146, 2/2

Teressa watched, transfixed, as she saw the attack slice into Erick’s soul. There were too many spears for that small of a soul. Too many points of attack. Like sticking a thousand swords through a deer, the space where the meat had once been was now more steel than flesh. They caused no bleeding, but they separated the soul from the body and—

Ah. Shit. That’s a lot of blood.

– – – –

Jane hovered in the light above the beast on the beach, and tried to confirm the kill with a few more [Fireball]s, aimed at center-mass. The final part of the Tangled Hydra was dying. But ‘mostly dead’ was not ‘actually dead’. The final hydra hung on to life with a fervor that Jane rarely saw.

The monster was basically a husk of burned flesh at this point. Give up the ghost already!

The pestilent creature had been three kilometers of tangled snake-like creatures. Each one could live fine on their own, but when you got multiples together, their flesh melded into each other, and they could share nutrients and brain power. If you didn’t separate the individual hydras and kill them individually, they grew right back. It was like a wyrm, but without the spells, and with a lot more body mass. Killing a Tangled Hydra was not an easy task, and Jane was—

Jane felt an odd coldness in the light around her lightform.

Terror gripped her mind; sudden and deep.

But she was fine? She was fine. Why was—

Jane slipped away from the battlefield, and dropped onto the land. With eight eyes and her Queen Blood Weaver form glinting in the sun, she looked around herself. Her eyes were drawn to her own shadow, which she inspected with her light. She looked to the dune grass nearby, searching for the source of her distress.

The coldness in her soul only deepened.

Something was wrong.

– – – –

Poi watched as Erick died.

At that same moment, Poi was already in the process of bringing him back.

Contacting Ascendant Prime took but a moment. Arguments for and against took even less time, for it was already the judgment of the Ascendants that Erick was a valued resource that would be protected, if possible. Soul strikes were difficult to defend against, which was one of the reasons that Poi feared those kinds of attacks more than most, but Ascendant Prime was above those petty concerns, especially when a World War was inevitable if they did nothing.

Or maybe they only agreed to help because Poi would have killed himself to help Erick on his own, using half-realized knowledge that was not truly his own. Erick wasn’t dead, yet.

Erick already knew how to defend against Soul Magic, though, and he was struggling, but the spears were still there, and without their removal…

– – – –

The words of Quilatalap came to Erick, unbidden.

“No.”

It was simple instruction, to survive the most deadly of attacks. To survive all Soul Magic, and to survive the worst Mind Magics. It fared less well against Blood Magic, but with a strong enough soul and enough time away from the source of the damaging Blood Magic, then one could enact a healing, and survive that Blood Magic… If you knew how.

“No.”

The spear had not struck Erick. And yet, it ha—

“No.”

The spear moved through the world, lancing through his heart and his he—

“No. The spear did nothing. I am whole.”

Erick was in Quilatalap’s cottage, back in Shadow’s Feast.

Quilatalap continued with his lecture, saying, “You must learn how to do this ‘no’ outside of the shortcuts of the Script. It must become second nature, like a quiet voice in your head. It must become a skill that won’t necessitate the use of a Universal Second of the Script.”

“…That’s going to be such a pain in the ass,” Erick said.

Quilatalap laughed loudly. “Yes. It is! At first. And then it is not. It’s only truly useful against the most harmful Soul and Mind magics. Like the one you’re experiencing right now.”

“Ah.” Erick looked out the window, and saw the coruscating prismatic spell of Queen, devouring the world. He realized. “Oh. This isn’t real. Am I dreaming?”

Quilatalap said, “It’s only mana. It’s not solid. Subjective Reality is not true reality. All you have to do is deny it, as you’ve been taught. You’ve done some great mind tricks lately, so show me another one.”

– – – –

Teressa despaired.

She watched as her boss— as Erick was sundered by a thousand phantom spears, striking through him from every direction, holding him aloft in the center of the room. Teressa witnessed the death of possibility. As she had seen before, and as she had never wanted to see happen to the people she knew, a soul had been ripped out of Erick’s body and scattered to the winds, flowing away through dense air like so much scattered foam. And yet, it didn’t vanish. It remained, when it should not, but it also remained speared through by vile soul spells.

The soul attack probably wouldn’t matter, though. The effects of that attack, did.

Blood poured out of flesh that was whole, as though the spears had been real. Maybe they had been made real, simply by the act of touching a soul. There was damage to the ceiling and floor, and as Teressa watched, flesh split open around phantom spears.

He was going to die.

And she had never told him how much she appreciated him. She might have thanked him once, but she should have done so more often. Oh, gods. What was she going to tell Jane? What was going to happen to Candlepoint? Or to Spur?

Would Treehome do any—

Her people would go to war to avenge him.

And she would be right there with them.

Teressa angered.

Red rimmed her eyes.

Yes. It was to be war, then. Terror Peaks would die. Her people would gather like the great Horde it had been once, so long ago. They would descend upon Terror Peaks like the wrath of a god.

And even if the whole of her people didn’t go…

Teressa and Kiri and Jane could raise an army. That would work.

– – – –

Jane stood upon dune grasses, in the sun.

But the shadows around her were brighter and darker than daylight. They were abysses in the world, rimmed with power.

The Darkness was here.

Melemizargo whispered, “Terror Peaks is killing your father. What will you do?”

– – – –

Yggdrasil felt a shift.

A branch vanished. Light broke in half, and suddenly, he was half as much as he had been. His body in Spur’s Lake was gone; speared through by a thousand attacks from the inside. His body under Candlepoint’s lake broke under even more, but that body was larger; much larger. Water rushed into the space left behind. Shadows swirled in the depths as a thousand phantom spears rocked out of dimming roots, and trunk, and branches, and leaves. That which did not instantly break, was shredded.

A tiny, silver-spiked shield held over the heartwood of the first tree. The few spears that made it that deep, deflected, shredding the rest of his body in the aftermath.

Yggdrasil screamed in pain and anger, boiling the water nearby.

What had hurt him!

What had hurt—

Oh no.

– – – –

Ophiel had been struck harder than ever before.

Four of him died instantly. Three died in the next second. Two of him twisted [Animadversion] and deflected hundreds of spears, but could not deflect the rest. The soul attack went through him, and speared the bodies of every single part of his growing soul.

The last Ophiel turned tiny. [Animadversion] covered all of him. Spears deflected into the surrounding sky like [Force Beam]s, each of them carving away at the cultured trees and decorative rock piles and scattered fountains and ponds of the Alluvial District.

Ophiel had never felt smaller, or more vulnerable. Terror crawled into his developing soul, and he raced to the only place that felt safe. He went to Erick.

He found Erick

He knew he had not been the focus of the attack.

More terror.

He was supposed to protect his creator! He had failed!

—But it was just a bit of blood. Maybe? Yes!

[Greater Treat Wounds]. There. Now he won’t die.

It didn’t work?

… Why isn’t it working?

Ophiel cast again, and again, and again. He added in [Regeneration]. He went back to [Greater Treat Wounds]. He tried [Healing Word]. Flesh knit. Bones healed. And then they broke all over again.

Why wasn’t the healing working?

– – – –

Erick sat on a park bench that faced another park bench. A concrete table was between the seats. A chess board had been built into the table. Erick was playing white, and he was down to three pieces. A king, a pawn, and a castle, though the castle looked more like a broken tower than anything sturdy.

The other Erick was playing red, and every piece Erick lost, the other gained.

Erick blinked, clearing his eyes, taking in the scene around him.

Ah. So it was like that.

Erick sighed out, “Hello, Phagar.”

“Hello, Erick,” Phagar said, smiling with Erick’s own smile. In a conversational tone, he asked, “Are you ready to move on?”

Shock.

Panic.

Erick answered instinctively, “No.”

And then a moment passed.

A time of consideration.

He could put down all his burdens.

But…

Erick repeated, softer, and yet firmer, “No.”

“You listened well to Quilatalap, but we’re beyond that specific moment in time. Are you sure you want to stay? This is a small part of what is in store for you if you do.” Phagar moved one of his red pawns onto Erick’s side of the board. It turned white. “I hoped to save you some pain, but if you’re not ready, then you’re not ready.”

Erick’s chest and head vibrated with fractures and lancing, white-hot agony, but only for a second. And then the pain was gone. He breathed again, as though he hadn’t breathed in an age, sucking in air like there was nothing else he needed more. The shock of it all took a moment to retreat, and for his mind to come back together.

Erick said, “My answer is still no; I’m choosing to stay.”

Phagar said, “It’s only going to get worse.”

Erick looked at the chess board in front of him.

He made a decision.

With a quick hand, he grabbed a handful of other pieces and jabbed them onto his side of the board.

“Ha?” Then Phagar laughed for real, as if he had seen something truly unexpected. He smiled. “That’s not how any of this works, but I’ll allow it.”

Phagar stood up, the red half of the chess army began to vanish from the board, except for the five pieces Erick had captured. One by one, they began to transform from red to white. A schoolhouse, a knight, a bishop, a distant queen, and another castle to replace his crumbling one.

Erick voiced, “A schoolhouse? And what’s a ‘distant’ que—”

Pain.

– – – –

Poi watched as one by one, Ascendant Prime twisted the Crossing, forming grips that removed the spears from Erick’s body, as though deleting phantoms from existence. Ophiel danced on the body, healing it with spells that barely worked, for the damage was more than flesh-deep. But ‘barely’ was better than ‘not at all’. A man could live through a soul attack, but not if the attack never ended, and if the body died in the meantime. Erick should already be dead, but he was not.

Maybe his Constitution saved him. Maybe his training. Maybe all of that only prolonged his suffering.

Poi didn’t know how Erick survived, but he wouldn’t survive for much longer.

All Poi could do was watch.

The spears in Erick’s head vanished first. And then the spears through his heart. With the twisting power of a half-step deity, Ascendant Prime removed the rest of the spears, making them as though they never were. But the damage remained. The body healed, mostly, thanks to Ophiel, but the soul was shredded, pierced, and broken.

It was the same problem Rats had, but on an exponentially larger scale.

Ascendant Prime sent, ‘This is all we can do. The rest is up to him. He’s still in there. He might come back. For all of our futures, we pray that he does.’

Ascendant Prime left. The weave of the Crossing relaxed as Prime’s power receded, once again becoming a web of connected thoughts high in the sky, beyond the reach of most people.

Poi could do nothing but watch.

He hated being this powerless.

He vowed he would not be this powerless, ever again. If Erick lived…

If he lived…

Soul Magic was a good magic to learn. Powerful, anyway.

Poi considered his problems of being scared and wary over Soul Magic, and decided that watching, impotent, was worse than issues of fear, and morality. He could use Soul Magic to heal, after all.

– – – –

Red-eyed and on the precipice of Rage, waiting for Erick to die so that she could KILL THEM ALL, Teressa watched as a miracle occurred. Poi had something to do with it, but also not. The phantom spears vanished from Erick, one by one, and quickly. The [Greater Treat Wounds] that Erick had unlocked earlier in the day was used by Ophiel to heal Erick’s own physical damage. He still floated in the center of the room, for Ophiel supported him, keeping his body together…

But the soul…

The scattered, tattered soul, white and dim and stretched across the whole of the room, flowed together, like a blanket mending itself. Or. No. It was the rejection of damage. The soul was rejecting its fate. Erick was literally pulling himself back together.

Not fast enough, though.

Wounds reappeared. Ophiel healed them away.

But Ophiel was losing power, and they had never replaced the rod of [Greater Treat Wounds] after Erick had killed it with his Discord. And yet, there was hope. Barely five minutes had passed since the spears had appeared in Erick, and Clan Star Song was coming to help; or at least one person was.

Hopefully.

Teressa wiped the tears from her eyes, and said, “They’re coming.”

Tendrils of thought swirled around Poi. He looked around. “They are. We are protecting Erick. He can’t be moved. [Prismatic Ward] is helping him as much as he’s helping himself.”

Teressa nodded. She summoned her full defensive gear, just in case what she saw was a trick.

Everyone had seen how ‘Odin’ had exploded in [Force Beams]. They had seen the bomb before Erick had removed it. They saw the damage that the bomb had done. They knew the enemy. A few had thought Erick was attacking them, but that was quickly shouted down by Elders with calmer heads, who were in the know.

The time for subterfuge was over. Everyone knew that Erick was Erick.

And Elder Arilitilo was running up the stairs of the Southern House, holding a spot of anti-magic in her grip, like a thin knife. Was she a savior, or would Teressa murder her before she could do damage? Teressa still had her little [Sanguine Charm]. The Blood Mage was in for a shock if she tried shit.

And yet, any second now some main attack would happen. Teressa felt giddy with burgeoning Rage.

Just give her a target. Any target. Someone was going to die.

Clansmen gathered in clumps on the courtyards and staging areas of the mountain, prepared for the main forces of Terror Peak.

And then war broke loose.

Another portal opened up a kilometer to the left of where the previous one had appeared, but Eralis was watching for it, this time. Everyone seemed to know that they were under direct attack at the moment. Terror Peaks wished to press the advantage.

The second and the third bombs met the fate of the first. Or maybe something else happened. All Teressa knew was that there was a lot of sudden shit happening outside, and bombs were being windstepped far away, before they exploded.

They weren’t fast enough for all of the bombs, though.

On the other side of three intervening clan mountains, a green explosion washed across the world, Decaying everyone in sight and poisoning the land with Extreme Light. Defenses fell across the Noble District in the next second. The barest bit struck Clan Star Song, striking the Southern House full-on.

Teressa was already in the way, between Erick and the window, holding out her tower shield in front of her. Windows cracked. Half of the dense air in the room vanished under green light. The [Prismatic Ward] remained around Erick, but everywhere else it was in tatters.

Down below, the rest of the Southern House had been abandoned; Devouring Nightmare was elsewhere. They had left pretty damn fast after the first bomb had failed to detonate. Teressa was glad they were gone; less variables to think about.

Elder Ari had made it past the empty second and third floor to reach the fourth, when the explosion hit. Extreme Light ripped through the doors and windows down below, right underneath Elder Ari. She didn’t care. She yelled as she reached their rooms, “Let me help!”

Poi was already opening the door for her.

She held an antirhine knife in her hand.

Teressa glared at Poi, but before she could Rage at letting the Blood Mage clanswoman in the room, she understood why the antirhine knife was necessary. The room still held [Prismatic Ward], and the Blood Mage had not been given permissions. Elder Arilitilo rushed into the dense air, knife leading the way, slashing and cutting a path through magic that she could not get through otherwise.

Ari paused, barely, her deep violet skin paling a fraction as she saw Erick, hovering in the center of the room, still supported by Ophiel. And then she rushed forward, slashing away the intervening Solid Ward.

Ophiel sang in tired flutes upon seeing Ari, and then he gave the last of himself to cast one more [Greater Treat Wounds] upon Erick, his body breaking up after the spell took hold.

Teressa whispered, “Good [Familiar].”

Ari reached Erick and laid a hand upon his chest, and his head. Red light filled the room, latching on to every piece of Erick’s soul, helping it to come together, faster, and faster.

“The spears are gone. But…” Ari grimaced. “This is going to be difficult.”

– – – –

His world was agony.

White hot and cold as tundra, sparking and dying all at once. He felt the world outside of his own body.

He denied the End, and that helped.

He divorced himself from that fate, and that helped, too.

His mind swirled with variations on a theme. Of meditative techniques and ways to ignore the pain. Of ethyl ether and other ways to mechanically separate pain from being received. It didn’t help. That was the wrong method.

He got back on track, saying that the pain didn’t exist, and that he was not under attack, and that his soul was perfectly fine, and that the terror that gripped him wasn’t real.

A red light tried to help him, but he denied that too.

The red light was rather persistent, though. What was that damned red light doing out there, anyway? Where did it come from? Ah! Oh. Well, whatever. It was useful, no matter where it came from. It was a distraction. He needed that.

The pain was still there; it wasn’t going anywhere. But the red light was a nice diversion. A space to focus on that was not his agony-filled existence. He still denied the pain, of course.

There is no pain.

Now what the fuck is that red light doing.

Oh. It’s just moving around. And… It’s…

The world around Erick became more than pain, as the red light moved between scattered white clouds. Erick hadn’t noticed the clouds before. But they weren’t clouds, either. They were… something else.

The red light glowed bright and hateful.

Well fuck you, too.

Erick reached out to bat away the red light, but he touched a cloud, and suddenly he was more. He saw more clearly. He recognized… Something. Oh. All those clouds were soulstuff. It floated around him, broken and scattered. Kinda pretty to look at.

The red light rushed behind a particularly large cloud, illuminating the cloud from behind in a red rim. Oh. Now that was really pretty.

… Hmm. Erick felt an odd…

Need?

Did he need to touch that other cloud?

Well… Sure. Why not?

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Erick grabbed the larger cloud, and he became more.

Oh. Now he saw.

The red light was Ari. The clouds were him. They were memories, and more. Erick needed to grab them all! But they were all so far away. Some looked to be vanishing altogether in the distance.

But that cloud right there is close. Erick reached—

[Call Lightning]. That was the cloud he had touched, and reabsorbed into himself. It was glorious, and now, Erick saw something new. [Call Lightning] had connections to everything else, for each cloud was not just a cloud, it was also a part of a web. Erick reached for one of the webs from [Call Lightning] and followed it to another cloud. Oh. This was easy. Erick reabsorbed [Lightning Aura]. [Exalted Rain] was next. From [Exalted Rain], he reached for [Grow].

[Grow] led to another massive cloud; a spanning power filled with light and roots and branches that Erick had not yet recognized until that moment.

Erick met Yggdrasil in his soul, and was once again joined to his largest [Familiar]. Yggdrasil exulted in recognition, and then he did what he did best; he grew. Roots spread from cloud to cloud, showing pathways that Erick didn’t recognize as pathways until Yggdrasil had revealed them.

Erick pulled inward from a dozen directions at once.

Ophiel!

Ophiel sang in vibrations that filled this odd place, and Erick remembered. Vibrations touched upon the world, and revealed even more pathways that had not been there before then.

With quick wings and vast eyesight, and roots ever-spanning, Erick re-captured the separate pieces of himself. He remembered Jane! If he wasn’t in so much pain he c—

No pain. Only healing.

Erick remembered Earth, and everything back home, and then his memories flooded with his time on Veird.

With the help of distant red light, he found memories that otherwise would have drifted away; too disconnected to be found otherwise.

He recognized that every piece of his soul was imbued with a bit of the whole, and as more came together, he saw that Constitution kept edges from fraying, Intelligence kept linkages intact, Perception revealed distant pieces, and Dexterity gave him the ability to retrieve it all. Strength and Vitality kept his body intact, but Willpower and Focus were not what they appeared to be.

There was a hole in his soul that led to somewhere else, where mana flowed like water, and reality became subjective Reality, allowing the soul to exist, at all. Willpower defined the edge of that hole. Focus defined the rate at which mana flowed.

The hole wasn’t truly a hole at all. And yet, it was.

As more and more of his soul coalesced, more and more of his sight dimmed, as though he was waking up from a dream.

The hole in his soul was lost in that half-waking, and Erick doubted he would ever find it again. It certainly hadn’t been there in [Soul Sight]. But he knew what lay on the other side, anyway.