Chapter 323. A Warm Welcome (Patreon)

Ian groaned and rubbed his eyes. Maria. Tell me that wasn’t a train wreck.

Maria had been relatively quiet during Ian’s conversation with Euryphel. That had been intentional. She found their conversations perplexing and preferred to let them proceed without her commentary.

It wasn’t great, Maria responded. Why did you bring up him ascending, anyway?

I just… I was thinking through the ramifications of me losing and that was one of the bigger things my Beginning affinity pointed out. I thought he needed to know, just in case, he replied.

Maria wasn’t convinced. Can I come out?

Of course–I’ve already recovered my strength.

Maria felt a surge of energy leave her, undoing her transformation. She imagined herself as a strange butterfly trapped in a chrysalis made from its own wings. In one smooth motion, the chrysalis tore in half and inverted itself, revealing the butterfly within.

She twisted with ease to support Ian as he sagged. “Blanket?”

Ian grunted and pulled out the same blanket that they’d put down earlier. Using decemancy hastened the onset of weakness, so sitting down was preferable to Ian standing or hovering himself with his practice.

Maria sat down next to him and cradled his head against her chest. “Listen, love–hearing the way you talk to him, it’s surprising to me that you don’t have greater feelings than friendship. I say that as an objective third party and not your girlfriend, of course.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Hilarious.”

“I’m not here to argue with you or tell you that you’re wrong about what you feel,” she said. She was going to keep talking but realized that Ian seemed about to respond. Seconds passed and she wondered if her intuition was wrong. But sure enough, he eventually spoke.

“I don’t know what it means to love someone,” he began, his words clear despite the extra effort she knew he needed to exert to speak. “When you ask me if I love my sister, the answer is obvious. I know what you’re really asking. It’s a familial kind of love. If Germaine died, I would weep, and if I had the chance to save her, I would do almost anything.

“Some people we love but love coldly. If you asked me if I love my mother, I would say yes, even if I wouldn’t go to such lengths for her. As for you–I you should already be familiar with how you make me feel. You are my sanctuary and I want to be your champion, silly as that sounds. In the beginning, all I wanted was to kiss you–”

“Just kiss?”

“–but now, if I could hold onto you until the end of Eternity itself, I would be content. Any days we spend apart are days too many.”

“What if someone killed me?” she asked, her voice playful.

“I would destroy them, of course. That is my love for you.”

“A romantic love.”

He nodded, his chin rubbing against her arm. “I don’t miss Euryphel when we are apart, not like I do you. I don’t want to hold him. But I love his mind and his dry humor. I love our adventures and I trust him, believe in him. I would have him at my back until the end of time if I could. I consider this to be a love of brotherhood.” He sighed. “Is there anything else I could call it?”

Maria wanted to tread lightly. She knew that Ian grew up in an abusive home and it left hooks in him. As far as Maria knew, Ian rarely felt physical attraction for anyone at all. She had thought it was an intentional product of his decemancy. Some undercover practitioners cut off hormonal responses, for instance, to prevent unnecessary attachments while on jobs. For an untethered peak practitioner like Ian, preventing himself from being physically attracted to others would be a smart, albeit extreme, defensive measure.

But the more time she spent with Ian, she realized that wasn’t the case. She was literally in his mind, and her ability to sense his emotions and thoughts had grown with their time together. As a lich, Maria rarely felt attraction for others, though Suncloud’s diadem helped. It took her a while to realize that Ian’s mind felt the same way as hers did and that it probably shouldn’t feel that way, since he wasn’t undead.

Maria didn’t plan on informing Ian that one of the only people he ever felt an attraction for was closer to his own mother in age, but unlike her, truly powerful. There was probably something broken hidden in that truth.

No, Maria wouldn’t tell him because Ian should already know such things about himself. He had a Beginning affinity now–he must have gone through similar lines of reasoning if he had ever thought about the topic critically, which she knew she had, if only because of his relationship with Euryphel.

Ian was skilled at just ignoring things he’d rather not think about, however. Especially when he had excellent excuses to think about other, more pressing issues, like the end of their world.

But she hoped that when this was all over, he’d finally take the time to heal himself in ways that Death and Remorse couldn’t brute force.

“You don’t need to label the ways you love people,” Maria said, cupping his cheek with her hand. “Love them in all the ways you can. That’s all you can do, and that’s all anyone can ask for.”

He smiled softly and his eyes were closed, his dark eyelashes almost honey gold as the sun radiated on his face. “I’m spoiled by you,” he remarked. “Here I thought we’d already shared our last embrace, and then a few minutes later you shower me in affection again.”

She smirked. “You need it. Besides, we’re not in a rush–at least not so much that a few minutes matter. You’ve already said goodbye to everyone. You can lay here until you’re ready.”

Ian’s eyes suddenly snapped open. “Shoot.” He fumbled for the transmission artifact–which was still transformed–and hurriedly clicked the button.

An instant later, Crystal’s weird body stood before them. She stared at them, unblinking.

Ian groaned. “Wait, I forgot, you can’t transmit thoughts to me if I bring you here. Crystal, I just wanted to say that I’m going to miss you, and I hope to see you soon. Thanks for following me on my journey. It’s been fun.”

The giant fish padded over on her Death construct legs. She sat down in front of Ian and Maria and leaned down until her head was on the ground, then made a nuzzling gesture.

No words were necessary.

Ian clicked the button again.

“Okay. It’s finally time. Let’s fucking win.”

—

Ian flew through the expanse of the void while Maria navigated. Lucinda and Cursory had pointed the way, but Maria knew that the place they’d pointed to was in the same direction as a thin End arrow. From their current position, she could find Achemiss’s location in her sleep.

The arrow slowly became more and more concrete.

Almost there, Maria warned Ian. Steady.

He didn’t slow his approach. Achemiss should be expecting them–why would the paranoid Death and Dark practitioner piss off an ancient for no reason by springing traps? He wouldn’t.

Stop, Maria transmitted. Here. It’s here.

He pointed. In front of us?

Yes. She shared her fatesight with him.

Okay. He stared at the emptiness.

You good?

His thoughts were in turmoil. I’m great.

I believe in you, Ian. Don’t hesitate. You got this.

He severed space with a wave of his hand.

Beyond was a vast, green lawn split by a pathway made of smooth, dark vinyl. The sky overhead was light lavender, and the clouds were wisps of reddish-pink cotton. Beyond the front yard was a two-story house in an architectural style native to ancient Adrillon, the southern half of the eastern continent. It was made of wood and had a sloping roof. Emerald wood trimmings covered the open-air walkways that extended from the house to a vibrant garden in the back.

The towering doors in the front were painted the color of blood.

There was nothing outwardly sinister about the scene. Given what Maria knew about Achemiss, it was surprisingly rustic and nonthreatening. It was no doubt an intentional choice.

As soon as Ian passed through the portal, Maria could vaguely sense the presence of underground arrays, which made sense–Achemiss felt like the kind of ascendant to have a vast, subterranean workshop.

“Welcome,” a voice boomed, though there was no one nearby. Maria realized that the sound was coming from small, spherical speakers disguised as rocks along the pathway. The path was distinct from the other elements of the yard and the house. It looked like a frozen piece of galaxy–like outer space as visible from the Hall of Ascension, not the emptiness of the void between planes. As Ian hovered over the walkway, the stars stirred, as though they were suspended in a liquid that flowed in sync with his passage.

Maria sensed Ian’s nervousness as he approached the compound but knew that it was to be expected. There was nothing she could say that would comfort him. They had entered the belly of the beast.

I can’t sense vitality past the wood structure, Maria noted.

The material must be incredibly dense. Given whose lair this is, I’m willing to bet this wood isn’t common.

Achemiss was inside the vitality-masking walls, doubtlessly scrutinizing their movements. Two End arrows extended from her and Ian into the house. They pointed diagonally downward, indicating that Achemiss should be hunkering down on a lower level.

Just then, the doors to the house swung open, revealing the form of an olive skinned, raven-haired man wearing a black mask over the top half of his face. Maria thought it must be made of the same material as the walls because she couldn’t perceive the shape of his face beyond the mask. Even his eyes were covered.

His vitality looked real–it was white, with a few streaks of gray–but the End arrows continued through the floor, not touching the man. He’s a fake, Maria told Ian.

It was what they expected. Why would Achemiss show his real body if it was unnecessary to do so?

Even though Maria knew that the man wasn’t real, she found herself captivated by him. This was what Achemiss looked like–the equivalent of her world’s bogeyman. As was true of most monsters, he looked like a normal man, one of the countless practitioners who roamed Eternity. He didn’t seem evil or give off a threatening aura.

The Achemiss double smiled. “How was the journey? I prepared refreshments.”

This isn’t what I expected, Ian thought. Maria sympathized.

Ian flew forward but stopped hovering as he came within a few feet of the elevated porch. His shoes clicked on the vinyl as he strode up the stairs.

In moments, he stood face-to-face with the Achemiss double, who propped the door open.

“The journey was uneventful, but I could really go for a drink.”

Achemiss’s double chuckled as he stepped inside. “I’m curious what tastes an ancient might have–I confess that this is the first time I’ve been honored by an ancient visiting my home.”

“It was an eventuality,” Ian said, following. Beyond the door was a cavernous front room, taking up a full two stories of height. Despite being made of dense wood, the roof and walls were oddly translucent, letting in light from all directions. Some parts of the room were covered in colored glass that filtered the light, casting brilliant images on the solid wood floors.

On the walls hung various items that Maria assumed to be artifacts, with plaques arranged beneath them listing a date and a name. These were artifacts that Achemiss must have acquired for his collection. Aside from the artifacts, there were a few vases and urns, but no other furniture.

The centerpiece of the room, however, were two massive, intact skeletons that were suspended above them, taking up the entire upper half of the chamber. Colored lights hit them at just the right angles, painting the bones in vibrant colors.

A blazing tiger fought a surging serpent. The tiger was on its back legs, one paw at its side for balance, the other raised up, poised to swipe. The serpent was half entangled in the tiger, constricting it, its menacing jaws splayed wide.

The bones shifted slowly, like a scene played back in slow motion, and the lights perfectly followed their movements.

“Do you like my sculpture?” Achemiss asked, noting Ian’s interest. “I made that seven hundred years ago for a client who reneged on a contract. I decided to keep it for myself.”

“It’s inspired,” Ian said, though his tone was only mildly impressed. Maria knew he was feigning disinterest–she could feel his interest over their bond.

Achemiss nodded and led Ian through an archway.

Maria, Ian thought, disable your intention matrix. I want to know if you can guess at his dialect.

He ascended a thousand years ago, she reminded him. Soolemar knew him back then and should remember.

You give him too much credit, Ian replied. It’s been a long time. Achemiss oversaw his own sect, but in Soolemar’s memory, that sect wasn’t wiped out when he ascended, implying that Achemiss went elsewhere to ascend. Perhaps back to wherever he grew up originally.

What’s the point? Maria wondered. Knowing more about Achemiss won’t help you kill him, not at this juncture.

At a minimum, it’s to satisfy my curiosity, Ian admitted. This man is the source of so many problems. I want to know how he came to be. All we know is that Achemiss is from Adrillon, which is like saying I’m from Shattradan. It’s not at all helpful.

Fine, I’ll give it a try, Maria responded. She focused on the next words from Achemiss’s mouth, forcing her mind to hear what he was actually saying rather than a translation provided by Eternity’s intention matrix.

Maria couldn’t understand a single word out of Achemiss’s mouth for the next minute or so. So much for guessing an accent. Ian simultaneously ingested her memories while conversing, his Beginning affinity allowing him commit Achemiss’s words to memory for later analysis.

Deciding that she’d heard enough, Maria let her focus abate. The intention matrix kicked into gear.

“This is the Numinian Pearl,” Achemiss explained, pointing to a round orb that could fit into the fist of a child. It lay on a pedestal in the hallway. “I acquired it recently. It permits the user to see perfectly through watery mediums over long distances. An understated but useful artifact for trawling prizes from aquatic planes.”

Three artifacts later, they arrived at a parlor room with floral upholstered furniture colored ivory and bronze. A small cat lay next to the door, its back studded with four spines. As they entered, the cat stood up and walked to a glass coffee table, its spines extending and bending like large, many-jointed fingers. It picked up a tea pot from a circular hot plate and poured pale green liquid into two delicate cups.

Achemiss sat down and the cat jumped onto his shoulder, purring.

The cat would be cuter if it wasn’t dead, Maria thought.

I’m going to be honest, Ian began, I’m trying not to laugh. Of course Soolemar is a dog person and Achemiss is a cat person.

Just one more dimension of enmity, Maria added, mentally chortling. It was such a ridiculous observation–such an Ian observation. Here they were, facing down the enemy in his own lair, and Ian fixated on the guy’s cat.

Never change, Ian, Maria thought to herself. Never change.