114, 1/2

A chime struck, ringing out a hundred bells that rang and then went silent. A chorus of quiet, shrill voices sang in some unknown language, then calmed; waiting. Another chime. A drum. Thum. Thum. Thum. Quiet voices rose to the sky, as drums beat and the chimes turned to strings, vibrating out a tune of power, charging words with focus and ritual.

The music of the Feast flooded out of a pavilion made of light and shadow and rainbow-stained glass, three levels up from the ground floor. The song started the second Erick decided to leave for the party, and now, he was stuck, frozen in sudden reverence at the entrance to Quilatalap’s property. How could he move with that eerie song vibrating against his very soul, as drums thrummed the very sky? How could he do anything else but listen, as the white light of the Brightwater, the source of all illumination down here, began to flicker and mutate, and the air above began to change? He could not, for the music held him, and he listened.

Erick’s attention broke northward, to the center of the Brightwater District, where the eclipsing sun held high above the lake. It flickered. It was not the lake that was flickering, but that dark sun. Suddenly, that blot of darkness and light broke, scattering into a million pieces, spreading throughout the sky like the breaking of a glass world, turning the high sky of the Brightwater district into a land of broken darkness.

The music of the Palace went silent, as the sky stilled. Up above, in the pavilion of light and shadow that was sure to be the party, a woman in a white dress stepped out on a long cliff of white stone, facing the broken sky. She was alone, and she longed not to be alone any longer. She sang soft words to the world and though she was easily several hundred meters away, Erick heard her strange language, like she was singing directly to him. The singer was Queen; Erick almost didn’t recognize her. But that was Queen.

The music picked up again; a crescendo of power, rising to meet Queen’s unknown words. She bled, from her throat, from her arms, from her body. Her white dress turned to red. The white cliff dripped with red streams.

Suddenly, the music reached a point, and broke, and was no more, as Queen carried herself and her voice, all alone, out to the very edge, her words becoming every language Erick had ever heard.

“We live in Light, but seek the Dark, to seek the night, we give a spark! A time of fate, a land made whole, the world is made by this, our soul!”

The sky cracked. Queen disintegrated from the inside out, in one final, glorious moment. The shockwave of her death spread out in every direction, blowing out windows, cracking stone, breaking crystal from monuments and breaking the windows of Quilatalap’s house.

Erick held his breath. What the fuck just happened? Ophiels took up the music that was gone, but theirs was a quiet imitation; they were on high alert, but the music had been interesting while it lasted, and they wanted it to happen again.

And then the sky shifted once more, as a dark laugh reverberated the Palace, and Melemizargo spoke,

“A valiant, honorable display. But come on back, my little Queen. You’ve got plans to prepare!”

Time reversed in the vicinity of the white cliff. Blood, bone, and gore, flowed inward, resuming the shape of Queen. The Shade immediately knelt toward the sky, just in time to watch as six auroras flashed into the broken black sky above. Six lights, from white to black, along with red, green, blue, and yellow, shed deep glows upon the entire Palace, and likely the rest of the Brightwater District. The black sun did not return. The lights remained. The six lights became more as they mixed with each other, becoming true rainbows as more and more intermediary colors came into being. Under those prismatic lights, Erick watched the broken windows of the Palace heal, the broken streets shift back together. Walls that had fallen, rose; repaired.

Erick whispered, “What just happened?”

Quilatalap said, “They started the party without us.”

Erick looked askance at the man. Quilatalap was smiling as though he had told a funny joke. Normally, Erick would have retorted with a joke of his own, but had no jokes at the moment. He was all out of fucks to give, too.

Quilatalap noticed. He added, “Uh. The symbolism?”

“I got that part… But the murder? Was that real?”

“Of course. And then it was reversed.”

“Ah… Okay? Sure. Why not.”

With a fake smile on his face that had the chance to be real sometime in the future, Erick strode past the gate to Quilatalap’s house. He waved to the kowtowing shadelings and otherwise on the streets, and proceeded up the side roads of the Palace, toward the party area a few tiers up from ground level.

The music was well underway by the time Erick had approached the actual event. Ethereal, heavy, and yet upbeat, sonorous tones undulated the auroras of the sky above, while the party happened down below. From this angle, it was still impressive, but it was not what he had expected from the ‘Shade of Opulence’. This place had looked like a warehouse, or a cathedral, from his position below, but from up here, Erick wondered why there was only one wall. Sure, it had stained glass and looked pretty enough, but what about the other three walls? That wall didn’t even protect from anything; it was situated next to the stone wall of the next tier up of the Palace District. The main party took place on a well-kept, yet empty temple floor, but it was an open-air party.

Erick looked up, past the lone cathedral wall. The party also took place up above, on the next tier above. The band must have been up there, somewhere, because though Erick could hear the music well, there were no musicians in sight.

What was in sight, were Shades talking to other Shades, or eating, and…

Floating images, hanging in the air, next to the overlooking edge of the party? Erick would have to see to those later. They looked like viewing screens, of some sort.

But he needed booze! Shades were already talking amongst themselves, while shadelings and otherwise exited from doors set into the stained glass cathedral wall, to refill nearby food tables, already stacked high with food, probably to ensure that they never looked less than perfect. There was one long table for meat, another shorter one for cheeses. Then there were breads and sauces. Fruits and veggies. And there’s the booze table, and a bartender!

… Shade bartender. The one who wore the cocksock at the Telling. Erick only saw the top half of him. Maybe he was still wearing the sock? He eyed Erick, as Erick eyed him. The Shade winked.

Great.

Erick looked around, at the direct entrance to the party, to see if there were guards or some hidden line or something, set into the ground. This place seemed like a trap, for sure.

A bit odd, that, for there was no proper entrance. This particular road of the Palace District ran right into the party. Now that Erick looked at everything, again, this place seemed like there might have been a church here, or something similar, long ago. And then something happened, and all that was left was the one wall near the next tier up? That seemed odd. All the other buildings everywhere were intact; this was the only one that looked like a ruin.

Erick wondered at the etiquette of entering such an event, or if there was anything like etiquette when it came to Shades, or to this sort of party. Quilatalap said something about heading for the booze, and simply walked forward, crossing the invisible threshold into the festive space. After a brief moment of hesitation, Erick followed, as he stationed his Ophiel around the place, but he kept them to their tiny forms. A few Shades eyed the Ophiel and then him, as he walked in, but they returned to their own conversations soon enough. He also left one outside, down the road a bit, and in his full three-meter height.

More than one kowtowing parishioner had followed Erick and Quilatalap up to the party, but they had remained far behind, and gave Erick a wide berth. That full-sized Ophiel quickly drew a crowd.

Quilatalap got to the bar, and its Shady bartender, just before Erick.

The Shade on the other side of the bar was an incani of light blue skin, with short white horns and short, trimmed hair. In fact, all of his hair was trimmed, over every part of him. Annnnnndddd he was not wearing the sock anymore. Everything was all hanging out, behind the bar, and the bartender smiled as Erick glanced over the bar, down at the goods.

There was a certain drink that Erick would have ordered in any other situation like this, and if he were still on Earth. But alas, he was not on Earth, the man wouldn’t even know what the shot was, and despite displaying it all out there, and the obvious interest in the guy’s eyes, Erick did not want to lead the guy on.

Quilatalap looked from Erick, to the Shade, and decided to do some introductions. “Erick. This is Professor Farix. He runs the Truedark Academy.”

Erick scrunched his eyebrows together, as he looked upon the naked man in a slightly different light. He heard of ‘the Professor’. This was yet another rarely seen Shade. Killzone didn’t say much about the Professor, except that the Professor’s crimes were not very well known, nor were his motives, or true age. It was theorized that his was an inherited position, drawn from graduates of Truedark Arcanaeum, and that former ‘Professors’ moved on to other titles when they left their post and took up power in other parts of the Dead City.

Erick said, “Nice to meet you, Professor Farix.”

The man smiled, revealing bright white teeth. “Only my students call me Professor; please call me Farix, unless—” He backed up a half step, twisted his hips, and slapped his thing onto the bar in front of him. “— You’d like a few private lessons? A few after-hours study sessions, perhaps?”

Erick looked at the piece of anatomy staring up at him. It was quite nice.

But.

Erick burst out laughing. He rapidly stopped himself, but barely kept it together, and mostly because he was honestly interested, but here? Now? No. Not going to happen. He said, “I’m gonna need some booze first, and to know that you wouldn’t screw me over in a way I wouldn’t want, Farix,”

Farix smiled, dropping himself back down behind the counter. He turned to the five tiers of booze sitting on lit-up shelves behind him, saying, “Anything you want. How drunk are you looking to get?”

“As drunk as safety would allow.”

Farix smiled wide again. He did have a rather nice face. And then he opened his mouth and started talking and Erick barely kept from laughing again. Farix said, “Perhaps a Busted Arsehole, or a Raging Manhood? Perhaps a Raging Orcol Manhood? Or I can make you a Slippery Slope, if you’re looking for some truly fun times—” He stopped speaking, as another approached.

Erick was glad for the new distraction. He was a second from another burst of laughter.

Queen spoke from Erick’s right with a perfectly pleasant voice, “I’ll take a Slippery Slope, and you stuffed back into your sock before I violently cut it off.”

That wasn’t a joke; Erick could tell. Mirth vanished. Erick was both relieved, and saddened, that the fun moment of sexy talk was so short-lived.

Farix waved his hand over himself, and he was back to wearing his sock. “Anything for the Queen.” He asked, “Ice, or no ice?”

“Ice.” Queen turned to Erick, and with a much nicer voice, said, “Glad to see you come out.”

“I wouldn’t dare miss this event,” Erick said, in a way that he hoped came off as ‘dangerous’ and not ‘scared about possible retaliation’. As soon as that thought formed, he knew a lot of this party would be like this. He already knew that, of course; but knowing and experiencing were two different things. He would have to be slightly dangerous himself this whole time, or else they would eat him like he was a butchered cow floating in a school of sharks.

“Partake of whatever you wish. Nothing is poisoned, and I’m working the rest of the problems as we speak,” Queen said, with a great deal of what might have been sincerity. “After a few warnings and my personal clearing of some of the more obvious traps, more than one person saw the error of their ways and came up to me and reclaimed their own contributions to this Feast. They said they had something better, and they were able to produce those items, but I’m letting you know now that they were simply removing the traps that they had laid.”

Farix used shadows to gather four different bottles behind him, as well as four different fruits from the fruit table, near the bar. With expert handling, and more body movement than was likely necessary, he crafted a drink for Queen.

Erick was sort of stunned. Not that there were traps in the food and in the party, that much Erick had sort-of expected, but it was surprising that Queen was being so open about it. What was her angle? To prove herself to Erick, somehow? Or was she lying about the traps, in order to drag Erick’s opinion of the other Shades to a new, lower level?

He almost told her that she needn’t have bothered; Erick’s opinions of the Shades was already as low as it could possibly go. There was literally no way to go lower than ‘all of them should die’, for even that was beyond the depths of Erick’s usual lowest-possible opinions of people.

Literally the only way Erick’s Shady opinion could go was up.

And wasn’t that a sobering thought. Erick almost cursed.

Queen took the drink, saying, “Thanks,” and then she turned back to Erick, to continue, “There’s usually a lot of trapping and poisoning at this sort of event, but I’m thankful that most are keeping that to a minimum.” She spoke a bit louder, for some of the other Shades were obviously watching, and listening. “I have found two traps that were not removed, though.” She gave the sweetest, yet most diabolical grin. “I’ve got provisional leeway to kill those two Shades, so don’t worry about getting dead, Erick. Even if you suffer that indignity for a short while, we’ll bring you back and then you can help us collectively kill the murderer. So have fun!” She gestured to Farix, but continued to speak to Erick, saying, “He’s a great lay, just so you know. If only he could be a bit more proper in public, but like that really matters, am I right?”

Erick stared at nothing in particular for a long moment, then his brain kicked back on. He said, “Okay!” He turned to Farix, saying, “I’ll take a Slippery Slope, for some truly fun times, as you have so helpfully suggested.”

Queen smiled, then said, “That has some mild psychedelics, just so you know, just in case Farix wasn’t going to tell you. Nothing too ostentatious, but it makes the auroras above really, really pretty. If it gets bad, just [Cleanse] yourself.”

Farix mocked offense, “I would never compromise Erick’s position or alter his state without telling him!” He quickly gathered the Slippery Slope ingredients again, and said to Erick, “But if you wish for a compromised position, someone else can man the bar for an hour or two.”

Queen looked Farix up and down, and the man noticed. He casually stretched while he was making Erick’s drink, giving Queen as much of a look as she desired. She just giggled, then turned away, drink in hand, to go greet other guests.

In ten more seconds, Erick had his own Slippery Slope, expertly poured by a wonderful bit of eye candy. It was a pink drink, finished off with a slice of some fruit Erick had never seen before. He sipped it, while Quilatalap and Farix watched him drink. The archlich, probably to gauge if he had to rescue Erick from death, the naked Shade probably just because he wanted to watch. The drink tasted good. Really good. Farix smiled.

Quilatalap told the man, “I’ll take a Vivid Gloom.”

Erick suddenly had to ask, “Why did they name a drink after my spell? That threw me for a loop when I visited Candlepoint, too. What’s in it, anyway?”

Quilatalap shrugged. “To mess with you, and I’m not sure.” He turned to Farix, “What’s you say it was? Arafruit, farrowroot, cream, rums, and liquid shadows?”

Farix began constructing the Vivid Gloom by starting with assorted fruits, three bottles of various shades of brown and clear, and some white stuff in another bottle, while a bit of controlled shadow stuck a toothpick into a tiny jar and came out with a drop of what looked like velvet darkness. As the fruits and such went into a mixer, he said, “A Vivid Gloom is frozen, crushed arafruit, farrowroot, some cream liquor, three different rums, mostly clear, and a drip of liquid shadows distilled into an exterior coating.” He shook the mixer as he took the toothpick of darkness and ran it around the inside of a glass. When he poured the drink into the class, the contents flowed like white pearl and shimmering darkness. He handed the drink to Quilatalap, and said, “The liquid ‘darkness’ is actually just shadow essence that’s had almost all the light sucked out of it, but it’s still shadow essence.”

Quilatalap took the drink and happily said to Farix, “Dark Essence is too poisonous, anyway.” He asked, “What other projects are you working on?”

“Tryna fuck Erick.”

Erick laughed.

Farix smirked, then momentarily spoke like a professional, “There’s no projects right now, since we’re all facing down a restructuring. The school is off for break and this year’s break might be longer than usual. But some of my students are looking for private tutors to fill the gap. Would you be interested in holding a class, or teaching some students for a month?”

“Not this time.” Quilatalap said, “I’m not sure what the future holds either, and I might be going rather introductory with my lessons in the near future. Your students wouldn’t want to sit through that.”

“And if they are willing to sit through that?” Farix calmly stressed, “Some of them would be interested in whatever you felt like giving.”

“Eh.” Quilatalap asked Erick, “You want to have some fellow students for your own lessons?”

Erick almost spat up his Slippery Slope. “Uh. Did we agree to lessons?”

Quilatalap said to Farix, “It’s like this, then.”

“Understood.” Farix said, “I’ll have some disappointed students, but they’ll get over it.”

Erick was quite interested in whatever was going on with Quilatalap and Farix, and he almost asked about ‘What lessons?’, but then two new Shades were approaching. One was a goldscale woman, the other, a whitescale man. Both wore rather normal attire. Erick had forgotten the woman’s name, but she had definitely been part of Killzone’s briefing; it was hard to miss a goldscale in a crowd, for they usually gleamed like liquid sunlight, and this one was no exception.

But the whitescale was Welodio, the Shade of Flames, and he drew all of Erick’s attention as soon as Erick noticed him. Erick was supposed to run away from him, no matter the circumstance. Ah. Shit. Did that apply here, too? The male dragonkin’s eyes were bright white, while flickers of shadow danced across his scaled eyebrows, as he drew nearer. Goldenscale was much calmer, by comparison.

And then they had moved their five meters of space, to stand next to Erick, and he couldn’t realistically get away anymore.

Welodio smiled as he said, “Hello, Erick. Do you know of me?”

Erick honestly, and perhaps stupidly, said, “I’ve been told to run away from you if I see you.”

The flames on his eyebrow ridges got thicker, as he said, “Oh?” He added, “Good advice. You should have taken it.” Welodio snickered, as flames reached for Erick—

Erick had not dismissed either his [Lodestar], or his [Greater Lightwalk]; the two spells had just been left to sit under his skin, and under his clothes. But now, he flashed his sunform into a barrier. It barely held as flames consumed his world. Someone cried out, “Not the booze!” Another cried out about the food. And then the flames died, as fast as they had come. They had never gotten through Erick’s sunform. As the flames vanished, Erick saw they hadn’t gotten very far at all. Barely past Welodio, actually. Or what was left of him, anyway.

Welodio’s body slumped to the ground, but his head remained in the air. A thick sword, like a shelf, held the head on its flat surface. Goldscale’s dainty fist held the sword’s grip. There was no strain, there; holding that sword and its resident head was easy for goldscale. With a smile toward Erick, and a flick of her hand, she hefted the sword, jostling Welodio’s head into the air. With another heft of her weapon, and as though she was hitting a ball with a baseball bat, she knocked the dead whitescale’s head into the air—

Where a maw opened up in the sky, like Melemizargo’s own, but different. More wild and less real than the maw of the Darkness. The head went in, and with a chomp, the maw closed, and the head was gone. The jaws vanished right after. When Erick looked back to the goldscale, her sword was gone.

The casual talk all around, at the whole party, had only briefly paused, and only while Erick was actively being attacked. Some people went right back to their conversations.

Queen appeared, somehow. She stared down the goldscale, and with only the barest amount of seriousness in her voice, said, “Are you going to clean that up?” She gestured to Welodio’s body.

Stolen story; please report.

“I’m getting to it!” Goldscale turned to Erick, saying, “Hi. Erick. Nice to meet you. Sorry it was in such a messy way, but Welodio there was already planning on jumping you the second he could. I got wind of it, and I decided to be here, instead of elsewhere. He was one of those worthless people who joined us in order to cause destruction, so don’t feel too bad about how it went down. I’ve been looking into you and you might feel that way, but maybe don’t? Anywho! Take care! I’ll be watching your back for you.”

“Goldie.” Queen’s voice was harder than usual. “You could have warned me.”

“No time.” Goldie looked around, saying, “And nothing was damaged. This was a rather contained assassination. I’m good like that.”

“… I suppose you are.” Queen turned slightly toward Erick, saying, “Erick. Meet Goldie, the Shade of Assassination.”

Goldie beamed at her designation.

Erick firmly remained in his sunform, and tried to shore up every possible chink in his armor he could imagine. There wasn’t much firming-up left to do, though. Erick was already at ‘as good as it gets’ with his sunform. And wasn’t that a sobering thought.

He needed more Slippery Slopes.

Queen continued, “And what she hasn’t mentioned was that she joined the Clergy in order to kill people, too. Just like Welodio.”

“Uhh!” In a voice like a sorority-girl best known for her ability to mix and mingle and make friends anywhere, Goldie exclaimed, “Of course I did! It’s why I knew what Welodio was planning.”

“She’s been trying to kill Welodio for years.” Queen frowned at the goldscale, asking, “Did he finally think that your ‘banter’ was just friendly banter?”

Goldie smiled wider, revealing sharp, sharp fangs, unlike Erick had ever seen in a dragonkin. “He thought that for a long time!” She turned to Erick, saying, “I’ll be watching your back, for as long as Melemizargo demands it~”

Erick tried a joke. “Hopefully not in the bathroom.”

Goldie didn’t appreciate the joke, but her pleasant voice didn’t waiver, “I kill more heads-of-state in the bathroom than in any other location. You should bring your Ophiels into your bathroom more.” She added, “And this lightform of yours is good, but it won’t stop the stronger kinds of physical/ethereal damage out there. You should work on that. The Headmaster has a similar style. You should bother him about all of that.”

“… Well okay then,” Erick said. Then he dropped his sunform and sipped his drink.

Queen regarded Welodio’s body. “So when did this get sanctioned?”

Goldie said, “Two hours ago.”

Queen gestured to the body. “Erick, if you’d do the honors of disposal?”

Erick almost laughed and told Queen off, but instead, he had an Ophiel throw a [Cleansing Flame] over the corpse. Welodio lit up like old tissue paper; white fire burning fast through a thoroughly corrupted corpse. Whoosh! And then it was gone. Erick blanked, as he took in the sight of nothing; there was nothing left.