185: The One Who Remembers (Patreon)

Silence pressed on the room with the weight of ages past.

Ashani’s brilliant smile shone like the sun, clearing it.

She’s so… perfect, Vir thought, unable to wrest his gaze from Ashani’s azure eyes. They shone with a depth so deep, he could’ve believed they contained an entire realm within them.

“In simpler terms, Ashani is a construct of the Prime Imperium.”

Vir found his thoughts drifting until he caught them. This was the third or the fourth time it had happened.

What are you even doing? Vir flushed, thinking of Maiya. It truly wasn’t like him to have such thoughts. What’s gotten into me? Wait, no. She’s a being of the Prime Imperium. That makes her a living goddess. It makes sense I’d feel this way in her presence. Agh! That’s not important right now!

“You were… constructed?” He asked, partially to distract himself. “And did you say Janak? Do you mean Lord Janak? A stern, er, person, with a long white beard and long white hair?”

Ashani furrowed her brows in confusion. “Janak is Janak,” Ashani said, turning the palm of her hand up. Above it, a miniature person sprung into existence. It was made purely of Ash prana, so it would’ve been invisible to ordinary eyes, but Ashani clearly expected him to be able to see it.

“Er, Lady Ashani? Can you see prana as well?”

“Of course. Can’t everyone?”

“Er, not quite. I can, though.”

The prana image differed substantially from the avatar of Janak, whom Vir had met at Valaka Amara, but the difference was strictly one of age. The image showed a younger man with short cropped hair and a full, but short, beard.

“Ashani is a fabricated being,” she continued, “crafted by the one who lived in this very home.”

This is Janak’s home!?

Vir’s head spun. What did this all mean?

For one, it meant he was speaking to a goddess. One of the beings from the Age of Gods. Perhaps the only such being still alive, aside from Janak. Or the copy of Janak, as he’d clarified.

Vir took a deep, calming breath.

“Okay, I have a million questions, but let’s start with the basics. How should I address you? You’re from a race of people we—er, humans—consider gods. Should I prostrate? I feel like I should prostrate.”

“Pfft! Gods? As in deities? How amusing!”

Vir dropped to his knees, but Ashani grasped his shoulder, pulling him back up.

“Ashani is no god. You may refer to her as Ashani.”

“Lady Ashani, then,” Vir said, not meeting her eyes. Out of respect, and also because he found it impossible to concentrate when he did. It was the best compromise he could make. “Do, uh… do you all talk that way?”

“Pardon?”

What are you doing, you chal? You can’t lecture a goddess about the way she talks!

“I mean, referring to yourself in the third person. It’s… unusual.”

And somewhat endearing, too, he didn’t add. Vir pictured Maiya speaking that way for a moment, and his heart nearly melted. Gonna have to ask her to do that when I get back.

“Oh? Is it?” Ashani asked, pressing an index finger to her cheek. “I can talk like this? Is this any better?”

“Well, I don’t know about better. Please, do what’s natural for you. I was just curious.”

I just got a goddess to change how she talks! That’s… amazing? Presumptuous?

After she’d modernized her speech, Ashani had come across as casual and approachable. After much internal debate, Vir decided to treat her as he would anyone he was close to, ignoring what she represented. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to communicate with her at all.

“It was not so unusual to refer to one’s self in the third person. ‘Twas considered a sign of humility. Speaking in the first person was considered somewhat rude at the time. Then again, it was millennia ago. ‘Tis unsurprising for such customs to have changed.”

“It’s actually the opposite these days,” Vir said, hopping off the bench to run through a few stretches. He’d been so caught up with Ashani that he’d forgotten about his own body’s state.

“May I ask how I’m still alive? I feel… fine. Great, actually. I thought my leg was crushed, and I was pretty sure I had all sorts of internal wounds.”

Ashani tilted her head in confusion. “As Asha—as I said, nanopranites have healed you.”

“That’s the blue liquid you injected into me? I can’t say I understand, but I’m incredibly grateful!”

“Aaah! Ashani is frustrated. May I?” she asked, placing her hands on Vir’s temples.

“What are you—”

Foreign prana flooded into Vir’s body through her hands, and suddenly, Vir was no longer standing in Ashani’s home. He was in a research laboratory, wearing a white coat and poring over moving screens that flickered with light—monitors. He held the metal leads of a measuring device, analyzing the signal traces of an inscription engraved within a magic orb.

Images flickered rapidly through Vir’s mind. Memories of concepts, terminologies… understanding. Words like current, voltage, potential difference, vacuum, atoms, and more flooded into him. Nothing complete—only fragments of ideas—but it allowed him to understand her words.

Vir reeled when she took her fingers away moments later, reeling with nausea that threatened to make him retch.

“Your physiology is too different from my people,” Ashani said with a frown. “It seems we are incompatible.”

“What was that?” Vir breathed when he’d recovered from the ordeal. “That was incredible!”

“Telepathic transfer. I promise you, I am not normally this bad at thought transference. I feel this was a failure. It is certainly not because I’m rusty,” Ashani said, pouting.

“No! Not at all,” Vir replied, shaking his head vigorously, earning him a satisfied nod from the goddess. “I can’t tell you about most of what you showed me, but at least I know what you mean now. Those pranites—they’re like tiny bugs, aren’t they? They’re flowing through my blood, healing wounds, and doing all sorts of other things?”

Ashani’s face lit up. “Yes! Excellent.”

“Do you know how long they last? Something like this would be incredibly useful for me.”

“Not long, I’m afraid,” Ashani said. “They will dissolve once their prana reserves deplete. Many have already been consumed to restore your injuries.”

“I… see,” Vir replied. “But wait. If they run on prana, couldn’t I just power them with my own body’s prana?”

“I am unsure,” Ashani replied. “My knowledge of these topics is limited to the basics. I was designed as a companion automaton, not a research model.”

Something to look into, Vir thought, massaging his temples.

“How long was I out? I never asked.”

“Two and half of your sleep cycles.”

“Two days!?” Vir exclaimed. “I need to get back to…” his voice trailed off.

“Lady Ashani… This is Mahādi, isn’t it? The lost city of the gods?”

Ashani’s eyes widened. “I am surprised you know of it! Indeed. This is the capital city of the largest civilization that spanned the realm. At least, it was.”

Vir wanted nothing more than to drill Ashani about that topic, but there was a more pressing matter to discuss.

“Can you send me back? To where I came from?”

It’d taken Vir some time to work up the courage to ask. What were the chances? Even if a goddess like her could make Ash Gates, who was to say she could return him back? What if he ended up on his own, separated by half a realm?

“Of course! I can send you back whenever you wish! Do you desire to return now?”

“Oh,” Vir said. “That’s, er… not what I’d expected.”

I can go back? Seriously?

“How else would I have created those Ash Tears to watch you?” Ashani asked.

“So that was you. I always felt like those gates weren’t random.”

The goddess chuckled. “No, indeed. Life can be somewhat boring here. Long ago, I stumbled upon that Mahakurma. I’ve been keeping tabs on it ever since. ‘Tis easier than the other beasts, for it does not move very often.”

“So you can create Ash Gates wherever you like?” Vir asked incredulously.

“Yes, though I cannot control the placement of the initial gate,” Ashani replied. “Once I have established a gate to a particular location, however, I can recreate that gate at will, assuming I am standing at the same location as before.”

“That’s incredible.”

Ashani beamed with pride. “So? Shall I send you back now?”

Vir hesitated. Should he go back, though? If this truly was Mahādi, then he’d stumbled upon the very core of the Ashen Realm. The prana density that had nearly killed him proved that. It was the very place Shardul and Ekanai had wanted him to come. Janak had told him to meet him there… When he was ready. Vir didn’t feel anywhere close to ready, but he was here now. How many chances would he get?

While he wished to return to Cirayus, if he was right…

“Er, Lady Ashani, do you know how time passes in the regular Ashen Realm compared to here?”

“I have never once ventured outside this realm, but from my snooping, I to say that time passes far more slowly here than it does outside.”

Then I have no reason to return right away, Vir thought. Even if he couldn’t know the exact rate at which time flowed, he was confident the difference would be dramatic, here in the deepest part of the Ash.

Maybe I ought to linger here a bit.

There was no telling what secrets Ashani could teach him. Perhaps even secrets about himself, and those who came before.

“Ash gate creation should not be underestimated,” Ashani said, standing straight. “But Ashani’s powers are vast and many. She can send you back whenever you like.”

Am I… supposed to praise her? Yeah, she definitely looks like she wants me to praise her.

“That’s truly impressive. I can’t even imagine how you create those gates,” Vir said, and he meant every word. The feat wasn’t just spectacular, it was the kind of thing he’d expect from gods.

Vir omitted how she’d slipped back to her third person dialect. Maybe she was trying to come across as humble?

“Neither can I,” she said. “Truthfully, I do not know the workings behind the creation of these gates. ‘Twas not a power bestowed upon me by my creator.”

“How’s that possible? Did another god—er, Imperium researcher—give it to you?”

Ashani shook her head. “How else does one obtain great power? At terrible cost. Come,” she said, exiting the room.

Vir followed her through an unadorned hallway to the door, which dissolved into nothingness when she approached. Vir stepped outside onto a landing. Like the lift at Balindam’s Lower City, it descended to the street, though it required neither rope nor manpower to do so.

A half dozen Ash Wolves lounged nearby, as if guarding the entrance to Ashani’s home.

No, not as if, Vir thought. They were guarding her home.

They perked up at her approach, whining affectionately, each vying for her attention.

“They’re quite gentle creatures once you get to know them,” she said, petting one beast after another. “And very loyal!”

Vir didn’t know if it was on account of the prana density, or if they were simply a different breed, but Ashani’s wolves were half again as large as the ones he’d fought in the Ash.

So large, in fact, that Ashani barely had to reach down to pet them.

Feels wrong to call them Ash Wolves, Vir thought. Based on their prana signature and the way they fought, Vir wouldn’t be surprised if they came to Balar One Hundred each.

Ashfire Wolf. That’s a good name. The prana that burned off their hides looked like black flame.

Vir approached one, but it loped away, clearly unwilling to be pet by the likes of him.

“Please don’t mind his reaction. They’ve known only me until now. They’re simply shy.”

Felt more like indignation than shyness, Vir thought, but he didn’t press the issue.

“I didn’t even know ash beasts could be trained,” he said.

“Most cannot, not without erasing their minds,” Ashani replied. “Ash Wolves are one of the few beasts with both the right disposition and intellect to be trained. Though all beasts in this realm go mad shortly after birth, I’m afraid.”

“Did you help these out?” Vir asked, imagining a day where he might have a wolf as a companion himself. He’d missed Neel dearly. Nothing could replace Neel, of course, but having an Ash Beast at his side would be of tremendous help in battle.

While he had to be careful sending Neel into danger, he’d have to worry more for his enemies, rather than an Ash Wolf. Besides, Vir could scarcely imagine the sheer presence an Ash Wolf pet would command, in either the Human or Demon Realms.

People would piss their pants! Vir thought giddily.

“I did,” Ashani said. “I happened upon a litter some time ago. I administered a similar treatment to the one I gave you. You could say I raised them. The avian beast’s corpse had been disposed of—there wasn’t even a trace of their battle. No damaged buildings, no blood. Nothing.

Lightning cracked in the skies above. A soul-shattering roar shook the world.

Vir looked up.

“Is that…”

“A Wyrm. She has been here from the very beginning.”

“She?” Vir asked.

Ashani pointed up, to the top of a nearby building. “There. Follow me.”

She moved near-instantaneously, disappearing from sight.

Vir craned his neck to see where she’d gone. All the nearby buildings soared to dizzying heights, making for a bizarre environment unlike any city Vir had ever experienced. Humans simply didn’t have the magic to create such impossibly tall structures. They loomed over the street like sentinels, casting long shadows upon the ground.

Vir Leaped up, grabbing onto a protrusion on the side of the building that contained Janak’s home. It took several more Leaps to make it to the roof, but he got there easily enough.

When he did, Vir nearly stumbled when he took in the scenery, and it wasn’t on account of the stiff breeze. For the first time since setting foot in this realm, his eyes took in the whole city. Mahādi.

Hundreds of great black spires speared up, piercing the sky. Lightning raked them constantly, but the buildings were so far away, the booms barely reached them.

Buildings extended for miles in every direction, deep roads intertwining them. The deep streets remained free of soot despite the continuous ashen rain, looking as pristine as the day they were abandoned, millennia ago.

A colossal wyrm floated lazily in the sky, high above. Parts of its body disappeared into the black clouds, revealing only sections of its tremendous length. Somehow, that only made the beast even scarier.

Desolate though the city was, Vir saw the vestiges of greatness. Faded gold lined everything, contrasting against the deep black. All the mines in the Known World might not have enough gold to match the Imperium’s creations. The result was not ostentatious, but grand. Or it would have been, had the city not been a lifeless corpse.

Vir’s eyes returned to the wyrm, and the writhing mass it circled. It took him a few moments to register what he was actually looking at. It was a creature invisible to the eye.

When he registered its true nature, his knees shook, and he wailed in despair. Tears flowed and terror seized his muscles.

Why is that thing here!?

“The Prana Swarm never leaves the central spire,” Ashani said quietly. “Else, life in this realm would have perished ages ago.”

The wave passed over him and he regained his senses… to a degree.

“The… central spire?” Vir asked, forcing his breaths to slow. Ashani pointed, and then he saw it. To Prana Vision, the tower that stood above them all was no tower at all. It was a writhing mass of pitch-black.

The gargantuan Swarm perfectly contoured the building, taking its shape, wrapping it in a layer of prana.

Its enclosure was absolute—beginning at the broad tower’s base and climbing high into the sky. There were no clouds above this building, for a vortex had formed. A perfectly circular gap through which the spire pierced. It was as if the clouds themselves had fled from the Swarm. It had to have been at least three thousand paces in height.

“That’s no ordinary Swarm,” Vir whispered.

“No,” Ashani replied. “No it ‘tisn’t. ‘Tis the oldest of the Swarms. The most powerful.”

Vir didn’t doubt it. And yet, even millennia later, the Imperium's building stood, seemingly impervious to the colossal being of pure energy. More than anything else, it was a testament to the level of Imperium advancement.

“In my realm, there’s a group who worships a Prana Swarm,” Vir said. ”A very particular Swarm. I think I just found it.”

Ashani said nothing, instead looking off into the distance with melancholy.

“Lady Ashani, what happened here? What terrible curse turned Mahādi into this?” Vir asked, gesturing to the blighted scenery.

“Some things cannot be told. They must be shown. Felt. Would you like to see?”

“What would that entail?” Vir asked cautiously.

“A virtual projection of the events leading to the end. Brace yourself, for there are no happy endings here. No forever afters. Only tragedy, suffering, and death. It is a tale of dazzling dreams and crippling regret. It is our story.”

Vir made his resolution.

“Show me.”