starlit heroics chapter 8

~*~*~* Chapter Eight: In The Dark Of The Night *~*~*~

Somewhere, far away from the Eight Kingdoms, and in fact away from Xephixir itself, there was a planet cloaked always in choking dusty purple smog. Beyond that smog lay vast wastelands of dry, cracked plains, ruined forests, and destroyed cities. One such ruined city stared down the very seat of that oppression: The Lost Society Fortress.

In the settlement once known as Shadeholm, the sick, brutalized people were forced to stare down that fortress every day.

It stood tall in the distance, the last thing visible before the filthy haze swallowed the landscape. It rose taller than even the mountains it was ringed by, its eight pillars and ninth central tower seeming to be the only thing sitting on the edge of the ruined world. The people, the diseased and dying humanoids who were forced to subsist in this environment, looked upon it with hatred and disdain. They feared the travelers who came from the single broken road that went that way, for either they could be slaves making an escape, or assassins sent for their heads.

All except for one cloaked figure. The townsfolk learned to recognize the billowing of the shadows that signified the mysterious traveler coming down the road today, and a small, ragged-looking child knocked together a few pieces of rusting metal. The sound was loud enough to alert the villagers, and a number of unwashed heads came to investigate.

Beneath a dark, ratty hood, a pair of soft crimson eyes stared up at them. From that crowd, an older, weathered, draconic looking gentleman wearing a suit vest cobbled together from scrap hobbled down to her, using a dessicated tree branch as a cane. He was much larger than anyone else in the crowd, and stood out from them even further by way of his scales, a bright, sunny yellow that the thin layer of murk only served to dim slightly. Eyes of cyan looked her over, pensive.

“Welcome back, lass. Have you made sure you weren’t followed?”

“As sure as I can, yes.” The woman pulled her tattered cloak around her tighter. “They want to attempt another raid on the town. He knows she’s here somewhere.”

“They’ll have the sage over all of our dead bodies, mark my words. She’s the last of her kind on our battered old Cerphixen, you know. She’s a treasure.”

“I’m aware. Set the traps, make sure you’ve moved them. You have time yet.”

“Thank you for the news. We’ll hide the children in the sanctuary. Are you here for her, then?”

“Yes, please. I need her counsel.”

“You know the way, then. Come along, I’ll escort you.”

When the older man reached out to touch the woman, she flinched and pulled away. It concerned him, but he didn’t pursue it. Not this one. Instead, he took the lead, and led her down the hill the settlement stood on, eventually making a hard left into a thicket of thorns and dead trees. The woman followed him closely into a hidden passage, leading into a deep, dark cave.

Things skittered and hissed in the pitch blackness, and the only visible light to speak of was the dim, sickly purple glow of unnatural spots and patches on the wall. It smelled in here of oil and sickness and the very air around them was slimy and dense. It made the woman’s nose crinkle, but the man who accompanied her seemed resigned to it, from what little he could be seen in the fading light of the entrance now far behind them.

Unknowable things lashed out at them from hidden corners and pools of greenish ichor, blocked off by what seemed to be the dark around them in the form of a hardened shell.

“So, lass...” The man began, “You’re from Xephixir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Abducted, then.”

“Swept away, to sow discord in Librata, yes…”

“Heh. Once upon a time I lived on Xephixir, too. I traveled around the three worlds to tell my stories to anyone who would listen to them. But… then the Cataclysm fell upon me, and I was one of the survivors. They disrupted the portal to Ethernealrus, so I was trapped. Now, since then, I’ve told my stories to the children here. I felt I had to. The sage down here can’t be the only one keeping the old legends alive, can she.”

“But that was a hundred years ago...”

“Aye lass, I’m older than the Cataclysm. And you… you are much younger. When the portals were closed, many tales were lost, both to the other two worlds and to old Cerphixen. I’ll admit… I would love to see Lumentia again.”

“That makes two of us, yes… sir?”

“Aye?”

“I’ve come here many times now… why, then, did you choose now to speak to me?”

“You haven’t done me wrong yet. Many travelers from out that way only come to do us all dirty. And when you said you were from ol’ Librata, heh… well, I thought I’d never see someone from home again.”

“It is a surprise, yes...”

“Tell me, lass. Would you care to hear a story from this old sack of scales?”

“I’d love to. It would be… comforting.”

“He hasn’t treated you well, I assume.”

Her silence told the man everything he needed to know.

“Well, how about I tell you of the world before the Cataclysm? Cerphixen is a planet as vast as Xephixir, after all, and the same was true back then.”

“Yes sir...”

“Though Xephixir was renowned as a nexus of elemental magic, on Cerphixen, the magic blended together. No one single element had a country built on it alone, no. Countries could carry slants of two, three, maybe even more charges, and it twisted the lands it coalesced in just as it does back home. Before the Cataclysm, I would travel into undersea cities built deep in trenches, lit by only the bioluminescence of the deep sea life. I’ve stayed beneath the glass walls of an inn in a country where it rained light from the sky as much as it rained thunder and lightning. Oh, it’s been a long time since these old bones have seen such radiant light.”

“Fascinating...”

“If Xephixir is a world of raw elemental power, and Ethernealrus is a world where the eight twist and flux around themselves and each other, then Cerphixen could certainly be called a world of possibility. When light and dark meet, you would find it here. Where fire and frost meet, you could certainly find it here. It was just as beautiful as home, and its people loved it, as we loved ours. The secluded Mozorro, the shy Spirit Children. The powerful Existen and the nimble Skrieni. All of ‘em. They revered it, and they revered the gods that they believed shaped it this way. Some lost tales even spoke of gods older than them.”

“...Older gods?”

“Aye… how about I let the sage tell you that tale?”

When the woman looked in front of her again, she was standing in front of filigreed marble doors with the mark of Light emblazoned on them. They seemed pristine, a stark contrast to the filthy, grungy, tainted cave around them, giving off a noticeable glow in the pitch. As soon as she became aware of it, she reached out, and knocked on it.

After a small pause, they could hear a voice through it.

“State your business.”

“Belenus, from the settlement above, and the Requiem agent you’ve been seeing.”

“Which Requiem agent?”

“Cassandra.” The woman stated. When she did, the doors slowly creaked open, into a nicely lit temple made of marble and gold, much like the entrance.

The two of them stepped through into a spotless temple, with a statue of a six-winged goddess standing above an ornate altar. At one point, the windows to either wall may have been portals to outside air, but now they were blocked by dirt and grime and stone. There to greet them, at a table that clearly didn’t belong in the main hall, was a robed woman of porcelain white skin and long ears, with hair that spanned the whole spectrum of colors, down to the floor. She stretched broad white wings out, showing off feathers that glimmered like opals in the light of the hall.

“Hello, Sister Astra.” The man greeted.

“I hope the surface has been safe, Belenus.”

“Quiet, too quiet. The lass here has warned us about a raid.”

“They haven’t found me yet, and they won’t now, either. Send the children down, they will not have another.” The sage of the buried temple looked toward the cloaked woman. “And you, Cassandra. Have you been faring any better? … Has he left you alone..?”

“… No.” Cassandra shook her head. “He won’t. He’s obsessed with me, I’m certain of it. And should I try to resist...”

“I know. You don’t have to say anymore. Not if it’s as bad as I fear.”

The man, Belenus, frowned quite loudly. “If it’s all the same to you, I was telling the lass a tale of how the land used to be.”

“Ah! Of course. You both have the same homeland. You’re both Xephixerian.”

“Aye. I told her, the land used to be magnificent. A land where the gods were revered. And none revered them as much as the Existen, before the Cataclysm.”

“Yes… my fellows. The ones who lost their minds…”

“I was tellin’ her, you’re a treasure. The last one still with us. But you can vouch for me, aye? That your kind revered the divine. Even the old gods. The Creators. You yourself spun me that tale.”

“Yes...” Cassandra nodded. “I wasn’t aware there were gods older than those we know.”

“Oh, of course! You must mean the Tale of the Eleven.” Astra nodded. “Here, have some tea, and some fruit from my trees. I’ll fetch the book. Both of you, make yourselves comfortable, in as much as you can.”

The two of them sat and looked each other over, an awkward silence settling between them. In the silence, Cassandra lowered her hood, revealing her olive skin and her dark, bushy black hair held back only by a damaged and broken diadem. With her face revealed, it looked as if she had been crying.

Belenus had already gleaned that this, in particular, was an extremely touchy subject, and he certainly knew that Xerxes was no gentleman, but he could see the storm brewing. Whatever had happened to this woman had been sustained, and it had been terrible.

“Your eyes, lass.”

“Wh-”

“Those are the eyes of somebody who’s had enough. Someone who’s plannin’ trouble. Big trouble.”

“It’s actually what I came here to discuss. I wanted somebody to remember me if I fail in what I’ve chosen to do.”

“You’re plannin’ a shake-up.”

“I am, yes.”

“That’s dangerous. A thousand shake-ups haven’t loosed his grip on Cerphixen, how’ll yours be different? How do you plan to dethrone a god? I want to believe it’s possible. All of us do.”

“Mine will come from within. He hosts a militant organization of thousands. How many of them do you believe truly want to be there? Jack has disappeared, so have the children he promoted to keep me pacified. He can’t simply melt a force of that size. He is not Death the Reaper, nor the Crow King.”

“Ah, I see you’re familiar with some of the old tales.”

“I learned of him through Sister Astra. A fascinating tale, indeed, and one I would certainly believe.”

“You’d be wise to. I know damn well that the Crow King is real, and his wife, too. The Fae Queen.”

“I’d be interested in hearing that story one day.”

“And I’d be happy to tell it.”

Footsteps from a back room signified the return of the sage who lived in the temple, carrying with her a beaten old tome with a bookmark set in its pages. On its cover was emblazoned in dulled gold letters, ‘Long-Forgotten Myths of Time and Sleep’. She sat across the table from the pair, and carefully opened what was. Clearly, a very old and well-read book.

“This,” she began, “was a very rare book even in Cerphixen’s glory days. Only about seven hundred copies were ever printed, and I would bet that the tyrant has destroyed all of them but mine. Had I the time and power, I would put it back into print, because some of its tales are fascinating. It tells of the dream bubble gardens of the Vaziranha, hanging in the mythical Void of Dreams. It speaks of the curse on the Etherneal City of Sleep, and how those people were hexed only to wake up when a great and powerful entity enters our reality.”

“Fascinating...” Cassandra already looked captivated. The way these two spoke of their tales and myths reminded her of someone very dear to her.

“It also contains the oft-untold legend of the creation of our universe. Contrary to popular belief, our gods were not the gods who shaped this world. Ranthael did not expand space from nothing, nor did Lucina and Lilith concentrate the light and shadow from the magical chaos. They are the inheritors of a legacy, so the tale goes. They are the ones who took the mantle after the great and terrible tragedy that created us.”

“Go on, Sister,” Belenus urged, “Tell us the tale.”

“Long ago, before the universe, before the first mortals, before even Ranthael, there was another world, lost to us. It was a world without magic, but nearly as advanced as ours, so it says. From this world, ten men and women were chosen, contacted by an alien being unknown to them. He spoke in cryptic riddles and coded words, about a game that these ten were fated for.”

“A game?”

“Oh yes, with a great and cosmic bet levied upon it. You see, in order to so much as begin this game, the ten had to pay a great price – the destruction of their home planet. Everything upon it would be reduced to ash. But, if they did not place their bet themselves, it was inevitable that somebody else would. Such is the will of fate. But they did not know the price of entry until it was already too late, so they cannot be faulted.”

“But… bets always come with a prize for winning.”

“The prize should be clear. If the ten, now eleven, of them won, they would be given their own universe in the stead of their home. Rather than a planet, a universe several million orders of magnitude larger. A new home, to shape as they pleased. All there was to do was to complete the tasks set upon them. To do this, each one was gifted powers, and a title. Their alien patron arrived with them, bringing their number to eleven, total.

“The first, a Knave of Space. His role was to shape the world in accordance of the wishes of he and his friends. What our world became was supposed to hinge on his effort. He might have been known as the Spatial Blade.

“The second, an Heiress to Life, whose role was to keep her fellows alive. In exchange, she would be allowed to breathe the breath of life into the world. She would be called Life’s Inheritor.

“The third, a Healer of Winds, who embodied the freedom of the skies and whose role was as a mender of self worth. For her service, she would give the world its winds. She would have been the Sky-Mender.

“The fourth, a Scholar of Light, who gave luck and fortune to his company. He alone would be able to solidify the light and give us knowledge and wealth. He would have been called the Lightkeeper.

“The fifth, a Servitor of Minds, who provided her fellows with good judgement. She would give us the power to think, decide and be aware of ourselves. She would have been the Mind’s Handmaiden.

“The sixth, a Visionary of the Deep Darkness. She provided guidance in the form of what Was Not, and knew all there was to know about secrecy and the spaces beyond worlds, which she would have brought to us in the form of the dark that mirrors the light. She would have been the Voidsinger.

“The seventh, sheer Royalty of Wrath. She was chaos on the battlefield, the vanguard in their party, who would have gifted us with passion and emotion and willpower. She would have been known as the Queen of Rage.

“The eighth, a Wizard of Souls. She would keep the sense of self about the party even at their lowest, and she would have given us souls, the afterlife, and our sense of self. She would have been the Heart-Bender.”

“The ninth, a Defender of Hopes and Dreams. He gave the party something to believe in, gave them inner strength, and he would have given us that same gift. He, the party’s strange, outsider patron, would have been called the Dream-Guard.

“The tenth, a Sorceress of Time. Her duty was to keep her fellows on the right track and ensure they reached their goal before their time was up, by managing branching timelines and fixing them. In exchange, she would give us the flow of days and hours, minutes and months. She was known as the Time-Weaver.

“The last, a terrible piece of work, a Mockmaker of Bonds. She acted as a friend to the others, a sweet and innocent thing, but in truth she was a being of ambition at the expense of others. She tried to drive them apart, make them all feel truly alone and separated from one another, so she could claim our universe for herself. For this, she is mocked herself, as a Sunderer of Blood.

“At the start of the game, the party progressed smoothly, but the Sunderer’s dark ambitions soon took hold. She began to drive apart the bonds of the players, but there were some bonds that even her powers over unity just couldn’t break.

“She could not split the closeness of the Lightkeeper and the Handmaiden, a pair of twins who could not live without each other. She could not drive apart the Time-Weaver and the Voidsinger, for they were dangerously codependent. She could not break those two away from the Queen of Rage or the Heartbender, for they were the parents of these two twin sisters. And, she could not drive a spike between the Time-Weaver and the Lightkeeper, for they kindled a romance deeper than the Sunderer could ever have understood.

“The Sunderer grew digusted with them all, but kept her facade of innocence and levity until the very end. There, at the very tail end of their game, the Eleven would face an unknowable monster, a representation of the sum of their quest. The Sunderer, as the battle began, sent the Heiress headfirst into the beast’s attacks, killing her on impact. There, the line was drawn. This Sunderer would have her way no matter the cost. The Spatial Blade was taken down as he was used as a meat shield, and the Sky-Mender died to her dagger. The Dream-Guard destroyed her, but was taken by the beast known as the Black King.

“Now, where once there were eleven, now there were only six. They fought the best they could, but one by one they were taken down. One by one, each one fell to mortal wounds, unable to fight anymore and certainly near death… except for the Time-Weaver. Enraged by the fall of her dearest loved ones, she split herself, into three, into nine, into twenty-seven, into many more. So many of those splintered selves fell, but the one-woman army was determined not to fall.

“But inevitably, she too faced Death in the eyes. As she, too, was about to meet mortal wounds, a meteor struck the beast, and another being came forth from it. Thanks to that being’s entrance, the Time-Weaver finally took down the Black King. But the damage was done. Her family was dying, and her friends were now dead. She knew she could not save them, and she despaired.

“Balefully, she finished the job of shaping our universe. She breathed the life, gave us judgement, light, dark, wind, passion, souls, hopes and dreams with the essence of the fallen. She entered our world with her dying comrades and the bodies of the rest, and found a man there, shaping the world. She would learn that his name was Ranthael, and that he had inherited the power of the Spatial Blade. He comforted her, and did everything he could to save the fallen, but it was too late for them. They died, and were buried in a location that now only His Highness knows.

“After that, the Time-Weaver hid herself away, unable to bare the grief of her loss. Her lover, her sister, and her mothers were gone. Her friends, slain by hubris. She, with Ranthael’s help, took pieces of the game and sealed herself away with them, in a place outside of time. There she remains to this day, grieving, mourning.”

“… Is that the story of our world, then?” Cassandra asked. “How harrowing. Sad, even...”

“It is the tale that has been passed down on Cerphixen for as long as there is memory. No one can quite pin down its origins for sure. Some say that Ranthael himself gave the world this tale, that she wouldn’t be forgotten. Surely, in Cerphixen’s heyday, there were temples in the honor of her and her fellows. I’ve been to them, while they still stood.”

“But would she want that, if she sealed herself away?”

“Ah, keep in mind my dear. She sealed herself out of mourning and grief. Such a divine being is not immune to her own emotions, for once upon a time, she too was a humanoid like us. With a family, and friends, taken from her. Ah, but, I suppose no one truly knows whether or not it’s real. There would be no way to, short of having Ranthael himself take you to where the Creators are buried.”

“An impossible task,” Belenus added, “You don’t just ask a god for a field trip, y’know. He’d have to deign you worthy, and for that you’d have to catch him. And good luck catchin’ a man who can teleport across the galaxy.”

“If she hadn’t sealed herself, do you believe the planet would have been ruined?”

“No way to know, now, I’m afraid.”

“I’m glad to have heard this one last story anyway.”

“Last…?” Astra looked concerned now. “What do you mean, last?”

“The lass is up to some trouble.”

“Oh dear...”

Cassandra glanced at one of the blocked off windows. “I’ve been gathering dissidents. The Seal of Red Life will disintigrate me if I attack alone, but he can’t stem a full-scale rebellion. Not completely. I’ve gathered the abducted and rallied the enslaved. It was a shock to see Letro, and he was shocked to see me. A double agent, has infiltrated their ranks.”

“That was the soldier you told me about. The one who enjoys fighting.”

“That’s the one, yes...”

“Are you absolutely certain? About this. The consequences would be dire for you should you fail.”

“I am sure. The consequences would be death, but to me, I suppose either result is satisfactory. I will ruin a tyrant, or I will die, but I will no longer be his pet.”

“But what of your family?”

“They will know. If I trust anyone to live through this upset, I trust Letro. They will know I died for freedom.”

“Lass, you’re soundin’ a bit fatalist.”

“Truth be told, I don’t expect to live. But any damage I can do, is good damage.”

“I can’t disagree,” Belenus sighed, “But I’ll admit our settlement would hate to lose you. You’re the thing standin’ between us and gettin’ caught unprepared. Still, I suppose maybe the damage will force ‘em to look inward a while. Stem the tide. But… lass. Promise us old souls somethin’.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t just throw your life away. Give ‘im a fight. Make sure you have some kinda escape route. Try to live. For us, if nothin’ else. I’m an old man who just wants to see home again. The Sister wants to see the surface again, and not risk being taken. If you die, well, there goes our glimmer of hope. If you live, then maybe you get home, and someone knows about our plight. Someone maybe comes to take us innocent souls away.”

“I’ll try my best. There are still arrangements to be made. Floorplans to be acquired, defenses to disable. Evaluations to be made.”

“Give ‘im hell, lass. I know I can’t stop you, so we can at least hope you’re safe.”

“I wanted somebody to know, in case I fail. Somebody who can pass on the tale to another, and maybe they’ll take pity on me. Some of the higher number certainly don’t. I dare not speak of Ank’s abysmal Cerphixean supremacy. I dare not consider Ultima’s fanatical loyalty.”

“You truly haven’t been treated kindly.”

The look Cassandra gave Belenus felt almost like she had put her hand on a hot stove. She pulled away from the topic quickly. “Thank you very much for the tales. You’re very passionate about them. Xephixir is sad to lose a bard quite like you, I’m sure of it.”

“I’m sure the Lumentian royalty of the time wasn’t so sad, hah.” He laughed, sadly, “I was a critic of that queen’s rule. She ruled with a sense of duty in the days leading up to the cataclysm, but she was overbearing and disregarding of outsiders. I witnessed Menodora’s execution with my own eyes, lass. I saw her cursed to rise every year. I doubt that queen would have batted a damn eyelash. I wonder if it’s gotten any better.”

“I can assure you it has.” Cassandra said with a certain softness. “Queen Lucidia is among the brightest women I’ve ever known. She carries a warmth with her, like a summer’s day… a radiance. She’s like a diamond, refracting all the colors of the rainbow.”

“You’re smitten.”

“Perhaps, yes… she and I were close, before I was taken. I never had the chance to profess myself before I found myself in trouble with the Libratan Mafia.”

“Well how’d you land yourself in that situation? Those were a dangerous lot, even in my day.”

“Truth be told, their leader of the time was a dear friend of mine, himself. I’d swear to you he was a good man, a sweet man to those he knew. He went by Nevermore, because he abandoned his given name. But he changed. And he changed one day for the worse. I ended up endebted to him for tracking down the assassin that murdered my brother. I thought he would think nothing of it, and the sudden shift was frightening, like a knife in my back. When I came to see him again, he had cronies, who were able to disable me and carry me off. When I woke… I was here. At first, I was angry. Now, I know for sure something was very wrong.”

“Troublin’, to say the least.”

“Yes… but I carry his wishes with me. For him to be working with a tyrant is far outside his character. Something has happened to him. I know he would truly want me to cause as much damage as I can. Maybe enough damage to learn what happened to him.”

“There’s some noble intent there, lass. I wish you nothin’ but the best.”

“Thank you. And, again, thank you for the tales. I will carry them with me as I go into battle, and know that this isn’t how the Time-Weaver would have wanted her world to become. I will fight for her just as much as Nevermore, and just as much as myself.”

“That’s the way, lass. Sister, have you anything to say?”

“None, except that I understand your sorrow. I watched my fellow Existen fall to that same strangeness.” Astra sighed, “I want to believe you can stem the tide before he goes mad. I’ve been trapped down here for so long… to know damage is being done would be wonderful.”

“I hope we meet again, but if we don’t, know that I carried your tales in my heart until the end.” Cassandra rose from her seat. “I have to return before they notice me missing. Set the traps and keep the village’s children safe. Good luck.”

“And same to you, love.”

With that, the lost royalty was on her way once more. Leaving the cave was as simple as entering it, keeping herself guarded with her shadowmancy. She had done this before, many times. It was her grounding point, after the days where the tyrant would…

...It was best not to dwell on it. For her own sake. For her own mind.

She followed a long dirt road back toward the fortress towering in the distance, keeping her eyes open for danger. Every so often, she would see a beast that almost resembled a dragon swoop from the skies and drag off some twisted animal, or even more distressingly, a person wandering the flat, open plain as she was. She knew those dread shapes well; they were the once-noble Existen, twisted into their beastly forms for as long as the taint that held the entire planet would keep them in its grips.

Somewhere within them, she liked to believe, their true minds were still there, caged away and waiting to be freed. Perhaps it was optimistic, but she would take anything she could get.

When the wind swept across the open field, it kicked up dry dust from the road and blew it for as far as Cassandra could see. There was nothing to stop it besides a distant treeline that swept over the horizon before the mountains and the fortress. She would have to traverse that forest, and avoid the guardian monster of the ruined village within, to reach the Lost Society Fortress again, and she had half a mind to just let the guardian take her.

She was so tired, but she had to fight. For Sister Astra. For Mr. Belenus. For Nevermore, and apparently, for the world’s own creator. She would fight for these fellows as much as this rebellion was about herself.

What she wouldn’t give to see her family again. She wondered if they missed her. She wondered if they cared. But she knew her younger sister well, she knew that the Queen of Librata would do anything in her power to find her sibling. If Evelor didn’t have his condition, she would have been the first to demand the Reviver Stone to bring him back. But he did have an illness that the healers couldn’t treat, and so his revival was barred by law.

By the time he was assassinated, he was in bad enough shape that it was almost merciful. A strange and saddening thought. Saddening enough that, at the time, Cassandra couldn’t take the throne after him. She couldn’t bare it. Rainer hadn’t been old enough at the time, so Talia took the crown in his stead. By the time she had been abducted for her debts, they had been in discussion about his readiness to take it.

She knew her sister didn’t mean to hold it from him. She didn’t know if the crown had been passed or not by now. She didn’t know the status at all anymore.

She would have a lot of catching up to do.

Perhaps thankfully, Cassandra arrived under the cover of the gnarled, twisted forest unnoticed. Here, the lost Existen wouldn’t see her and couldn’t catch her. Through this tunnel of wood and briar was an old, lost Mozorro town, which she happened upon soon enough.

Colorful, ornate masks lay scattered across the dirt and over a long-broken cobblestone path. Some were discarded, others still attached to the skeletons that might have been their former owners. She could sense their lost ghosts here, in this desecrated ground, watching her. They judged her as an outsider, for Cassandra knew from Sister Astra that the Mozorro were notoriously seclusive. They judged her as one of the ones responsible for the subjugation of a planet, but she hoped that they would see her as lost, afraid, and displaced.

Toward the center of the village, amid ruined houses and destroyed landmarks, rested a tangled up pile of dragon bones, chains and scale plates. The shadows beneath it shifted of their own volition, and Cassandra made a wide arc around them. Once upon a time those bones would have been a tremendous Earth dragon, but now they bore just as dread a curse as the rest of this world. You only make that mistake once, she thought, and never again.

Though Belenus and Sister Astra spoke of the supposed ‘glory days’ of Cerphixen, what Cassandra saw was a world that wanted to swallow her whole. She wondered what it might have looked like, sure, but she might not live to find out. All she could do was as much damage as possible, now. She would loosen the chains binding everyone, if it killed her. Either she would die, or she would escape. Either way, she would be free.

She was Number One. If only that meant she was second in command. No, that sycophant Animus, Ultima, was. She was considered as good as the tyrant’s wife. A meaningless title. She was a trophy. A display piece to be admired when she was obedient, and to be an example when she pulled away. And she knew she had to take both the punishment and the ‘reward’, to protect the other women in the ranks. If she was the target, they would be left alone. It was her burden to bare, and she hoped that if she died, they would at least be able to get away.

Somewhere past the town, along a winding road, the path began to incline, and then, visibly, took a sharp turn up the winding mountains. Cassandra would not be going that way. Rather than spend the time climbing the mountains, she merely passed through the rock in front of her, and into a passageway veiled by illusion. She looked down at the entrance marked by softly glowing runes painted in her own blood, with the mark of Shadow scratched into the ground. It was a worthy sacrifice to make to hide her passageway and force the attack squads to take the long way.

She turned to a wall, and cut the palm of her hand on a stray briar, using the finger of her opposite hand to paint out a message.

“Travelers beware. Here lies the path to the nightmare that grips Cerphixen. Signed, a Traitor to the Tyranny.”

Cassandra quickly moved on from her message. If she died, someone else would try to slay him. It was how it went, according to the others stuck there like her. Many tried. Many died at his throne.

The tunnel was as long as it was dark, but soon opened to a valley that at one point would have been lush and green, but now was just dry and desolate. She swallowed, hard, and ventured toward the massive doors. There were not guards posted at this door, nor security cameras. No, the only thing keeping the world out of this fortress was a handprint scanner on the door. It was a bold move, to be sure, as bold as the practice of Librata Castle to leave its gates open as a dare to its enemies.

She pressed her hand to the scanner, and the door creaked open slowly. She passed through a long, arching hallway covered in heraldry of the organization and of Xerxes himself, of which doors and hallways branched off in many directions. Though the fortress was populated, many of those populating it still looked somewhat sickly. They fared better than the townsfolk, Cassandra knew, because of the insidious deal he presented to those outside. Sell him your children, so they’ll be safe, and in exchange, they work for him.

But the whole organization was still recovering from Virulent, really.

As she passed from the opening foyer into a glass hallway displaying courtyards that looked comparatively healthy when put next to the rest of the planet, she heard the familiar sound of a rubber ball hitting the brick walls. When she turned to her right to look, she saw a familiar face. Two, in fact.

Jack sat there, looking absolutely depressed, half-assedly throwing his rubber ball at the wall and then running to touch the wall before it hit. Next to him, stood the Libratan knight, Letro, playing along much more enthusiastically. They seemed to be discussing something as they played their round of wall-ball.

Any friendly face was a welcome sight to Cassandra, and she drifted outside to observe.

“Man, and the lady even said free bagels! I’ve never had bagels that good!”

“Don’t I know it, Jackie. Lumentian bagels are legendary. Ahhh, I miss ‘em, but a knight’s gotta do what a knight’s gotta do. I’m learning a lot up here. Mostly about melting. That was… bad. Could be worse though.”

“What’s worse than the melty thing?!”

“Lots of things! Could have had their blood boiled from the inside, cooking their organs. Could’ve been lobotomized and fleshcrafted into a house. Could’ve been melted into semen.”

“Ew.”

“Exactly! There’s loads of ways that could be worse. Looooaaaads.”

“Melting is still pretty bad.”

“You know what’s not bad though?”

“… What?”

“Wall ball with one of my new number one broskis. Seriously, you’re getting me through this. You remind me of ol’ Danno, but… dumber.”

“Wow, thanks!”

“You’re not bad for a guy who doesn’t know how old he is. If we ever get off this taintball I’m taking you out on the town. We’ll go doing karaoke. Get into a bar fight. That kind of thing.”

“Man that sounds great! You know, you’re way better than the last guy he melted.”

“Yeah? Is that the same guy that wrecked Rainer’s clothes and his favorite scythe? Whole place seems sicker than a pedophile.”

“Virulent was a mistake.” Now Cassandra spoke, approaching the two men. “We all suffered with him around. He was tantamount to a walking corpse animated by every disease known to humanoids the three planets over.”

“Cassie!” Letro seemed surprised, but happy to see her. “You’re uh… looking less… bruised today. I’m not good at the sympathy angle. Where’ve you been all day?”

“Out, I suppose.” She took a seat nearby. “Reflecting. Visiting the townsfolk in that settlement.”

“Ah, one of those days, huh.”

“Mmhm.” She knew she couldn’t tell him. Not yet. “I see you two are getting along. Have either of you two seen young Kit today..?”

“Yeah she isn’t doing too well today either.” Letro shrugged. “Something about a girlfriend. Didn’t want to be bothered.”

“I suppose I’ll speak to her later, then. What are you doing?”

“Playing a game of wall-ball. You know the way. It’s a distraction from the rest of this shithole and it won’t get us in trouble.”

“Until I’m back to fetching coffee anyway.” Jack sighed. “This sucks. But at least I’m not dead.”

“That’s the spirit.” Letro patted his new friend on the back.

“He put up a sign in my room that says ‘don’t forget, you’re here forever’. Then he put one on my ceiling so I have to look at it when I fall asleep.”

“What a dick.”

“But it could still be worse. I could be dead. I could be dead in all those ways you said I could be dead.”

“It’ll be okay. Soon I’ll show my hand, fight the bossman and get us all out of here. Except Ank. Fuck that guy.”

“Yeah, just… just keep telling yourself that.”

“What, do you think I can’t do it? Back home there’s myths about me, y’know. The outer countries believe I turned water into wine and brought a dead man back to life without a Reviver Stone.”

“Really?”

“Totally. You know, they even said I walked on water without magic. I turned a fish and two loaves of bread into enough to feed a whole town.”

“Woah.”

Cassandra gave Letro a stern look for misleading the poor boy. “In any case, keep yourselves safe and keep your heads down. Have the two of you seen Dr. Varga? I should speak to him, about...” She trailed off.

Even Letro’s face softened. For as rough as he tended to be around the edges, this was one situation that required some tact. He had to try the sympathy angle. “Uh… yeah. Slammin’ Salmon’s in his lab, like usual.”

“Thank you. I’m certain he’d appreciate the break from Animus research.”

“Yeah, definitely...”

As Cassandra turned to leave, Jack and Letro exchanged uncomfortable glances.

“Being coffee boy sucks, but it’s not that bad.” Jack mumbled.

“Queenie’s gonna be pissed. And Danno… oh, Danno’s gonna try to head straight up here if he finds out. Bad enough she was abducted...”

“Hey why’s he abduct Xephixerians if he hates ‘em so much?”

“Just to get his rocks off, apparently. We shouldn’t keep talking about it. He’s a sick fuck who likes to watch the suffering, is my best guess. Shit...”


Somewhere deep in the heart of the fortress walls was an abnormally clean laboratory compared to the grime and grit that coated the abused and battered landscape. The air around it was filled with the humming of machines and the whirring of odd devices. And that lab, right now, was Cassandra’s destination.

She was greeted with the tiny, delicate clinks of vials against other vials, and soon came round the corner to see a man standing at a counter with a few tubes of swirling green liquid. He was certainly very strange looking, with one half of his face totally normal, and the other scarred up from some unknown ailment. The wind would have had no problem blowing him over, with his sallow face and narrow, underfed torso. He slicked back his jet black hair again to keep it out of the way, not noticing his visitor.

Cassandra watched him tinker with the various vials for a few minutes, grumbling about his situation, and some scientific organization that he might once have been a member of. Only when he set the vials down, did she reach out to get his attention.

The wiry man jumped and whipped around, reaching into his pocket for some weapon or another, before realizing who stood there. The two watched each other for a moment.

“… Ah. Number One.” The man spoke with a voice not unlike that of a lizard choking on a cough drop.

“Dr. Varga.” Cassandra replied in turn.

“Please, you? You may call me by my name. After all, we are comrades in captivity.”

“I suppose we are, yes. How are you faring now that Virulent is gone, Salamon…?”

“Better. I don’t suppose I’ll ever be rid of the scarring, but I am on the mend… that isn’t what you’re here for.”

“No… I thought you might appreciate a pause in the experiments.”

“Yes, I would. I’m forced to wonder what the tyrant is thinking, these days. He wishes me to set aside the Animus research he already threatens my life over, to look into that ancient myth of children sealed inside of Lua. I am a doctor and a biologist. I am not an astronomer.”

“Bit of an absurd myth anyway.”

“I’m certain he wants me to make Animii out of the moon children. It’s horrendous enough to use the captives raiding parties being brought here. I can only bare to get through it if I shut my mind off and become somebody else, I’ve found.”

“Has he given up on artificial Animii already..?”

“No, but he likes his shock troops. I suppose it isn’t as horrific as his melt… if the Phastii and Animii die together, they reunite. Of course, then there’s the strong odds that they’re brought to me again… vicious cycle. Oh, how I long for the indigo grasses of the Heartsoul Fields again. Sonidades, how I miss you.”

“Perhaps, someday soon, you’ll have your freedom.”

“So the planning is going well, I see.”

“As well as it can. Shadeholm is aware of what’s to come. I’ve warned them. And you..?”

“The latest batch is completely under my control. I need only throw the switch to awaken them.”

“Good. Avoid detection. If something happens to me-”

“You’re among the mightiest mages in the organization. Only that scrapper Letro might be a match. I’m uncertain how anything might happen to you. Unless...”

“I know what I must do, Salamon. Somebody needs to keep him occupied. Somebody needs to give him something to think about. I know the probable cost. I accepted that the day I felt myself strong enough to begin this plan at all.”

“… The blade turns black as pitch when he prepares the Seal. I’ve had to witness it before, myself. If you avoid its touch, you may yet live.”

“I see. Thank you. Now, then...”

“Of course. Come to the examination table and I’ll set to work.”

Cassandra was gently guided to a padded table of cold steel and sat down. When she was made comfortable, Salamon began an examination, checking carefully over her battered body for fresh bruises and breaks and cuts, and taking blood samples with which to assess her overall health. It was quick work, and when he was finished, he stitched closed the wounds he found and applied various topicals to others while he waited for a nearby machine to finish processing the taken fluids.

After a few minutes, the device printed a strip of paper, which he plucked free of its slot and began to read.

“Let’s see… negative for drug use, positive for antibodies associated with Eternal Mountain Fever, Andheran Influenza, and antibiotic-resistant fulguritis left over from that disease-ridden cretin. Normal hormone levels… except...”

Salamon had to take another look at the read-out, then grimaced loudly. Extremely elevated levels of estrogen and progesterone were a surefire sign of-

“What is it?”

He paused. He couldn’t tell her. Not after everything. Nearly the whole organization knew what she was being put through, and now here she was, preparing to die. Salamon liked her company. To tell her this might make her throw her life away, given her circumstances. With no other symptoms presenting yet, this would have had to be recent.

“N-nothing. I misread the read-out. Terribly sorry. You’re perfectly healthy aside from what was already there.”

“Thank you, then, Salamon. Again. You’ll hear word soon enough when… when it’s time.”

“Yes, of course...”

As Cassandra walked off again, Salamon looked down at the read-out. He hoped for her sake that she would be able to handle that news when it came.

If she lived at all.