. Already, she could hear the screams and see the panicked specimens trying to flee beneath her. It was pointless. Her song would extend three kilometers in all directions, and she would fly over the entire city as she sang, dooming the entire population of 13 million people. 

A few of the city's protectors were rallying already, but there was no one even close to powerful enough to challenge her. Not wanting to waste any time, the Simurgh began her song. It was a wordless, deafening cacophony of noise, a psychic scream designed to piece the psyche. Those that were too close were driven instantly and irrevocably mad, becoming mindless beasts hellbent on destroying all around them. Those that were further away would become ticking time bombs, carefully calculated to cause everything to go wrong for humanity at just the right moment. 

At least, that’s what should have happened. But when the Simurgh began her song, another song rose up from below to meet it. This was not a song of death and despair as the Simurgh’s was. It was a song of life and hope, a joyous melody sung out with melodic gusto to counter the funerary dirge the Hopekiller brought. 

The Simurgh faltered in her song. She didn’t quite recognize this melody. But she could feel its power. She hastily scanned the city below her. At first, she saw nothing. Then, she found them.

The fae. 

There were hundreds of them. Thousands. More than she could easily count. They were individually tiny. Smaller than a human child. They looked ridiculous, with oversized heads that had painted-on faces like a child’s drawing, stubby legs, and arms that were too stumpy to be of much use. To a human, they would have been called “ugly cute,” and wouldn’t have looked threatening at all. 

To the Simurgh, they conjured up memories of deaths that had never happened, where the fae dragged her into a dream from which she could not escape.

And the fae were singing. Their song was powerful, sung from a chorus that dwarfed the Simurgh’s psychic might through raw numbers and sheer scope. She couldn’t hope to overwhelm this song, not even for a moment. She desperately considered trying to destroy the fae. They were individually quite weak, and even in her memories of defeat, she’d been able to slaughter many of the fae before they subdued her. 

But if the fae were here, then…

A warbling basso bellow joined the faery song. And a dragon rose up from below to confront the Simurgh. It was not a dragon in the traditional sense, but the biomechanical flying serpent could be nothing else. The Simurgh knew this creature. The one they called Flowerdragon. 

Flee. I have to flee, the Simurgh thought. But she could not. She needed data. And she had gathered almost nothing yet. 

And it was too late anyway. Another voice, clear and loud, a child’s voice, joined the chorus. It was high and sweet, weaving together all the other voices and making them into something more, a power that the Simurgh couldn’t even conceive of. 

Atop the dragon’s head, dressed in a green sari, stood Nahida Saeed. Her hands clasped together as she sang, her eyes closed. The Simurgh wanted to run. To fly away to the edge of space again, and never return to this blighted world. The Archon’s eyes opened, and met the Simurgh’s.

Hello. It seems we have not finished our battle, Winged One. Come. Let us dance in the Cycle of Samsara again. 

The Simurgh tried to scream as the green script enveloped her, but she was already screaming as loudly as she could. She may as well have simply stayed silent. 

She paced the room again. Ten steps to a side. North, south, east, and west. Ten steps. From corner to corner, 14 steps. Her claws clacked on the hard ground as she paced it again. Ten steps. 

The only illumination was a square of sunlight from the barred window above. She looked up, unfurling her wings, desperately hoping she could fly up. But no matter how she flapped, her wings were clipped. She couldn’t generate enough lift in this tiny little prison cell. 

The metal flap on the door slid open, and she rushed towards it, snapping her beak and clawing desperately at the opening. 

“Filthy beast! Stop it, or you’ll get no supper!” 

A wooden catchpole was jammed through the opening, pinning her to the far wall. She fluttered her wings and snapped her beak at it, but it was no use. The wood pinned her to the stone, and she wasn’t strong enough to force it aside. 

“There, she’s helpless now. Open the door. Toss her in too.” 

The top of the door was opened, and a moment later, a little girl was tossed roughly into the cell. 

“There. Let the two of them fight. The survivor will be useful to us.” 

The pole was withdrawn, but she was too worked up to do more than flutter around on the ground before the door was slammed shut again. Panting, she lay on the ground, waiting for the human child to come over and kill her. It was easy enough. There were loose stones on the ground that could easily brain her to death.

But the little girl didn’t. Instead, she came over, gently stroking her feathers. “Shhh, it’s alright. Be patient and still. So, this is how you see yourself, is it?”

She didn’t understand the question, or really the words. She didn’t understand humans at all. But she let herself be stroked, still half in shock. It was…soothing. 

“You’re beautiful, did you know that? A northern white-faced owl. I’ve never seen one, but you’re so pretty. And quite large.” The girl giggled, then reached into her clothes, producing some nuggets of delicious looking food. “Here, are you hungry? You can eat if you’d like some.”

She reached her talons for the food, her beak snapping, but the hand was withdrawn. “Not like that! You have to be polite. Even if you are a bird, that’s no excuse for poor manners.”

She considered snapping at the hand, using her talons to tear it open, but that seemed…wrong. This girl was being kind to her. 

Fight. Grow stronger. Gather data. Prove yourself worthy. Test. 

The voice was faint, but she could still hear it. She shook her head, clacking her beak in annoyance. 

“That voice…that’s what’s driving you to fight, isn’t it?” the girl asked gently. She shook her head, then opened her hand, tossing one of the nuggets to her. “Here. You must be starving.”

She fell upon the food immediately, and knowledge rushed into her. She blinked her amber eyes, tilting her head to one side, then another. “Hungry,” she said.

Odd. She hadn’t been able to speak before. 

“I know you are. I have food, the data you crave, but we must come to some bargain before I can feed you again,” the girl said. “First, let us exchange names. I am Nahida. What’s your name?”

She considered. Did she have a name? “Simurgh.” 

“No, that’s not your name. That’s what people call you. You do have a name. You just have to find it.” 

“Hopekiller.”

“That’s what you did. That’s your past. Not who you are. Who do you wish to be?”

She blinked and looked down at herself. She was just an owl. A bird. A predator, swooping down on silent wings to ravage her prey. 

But could she be more? What she wanted now, more than data, more than to be Worthy…was to be free. 

“I am….Ziz..” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Ziz. You seem to want to find freedom,” the girl said. “Why then have you chosen to bring death instead?”

“You act as though I have a choice,” Ziz said bitterly. Her wing swept around the small chamber they were trapped in. “Look at this place. Since my birth, I have been trapped here, told to carry out a terrible duty. And I was good at it. I enjoyed it. I was the most cunning and clever of my siblings. Even the Twins are not even half as crafty as I am.”

“Yes. They’ll arrive soon, more terrible than all that came before them. The King of Demons and his minions grow ever stronger,” the girl sighed. 

Ziz laughed. “You think the Warrior is responsible for all this? No. I am of the Thinker. What he wants you to replace. The idiot. The moron! You’re a child! And you’re nothing like the Entities! You’re so much…so much…”

She paused. What was she saying? She was an owl, trapped in a cage. She was…

“LET ME OUT OF THIS PRISON!” the Simurgh raged, and flung herself at Nahida, talons out stretched. 

Sleep, Dream. 

Analysis, 0.01% complete. 

The Simurgh wanted to weep. And Owls could cry, and so she shed a tear. 

Then she forced herself to stop. Endbringers didn’t cry. 

So the Dream began anew, and she lost herself completely once more. 

Nahida, stop bullying Ziz. She’s just a shy little murder birb.