The Bunny Hutch

A New York Yankee in King Uthers court

Disclaimer. The story of the Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court is an old and well written short story and to my eternal regret does not belong to me. Neither in fact does the TV series Merlin, which is a real pity because their misuse of lore was frightening.

Summary: when the portal closed on Iron Man at the end of the Avengers, not everything made it back. While the Hulk revived him that missing piece landed a long time ago in a land far… far away.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Good bye, Pepper.

Tony Stark watched in quiet satisfaction as a blue light enveloped the Chitauri ship, tearing it and the surrounding fleet apart. It was a pyric victory, he realized as he floated back toward the portal. He had known that the moment he’d grabbed the cosmic blue nuke, but he’d done it anyways. Why, he wasn’t entirely sure. He wasn’t a hero, something he’d oft been told and always agreed with. Bragging rights, perhaps? No, he hadn’t really expected to survive this.

He smiled. What difference did it make? Pepper was safe and that was all that mattered, he thought as the portal closed around him. He’d made his peace with… what?

Anthony “Iron Man” Stark was shaken out of his fatalistic contemplations by the sudden onset of gravity. The forward view of his facemask went wild as he tumbled through the air at 9.8 meters per second and gaining. It seemed he was getting a second chance, he thought grinning. Such is the life of a hero! Connecting to JARVIS via the neural data link in his helmet he began firing palm and feet thrusters intermittently in an effort to slow and stabilize his flight, ending in the center of a cloud.

“JARVIS; you there?”

“Yes, sir” came the tinny, mechanized British accent. “All systems are operational and running at full capacity, correcting flight pattern now.”

“Thanks JARVIS, let’s go home.”

“Very good sir, however, if I may, there might be a problem with that.”

“What is it JARVIS? Talk to me.”

“I find myself isolated from the primary server, sir; from any server. It’s possible I may need to test out the Nano-Repair modules earlier than anticipated.”

“You’re not having trouble with clouds now are you? I’m certain I designed you better than that.”

“It’s not the clouds that are bothering me sir, my communication array is showing green across the board, aside from it’s the complete lack of communication. You designed me to be capable of tapping into any form of digital network that could send or receive a signal, but I’m not even detecting radio at this time.”

“What are you telling me, JARVIS? That we’re in a dead zone?”

“I believe it’s possible we did not pass through the portal in the same location we entered it, sir.”

“Quantum destabilization from the loss of signal generation aside we’re talking about a point to point connection on a subatomic level, I shouldn’t think drift would even be possible.”

“Never the less Sir, we are not where we should be.”

“I’m taking us down,” Tony declared, folding into a dive and firing thrusters. It didn’t take long to leave the cloud cover and the sight that greeted him was most definitely NOT New York City. There, surrounded by a large green forest of oak and elm stood a large medieval castle with numerous thick towers and an open courtyard. People milled around through a bustling, walled town and three large cobble stoned roads. It could have been business as usual as far as Tony knew except for the massing of people in the castle yard.

Throwing discretion to the birds as usual he flew in for a closer look, stopping just over the main hall with a good view of the proceedings below.

“—found guilty of the crime of conspiring to commit sorcery in the realm of Camelot; a crime for which the punishment is death, to be carried out by beheading. Executioner.”

Sorcery? Tony thought. Seriously? Didn’t these people know magic didn’t exist? Obviously not; judging by the man in furs and a crown beneath him sentencing a man to death. Disgusted that such a barbaric place still existed Tony dove down and landed on the platform in a crouch beside the prisoner, one hand raised to catch the axe.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

Tony looked up to see the crown guy shouting for his knights, obviously the first to recover from his customary entrance.

“Here, let’s get you out of there,” he said, yanking the axe out of the other man’s hands and picking the victim up by the shoulder. Satisfied the man could stand on his own; Tony broke the weapon over his knee and looked around. He was out of ammunition, having used it all in the recent battle with the Chitauri. His thrusters and armor could still do a lot of damage, but nothing pinpoint or easily long range, which was a problem with the gathering or crossbowmen and knights that were flooding into the area. He turned to the man he’d just helped, snorting as the young man, no more than 20, flinched at the sight of his visor. “Need a lift?” he asked. The man nodded, then went stiff as Tony grabbed him. “Hang on!” he said and grinned at the screams as he blasted off.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Mary Collins stared at the sky where her son had disappeared over the roofs of Camelot, a tremulous smile on her lips. Thank Odin, were the only words that came to mind. Her son was safe. Damned fool boy, getting himself caught like that. He was lucky such a powerful sorcerer had been on hand to rescue him when she couldn’t. Damn him. Damn King Uther and his laws. Damn the knights of Camelot and their strong armed numbers. And damn everyone else’s lack of organization. Sorcerers were solitary creatures by nature, only coming together in small communities for common goals. Such had been their undoing when Uther had turned on them. Now they were hunted, picked off one by one, like wild animals.

The old crone shook herself from her dark memories. They had been fools to stay within the lands of Camelot. It was best she be going too, before Uther’s men came for her as well. Now if she could only find her son Garth before he did something stupid. Honestly, using magic in an open field. In broad daylight, no less.

That other sorcerer though, the one in red armor, he was brazen. Though truth be told, he had a reason to be. Falling out of the sky with nary a thought, and flying… She’d never thought to feel power like that. Not since the great dragon had been chained beneath Camelot. Decided, she ducked into a dark corner and made sure no one was watching her before teleporting away. She had places to go, people to see…

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Tony Stark starred quietly into the fire and digested what he had just learned. He was a man of action with nothing to do and no way to go about it. This place, Albion, was not on any map he knew of and going sub orbital had proven… disturbing.

He had managed to determine he was in England, but not any England he had ever been to, save for fiction novels when he was five. This England was home to a very old and well established family of meta-humans (for he still refused to use the word magic in any form) who had the ability to project energy for a wide variety of effects. It wasn’t nearly on the level of the Maximov girl’s reality bending mutation, but it was close. The man he had saved, Garth—or Gar, as he preferred—was capable of telekinesis and pyro-kinesis along with other small cantrips requiring mantra to focus his mind.

Almost like magic, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, but he ignored it.

Then there was this Uther, the apparent king he had seen earlier. While not particularly keen on murder or execution, Tony had few qualms about killing his enemies and if anyone deserved such, Uther would be on that list.

The man had a rap sheet a mile long, not the least of which was a bent of widespread ethnic cleansing comparable to the activities of Hitler, Stalin or Pol Pot. It brought back memories of Trask and his crusade on mutantkind. Perhaps this time he’d have the means to stop it… even if Tony didn’t care much about the plight of mutants or these meta-humans, killing kids was something he detested.

Sending a thought to his armor, he retracted his helmet and helped himself to the soup his companion had prepared. It was surprisingly edible for having been made with only what Gar could gather or make on the spot. He glanced up to thank the boy and smirked at his gawking visage. “I can’t very well eat your stew with my helmet on.” He said drolly.

“I… I didn’t… but how? Your helmet just… melted away!” the sorcerer said, struggling to find words.

“Not melted, folded. There’s a space in the back of my armor where it fits in, ready to come out again should it be needed,” Tony explained, smirking. He wasn’t exactly talking down to the boy but it was always fun to prove how smart he was, even for something so simple and meaningless.

“Oh. You must be a skilled blacksmith as well as a powerful sorcerer.” Gar replied, awe in his voice.

“I’m not a sorcerer.” Tony repeated for the tenth time that afternoon. He got the feeling he would be saying that a lot.

“But I can feel your power.” The boy insisted. “It’s enormous. The only thing odd about it is it’s focused mostly on the talisman on your chest. Your focus stone I guess.” That last bit brought Tony up short.

“JARVIS” He said; an edge to his voice. “Full sensor array on the kid.” Refocusing on Garth he spoke forcefully. “Use your powers again, and this time, keep it going as long as you can.” As the boy did so the Iron Man helmet folded back out of Tony’s suit and the scanning began in earnest.

“Sir, the boy is showing massive energy readings similar to those gathered from recent interaction with the cosmic cube.”

“I can see that JARVIS, the question is what, precisely, it means. A mutation that allows humans to draw on the cube’s energy would be dangerous; no wonder this Uther was afraid. A person with that kind of power backing them could do some serious damage. Cut it out kid, you look like you’re about to collapse,” he said, slapping the wizards arm lightly.

“Sir, you know…”

“What this means? Yes. These metas are my chance at going back.” He glanced back at the boy across the small fire. “How do you feel about taking over Camelot?”

~!@#$%^&*()_+

The great dragon paced furiously. It was all going wrong, just as his rook was about to step onto the board, the entire thing had been flipped over. Kilgharrah blasted his chains again with magical fire and claws, neither expecting nor receiving any release. Fury temporally abated he called out to Emrys. The boy had indeed arrived, but with this newcomer he was no longer certain how effective the lad would be at completing his appointed task.

An hour later the boy arrived; cautiously, tentatively he walked out of the hole in the wall and gasped upon seeing him. As it should be, he thought bitterly; awe, not hatred. “Hello, Merlin.”

“How do you know my name?” the human asked.

“I know many things,” the dragon replied cryptically. “And I’ve had centuries to learn how to know more. Like the nature of your own great gifts, and the reason you have them.” He watched as the boy latched onto the idea eagerly, he was desperate for purpose as he had seen and expected. That was good.

“So there IS a purpose,” the smaller creature asked him, voice feverish.

“Oh yes, and there was a destiny to go along with it too,” he replied, sighing dramatically.

The boy stiffened, his voice now laced with dread. “You say was. Why, what has changed?”

“A man came to Camelot the same time as you did. A powerful player in his world with knowledge and power few here could hope to achieve. He was never supposed to have been here however and his presence poses a problem.”

“The man in red armor. Yes, he saved that sorcerer, what’s wrong with that? How is he a problem? The man should be a hero.”

The dragon sighed. He could already tell this was going to be difficult. “Prior to his appearance your destiny, the very reason you were given your powers, was to become a companion to Arthur Pendragon, the once and future king of Albion. With your support and guidance, Arthur was supposed to unite the shattered kingdoms in a time of peace and return magic to the land, healing the wounds inflicted upon it by his father. Now that this newcomer is here, nothing is certain.”

“Arthur, as is the one up there?” the boy said incredulously. ”I’m sorry, but you can’t be serious. You have to tell me you mean some other Arthur, because this one’s an idiot. He’d rude, he’s cruel, he’s arrogant, and you should see what he does to his squires.”

“Never the less, he is the only one who can free Albion, and without your help, he will die,” Kilgharrah said, irritated. What was wrong with the boy, didn’t he understand what was at stake? True, he had not lived within the kingdom of Camelot, but few places these days didn’t shun magic users. Arthur’s Camelot could change that.

“No, if anyone wants to kill him they can go ahead, in fact I’ll give them a hand.”

“Then perhaps it was your destiny to change him.”

“What about the knight in red? I got the same feeling off him I’m getting off you and that sorcerer in the square. Perhaps he could build your Albion?”

The ancient dragon paused for a moment considering it. The idea certainly wasn’t impossible, but he knew that with Arthur, Albion and his freedom were both certainties. Should this stranger be allowed to live… he wasn’t sure what would happen. He’d never seen the timeline so… muddled. So… uncertain. “Alright…” Kilgharrah said slowly, “let the red stranger alone and we will see what we shall see. But promise me this, should the man in crimson armor try to harm Arthur you will do whatever it takes to save him. Even kill the man himself.”

“B-but I…”

“Promise me!” he roared, the gust of his breath blowing out his visitors torch.

“Alright! Alright, I promise.” Merlin said, crouching. Kilgharrah blew out a small puff of fire to relight the torch and flew off. This was going to end badly somehow, he just knew it.

~!@#$%^&(*)_+

‘Why the hell did I agree to do this?’ Tony Stark thought as he trudged up the main road of Camelot. ‘This is so simple it’s moronic. What could have possessed me to agree to this?’ he wondered as he swatted aside a guardsman who had come to stop him.

“That would be the high probability of success, sir.” JARVIS said, interpreting and interrupting his thoughts. Or possibly hearing them, he wasn’t entirely sure how far his proprietary hardware to wetware interface went yet. Small testing samples being what they were…

“Remind me why that is again, JARVIS,” he replied, blasting an archer who had just shot at his head with the suit’s palm projectors. Normally a shot like that would kill a fully armored knight, but he was pretty sure the archer was far enough away and so he continued on, the crowds parting before him like a school of fish.

“Of course, sir, after our extensive questioning of the local, subject Gar, it was determined that this was a socially acceptable means of assuming leadership of a nation. Your march down the capital’s main street is symbolic to the people that you’re a strong ruler and carving your path to the throne room to challenge Uther is a message to the knighthood that you can’t be stopped. With the knights being this period’s government, you will need their loyalty to run the kingdom or spend time forming your own army.”

“Still feels moronic. Though the plots in Le Morte D’Arthur weren’t much better I suppose.”

“Quite, sir.” Tony frowned, he’d taken down fifteen guardsmen so far and they were only getting thicker. “Sir, they’re barring the gate.”

“I can see that JARVIS; thank you.” Before him was arrayed nearly 30 more guardians, this time containing a quad of knights. Tony came to a standstill before them, looking left and right, making a show of starring them all down with the glowing eyes in his helmet.

“Surrender now, sorcerer! Stand down and we’ll go easy on you!” one tried. Tony grinned. The guardsmen tried to surround him, their pikes forward and swords up. Stark grabbed one of the halberds’ and yanked it forward and slapping the man across the head. The blow knocked him down and gave him a concussion. The rest of them surged forward and the fight began in earnest. Tony turned to the side, deflecting the weak metal of the spear points. Turning again he backhanded one of the guards and stepped forward to kick another. One after another they went down, a broken bone here, a concussion there, broken spears and bent swords littered the ground. One of the knights lunged in, his sword high, hoping to strike off his head. JARVIS highlighted the blades most likely trajectory and Tony caught it, activating a short burst from the palm RT’s and shattering the blade.

The knight in question looked like he was going to cry and Stark punched him in the gun, doubling the man over.

And then it was over. All around him lay men, groaning, crying and unconscious while the townspeople looked on in shock, awe and not a little bit of horror. Tony turned so that he appeared to be looking at them out of the corner of his eye before returning to face the gate. “JARVIS, divert power to the forward chest RT.” There was a slight whining sound and the triangle on his chest flared, lancing forward to smash the heavy wooden door to splinters.

The rest of the trip through the castle was much of the same. He got lost a few times but eventually came to another heavy wooden door with an array of knights before it, full armor and swords at the ready. “Now what do you think that’s supposed to do?” he asked.

The knights looked at each other. After several moments a tall blond stepped forward. “We can’t allow you to go any further, sorcerer. This ends now.”

“Indeed it does,” Tony agreed. “Indeed it does.” He surged forward, boxing his way through the assembled knights, yanking away shields and bending swords in half. After the knights were down he took up one of the larger swords and kicked the door in.

The chamber beyond was large with vaulted ceilings and numerous pillars framing a long, red woolen carpet that looked as if it had seen better days. A pair of ornate, high-backed chairs stood at the end of the room and against the walls gilded tables that looked as if they were used for banquets stood barren. The room had roughly a dozen frightened people in what he could only assume was fancy clothing and several more of those knights. One of them charged him and he slashed, meeting his opponents blow and knocking the sword out of his hands. The man’s sword sailed off to clatter against a nearby column and Stark grabbed the stunned knight. Taking the man’s forearm he ripped off the gauntlet and hit the man over the head with the hilt of his stolen sword. The knight went out like a light, uninjured, but Tony wouldn’t envy him the headache he’d have in the morning.

His momentary task done Tony took his trophy and scanned the gathering for the king. Uther stood there close to the throne, clothed in armor and furs as he had been earlier. “What is it you want?”

“Uther Pendragon!” Stark said, using JARVIS speakers to enhance his voice. “Murderer, tyrant, traitor… hypocrite! For the senseless slaughter of nearly a thousand innocents; men, women and children, I challenge you! A duel for the fate of the kingdom, Winner takes all. Beat me, and you shall have my armor, and my life. Lose, and Camelot is mine. Refuse me… and I shall reveal your treachery to the entire land of Albion. If your children don’t kill you after that, the other kingdoms will.” Thus said he threw the gauntlet he had taken off the knight at Uther where it hit him on the breastplate and fell at his feet.

Uther picked up the gauntlet, staring at it as if it was a poisonous snake about to bite him. “And what possible treachery could you reveal,” he asked, his voice calm and scathing “that it would bring such dire consequences? After all, I am king. Any… treachery I might have committed against my predecessor was lost when I took his crown.”

“The nature if your son’s birth.” Stark said simply, smirking under his helmet. Gar had been quite forthcoming when their talk had turned to the war. The lad had been merely 4 when it started, but his mother had apparently obsessed about it. It was quite an interesting tale in fact, as there was so little written about Uther and the founding of Camelot in Le Morte D’Arthur aside from the fact the he was supposed to have died while Arthur was a small child.

Uther Pendragon had been a noble, a knight in the service of his king and had reportedly been very vocal about the wars in which the small kingdom was taking part. What his stance was, Gar hadn’t known but young Uther had gathered a following and started a civil war. A masterful strategist and swordsman even at 15, Uther had fought a war on numerous fronts, though never more than 3 at a time. By the time he was 20 Uther had taken Camelot and six other kingdoms, personally gathering the heads of their kings and forging his crown from pieces of each of their own. His warring and reasons satisfied the man had brought a measure of peace and stability to the land that hadn’t been seen in quite some time and forged alliances with numerous surrounding kings, a few of which had supported his bid for power.

Things continued that way for several years, the only real upheavals being good magic versus bad and the occasional border dispute with one kingdom or another. All ended quickly, but the queen lay barren, unable to bring him a child. Thus he turned to his court sorcerers for help. It was kept largely quiet, but there were few things you could hide from nosey women, and Gar’s mother had been not only particularly so but a master of the arcane as well. Gaius had finally been the one to pull through, turning to the High Priestess Nimueh for help.

That was when things turned sour. One of the laws of magic was that life could only be paid for with death. To give life to one you must take it from another. Thus was the price of Arthur’s birth. Or perhaps rebirth, Tony wondered. Arthur Pendragon was supposed to be the once and future king, sworn to return from death in Albion’s time of need. How many lives had the boy lived? And how many did he remember?
And even better, why was he even considering this line of thought?

Shortly after Arthur was born, the queen died, and with her death began the purge, Uther’s genocide against all things magic. Dark or light, good or Evil; not mutually exclusive terms Stark was amused to note, but it made no difference. Uther rounded up anyone and anything even suspected of being magical and had them publicly executed, their bodies put out for display.

Tony was no stranger to betrayal, not afraid to deal with his enemies permanently and certainly aware of the danger posed by lunatics with power, but despite all that and Uther’s best intentions Tony still felt disgusted by the idea of him. How could he not have known? He had court sorcerers for crying out loud, certainly they had informed him well in advance what the consequences for what he wanted were? It was supposed to be one of the first laws of magic for crying out loud!

Tony understood a little of the grief and anger caused by losing your girl, but Uther’s reaction had been over the top. Had he just assumed that because he was king he was immune to such bargains? Even scientists had to justify their work to get funding and safety checks involved in that were often exhausting. Something Tony was relieved he never had to deal with. Being the boss had it perks… oh. Heh.

“Guards, Kill him. And I’ll offer a royal pardon to anyone here who wants to use magic to help make it so.”

“JARVIS? New plan!” Tony said curling his hands into claws. As light and sound collected in his palms the surrounding court stepped back in alarm. Tony noted absently that Arthur was protesting his father’s decision while a pretty raven haired girl somehow managed to hold the blond boy back with a single hand on his shoulder. A close friend, he wondered; a sister perhaps? She had a look of fascination as she starred at his hands.

Suddenly one of the remaining knights got cocky and charged forward, his sword raised to slash at his head. Tony acted as he had in his most recent battle, bringing a swift hand up and releasing the palm thruster. A 1% burst blew the man off his feet and sent him flying. The next several knights suffered the same and Tony turned his sights on the king, Uther.

“One more chance, buster, and then I blow you straight through that wall.”

“Foul sorcerer!” The king spluttered. “Fine! Gaius, attend to the wounded. And you, I’ll face you tomorrow morning in the stadium. A battle for the kingdom it will be. No use of magic or you forfeit.”

Tony snorted; a sound that echoed through the visor like the huff of a giant beast. The crowd stepped back and Tony walked towards the back wall. Powering up both palm and chest projectors he blasted a man sized hole out the side of the castle and turned to half face the man. “I’ll bring a shovel,” he replied and flew off.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Mary Collins made her way out of the castle quietly, removing a stolen maid’s uniform as she went. These were interesting developments indeed.

A guard spotted her and came charging over. “Hey! You! What is your purpose there? Don’t you know the castle is under attack?! Get back down stair until Lord Uther gives the all clear.” She turned toward him sharply, her eyes burning gold.

“Sleep,” she said in the ancient tongue. The man collapsed like a puppet with his strings cut and the aged sorceress went on her way.

She had to get the word out. This could be exactly what they had been waiting for, a sorcerer powerful enough to challenge Camelot on his own. But even if he could win the kingdom, he’d still need an army to hold it.

And she knew just who to ask.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Merlin’s mind whirled as he rushed down the steps to see the great dragon. A duel for the kingdom; it was hard to imagine. “Great dragon!” he shouted before he was even out of the tunnel. “Great dragon, I need your council! The man in red is going to kill King Uther tomorrow in tournament!”

There was a great flapping sound and the golden scales of the monstrous lizard dropped into view, the great gusts of his wings once again snuffing out Merlin’s torch. Merlin hastily relit the beacon with a touch of his will and the reptilian sage spoke. “Death to King Uther… I must say, I approve.”

“You can’t mean that!” Merlin cried in dismay. As much as he didn’t want to give the prat any kindness, the mere thought of someone killing his mother made his blood boil and his stomach clench painfully, he didn’t want to imagine what Arthur would feel to see his father die, especially to a sorcerer. It would ruin everything the dragon had promised him.

“Oh, but I do. With Uther gone, my chains will be broken and I shall be free to leave this prison. Arthur will be king and you’ll still be here to guide him, ease him into the promotion of magic and Albion can begin again,” the winged mage replied simply.

“But Uther is dueling a known sorcerer! If he dies, that will tear Arthur apart! He’ll hate magic and their users even more than his father does!” the boy protested, trying to make the dragon understand and offer help.

“Hmm… tell me everything.” Merlin obliged, leaving nothing out. Kilgharrah occasionally asked a question here or there to clarify some detail or other. For some reason the great lizard seemed particularly interested in the exact wording of the strangers ultimatum. In the end the beast seemed satisfied. He nodded, as if to himself, and spoke. “Here is exactly what you should do.”

~!@#$^%&*()_+

Cenred gazed down thoughtfully on the man kneeling before him. His spies had proven themselves worth their weight in gold this day. A sorcerer challenging Camelot, who’d have thought the day would come?

Certainly it had happened many times before; his rival’s kingdom had a long history of intense magical conflict. The difference was, ever since the purge, no magic user who had shown their colors in Camelot had ever walked out again.

At least not alive…

This man in red armor was different though. Tall, his spies had reported, with a voice that boomed like an angry god. The wizard’s eyes had been reported to glow with a perpetual fire and in his crimson and gold full plate mail he fought with the strength of a giant, smashing through walls and taking down the local knights without bothering to wield a weapon.

As if such a monster would need one, he thought ruefully. This man was a living weapon. The question was; whose? People like that didn’t just appear out of the sky one day; he had to work with someone. Cenred trusted his spies, but only to a point.

Regardless of that however, Camelot would be weak in the wake of the man’s path. Even if he didn’t manage to take the kingdom he’d leave it in a state ready for conquering. Cenred would prepare his army. Should the stranger win a show of force would be a good way to secure an alliance, but if he lost? Well then, Camelot would be his at last.

~!@$#%^&*()_+

Merlin watched from hiding as Arthur fumed. The blond was beating the tar out of knights in the courtyard and cursing up a storm. It was early in the morning and Arthur’s father had refused to explain anything that had transpired to the boy. Currently the king and Gaius were holed up in Gaius’ tower with the door locked as they had been all night.

“Put your weight into the blow!” Arthur’s voice rang out over the cobble stones. “Watch the foot work, I know you’re better than that. ATTACK ME!” The orders went on and on. Merlin was sure he was actually scaring the other men, whirling around like a dervish, hacking, slashing, dancing around everyone’s responses and snarling a constant stream of corrections the entire time.

Looking closer Merlin could see the sweat pouring off of him. The guy would kill himself if he didn’t let up. Merlin wondered again, briefly, why he had allowed himself to be talked into protecting this ass. While the method was certainly unique, Arthur was throwing a classic temper tantrum as best he could tell. The only reason Merlin felt any sympathy for the prat was the chance that he was about to lose his father.

Sighing heavily Merlin pulled out a piece of paper and began to read in the ancient language, his eyes lighting up like suns.

“Thrice of mine, and thrice of thine,
then thrice again to make the nine.
Protect Arthur Pendragon, O wall of nine.

Pale streaks of purple light crackled along the edges of Arthur’s armor before disappearing and Merlin frowned, his job done. So long as he lived, Arthur would be safe. That, of course, was assuming he had pronounced the spell properly of course… Merlin fully expected the spell to draw upon his magic constantly, given Arthur’s propensity for pissing people off. He wondered briefly where the dragon had found such a spell and if he could place it on himself. He had plenty of magic to spare, the way it was always leaking everywhere, it’d be cool to be invulnerable.

He turned around to leave and make his rounds for Gaius early and froze. Standing before him, jaw hanging open and eyes wide, was Gwen. “Umm… Ah, it’s not what it looks like!” he blurted out quickly.

His outburst freed the mocha skinned girl from her shock and she began hyperventilating. “So you’re not a sorcerer who just cursed our prince with some evil spell?” She squeaked, trying to sound sarcastic and failing.

“Ok, so it’d not entirely what it looks like.” He said in a rush. “Could we get out of sight?” he begged, “Please? I’ll explain everything.”

Guinevere looked torn but grabbed his hand and dragged him off anyway. “Come along then, we’ll go to my house, father’s at his forge so we’ll have some privacy there.” She explained, not looking at him. Merlin allowed himself to be led and they soon ended up in a small, two story whitewashed house crammed between a bakery to the right and an inn to the left.

As soon as the door was shut Merlin found himself backed against the wall with the tip of a sword at his throat. “Explain,” the girl said. Merlin noticed that she was really pretty when she was angry. Shaking himself, he began talking.

“The spell I placed on Arthur was to protect him. My teacher said that so long as I have magic to spare, any harm that came to the target would be held at bay by my own magic. The spells reads ‘thrice of mine and thrice of thine, then thrice again to make the nine. Protect Arthur Pendragon, O wall of nine’. I’d let you read it, but I don’t think you can,” he said holding out the crumpled piece of paper.

“My father taught me to read!” She snapped, her frizzy hair fanning out behind her as she moved forward to snatch the paper from his hand. “Oh…” she muttered, her face reddening as she looked at the strange runes on the paper before letting it go. The paper fell from her hand and she glared back at him, her dark chocolate eyes holding little of the same warmth as they had the last week. “Well… I suppose you could be telling the truth,” she said.

“Thanks,” Merlin breathed. “The duel shouldn’t be starting for another couple of hours, if you want I could try to teach you…” he offered. “Sorcery would do wonders for your seams work,” he said, then panicked. “N-not that you need it of course!” he blurted. He relaxed when Gwen smiled at him. Everything was going to be just fine.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Anthony Stark floated just below the clouds, using JARVIS to enhance the image of the stadium below him. The place was packed with spectators, ready to watch the sparrow’s fall. But who would they be cheering for?

Uther, most likely, the man had conquered Camelot from the front of his army and held tournament champion for decades. It wasn’t wise to go against the favorite, especially when the man was your king.

Smiling to himself he dove down and came in to land, circling the stadium several times just to show off. That done he landed heavily in the center of the arena in his customary pose. Rising slowly to a standing position Tony removed the sword he had stolen from the magnetic sheath he’d added to his back and waited.

The arena doors opened and Uther walked out, his helmet under his arm, full plate armor shining. The man nodded to him and donned the metal cap. His armor complete the king raised a kite shield and broad sword and swung.

Tony watched impassively as JARVIS predicted the man’s movements allowing him to sidestep the old warrior again and again. As the fight continued, Uther attacked faster and faster, pulling out ever more complicated patterns with sword and shield to try and end him. After several minutes of this the king’s face was red and he was visibly struggling for breath. It was as humiliating as it was deliberate. “Why don’t you fight, you bastard!?”

That was the signal Tony had been waiting for, stepping forward he swung the larger sword at his opponents head. Uther was immediately on his feet, much of his fatigue mysteriously gone. Lame duck tactic, Tony snorted as his blow came into land, as if he hadn’t seen that one coming. His sword made contact with the kings and continued on, not even slowing in its arc.

Unfortunately, this was not due to the incredible strength the Iron Man armor presented its bearer. Uther’s sword had shorn his clean in half! Not that the king had gotten off entirely unscathed, the cloven piece of iron continued in its preappointed arc and slammed into the side of Uther’s helmet knocking the old knight back several steps.

Tony held the sword in front of his eyes for several seconds staring at it. JARVIS was put to work analyzing the scarring pattern on the metal and calculating the type of edge and metal needed to do what Uther had just accomplished. The conclusion was returned quickly. Three micron edge, high grade tungsten steel with a high carbon ratio. Defiantly not possible in this timeline.

“Sir?” JARVIS spoke up as the screen cycled through data. “The blade in question seems to be projecting an unidentifiable energy field. Combined with the incongruences in the make of the blade I would postulate that magic was involved in the making of this anomaly.”

“There’s no such thing as magic JARVIS, but I agree. King Bluster here is using a metahuman to cheat for him. JARVIS, highlight all unusual energy sources.” Throwing his shortened sword away Iron Man knocked the next stroke aside with his hand and brought the other in for a punch that would cave in the man’s breastplate and pass through Uther’s chest. Uther blocked with his shield and as it took the blow it lit up in Tony’s display like a neon sign. The blow was caught without so much as shaking Uther’s arm. The sword came at him again and Stark caught it between his palms.

“Just so you know,” Tony spoke, the filter on his mask only loud enough for Uther to hear. “It’s very bad form to agree to a handicap and not subject yourself to it.” Then he tore the blade out of Uther’s hands, caught it by the hilt and slammed it into the ground through Uther’s foot.

The king screamed, but he wasn’t the only one. As Tony tore away the man’s shield Arthur and the pretty raven haired girl from before leapt the stockade wall and charged toward them. While the blond rained down blows on him with a speed he was unable to match the girl tried to free Uther’s foot of the sword.

Both tasks proved quickly and ultimately futile.

“Why are you doing this?” the girl cried.

Tony scanned her, trying to find some sort of identifying traits and found the same traces of radiation on her as the boy he had rescued earlier. “Because I can?” he said flippantly, giving up trying to catch Arthur and simply ignoring his attack. “This man would see you dead if he knew what you could do, simply for being what you are. His type of bigot cannot be reasoned with, it’s better simply to kill him.”

“Kill me? I am Uther’s own Ward! He would never harm me.”

“So, some sorcerers are shown favor while most are executed then? Tell me young witch, does Uther’s hypocrisy ever end?”

At his words the blows from Arthur ended mid-stroke and both teenagers looked alarmed. “B-but… I-I’m not a witch!” Morgana protested feebly. “I’ve never used… those dreams can’t, they didn’t always come true though!” the girl cried, her eyes wild.

A seer then, Tony thought gravely. There were a few of those at Xavier’s school. “I don’t see how that matters,” Stark replied calmly, walking over to remove the sword from the kings’ foot. “So few of the children this one slew ever used magic powers, fewer still even had them. But they, or more often their parents, were suspected,” he put special emphasis on the word. “of being mages as so they were killed too. Just. To. Make. Sure.” He finished slowly, his filtered voice dripping with venom.

Ripping the enchanted sword out of the ground Stark turned around, the kings blade raised to strike of its master’s own head. Reaching the apex of his turn Tony prepared to shorten Uther by a head only for Arthur to step in his way, halting Iron Man. “Get out of the way boy. This is not your day to die,” he said softly, his posture relaxing slightly.

“No!” Arthur said fiercely. “Whatever manner of monster my father may be, he’s still my dad. I CANNOT LET YOU KILL HIM!” the boy finished with a roar.

Tony starred at the young blond for a long moment. His father’s own death, while far less tragic, still haunted him occasionally and he’d not had a particularly close relationship with the man. Arthur did. He hesitated to push the boy out of the way and press on. Uther could not continue if Tony was to ever get home, but did he really want to cause the boy this kind of pain?

His shoulders sagged and Arthur looked suddenly confused at Tony’s lack of aggression. “Fine, boy. For a son’s love.” He stabbed the sword once more into the dirt and shoved the boy aside. “Uther Pendragon,” he boomed softly, raising the volume on his speakers to make sure the entire crowd could hear him without needing to shout. “You have lost your right as king of Camelot. The castle and all lands and titles you held belong to me. From this day forth, you are my prisoner. If your subjects reject my authority, you die. If you escape, your son’s life will replace yours on the block before I come for you personally.” He reached down and took the man’s right arm. Taking the wrist in his gauntlet he squeezed, crushing several of the bones therein. “A king must be his peoples’ voice and sword, you shall have neither. Guards, take him to the dungeons and have a physician see to him.”

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Nimueh looked down at her disciple in quiet contemplation. Mary Collins’ tale was certainly one worthy of looking into she decided. If there was any chance the girl spoke truth most of her plans would change quite drastically.

And the news was good…

Reaching the altar, the elder priestess of the ancient gods of Albion gestured at the stone, causing it to flow into the shape of a basin and fill with water. A few choice words and a sprinkling of herbs later the surface of the water rippled, revealing Uther’s sadly living face. Nimueh frowned darkly. At least the man was in pain, she thought in disgust. A thought occurred to her and she widened the frame of reference to take in the rest of Uther’s body.

He was injured. Rather badly too if she was any judge. A genuine smile creased her features as she looked back at Mary. “You’ve done well child,” she said. “Uther lives, but lies in a dungeon, too injured to move.” Turning back to her scrying, the High Priestess frowned as she saw Gaius enter the image and begin tending to the kings wounds. Perhaps there still would be a use for her plans after all, if only on a smaller scale…

Nimueh sighed, discarding the idea. Gaius was just doing what she had taught him, healing the sick and playing the fence. So long as he didn’t interfere with these new developments she could afford to let him be.

Making further gestures towards the pool the ancient beauty turned her search toward the newcomer. A great power in red and gold armor, her subject had told her. One vying for the position of king; and successfully too, if Uther’s own condition was anything to go by. After a few minutes of concentration, she found him in the throne room, holding court. Interested she moved closer to the bowl and added the stems of the periwinkle plant to allow her to hear what was being said.

These were indeed interesting times.

~!@#$^%&*()_+

Tony stood patiently while yet another knight growled out his pledge of fealty and sighed within his armor. It was sort of a pity really that he wouldn’t likely be able to remove his armor for a while, but those were the breaks.

“Rise, sir Ulrich, and know that your position is secure under my rule. May your loyalty never be worthy of doubt,” he droned out, as the knight stood to be replaced by yet another. This had been going on for hours but, he hoped, it was almost over. There were only two knights behind this one after all. Mentally reviewing the names and faces of the men who had taken the last few hours swearing themselves to him and those he had struck down he came up with 67.

While that was indeed a lot of nobles, most of them were the lesser sons, brothers, cousins and uncles of the current lords who oversaw the lands of Camelot. He would be meeting with or subduing a reported two hundred some more over the next several weeks as news of his sovereignty got around. Finally dismissing the last one Tony breathed a massive sigh of relief.

“Now that that is done with I dismiss you all.” He paused a moment to allow the explosive chaos of voices to occur as the assemblage expertly misinterpreted his statement. Tony waited several moments for the confusion and shock to turn to outrage before bellowing “SILENCE! Now that I have everybody’s attention…” he remarked, letting his amusement pass through JARVIS’s filters “I want my assembled knighthood to ride out and secure my kingdom. Go to your homes and inform your families and fiefdoms of the shift in power. Taxes to the kingdom…” he paused with a grin as everybody groaned “will be cut in half.” He paused, taking in the stunned confusion and wonder in the crowds faces. “Instead I want you to use that money, and your own coffers to work on improving your lands. It’s come to my attention that we have a rather sizable population of people who have neither homes, nor jobs. Use the money to round them up and start work crews. A man in the field is far more useful to me than one dead in the ditch.”

Now that Tony was certain he had everybody’s undivided attention he began pacing, his head slightly bowed as he handed out edict after edict. The prosperity of his company had long been a point of professional pride for the Starks and he saw this as being no different. Proper infrastructure was key to business and the same held true for running a country, or so he’d been told. For that he’d need better roads, resources and most of all he’d need to set up a proper method of education. Skilled labor was a must for any successful business or country and while apprenticeships of their current style worked it left a lot to be desired. He wanted to start introducing technology soon as well, but until things settled enough to set up proper industry, the metahumans would do well enough as a replacement.

“Also,” he said now looking directly at the scribe who he had brought in specifically for this point and increasing the intensity of the eye lights for effect. “I’m removing the laws restricting use of …magic.” He forced the word out, hoping no one noticed. Pushing on he spoke slightly louder, both to take notice away from his slip and to drown out the angry murmurs that had arisen from his statement. “Furthermore, magic users are not only to be welcomed in my lands but are to be declared wards of the kingdom. Anyone found to attack a magic user without clear provocation is to be publicly flogged. Anyone who turns a mage away from their place of business will spend the rest of the day in the stocks. And finally, any magic user encountered or found to possess the potential is to be directed to report to Camelot immediately. My scribe…” he paused again, looking directly at the boy “will be drawing up a series of posters detailing the offer of teaching positions to elder sorcerers and offers of room and board for the children.”

“Everyone else is dismissed, you know your orders. Don’t give me a reason to follow you home.”

 

Tony flew just below the clouds, his pace slow and steady, his suits scanners taking in the topography of the land and matching it to the maps of the kingdom he had just taken over. He moved out in an ever widening spiral from Camelot, taking special note of each road and villages as it passed beneath him.

To be perfectly honest, the maps were horrible. The distances were spotty, the landmarks often over or under emphasized, only the high roads were marked, quite frankly the entire thing was shameful on the part of the map makers.

Tony sighed within his armor. From what he and Jarvis had been able to discern, the kingdom of Camelot was based largely out of Hampshire, but contained Dorset, Wiltshire, Berkshire and parts of Sussex, Surrey and Somerset as well. The Kingdom of Nemeth along the northern border would later become Oxford according to Jarvis databases, while Mercia comprised most of the countryside typically associated with England. Kent, Essex and the remainder of Sussex and Surrey were ruled by a man called Cenred and supposedly Devon and Cornwall was the kingdom to the west.

The whole thing gave him a headache and he was using this time to relax and listen to the Black Sabbath. He’d return do Camelot by dinner he thought with a shrug. Honestly, how much could have gone wrong in a day?

Kilgharrah stared at Emrys incredulously. “The red sorcerer won, but Uther still lives?” he demanded, spluttering. It was inconceivable! All members of the old religion hated Uther and wouldn’t have hesitated to kill him given the chance, what was going on here? What was he not seeing?

“Yes,” Merlin said enthusiastically “the entire stadium heard it. He said for the love of a son and then instead of killing them both, he pushed Arthur out of the way and crushed the king’s sword arm. He proved to the knighthood and city of Camelot that he had mercy for his enemies that Uther did not and then made friends further by lowering everyone’s taxes and telling the knights to use the money to strengthen Camelot instead.”

“And the old ways, what of them?” the great dragon asked, crossing his claws and resting his head on them.

“Well, he hasn’t welcomed them back, but he’s made all who can prove magic into wards of the kingdom and invited them to Camelot. Given his power and recent actions I think he means to have us treated as any other commoner.”

The dragon’s brows knitted at this. “We shall see.” He said finally. “You’ve not made any indication that he’s come to you or Gaius yet, any ideas why?”

“I don’t known, but he was going over the maps with Geoffrey of Monmouth this morning and then left the castle by air.”

By air? Ah, yes, Merlin claimed he could fly; a rare skill among wizards to be certain. “A curious choice of actions, so soon after claiming a kingdom, though I shall admit to the joy of flight…” he commented with a carefully crafted wistful sigh. He did truly miss flying free, but he needed more information and he’d already learned that the boy offered more if he thought it was his idea than if he was told to do something.

“I think he was disappointed with the skills of the map makers. He was talking as if he wanted to make his own and I heard him tell Geoffrey that he needed accurate maps of all the cities and villages if he was going to reform the land properly.”

Kilgharrah raised his head at that and looked directly at Merlin. Could this sorcerer really reform lands to his will? This would certainly be interesting. Perhaps it would be in his best interests to get a meeting with the man sooner rather than later…

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Cenred grinned broadly as his spy reported Uther’s predicament. So the sorcerer had won had he? And through strength of arms rather than magic too. A dangerous opponent to be certain…

“Haunthur!” He barked, calling his favored Lieutenant to the foot of his throne. “You and Lot shall summon the army and be ready to mount a full scale attack across Camelot’s borders, I will take a retinue of two score knights and ride for Camelot under diplomatic banners.” He said, standing and pacing. “If I do not send a raven within the week, invade and be sure to kill anyone who resists. Let’s go test the mettle of the Witch king of Camelot!”

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Nimueh smiled kindly at Faroth, as the head of the druid camp inclined his head to her. Things were going well so far .The red knights’ decree that Sorcery as free to practice had made their movements far easier and already the scattered tribes were coming together. The fortress of Daelbeth would be a fine place to observe the events in Camelot until they were sure it was safe to return under the new kings’ rule. It was near Camelot and if repaired, a feat easily done, would be easily defensible should the un-gifted rabble attack.

The entire community was talking about it of course; how the armored sorcerer king had offered them a place of safety within his fortress and encouraged teachers to come forward as his royal wards. Still, when things change in an instant it was best to be cautious. While crippled, Uther was not entirely neutered. The knights of Camelot were known for many things, but one of their more admirable traits was loyalty, something they more than likely still felt for their old king, and yet reserved from the new one.

Feeling a tug on her robe the high priestess looked down into the blue gray eyes of a child. ‘Be careful, lady priestess.’ The child’s voice rang in her head. ‘Emrys and Kilgharrah are agitated and Gaius doesn’t trust you anymore. If you do what you’re planning the IronMan will kill you.’

‘The IronMan, child?’ Nimueh returned smiling. It was rare to meet a child with such a strong gift and such talents were not to be overlooked or wasted… even if he was a boy.

‘I dream, lady priestess. The powerful man it red armor, he calls himself the IronMan and he is no friend of the old religion. Do not do what you are planning.’

She knelt down and stroked the boys cheek, “What do you mean, child? Worried as I am this might be destined for a short reprieve, why would a sorcerer, especially a powerful one, not want to revive the old religion?”

‘Because he does not believe’ the boy returned. ‘He has been touched by two gods and still denies them. His power comes from wit and learning rather than faith and he will refuse to bow to you.’

Wit and learning… Nimueh’s mind spun through a hundred different scenarios. There were still ways she could work this, but she would need more information, it seemed that her reluctance to simply enter Camelot and claim her rightful place were far more prudent than she had believed. “But he is genuine in his acceptance of us and ours?” she asked the young boy.

‘Yes. In my dreams of his homeland there were many with power. He ruled beside some, but fought many others. Those he deemed criminals. Don’t try to make him bow to you, it won’t end well.’

She smiled indulgently “yes, child, that much was obvious, but for whom?”

‘For you.’

~!@#$%&^*()_+

“Jarvis, where are we?” Tony asked, looking down and pausing to hover in midair.

“By my calculation and appointment of recent landmarks I would postulate that we are just over the border to Cenred’s kingdom, sir.”

“So that large group of men on horses probably isn’t going to take orders from me.”

“Not likely, sir, enhancing, identifying, sir, the crest on their cloaks is indeed black serpent of Essetir.”

“Jarvis, correlate existing data, I want to know where they’re headed. I have my suspicions, but data is always better.”

“They are on the main road between the kingdom of Essetir and your new lands, sir. At their current pace they should reach the calculated border area in an hour’s time. There are forty three men in total and they bear banners strapped to the side of the aft most mounts. If I may, sir, this could be a diplomatic entourage.”

“Well then, I guess it’s time to greet the neighbors!” Tony said before diving down. Choosing an angle that would land him well in front of the galloping horses he stopped his landing with a blast from his repulsers, causing a crater in the weak stone of the road and sending up a cloud of dust around him.

“Sir, I must caution you, this is ill advised. While the border at this point is ambiguous it is not wise to antagonize countries you do not intend to immediately conquer.”

“And a show of strength before opening friendly negotiations is a long held business practice. In fact, given what you’ve told me that seems to be precisely what he’s doing. I’m just showing him I’m not impressed.”

Tony stood there as the dust and dirt quickly cleared, arms crossed over his chest and eyes glowing in the early evening. Before him the horses had stopped in a semicircle around him, though some were still prancing or rearing nervously.

“Hail, Witch King!” called a man with long hair, black leather armor and twin swords strapped to his back. The rider slowly clopped forward, his arm raised above his head to block out the setting sun. “I had planned to meet you in a few days at your castle, but I suppose here might do as well as any other. It is the border after all…” There was a laugh in his voice and tony cocked his head to the side a little.

Activating his boot repulsers he lifted off slowly and floated closer to the man who had ridden forward. “Am I to take it you’re king Cenred of Essetir?”

“You’ve heard of me, Witch King?” the man asked, still grinning even as his horse danced in fear.

“Only in passing,” Tony replied, “I’m new here. I decided I didn’t like the maps my record keeper had so I thought I’d make my own. Been flying around the five kingdoms all day judging distances.”

“I could offer you the services of my own cartographers, Witch King.” Cenred offered “in the spirit of friendship between our two lands.”

“I’d be willing to form some sort of alliance with you, but just to be clear, forty knights is not a diplomatic retainer, it’s an attack. Send half of them home before you meet me at in Camelot.”

“And if I don’t agree to your terms?” the man asked, tone belligerent. “What’s to say you won’t just kill me when I get there without a proper guard?”

“Would it make you more comfortable if I killed you now,” Tony asked, raising his hands and making the repulsers glow “on more familiar ground?” Tony smirked as he quoted Laura Croft: Tomb Raider. Got to love the classics.

The entire retinue began shifting warily, looking at Tony’s hands in obvious fear and fury, but Cenred just laughed. “I like you, Witch King, what is your name?”

“Stark,” he replied “Tony Stark.”

~!@#%$^&*()_+

When Tony landed in the courtyard to a circle of crossbowmen he sighed. It never rained, it poured. He’d just finished two separate conquests, met with a marauding warrior king and was about to update an entire map, topography and all and now this… “Uther, I spared your life last time for your son’s sake, now, why don’t you get your sorry mass murdering ass back down to the cells before I find a more permanent method of making you my bitch?”

“Archers,” Uther rasped as loudly as he could manage “open fire.”

Tony bowed his head as the vastly inferior metal and velocity of the bolts rained down on him scoring small scratches in his paint job. “Jarvis, give me targeting solutions, it seems we need to make an example here.”

“Of course, sir, scanning, targets locked. Fire when ready sir.”

Tony looked around through his HUD and watched as Jarvis calculated the power, angle and spread for his repulser blasts, including lethal versus not lethal power estimates for various targets on the body and nodded. Moving quickly Tony braced himself and began to dance. Blast after blast tony struck down the archers, shattering rib cages, pulping skulls and sending bow stocks through their users in a gory spray of blood and viscera. Nearly two thirds of them were dead when Tony noticed a charge of seven knights and Uther, a mace in his left hand and a shield strapped to his broken right arm.

Tony scowled, he took no pleasure in this massacre and ignored the archers as they fled, turning his attention instead on the knights. Stepping forward into the first with a snap kick Jarvis sensors informed him that the man’s rib cage was collapsed and organ punctures were likely. He probably wouldn’t survive, but hell, the king’s court physician was a metahuman; maybe the man had healing powers? He’d seen a few mutants with such potential. Wolverine had even been considered for inclusion in the avenger’s initiative, but his loyalty to Xavier meant that they’d have to wait a little while. Tony briefly wondered if they’d bring the man in to replace him when he didn’t make it back quickly. ‘This is probably killing Pepper’ he thought as he clapped his hands forcefully over one knight’s ears. The man staggered away and went down, alive but with bleeding ears and a massive concussion.

Uther was howling something at him as he placed an uppercut into the chain-mail covered stomach of another knight and Tony rolled his eyes. A sweeping backhand caught the man across the jaw, breaking it in two places and nearly snapping his neck. Turning again he back-stepped inside the sword arc of one of the knights still ineffectually beating on him with a sword and drove his elbow into the side of the man’s head. Grabbing the final knight’s sword in one hand he ripped it out of the olive skinned man’s hand and slammed the butt of the weapon into the man’s nose, just above the bridge, breaking it, but not shoving any splinters up into the man’s brain. As he staggered away Jarvis informed him that with treatment the knight would eventually heal.

Tony bent over and picked up the former king by the back of his plate armor and started walking toward the tower that was leaking cosmic radiation. He was assuming the tower belonged to Gaius, as Merlin didn’t seem to have arrived yet. As he kicked open the door Tony pondered that. The story of Le Morte D’Arthur was one he’d been vaguely familiar with for a while, having read it once when he was five and sulking over the failure of his fourth engine, a project he would complete several months later. In the story Uther Pendragon and Lady Igraine had died shortly after Merlin’s birth, though he couldn’t remember any good explanations for the event. Upon his families death Arthur was taken by Merlin to live with Arthur’s uncle sir Ector until his early teens when Merlin reappeared to lead him to Excalibur and guide him in uniting England under a single banner.

That hadn’t happened here.

Instead of being long standing royalty the Pendragons were a noble family of knights that, according to the court historian Geoffrey of Monmouth, had fallen in and out of kingship for centuries before Uther had forged the five smaller kingdoms into the land of Camelot. Then, instead of dying shortly after Arthurs birth in an unnamed and apparently unimportant conflict, this Uther had sacrificed his wife to the old religion to bear his son Arthur and then used her death as an excuse to wage genocide on all metahumans. How the devil the old codger survived such a war was beyond him, Tony had faced his fair share of Meta’s before coming here and damn if any normal human could survive such a battle without special equipment and boatloads of luck. Hawkeye and Widow at least had decades of Special Forces training under their belt and a healthy sense of self-preservation to ride them through such conflicts, but a fanatically pro-human king from ye olde England?

Tony shook off his musings as he reached the top of the stairs and banged on a thick wooden door. There was a yelp from inside and a crash before the door was opened by a small boy he’d noted earlier on the tournament field. The boy was looking up at him in shock and awe, and under Tony’s sensor net, literally overflowing with cosmic radiation. “Hey, little wizard, fetch your master, would you?”

The boy shook himself and stepped aside revealing a large circular room that looked more like an apothecary than any sort of living quarters.

“Good lord, what have you done?” came a voice from the far side of the room. Tony looked over to see the old physician from the parade ground hustling over in what looked like a maroon nightgown. “Sire, I though you intended to keep the old king alive, not kill him!”

“Sorry old man, but this idiot decided it would be a good idea to stage a coup. I’ve never done well with hostile takeovers.” He tossed Uther to the floor and smiled as the man groaned. “Besides, he’s not dead, just a little roughed up. He’ll need a neck brace and someone to wire his jaw straight. Soft foods and immobilization for a few weeks he should be good.” He sent a mental command to his helmet, causing it to fold and stow itself within his armor. “Though I’ve got to wonder how often he’s going to try this, my pity for the boy notwithstanding, I’m not a particularly patient man.”

~!@$#%^&*()_+

Merlin watched in awe as the man in red armor who had changed so much of the landscape of the kingdom in a single week vanished his helmet. The fiery rectangular eyes, the golden faceplate and the red hood just melted away, folding and flowing into the back of his surprisingly thick armor. The man was handsome, Merlin thought with a small twinge of envy, with high cheekbones, pale skin and deep black hair, cut short and without sweat despite the battle he had suggested just occurred. Merlin grinned at Gaius’s vocal consternation and stepped forward from his previous deer in the headlights position beside the door, offering his hand.

“Hello, I’m Master Gaius’s new apprentice. It’s great to meet such a master sorcerer.” He said with a grin.

The cold metal of the man’s hand closed against his and Merlin could feel the river of raw power that coursed through the gem on the gloves palm. “Thanks, and I’m not a sorcerer.”

Merlin and Gaius froze, looking at him in shock. “But… the dragon said… I can feel your power! You must be a sorcerer, how else could you fly?”

The man looked at him with a smug grin on his face. “There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” The man replied. “I’m a scientist. Anyone could do what I did if they were clever enough.”

“Sire,” offered the old man hesitantly “if I may, there is a great deal of magical power flowing out of that talisman on your breastplate. Even if it is not your own, surely you must understand that you are, in fact, using magic.”
Tony nodded at him and gestured to Uther. “Start patching him up and we’ll talk.” He said, sitting down on one of the benches. Tony watched as Gaius directed Merlin, who he only called ‘boy’, to move to clear off one of the tables and lay the old king out on it, which the boy did with his eyes burning gold. Tony watched all of this with amusement as the old man puttered over Uthar’s unconscious body, constantly sending his apprentice scurrying off in one direction or another. “So, can either of you tell me where Arthur was? Not that I mind leaving the kid alive, but with the coup and everything I’m kind of surprised he didn’t come out and attack me with the others? I was beating his family and subjects black and blue after all, which is another point... Gaius, once you’re done with this old rag you should probably go down to the court yard with your apprentice. It’s a bloody mess, but I’m sure some of them survived and would like to see tomorrow as well.”

“You… you… bloody bugger it all, man! Things like that are exactly why people fear sorcerers in Camelot!” Gaius cried, shuffling over to Tony, the white haired man’s crooked brow and bulging eyes giving him a markedly insane countenance.

“Yes, well, that’s your problem now isn’t it? You see, I’m a man of science, I build tools to harness energy for my own means, while you are a metahuman, a sorcerer, who uses their bodies to conduct and channel energy for often far more complicated purposes. But here’s the thing. You are apparently a court physician as well as a healer. Where I have harmed, you can heal, winning points for your side of things by… repairing damages shall we say. And with your abilities, and the freedom to use them publicly, you and this little powerhouse beside you can do so much more.” Tony stood up from the table and clapped his hands together. “Now, if you could tell me where I might find Arthur, I can let the two of you get to publicly using magic to heal people. Bit of a Public relations stunt if you will. Big bad sorcerer takes over their kingdom and quells rebellion, then trusted adviser of the old king moves around, miraculously healing anyone with so much as a headache.”

“Why do you want to know where Arthur is?” Merlin asked, suddenly finding his voice. “You’re not going to kill him too are you?”

Tony looked at him. “No, kid, I’m not going to kill your friend. I was just sort of curious why he wasn’t part of Uther’s coup. Seems like the kind of thing he might have tried to charge in and get involved with.”

Merlin nodded before coming to a decision. “Arthur and the Lady Morgana are locked in their rooms, m’lord sorcerer. Uther was unsure of their loyalties and didn’t want either of them getting hurt while he took you down. I heard him talking to the knights as they were taking him out of the dungeon.” Merlin paused a moment before speaking again. “I’m not entirely sure what it means, but he wanted extra guards to be placed on the Lady Morgana, two inside the room as well as the ones beyond.”

Merlin watched as the IronMan flinched slightly. “Damn.” He heard the man hiss. “By the way, if you want a proper sorcerer, you might want to find out what happened to and old man named Merlin. The books I read about this place said he was supposed to have been Arthur’s guide and guard after his parents died at a young age. Wise old fellow, long white hair, very powerful. Though considering the differences between the Camelot of… ah, prophesy and the Camelot I find myself in… well, let’s just say I’m finding it hard to trust those books.” The red hood and gold faceplate slid out to cover the man’s head as he walked out the door. “Still worth a look though.”

Merlin listened to the red armored boots clatter their way down the steps before rounding on Gaius. “What did he mean by that!?” the boys said, facing Gaius over Uther's unconscious body. “Gaius, what books?”

“Well, first, since the change of rulers means magic is an option again; put your hand on my shoulder and say: hrotir f’la nosguinth.” When Merlin did Gaius began chanting over the king, both of their eyes glowing brightly as his master healed Uther. “There’s that should do it. Now, believe it or not, this is not the first time Arthur has lived in Albion.” He watched as the old man shuffled over to his bookshelf and began sorting through several books, opening them up and placing them back on the shelves several times before settling on one, which Gaius handed to him. “Arthur is known in old prophesies as the once and future king. The ancient poets write that upon his first death, in the height of the old religion, the king swore a blood oath, in which he would return whenever his land most had need of him. And so he has, twice before. Each time Arthur is born he loses both of his parents shortly thereafter and grows up to unite the land of Albion, saving it from strife and protecting it both for and from magic.”

Merlin nodded distractedly as he read the book Gaius had given him. “And each time he has an elderly wizard there to guide and to guard him. The Great Dragon said something similar. But why is it different this time? According to this Uther was supposed to have died years ago and given our ages, you should have been his wizard, what changed everything?”

“I don’t know, Merlin, I don’t know.”

~!@#$^%&*()_+

Morgana sat by the window in her room, silent tears tracking down her cheeks as she contemplated throwing herself out of it. She had never been particularly fond of Uther, not since he had sent her father too his death, but the revulsion she had seen in his eyes when he ordered the guards to lock her in here, and the fear that had lurked within the guards… was this what it was like for all of the other magic users? To be constantly under this sort of scrutiny, every day of your life for something you couldn’t control would be a horrible way to have to live.

And then what the red armored mage had done in the courtyard. Morgana shuddered, there had been so much blood, even now as it slowly drained away down the castle sewer system she could see the fountains of the stuff as it had erupted from the men who had tried to ambush the new king. He had been so brutal on the battlefield… ‘but then’ a little voice said in the back of her head ‘so had Uther.’ If the new king’s words were true Uther had slaughtered children on the simple chance that they had been magical.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a commotion outside of her door causing the guards in the room with her to tense. Suddenly the door banged open against the wall, it lock splintering under the force of the blow that had opened it. One of the guards who had been posted to keep watch outside slid in on his back, sparks flying off his armored back and purple bruises forming around his neck. One of the standing guards drew a sword and the other grabbed a dagger and rushed over to grab hold of her, dragging her up and wrapping her in a deadly hug, dagger point shaking dangerously beneath her chin.

The reason for the pair’s terror, as if it wasn’t immediately apparent, stalked slowly into the room, eyes and hands glowing menacingly. In the low light of the entryway he looked positively sinister. Was this what it was like before Uther had brought war to the magic users her traitorous brain whispered in terror at her situation. While she couldn’t ever bring herself to agree with what either man had or was doing it wasn’t a terribly difficult rationalization, the man was scary.

“Put the knife down and I’ll let you live.” The crimson and gold sorcerers voice echoed ethereally. “I understand that you were just following orders and to run this kingdom I’m going to need fine guards like you three,” the armored magician continued calmly “but if you hurt the girl, I’ll see that your last moments are far from pleasant. Let. Her. Go.”

Morgana gave a sigh of relief as the dagger dropped from her jailers nerveless fingers and the light died in the armored sorcerers hands. “Thank you, sire,” Morgana said, massaging her throat as the pair of guards cowered away from the armored mans approach “will you truly let them live?”

“Of course.” The man’s hollow voice echoed momentarily before with a sudden movement the helmet folded up revealing a handsome face and dark blue eyes. “They know how to follow orders and so long as they don’t harm anyone under my care they’re valuable assets to the company… country. Come on now, let’s go fetch your brother. With Uther locking him up like that, he’s probably had a full rage on most of the day and it’s likely only gotten worse given recent events.”

Morgana followed the armored Witch King in a daze. She was still having a hard time getting over the mans assertion that she an Arthur were siblings through Uthar. If true, it would mean that her long held resentment of the man, while not unfounded, was misplaced. She was barely a year older than her half-brother which meant that Uthar had defiled her parents marriage before his own wife was even dead. Her death was the entire justification for his war against her kind and the tool he had used to kill the man she considered her true father.

Morgana was broken from her contemplation's by the ludicrous image of King Stark defeating another two guardsmen by taking the pairs heads, one in each hand, and clapping them together.

“M'lord, if I may be so bold...” Tony looked back at her, his helmet retracting again.

“I rarely say no to a pretty girl,” the man said with a grin that made her blush “but just so you know, you're too young for me.”

Morgana's mouth fell open, scandalized. She recovered quickly though and continued as the new king ripped open the doors before him, not even bothering to search for the key on the guards belts. “I'm trying to come to grips with your... temperament, m'lord. You seem to do things by masterful subtlety and barbarous levels of brute force in equal measure. You have no holds against slaughtering yourself a path through opposition, but do so for the sake of children and try to help people with every other breath. Simply put, you are a contradiction as you live and breathe. How does such a man come to be?”

The armored figure before her seemed to consider the question for a moment before answering in the most logical and nonsensical way possible. “You grow up in California.”

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Arthur prowled his room, acting very much like the dragon his last name proclaimed him to be. How could his father possibly have been so rash? The red knight had halted an execution covered by a wall of crossbowmen and stormed through the streets of the town and castle defeating everything that came within sight. And his father expected an ambush with a few score crossbowmen and a handful of knights to do anything? While he could understand the mans goals and even somewhat sympathize with his motives, it was crushing for him to realize that his father was most definitely not the wise and brilliant leader he had long believed him to be.

In the tournament at least, dishonorable as it may have been, there had at least been a plan... Enchanted items to counter a wizard who'd agreed to handicap himself and forgo enchantments himself. To Arthur though, it only served to highlight the Hypocrisy the crimson warlock accused his father of. What could the man possibly know that would make Uthar willing to agree to such a duel? What was it about Arthur's birth that had rattled him so? All these questions and more continued to eat at him as he watched the men lay bleeding in the courtyard after the armored wizard had dragged his father up in the direction of Gaius tower.

Speaking of which, he could see Gaius now, moving at a swift hobble, Merlin carrying a large basket of jars in one arm and steadying both himself and his master in the other. He watched with mingled relief and depression as the pair performed miracles at a steady pace. If his father had won at the end, despite it all, then those men down there would be left either crippled or dead. They'd be hailed as heroes perhaps, but it wouldn't mean much to their families. He'd learned that young when following his father as he gave condolences to various families of knights and soldiers he'd lost in one conflict of another. Under the Witch King though, as badly as he had injured them, he also allowed Gaius to use magic and heal that which would take months, years or even be a final sentence for most.

He didn't even turn around as there was a commotion by his door. His muscles tensed, ready to fight, regardless of how futile it would be. His father had rebelled and the Red Knight had promised that Arthur would pay the price for his fathers rebellion. If he had learned anything about the man so far it was that he kept his promises... Still, there was no reason to make it easy for him. As the door cracked and splintered behind him, the locking bolt tearing out through expensive molded hardwood Arthur turned to face his doom.

“Have you come to kill me?” he asked defiantly.

The red armored man, who's helmet was gone this time, seemed to stop short at that and Arthur took the time to observe him. His hair was cropped relatively short, only a few inches long as opposed to the male norm of shoulder length manes. It was black as pitch and looked slightly messy, sticking up in strands that moved every which way. On his face was a close cropped beard, another oddity, most men either shaved it completely or let it grow to full extension. There was a shadow of recent growth across his jaw and cheeks, but for the most part it looked as it it was regularly shaved save for a small patch around his mouth. The sorcerers eyes were a sharp, brilliant blue, like chips of ice and held a piercing quality to match. The rest of his features were classical of English highborn. Small sharp nose, high cheekbones, squarish face, strong jaw. It wasn't how he'd imagined the man behind the mask, given the constant glowing eyes and featureless gold faceplate.

“That depends a lot on you princess.” The new king said, a smirk on his face that didn't reach those cold eyes. Arthur suppressed a shiver.

“That's prince, sorcerer, or Lord now that you've dethroned my family. And what does my life depend on?”

“Whether or not you had any hand in planning that idiocy downstairs.” the crimson and gold clad monster answered with a negligent shrug. “So?”

Arthur relaxed slightly, but scowled even deeper. “No” he said finally “Father didn't want me to get in his way.” He snorted before starting violently as his tormentor smacked him in the shoulder grinning brightly.

“Then you've got nothing to worry about.” Then he turned away. “You're still a political prisoner of course, the kingdom likes you too much for me to simply toss you out on the streets. I'm gonna have to break your fathers other arm and both of his legs though. Can't just let things go without a response of some sort, the neighbors are already getting pushy.”

“Neighbors, pushy?” He and, surprisingly, Morgana asked.

The Witch King nodded. “Met a man named Cenred mustering an army on the border. I told him he could meet me with a small honor guard, but if he brought too many I'd kill them on general principal. He'll be here in a day or two. Should be interesting.”

Arthur and his... half sister he reminded himself, starred at the man. Then Arthur swore. “We're doomed.” He groaned, walking over to the closest piece of furnature and flopping down in it. “We're all going to die, this is the end of Camelot.”
The Sorcerer laughed. “What's got you so gloomy all of a sudden? It's just one man! If worst comes to worst, I'll just conquer another kingdom, this one bigger than the last!”

“Arthur looked at him, incredulous. ”Morgana, you explain it to him, please?”

“Yes,” the King said, amusement still coloring his voice “please do.”

Morgana sighed and took a seat herself. “For as along as I can remember Cenred's family have been our most aggressive and dangerous neighbors. It was only because of Uthar's strength and the loyalty of my father and the other knights that we've been able to hold them at bay. Now that you have taken control the armies of Camelot will be slow to answer. They and their leaders are disloyal to you and Cenred smells blood. It was bad enough when his men would form mercenary bands to raid everyone’s boarders even under peace treaties, now he's going to be actively trying to conquer us. And then, everyone else. ” She shook her head.

Tony however just grinned. A chance to take out a marauding bandit and perform another Hostile Takeover... it was like the nineties all over again!

“Sounds fun!” Tony said as he marched out of the room, leaving the two siblings together. All Arthur could do was stare after him.

 

Tendrils of hot ash drift on a bitter wind, the scent of death all that remains in this desolate place. Even the rocks themselves are dead, prone to crumbling underfoot at the most inconvenient of times. I've only been here a week, but it makes stealth an absolute bitch. Stepping lightly on the crumbling slate of the landscape, flitting from shadow to shadow I have to move quickly to avoid the hulking red skinned monsters patrolling the crags. On the other hand, the added difficulty meant that my stealth skill was increasing by leaps and bounds.

Hefting my chosen weapon for the last three days, an Luin, a large Celtic throwing spear with a blade that could practically be called a short-sword. It's meant to be thrown, as the game system is fond of reminding me, but the ability enchanted into it is just too useful not to abuse wherever possible.

Nocking the haft of the spear against a black iron great-bow I sight down it's length and let loose. A thrumming twang breaks the silence as my 'arrow' the size of a halberd lances out to spear through the head of a guard atop the crags. Streaks of dark blue, almost black, lines consume my vision as the blade connects with the demons head, pulling me forward in a blinkstep. It's tricky to use both weapons at the same time, as I always appear with both hands gripping the haft.

Appearing suddenly and bearing my victim to the ground before any of the local patrols can even react my combat log lights up with damage statistics.

Your Luin of Blinkstrike Focus Shot's a lvl 19 Granarch Archer for 120 points of damage.
You critical strike lvl 19 Granarch Archer in a vulnerable place for 430 points of damage.
You land on a lvl 19 Granarch Archer for 93 points of damage.
You have killed a lvl 19 Granarch archer. You gain 291 points of experience.
As a minion master 90% of your experience has been transferred to your minions.

From across the quasi-natural parapet a roar tears through the air, and I look up, a spike of fear running through my spine. This was a stealth mission and I've just been seen. Swearing profusely under my breath I rip the spear out of the demons dissolving body and throw it at the hulking brute coming out of a cleverly concealed guardhouse. He bats the spear away and it strikes against the rough hewen stone doorway behind him. The blade impact triggers blinkstrike and I appear behind him, reverse thrusting the haft into the creatures skull, stunning it. Taking advantage of the seconds the effect affords me I grab the devil in a choke hold and press my left hand against the back of his bald head. The action is followed by red light that seems to draw in shadows and ash.

You have dominated a lvl 20 Granarch Brute. The Granarch brute will now serve you for two minutes or until killed. I send the guard out onto the outcropping moments later, but rather than calming the monsters gathered below, it quickly became the target of their ire, all the beasts knew what that light, that feeling meant.

A Boss was moving through their territory, and as nobody saw a behemoth of legend, that further meant something more important still.

An Adventurer.

There are few adventurers in Avernus. It's not an easy place to get to, and more over, not one to which many of those who could get there WOULD go. Some of us were banished by warlocks or trapped items, others found their way here by story arc, and still more arrived as punishment for follies made. Summoned here by demons they were unwise to entreat.

That last one? That's how I got here. When the game calls it a Faustian Pact, they're not kidding.

Using the distraction provided by my temporary minion, I pick up the loot sack from the archer and auto deposit the hell-touched slag and Devil soul fragment into my inventory, breaking into a run as the brute howls insults at the demons filling it's body with arrows and dark magic.

Ghosting past another guard station, I peek around the dividing wall quickly activate jump, hiding from a pack of reinforcements between the sill and slab of a cave like entrance to the fortress under alarm. As they pass below I drop down and retrieve the greatbow from my inventory.

Landed badly on some rubble kicked up by the passing creatures my boot scraped across the stone floor spreading sparks and gathering their attention. They turn around to utter a war-cry and charge, but I was already pulling back the drawstring of a massive war-bow, easily a foot taller than I was tall and let loose with the spear-like arrow I'd used earlier, vanishing before their eyes in a flash of tar colored light.

Landing at the next chosen point of infiltration, I grinned as the pack of demons I'd just passed arrived at the point I'd just left and promptly suffered the effects of the explosive rune I'd left in my wake. It didn't kill them, unfortunately, but it did make for a great visual and I sauntered forward, viciously ripping the Luin out of the dissolving corpse of a level 19 Granarch Soulcaller.

Scooping up the loot sack and automatically depositing it into my inventory without even looking at the contents, I hurried down the tunnel of what looked to be a cross between Gothic cathedral and insect hive.

The corridor was lit by a dim red light, much like the rest of this world, but in this cases by torches rather than whatever it was that kept the horizon of this wasteland in perpetual twilight. The torches themselves radiate existential dread and red rather than white or orange light of regular torches due in large part to the souls of the damned struggling atop each of the claw tipped brackets. As stealth was now broken; I collected almost habitually, stuffing them into my inventory as I ran. In any case where they were not too firmly bolted to the wall, or else able to be ripped from it, without unduly slowing my pace, I did so.

It was while I was in the process of doing just that, near the end of the tunnel that a raspy, high pitched voice began to whisper in my head, initiating the first intelligible dialogue of the entire encounter.

“Dark Lord... you bade me inform your putrescence if anything of note occurred” the voice said.

“What is it, Azjdahaka?” I growl. “Has Ozymandias made counter assault? We knew that was a possibility when I went out recruiting.”

“No, oh vile one. It seems we have visitors. A pair of 'scrubs' just resurrected in the boneyard;” the so name 'man-dragon' explained, placation and cruelty in his voice. “The guards have subdued them and bound their souls to the dungeons, but there was some debate on whether you would want to negotiate with such noob filth, or allow us to dominate them into your corrupt service?”

“Mind your place, chief minion!” I send back, my dwarven racial shining through in my anger and making my voice like gravel. “I shall decide their fate upon my return. Do anything other than preventing their escape and your fate will be in question as well.”

“As you wish...” the voice replied, obsequious as it faded into nothing.

I shake my head muttering, “My own fault really.” Then my head snaps up, focusing my frustration on the securely fastened soul torch and swing the blade of my spear at the base where its' rooted to the wall. There's a spark like flint and steel and the thing tumbles to the ground. I manage to catch it quickly and stuff it into a pouch on my belt. Then I'm off once more.

The halls of the hive are blessedly empty, due in large part to a distraction taking place on the northern defenses. Half of my gathered minions, the ones I could easily afford to loose, were making an assault there while slipped in the back. If everything went to plan, it would draw out the defenders leaving the place mostly empty and costing me nothing more than potential crafting materials. The attack shouldn't be enough to attract the attention of the real threats within, and would allow me a chance to attack, hopefully deal with them before the chaff returned.

The real danger of this was that Devils tended to be... stupid. If my target had gone out to face the attack, there was a chance it would die, or devastate my own forces, whilst I mucked around inside wasting time. Either way would make things difficult.

 

Disclaimer: I own neither the Harry Potter book series nor Bioware Dragon Age game trillogy. If I did, many things would change, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction, and I'd be a lot better off financially. Now, enjoy, cringe, review..!

Black Dragon
By Byakugan
​

Sirius Black laughed maniacally as wove and dodged across the stage of the chamber of judgment, trading spells with his cousin. Bellatrix, trixie as he had always called her, was as good an opponent as he’d ever known. He fired off a series of nasty hexes with his wand and a body binding hex with his free left hand as Kingsly Shacklebolt joined him momentarily on the stage and grinned. This, the rush of combat, the euphoria of fighting for that which he believed in, this was what he lived for.

Over the past months he’d been chafing under the restrictions Dumbledore had placed on him. He had hoped perhaps that Harry would finally have the presence of mind to unwrap his Christmas present, but he had not seen the boy since he had made a flu call about Snape of all things. And now, here he was, fighting his way through the ministry because his best friends son couldn’t possibly do anything the easy way.

Ah well, he thought, perhaps it’s for the best! I’m out, Harry’s alright and I get to cut loose for a change. Perhaps now the old goat will see reason to field me again! Let me be of use in this war! He twirled his wand and smacked away a withering curse and paired blood boiling and chilling curses, his grin broadening. Trixie was getting inventive. The withering curse was an obvious pulsing purple and black, but the blood spells were nearly invisible and hard to tell apart. Alone an of them could be deadly, but the withering curse was easy to block and the blood curses taken together would act more like a cross between a powerful stunner and a weak cruciatus curse.

“Dear cousin! You aren’t even trying!” he shouted at her, returning with a stoneflesh enchantment (which would slow her down if it hit) and a massively overpowered tickling hex. The protective but hindering enchantment was batted away but the tickling hex she took dead center, giggling like a madwoman.

“You’re one to talk, Siri!” She returned in a high cackling voice. “Using kiddy spells? Really? If you’d joined me and the master like a good loyal member of the family you could have learned real dueling! Perhaps then your dear headmaster would have been willing to use you, rather than locking you in our old home for your protection! Poor baby..!”

He sneered and gave her a wave of bludgeoning hexes and a wandless summoning charm on her dress. She shielded against them and their battle went on. As the pair of them danced around the hall each of them did far more damage to the environment and their opponents allied forces than they did to each other, but then, that was the nature of being a Black. Collateral damage and chaos flowed around them while they rode the storm at it’s eye.

The pair of them were locked in combat for nearly a minute when the professor himself burst through the doors at the top of the chamber and the flow of the battle changed. The Death Eaters started falling like flies and the pace of his and Bella's spells picked up an even greater pace. A spray of red bolts bracketed him and he laughed.

“Come on Bella, you can do better than that!”

He didn’t have time to hear her response as within the stream of fire aimed to keep him from moving, one final streak of red hit him directly on target and he fell backwards, through an archway…

He only had time for one thought before he hit the cold layer of magic with the appearance of a curtain. Shit, now who’s going to look after Harry?

~=<.>=~
​

The landscape on the other side of the so named Veil of Death was not at all what Sirius had expected. For one, the crushing sensation he had always associated with apparition had never been in his conception of what death would be like. For another, where were all the souls of those who had died before him? Wizarding religion, if you could really call it that, was a form of ancestor worship and dictated that the afterlife was full of ghosts of wizards who had fallen before you.

He gazed around with a frown at the the walls of the place he had appeared. This was neither the grand forum for any sort of Faery court, but that didn’t discount it being an entrance chamber of sorts. The walls around him were made of a strange black stone marbled through with streaks and flecks of gold. Raw hematite perhaps? He remembered his father talking about mixed veins of gold and Iron before, wondering at the worth of selling it to the goblins raw or transfiguring it to separate the metals.

Sirius tried to take a step forward but his feet found little traction, as if the floor was made of jelly or perhaps wasn’t even really there to begin with. He didn’t sink into the surface however so he took his blessings where he could find them. What he really wanted though, was to be able to get up from his sprawled position and pass back through the Veil. Sure, it was supposed to be impossible, but then so was becoming animagus at 14, being a Black without illegitimate children and mixing magic and muggle electronics, all of which he’d done before he was sent to Azkaban. Say nothing of the simply rare feats he’d done as a DMLE Hit Wizard during the first war.

That was nothing on what his nephew/godson Harry had done.

Not dying as the victim under the wand at a sacrificial ritual, defeating a revenant at 11, an ancient basilisk at 12, using a patronus successfully on over 100 dementors while under their thrall (even Dumbledore couldn’t manage that) at 13 and surviving the killing curse twice so far. And the boy wasn’t even 16… that honestly might have made Sirius feel a little jealous if he didn’t know the boy was still a virgin... Regardless, all of this dangerous insanity was exactly why he needed to make his way back through the Veil. Screw death, Harry needed him!

This had nothing to do with the probability that James and Lily would find a way to kill his ghost for being such a bad godfather, no serrie!

Now if only he could get rid of the crushing apparition sensation maybe he could think straight… where was he..? Oh, right! He wanted to stand on a surface that didn’t appear solid..!

Sirius perspective changed in an instant in he blinked, momentarily dumbfounded. He was no longer laying on the black and gold marble floor of the big room, but standing upright on (he stomped his foot) yup, solid ground.

Freaky.

I want to turn around, he thought. The thought wasn’t so much words as it hadn’t been last time either, but rather a concept and a need. Sirius found his perspective shift again. He was now looking at the other side of the room, complete with several of the statues he’d glimpsed as he’d looked around earlier, but turned his head and body back and forth, looking over both shoulders just to make sure.

It was still the same room, he hadn’t randomly transported somewhere, but that alone wasn’t the important part of what he was now seeing. In front of him now, was the Veil. The megalith was of the same proportions to the one in the old execution chamber but instead of being worn gray stone the archway was made of smooth blocks of a purplish stone marbled with red and blue lines and patches. Set into the stone were symbols he vaguely recognized from his ancient runes class formed of gold filigrees.

Sirius was interested in the changes, but all in all they weren’t important. What was was the gossamer curtain hanging from the upper plinth. It too no longer appeared worn with ages of neglect as it wafted back and forth in its frame, as if caught in an invisible breeze.

Taking an experimental step forward Sirius smiled slightly as he found the ground was still solid and strode towards the archway, making a point to get a good look at each of the runes that covered it. He didn’t care particularly what the said right now, but he was sure he could leverage the memory for something substantial with the Department of Mysteries later. Get Harry out of trouble for invading their restricted wing, get serious help from the ministry against Voldemort, possibly his pardon. Little things like that…

He walked up the stone steps to the dais where the archway stood as it had in the real world and tried to step through.

The curtain didn’t budge.

Or rather, it did, just not where he pressed against it. Sirius scowled. For all that the sheet of fabric was gossamer, to the point where he could see Dumbledore finishing off the death-eaters on the other side, pushing against it was doing him little better than trying to shove his head though a stone wall.

...strike that, it was harder, he’d put his head through walls on occasion to spy on the girls dormitories. Still, this was like trying to do it without the spell. The one incongruity here was that the curtain still moved and undulated as if caught in a breeze between outdoors and indoors on warm spring day.

Not one to be easily deterred Sirius tried to work from another angle. First he tried for the edges of the barrier, then the bottom. When those failed he tried to see if he could hold back the movement of the fabric; imagining that if he could repeatedly hold it from moving forward he could use its backward motion to stress the barrier and breath through. The attempt did nothing, offering little more than an uncomfortable back and shoulder massage. Glaring at the curtain he tried to make himself intangible as he had been earlier and pass through that way. It worked, sort of, because he immediately lost traction with the ground; but did nothing to changed his interaction with the Veil of Death.

Offering the priceless ancient artifact a poisonous glare he filled his hands with fire and tried to burn his way though. Wandless magic like this was difficult no mistake, but if you practiced a spell long enough… well; a wand was just a focus, not a source.

“That’s not going to help, you know...” a multilayered feminine voice came from behind him.

Sirius whipped around to see who was speaking. If he’d hoped for a friendly ghost he was in for a disappointment. Standing against the door-frame on the other side of the room was a figure that could be generously called a woman. She was tall, humanoid and perfectly proportioned female, but that was where the similarities ended. The woman’s skin was purplish gray and covered with a smattering of short spines like a redheads freckles. Her hands were delicate looking until you got to the fingernails with ended in wicked hooked claws he’d expect on an owl, not a human. Her feet, which weren’t touching the ground as she sauntered closer, were a cross between that of a chimpanzee and a dragon and behind her lashed a tail made of what looked to be wickedly bladed segments of insect chitin. Her face was soft and classically beautiful aside from the thorns, but the eyes gave him the creeps, black sclera glowing golden iris and no pupils. Her hair fanned out behind her, red as blood and moving as if she was underwater and in place of eyebrows there were a pair of horns that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a Sicilian Quilled Dragon. Her cloths, or lack there of really, were a cross between Arabian dancer and a chain bikini scandalous enough to embarrass muggle girls.

The Black Lord frowned in irritation. Here he was trying to do the impossible and get back home and death saw fit to send him the perfect distraction. Her obviously nonhuman status didn’t matter much to him, he’d slept with several magical girls in the time between discovering sex and being locked up, but Morgana’s tits, he needed to get back to Harry!

“You wouldn’t happen to know what would, miss....”

The creatures offered a sultry smirk and continued to sashay slowly across the room, her breasts and hips swaying in a manner that would have been hypnotic were it not for his current predicament. “I was called Grainne Mhaol (brawn U-whale) before the council of elders tossed me through that door to execute me” the creature replied with a small shrug which none the less set her chain clad nipples jiggling. “Here though? I am Perth, ruler and mistress of this section of the golden city.”

Council of elders? Sirius thought. Execution? He struggled to recall the history lessons his grandfather had insisted on teaching his heir personally when he’d heard about professor Bins. The Council of Elders was the governing body before the formation of the ministries of magic in the early 1700’s. Most of the ministry building had been their headquarters, but they hadn’t used the Veil as a means of execution for nearly a century prior to that. ...he was pretty sure. “When did you come through?”

The creature looked at her nails and crossed one arm under her breasts to emphasize them while cocking a hip. “I believe it was 6037 when I went through? Yes, 6037, I remember because Hogwarts had just celebrating its bicentennial a few days before I was captured.”

Sirius blanched. 800 years old? Well, this was the realm of the dead he supposed. “Mind telling a girl what it was like on the other side? I do so rarely get visitors anymore, and it’s a rare few who are as pleasant as yourself.”

Sirius shrugged. There wasn’t much harm in it, and perhaps answering her questions would mean she would answer his. “Well, beautiful” he said, carefully complimenting her “we’re going by the muggle calendar now, though judging by your comments it’d be around year 6870 Woadmark; May 1996 Gregorian. The muggles and their tools have nearly caught up to magic and it’s caused a bit of a civil war among our kind. Those who like the way things are versus those who’d prefer dominance over non magical folk.”

She nodded. “I suppose you fall into the latter category” Perth replied pensively “you’d not likely have been executed otherwise.” She paused and then looked up. “Unless someone other than the establishment is winning for once?”

Sirius shook his head. “I wasn’t executed actually. There’s a battle taking place in the Chamber of Death right now and I was dumb enough to try and use the Veil as wall at my back” he replied sheepishly. “Stupid I know, but perhaps you could answer me on that, luv? Why can’t I go back? The curtains like living metal.”

The monstrous woman before him smiled sadly. “The gate was made by those who are gone and the Exiled keep it. Not even that arrogant worm with the gall to call himself the Maker could breach it. I’m afraid you’re trapped here with the rest of us...” She drew out the last word, fishing for his name as he had for hers.

“Sirius” he replied. “Sirius Orion Black, at your service. Relatively,” he added with a smirk of his own. “Still, tell me about these exiled and this maker? Doing the impossible is a bit of a tradition in my family.”

The demon smirked at him indulgently. “Yes, one could feel your desire to return to war and family from halfway across the fade. But why not? I could be convinced to humor you, if there were something in it for me...”

Sirius smirked “My undeniable Wit and Charm? The pleasure of my company and stories of how the world has changed since Hogwarts was founded. I’d mention my roguish good looks, but even I must admit those have suffered some under the last decade of imprisonment. If this isn’t the afterlife Lily and James went to then I’ve really got to get back somehow. Anything might help.”

“A tempting offer” the purple woman replied, voice husky “but I have a better offer. You intend to tear down the Veil and open the way between worlds, if only for a moment. The price for my assistance is simple. Swear to me upon your power that should you find a method of crossing over, you will take me with you” the demon demanded. It would be a source of no small amusement to see him try and she could always secure his soul later as she and her kin had on times before. Better still, if this mortal did find a way to open the Veil of Death and physically pass between worlds… to see the homeland of the maker…! That was something she’d willingly pass over one of his kin for! There was also the possibility He’d help her get to Thedas, the world of the Elves. Her lesser sisters had been there plenty, but none of the demon lords could properly claim such. Damned Fen’Harel.

“Ah, alright.” Sirius said, nonplussed. “Mind you, the world’s changed quite a lot since you were there so you may not find it pleasant, but I swear on my magic that should I, Sirius Orion Black, find a way through the Veil I shall invite Perth to go with me. That good enough?”

Perth smiled cruelly. “Done” she acknowledged. With her utterance chains of light sprang from each of them and wound around each other before disappearing in a brilliant flare of light. “The bargain is struck. Ask your questions, Lord of the Black.”

Well shit Sirius thought. Normally swearing on your magic really didn’t mean much. It was more serious than a handshake and was actually considered legally binding, but it was hardly an unbreakable vow. The hell had just happened?

Sirius shook his head. What was done was done, he’d just need to be more careful about what he said in the future. Best start asking his questions. The sooner he started his quest the sooner he could get back to Harry. Merlin only knew what that kid would get up too in his absence. Facing a dragon in single combat came to mind. Assaulting the ministry as well, if you added in his current predicament. That boy had no sense of self preservation!

“Tell me about this Maker. You said he’s been trying to get through for some time, seems a good place to start looking for clues.”

“As you wish.” Perth replied, pulling up her feet to sit cross legged in the air, her tail swinging lazily below her. “The maker was the very first human to enter this realm; an area which is called the Fade by those humans who now inhabit Thedas. Originally he was a wizard as you are now, but over centuries of being trapped here, that changed. There are no words to properly describe his current state of being, other than arrogant, self righteous and self indulgent. Contrary to popular mythology his title as the maker comes not from the creation of the worlds of Thedas or the Fade, for he had no part in those, but as the shaper of a great deal of architecture, many of the fades lesser (at the time) inhabitants and (most devastating) the introduction of humanity to the material world. Before ‘The Maker’ there lived on Thedas Elves, Dwarves and Dragons.”

“Elves?” Sirius asked, incredulous.

Perth shook her head. “Not the creatures you’re imagining.” The demon had seen the ‘elves’ of earth when she had devoured the soul of Grainne Mhaol and they were nothing like the elves of Thedas. “The creatures you call elves are in fact demons summoned by Morgana to harass Merlin. Did you not learn of this at Hogwarts?” It has been in Grainne’s history of magic lessons under Lore Master Dorian Graves. “These elves could be mistaken for beautiful humans at a glance, but stand a head shorter with thin effeminate figures and have long pointed ears. Before the coming of Humanity and their Maker the elves were Immortal unless murdered; served as slaves to a pantheon of Gods both good and ill and were the favored prey of Dragons and their own elder gods. After Humanity was born unto the world under the Makers Wand that immortality disappeared and with it their gods favor waned.”

Sirius listened intently and with some trial and error managed to copy her position sitting on air. “The Elven gods are important to your goal because they are the fools who crafted the gateway to begin with and it is their power which you will require to open it once more.” Perth sighed and stretched with deliberate slowness and exaggeration.

“This,” she Gestured grandly around at the ornate chamber around them “was their city. Alongside the deities of the Dwarves, Dragons and spirits they dwelt within their golden city.”

“Golden?” Sirius asked with a barking laugh. “Try Black!” he said, grin wide and showing alot of teeth.

Perth laughed as well. “Yes, well, we’re getting to that. You should see the city from outside, or better, above. It’s far more impressive than the Chamber of the Outer Gate.”

Sirius nodded and the pair of them began moving, Perth still speaking as was their arrangement. “The city is indeed black, but it used to be gold. Long ago there was a war within the Elven Pantheon. I do not know what it was about, but the Dwarven deities sided with the elvish protector deities, the dragons with the dark ones and the spirits happily caused havoc on both sides. Under the fury of war the city was blackened and bloodied. The war ended with the Betrayal of Fen’Heral, the dread wolf. He came to the city, his coat soaked crimson in the blood of Mythal the leader of the Light elves, though apparently it was not his doing. Devastated at the destruction of Mythal, the Elven mother goddess of creation and protection, Fen’Heral convinced both sides of the war that he and the Maker had crafted a weapon capable of repeating the act and hidden it within their respective realms. When the warring gods left the fade in search of the artifact Fen’Heral used it instead to seal this realm against them. As the middle realm from which the six known worlds are accessed the war could not continue and the thrones of the city lay vacant and shattered.”

By this point the pair of them had passed through several doors and were now on a balcony overlooking a city of spires. Sirius had to admit, as he looked down at the gothic fantasy masterpiece, filled to the brim with spirits so alien as to make his head hurt, it was quite as impressive as Perth has suggested.

“Your first goal will be to find Fen’Heral” the scantily clad spirit continued. “While the Maker can tell you a fair bit about the veil and a great many other subjects, what the gibbering old fool cannot do is tell you how to cross over to the any of the other six worlds. The barrier erected by the Dread Wolf shields this realm not merely from void and shining heights where he banished the warring gods, but also from the respective realms of each dragons, dwarves, humans” she indicated him “and elves. The Red Mongrel on the other hand not only made the barrier but was there when the gods tore the hole which connected this realm to the human world.”

“So, what’s the catch?” Sirius asked deadpan. “Does this Dread Wolf guy eat anyone who asks? Or just flat out refuse?” Why couldn’t it ever be as simple as casting the right spell?

Perth laughed, the sound somehow both husky and tinkling. “Nothing so easy. No one has seen Fen’Heral in over a thousand years! After the Great Betrayal the Elven God of Rebellion became… somewhat unhinged and created a landscape within the fade so convoluted and dangerous even Pride demons fear to breach it. Then, after a number of centuries, he reemerged gave a great howl that shook the entire fade and vanished. Nobody is sure if he went back in to continue his seclusion, disguised himself as he was fond of, or moved himself to one of the other realms through his barrier!”

Sirius closed his eyes and grimaced as if in pain. Perfect, He’d just volunteered to take the quest for Excalibur.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

This place, The Fade, Sirius had decided, was weird.

There was really no other word for it, and being a wizard he’d thought he knew weird. This place however seemed intent on going out of it’s way to prove that he was wrong. Gravity was subjective and could change at a whim. Floors became ceilings, ceilings walls, and walls were as varied in their solidity as the walls of Hogwarts. Literally every surface could be passed through if one stepped or leaned on it under the right set of circumstances. Sometimes it was as simple as a password, like opening a protected door or portrait at Hogwarts, others you might need to light a series of braziers with fire or hold a spell of some specific magical flame in your hand. More still required you to take the form of various animals to move on, or even become an elemental force.

For all of that however, ceilings seemed to be rare as one moved away from the city proper and walls were not always complete, so Sirius had endeavored to find a method of flight. He had tried first to find a broom he could enchant, but the spirits who inhabited this place apparently saw no need for them, not having the chance to visit the material world often. It was thus, after a series of conversation that he enchanted an ornate rug under the curious gaze of a ghost who called itself the ‘Spirit of determination’.

The wispy spirit was an odd creature who would occasionally manifest stone body-parts to interact with the world and was quite insistent about holding Sirius attention, asking his a steady stream of questions. He made up for it by being just as willing to answer them.

“Making things in the fade is as simple as wanting it to be. Any dolt or half formed wisp could do it, you’ll catch on soon enough.” Determination stated bluntly. “So how exactly did your people get the idea flooring could be enchanted for flight? I wouldn’t think you’d make your buildings so rickety you’d get that much air time.”

Blunt sarcasm like this had been the major thread of the conversation for the last five hours and they discussed a variety of topics covering the fade, Thedas and the other five worlds which used to use this one as a way-station. “Actually the idea came from the use of spells which caused things to fly under our own power. I’m not sure who or what was the first method of magical flight, but wizards and common humans have been jealous of the grace of birds in the air and fish in the sea since time immemorial. Where I come from, we actually use brooms to fly, rather than carpets.”

“Brooms?” Determination asked, derisively. “Those little sticks mortals use to clear the floor of debris when they inevitable break something?”

Sirius laughed. “Among other things. The original justification was that a broom requires no justification for laying around the house in easy reach. If one were enchanted for supported flight then we could grab it without question and escape without notice. After that, the idea of riding brooms just sort of stuck. Carpets are older and more comfortable, but they’re not exactly common to where I’m from. I think the idea was similar though, something you wouldn’t question being in the house and which could be then used to escape without warming...”

The spirit became quite for the first time in hours and seemed to contemplate the situation. “You have impressed me with your forthright answers. Teach me about this flight and I shall teach you the stubborn strength of the avalanche.”

Sirius looked at it in confusion, but understood quickly as it’s wispy form shifted to that of a tall, vaguely humanoid, pile of rocks. He flew off a hour later with the knowledge of his second alternate form. He felt somewhat cheated by how much easier it had been to learn than his animagus ability, but what could you do?

After leaving the room behind and taking to the air; now able to pass through doors requiring primal earth or canine forms, Sirius set off in the vague direction indicated by Perth’s map which designated Fen'Harel’s labyrinth in relation to the Black City. After what felt to be a day of flight he passed a small island, one of many floating in the fade, which seemed to beckon to him, drawing his attention as inexorably as well proportioned redhead.

Landing on the island, he found it’s surface uneven and, while it still had doors and random intervals, instead of architecture or anything resembling such it was covered in rough stone arches and spires. Sirius brow furrowed in thought for a moment, trying to think what the formations reminded him of. Volcanic perhaps? He’d never seen any personally, but images of Lava tunnels and obsidian formations on tropical islands from Lily’s travel books seemed a close fit.

Setting down and rolling up his carpet, Sirius wandered along the rocky valleys and corridors of the island letting his feet draw him onwards. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he allowed it, his mind somewhat fuzzy as he continued. He knew he needed to be somewhere, but this seemed oddly important somehow.

After several minutes of walking he came across an odd sight. In the middle of the path was a patch of spongy white stone quite at odds with the rest of the landscape. From it, at odd angles, protruded a series or curled blue...horns? Spines? Gems perhaps? Each protrusion, like crystals in a geode if one were to charm it inside out, was curved like a unicorns horn and more crooked than a politician. From each of the thorns wafted a cyan mist which sparked with miniature lightning storms along its height.

As Sirius approached the mineral he felt energized and yet at the same time calmed. The effect reminded him of the Cannabis Remus had brought them once on Peter’s suggestion the weeds smoke might tame his wolven side. Sirius smiled nostalgically. THAT had been a night to remember alright. It hadn’t ended up taming the werewolf as the group had hoped, but running drunkenly through the forest with a lycanthrope who preferred howling his little heart out to biting them had been a hoot. Remus had had a sore throat for a week afterward.

As Sirius sat down at the vein and inhaled, three more figures sat down with him. One looked sort of skeletal in inferris only with green skinned and with too many eyes. It’s jaw stretched halfway down its chest and was filled with pointed teeth and behind it’s hunched figure dragged bladed segmented tail much like that which had been on Perth. It’s arms and legs were distended and ended in claws as well, further relating it to the entity he’d spoken to earlier. It exuded a feeling that reminded him of the dementors, only weaker. It sat down across from him and crossed its legs, staring at him with it’s too many eyes. Some of them were milky white, others seemed little more than pus filled blisters, but some of them held iris he recognized. People who at one point or another in his life had frightened him to one degree or another. His cousin Bella who he had failed and watched fall to madness and sociopathy. Voldemort’s crimson stare as the Black heir had denied his offer to join the Death Eaters. Dumbledore’s heavy lidded glare after that debacle with Snape, he still didn’t know how the bugger had survived despite James, but seeing those twinkling eyes filled with a cold flame still brought sweat to Sirius brow. Other eyes were there he didn’t quite recognize but the figures aura, strange twisted appearance and eyes said enough. Whatever this creature was it was obviously trying to scare him.

“So,” he started, voice chipper “who are you supposed to be?” The monster screamed at him, its spit flecked howl reminding him of the sound of an excited dementor. Sirius wiped his face with the sleeve of his robes and afforded the creature an exasperated glare. “Well, that was rude. Would you perhaps like a breath mint?”

Despite not having the proper facial muscles for it the creature seemed to frown at him. After taking a minute to consider him, it placed its hand on the ground which turned a brilliant emerald and rippled. The creature then sunk quickly through the surface and Sirius felt it come up behind him. A creeping dread filled his stomach and Sirius heard the charismatic whispering alto of Tom Riddle speaking to him. “You know you’re not going to get through this, don’t you? Nobody survives the dread wolf, how do you think he gained such a title? It certainly wasn’t by suffering fools like you, little Padfoot.”

The Grim animagus laughed. “So, what are you, an Irritation demon of some sort?” he asked. “If you can see into my head like every freaking other spirit here surely you could have come up with a better way to hurt me? Don’t you know the first rule of making someone shit their robe? The anticipation of the act is as potent as the humiliation itself. Or in this case, the scare. Go try again on someone who hasn’t spend a decade living with Dementors as housemates.”

“Like this then?” Harry’s voice asked, him, sounding miffed. The spirit disappeared from behind him, to appear off to the side, as his Godson, only instead of living he looked to be rotted and falling apart in places, his robes mostly shredded and his muggle clothes splattered in blood. “Guilt isn’t normally something I prey on, but I know this is your fear.” it said, lurching forward. “That your absence means the death-eater's trap will succeed and some horrible fate shall befall your godson, because you. Weren’t. THERE! Just like you’ve never been there, have you? You were afraid of the responsibility involved in being secret keeper for your friends and convinced yourself it would be better to have you be a decoy. But in doing so you doomed them. You were afraid that the dementors would end up getting your godson at the rate which the attacks against you were intensifying so you ran away. But what happened? He got entered in a tournament known to kill most of it’s participants because you weren’t there. And now he’s in the ministry, hunted by death-eater's and dark lord himself because you weren’t brave enough to defy Dumbledore. Weren’t clever enough to get Harry a proper means of communicating with you. Weren’t strong or fast enough to beat your dear cousin when you stood beside him. Oh, yes, I know about the creeping horror you feel every time you look at her too...”

Sirius sneered, but didn’t lash out immediately. He was fascinated by the method the demon had used to travel. what was it? Some combination of the intangibility charm and apparition? “I’m rather used to have my failings turned against me spirit;” He drawled “how about you indulge me instead. Teach me how to do that thing you did with the floor and I’ll share with you the delights of muggle horror movies! Confounded me when Lily first took James and the rest of us to see one at the cinema, but we humans get quite a thrill from having the piss scared out of us. Perhaps we can both learn something?”

The spirit sat down across from Sirius, seeming rather put out and quite confused. He could feel the Black wizards fear and shame. Knew how it spiked at his words and actions, but what was it about this human that made him hostile at the scent of fear rather than cowardly? Devil's Claw had heard of such from a few of his brothers, but never experienced it in the dreams of those he terrorized at night. Perhaps there was something to be learned from this mortal. “The deal is struck,” it repled “show me these memories and I shall teach you how to seek prey through that which is solid.”

So, Sirius showed him Bram Stoker's Dracula, Lovecraft’s Dunwich Horror, Sigourney Weaver’s Alien, Halloween, the Exorcist, the Omen, Jaws, Carrie, Dawn of the Dead and Silence of the Lambs. Devil’s claw wasn’t particularly impressed with Dawn of the dead or Carrie, having seen such tactics used often over the course of Thedas history, but the others occasionally had some fairly interesting ideas.

“Traveling through the solid is simple. Far more than the dreamers will admit, foolish creatures. As with everything, you draw your power from the fade and let it flow into and through that which presents you an obstacle. Once this is achieved, pulse your will like ripples over the water that you might search for a proper victim. There’s so many flavors, it’s often hard to choose, but I personally like those who think they’re stronger than their fear. Makes it so much sweeter to cast them out of their own dreams, screaming in terror.” The emerald monster shook it’s head. “Regardless, once you’ve found your chosen victim striker your fist against the solid and use the ripples to tighten down the connection between that which you’re seeking and where you are. My cousin Chilling Dread, tells me that it works just as well in Thedas when he was summoned as it does here, though the power and time needed goes up significantly.”

Sirius nodded and after practicing it a few times got to speaking with the creature about pranks he’d played on people at school, both in good humor and revenge. Devil’s claw was dismissive, but nodded along with interest occasionally. Sirius left half an hour later, the vein of what he learned was called Lyrium no longer gripping his mind as it had before.

The next fear based demon Sirius encountered was neither so small nor so understanding as the previous had been. A thoroughly bizarre creature, it had the face of a manta ray, asymmetrical tentacles in place of hair and a beard, a humanoid figure and spider limbs extending from its ribs and shoulders. Unlike the previous demon it didn’t walk, but rather floated and preyed on older deeper fears. Where the first demon has been a poor mans dementor, this one was akin to a small pack of them. Sirius fired off a Patronus and fled the area to the sound of its pained and furious howls.

The Patronus, Sirius learned hours later, survived the encounter with the fear demon and took on a life of it’s own, becoming a powerful spirit of protection. Sirius would not meet it personally, but it’s existence brought forth the attention of other light natured spirits such as Faith, Hope, Valor, Justice and Compassion.

Sirius stared at Hope in consternation. “What do you mean, it’s alive?”

“The Halla you conjured to combat fear,” the spirit replied simply “it has become a being in its own right. We were curious to meet one who could create such a spirit.”

Sirius sputtered “b-but, it’s a charm, not a transfiguration! Sure, if you layer enough magic into a thing charms can take on their own personalities, but they don’t live. Even with transfiguration creating life is tricky and subjective and tends to be sterile and either quick to die or be functionally immortal. This makes no sense!”

Faith hummed and tilted its head back and forth. “Perhaps, perhaps not, maker. But I sense you speak of actions made in the four material planes. Here in the fade life is born from thoughts charged with emotion. Have you not noticed those you left in your wake?”

Sirius jaw worked, fighting the urge to fall open in shock. The Patronus was a spell whose power and effectiveness depended on the strength of the emotions given to its casting and the basis for the spell was the need to protect your soul, shield it from the dementors, intent on devouring it. If what Faith and Hope said was true…

Valor laughed, it's merriment deep and booming. “The young maker gets it! Yes, this day you have born something as great as it is dangerous! I fear though that it is an injustice that you realized it not! Eh, old friend?” The glowing white spirit elbowed the blue Justice in its armored side.

“Indeed.” The creatures said, either ignoring or not feeling the jab. “The question remains whether great justice or injustice shall be done with it’s birth. Know that you shall be watched with interest, young maker.”

Sirius closed his eyes and fought the headache that was building from this confrontation. “I’m not that Maker fellow, though while we’re on the subject, do any of you think you can help me find the tosser? Word is he has something I need.”

This time it was Compassion who spoke. “Seeking; Searching; Terror, but not for your sake. Rage; then hope and relief, but shock interrupts terror and confusions again. Sought out by desire. There was a battle, someone important. You need to return to him! We can help. It’s our nature to help. The First Maker cannot be found, too long immaterial, lost his way. Wanders the edges, flitting here and there, helping none, hounded by despair. My brothers, they try to help, but the First is fast, and despair is strong. Must seek Fen’Heral. Dangerous, but achievable. Two options, which to take?”

Sirius eyes narrowed, but he asked calmly “What two options?” These spirits constantly reading his mind was getting...really annoying.

While compassion smiled sadly at him and smiled apologetically the other four spirits turned to watch something behind him with clear amusement. “Two options. Desire pointed you to the twisted hollows where the dread wolf sleeps. Deep within the fade, swarming with spirits of despair and rage, guarded by powerful beings of sloth. Many sleepers enter, few return and none with the tainted god on their heels. Another option, journey to Thedas and seek the mask of Fen’Heral. Heirloom of the people, powered by blood. Difficult to find, they will not part with it lightly, nor use it without great need. Use the mask and speak to the lost god. Which will you choose? Do you have time to do either?”

Sirius frowned in worry and annoyance. It wasn’t as if he was unaware of those problems, but it wasn’t particularly pleasant to be reminded how he was unlikely to return to Harry before everything fell apart. There was a war on after all. And then this little bugger… He should be called the spirit of indecision or confusion in the Black wizards opinion, rather than compassion. Still, best not to offend the help where possible. “I don’t know how to get to Thedas. Lead me to the twisted hollows.”

Valor laughed. “A brave soul then! Come! We shall show you the way! I look forward to the slaughter of many demons, but beware of Pride. Here, the pride of mortals may summon or birth great demons to harass us on our path!”

Hope nodded. “And to answer your unasked question, leaving the fade is a task both simple and complex.” Sirius offered a barking laugh and a raised brow. Hope smiled and continued. “It is simplicity itself in that all a spirit needs to cross Fen’Heral’s barrier is to make a compact with a dreamer, but difficult and complex because convincing them of any such actions or methods is…dangerous, from their point of view.”

“Why dangerous?” Sirius asked, as the group set off, flying between landscapes like the Millennium Falcon in A New Hope.

“Spirits come in many varieties and all watch the dreams of mortals with much interest, but in most cases, only the malicious seek more than that. Those spirits, whom they label demons, attack and often consume the souls of the incautious and spread havoc in the material world. They are envious of humanity's ability to create and imagine things greater than themselves and in their jealousy seek to destroy rather than learn …generally. It is not always so, and changing those spirits minds is our duty.” It smiled serenely at him as it said this. Hope indeed.

As they traveled, Sirius learned from the spirits. Much of what they taught him was about Thedas itself. Languages, history, the plight of the dreamers, the names and ranges of the countries. Their knowledge of history was…questionable at best, spirits seemed to have a fair amount of trouble grasping the concept of time in human terms; or perhaps didn’t experience it in the same way as the material world’ did.

This...worried Sirius. For one thing it sounded far too much like the fairytales of the ‘Nevernever’ where the Fae lived in time that spun in circles flinging mages who were abducted by its denizens back and forth across time. If that was real, if that was...here...it could very well spell trouble. Of course it could also be a thing of great hope. Whatever he did or learned here, no matter how long he stayed, if he found the right time of place to return to Harry then he could return as if he had never left… Of course that also meant that if he was wildly successful and passed the gauntlet and gained this mysterious gods help in the next few days or even hours it could still be decades or even centuries before or after he left that he would be returning too and that wouldn’t help him in the slightest.

The spirits taught him other things as well, the price of these exchanges being a constant flow of stories about his life and world. From Valor he learned how to bend the fade so that his strength was equal to the half-giant Hagrid. From Hope he learned how to cast powerful wandless healing spells, strange ones that fixed nearly everything rather than specific maladies or injuries. Compassion was fascinated by his Legillimancy and Occlumancy skills and endeavored to help him learn the difference between the ways they got into each others heads. Faith insisted he learn something called smite which drew on the veil to temporarily cut the dreamers off from the fade. The spirit insisted it was important, though Sirius count for the life of him figure out why, it wasn’t as if you needed this fade to dream… Justice lesson as well was quite interesting. The creature seemed to be honestly offended by Sirius learning Terror’s secondary apparition and amused by the flying carpet he’d created. In an effort to correct what it apparently saw as an imbalance it taught him how to fly without a broom; a skill it called ‘fade step’.

Eventually the sextette reached a point in the veridian gloom where a large spherical landmass dominated their vision. From a distance it looked as if someone had taken a marble and etched their thumbprint into it’s surface in several different directions. As they drew closer however the loops and whorls of the ‘print’ turned out to be tubular landmasses covered in wild stone spikes covered in veins of Lyrium from which lightning arced everywhere. To Sirius eyes, it looked like a bramble patch, complete with thorns.

“Yes!” Valor declared proudly, “daunting, is it not? Haha! We shall face many guardians within its depths; the manifest shame of an elven god!”

Sirius looked questioning at the other spirits, but they all shook their heads. “This is where we leave you,” Hope replied “but know you go with our blessing.”

“You have learned well, young maker,” Faith added, nodding “good luck in your quest.”

Justice snorted and crossed its arms. “Your child, Protection, needs watching. Time will tell whether it is a beneficial spirit or in need of a good smiting.”

“Be careful around the dread wolf” Compassion added “he wallows in regret, but it is not unjustified. If you survive to find him, do not be too harsh.”

As they left Sirius felt Valor clap him on the back with it’s armored hand. “Well? What are we waiting for? Your godson awaits!”

Sirius nodded, eyes narrowing in determination and prepared to cast another Patronus. Time to meet a god. He grinned, if nothing else, this would be something he could brag about for the rest of his life.

However short that may be...

 

Chapter 2, First Ripples.
​

Sirius cackled madly as he apparated away from the charge of another Rage demon, leading it into a jet of icy magic from the cloaked hags that infested this area of the fade. The frigid stream of power caused the bulbous monster to shatter into small floating candles of fire and motes of ash which more of it's fellows greedily swarmed over, eager to consume.


The confrontation had started out simple enough. Just like last time, he was traveling through the emerald mists with a destination in mind, when an odd calling had drawn him towards one of those odd smoking blue rocks. This time, he had been met by a living lava lamp and a pair of hags who reminded him of Abriella Figg. The creatures introduced themselves as Rage and Despair respectively and had attempted to engage him much as Terror had. Just like Terror, the pair had auras that induced emotions in him that were his own, yet weren't at the same time, dredging up memories connected to them.


Unfortunately for these strange dementor copycats, the emotions they inspired worked at cross-purposes to each other; depression tempering fury and fury moving him to act despite the crushing listlessness of the hag. The result was the cruel mindset facing off against Severus always brought out in him.


The conversation had almost immediately devolved as the trio made him alternately depressed and furious and attempted to taunt Valor. Until less than a minute later Sirius lashed out with a skin flaying curse.


The flayed Hag exploded into a nova of icy motes as it's skin peeled away like so much lacy negligee. Valor, Rage and Despair stared at the remains in shock for several moments before Rage roared in amusement. Valor was next, answering the roar in gleeful challenge and Despair launched itself into the air, firing down on the lot of them with blasts of icy power.


After that more spirits quickly joined the party, drawn to the deaths of their fellows like so many wasps. Or doxies.


Sirius had cast several patroni to give himself breathing room and, addled by the strange blue fumes from the crystal vein, quickly found himself hemmed in by Despair. Trapped in a choice between the the grief and fury of an elder god, Sirius chose the one he was familiar with, Rage, and made a game of it. Protected from the spirits influence by his conjurations the wizard engaged in a furious game of cat and mouse, apparating and flying (fade step Valor called it) around the creatures and launching a flurry of curses, hexes, jinxes and transfiguration’s at them.


Sirius shook himself as several of the hags screamed in unison, the sound cutting through a silencing charm he'd erected when they had first used that ability, and took the brunt of their elemental spells to his shield. Cursing like a sailor he apparated again and took advantage of the demons howl which had stunned several of their raging counterparts. A quick transfiguration later and the ground beneath them became Charybdis, a pit full of spinning stone teeth. The Rage demons magma like forms were quickly torn to globules while the heat of their disintegrating bodies melted the stone, destroying the effect. The weakened furies were quickly torn apart and consumed by their fellows and Sirius turned his attention to culling Despair.


Casting a switching spell the wizard traded places of two of the larger demons, sewing havoc in the already chaotic scrum of entities. With that distraction in hand he lifted off the ground himself to join the chilly spirits as they spiraled through the air.


Unlike in reality where storm formed the occasional twister through a descending column of cold air being wrapped up in a rising spiral of heat and moisture, the spirits formed the reverse with Despair demons whirling and jockeying for position in the air above the fiery rage monsters like crows or vultures after a war.


Sirius had never been the flier his friend James or his nephew Harry were, but he'd been in aerial battles with Voldemorts Death Eaters on occasion and these spirits weren't very good shots. Body-binds and grounding charms flew with wild abandon, sending spirits plummeting to their doom at the hands of feisty rage monsters. Sirius was loath to admit this was more due the sheer mass enemies than his own accuracy. It also brought to mind something he had heard Lily say one time; we're completely surrounded. That simplifies things.


Sirius had to admit he'd found it much more amusing than James had.


As the battle went on for what seemed like an eternity Sirius, constantly switching back and forth between the seething ground and teeming airspace, was eventually caught by Valor, who looked battered and dim for all that he had been dancing gleefully between the demons when the battle had begun.


“Young maker, I must have your attention!”


“Told you not to call me that, chuckles.” Sirius replied with a groan of amused irritation, conjuring a pair of Grimm's to savage a particularly large Rage demon that was bearing down on them. “What do you need?”


“A situation has arisen to which I had original assumed you were prepared,” he huffed, launching himself forward and sinking his blade into the forehead of the same demon, returning to Sirius side one of the fiery motes the demons always produced in hand. “When a spirit dies it does not end as is the custom with the lives of mortals.” The pair of them rolled out of the way of a stream of frost from one of the Despair demons, allowing it to freeze the Rage demon who had come to feast on their fallen comrade. “We are not such simple creatures after all. Spirits, and indeed demons, form at nexus of energies within the Fade. These confluence, charged with the thoughts and emotions of the six worlds, give rise to us and when the related concepts reach critical mass and we leave, takeing that energy with us as our life force. HA!”


The knight spun and took off the head of a Despair demon which had tried to sneak up behind the duo and continued his lecture to Sirius, whilst the wizard launched a series of blasting hexes at the crowd. “When that life is ended by destabilizing a spirits core a portion of the energy remains to be fed upon by nearby spirits. Commonly, spirits feed on and cleanse the energy of demons and demons feed on and corrupt the energy of spirits and mortals they trap in their dreams.” The spirit took a hit on his shield and dimmed just a fraction more. “Feed and grow stronger. Do you see?”


“I take it that's why they've been getting bigger?” Sirius remarked, looking in askance at the misty blue and orange bubbles the spirit had left in front of him. “In that case we should probably leave before things get too harry!” he finished with a chuckle, raising a shield and firing off a fusillade of stunning spells.


Valor stared at him for a moment, ignoring the battle for once, and Sirius got the distinct impression that the spirit wanted to throttle him. “Forsooth that is one method of resolving this situation, flee like a coward before the calamity compounds itself too greatly. The other path is to fortify yourself with their power and cleanse it like so, thus that they may not.”


With that, Valor snatched one of the motes from where he'd left them in front of Sirius and, glowing momentarily brighter at his gloved hand and dimmer over the rest of his body, drew the essence into himself. That done, Valor was once more glowing pearly white and looking noticeably healthier that he had moments before.


Sirius looked at the other, blueish white, mote in equal parts interest and trepidation. On one hand, another cool power and indeed (if Valor was being truthful) power enough to become a force even Voldemort would tread carefully around. On the other, eating demon parts seemed like a very very bad idea. The sort of bad idea that usually floated around history lessons about nasty Dark Lords.


“Valor,” Sirius said, seriously “The motes of essence, they won't gain their own consciousness if left unconsumed will they? The point is that we need to keep them away from the demons so they won't become more threatening?”


The warrior spirit looked at him suspiciously, glowing white dots that were its eyes becoming as slits before it answered. “Indeed, young maker, shattered essence left unconsumed may become wisps that may eventually mature as new spirits. Though not without considerable time or gathering power and thoughts. Though I must ask, what foolishness do you plan now?”


Sirius grinned and pulled out his money bag. It was a little light these days, not having had much chance to visit Gringotts or indeed any magical shops. He upended it as the pair of them resumed the battle, launching curses and sword strikes at the monsters who maintained interest in them rather than the chaos of death they had created. Catching a brick of muggle bills marked with little 20's on the upper corners and a small handful of galleons, he stuffed them in the pockets of his robes. That done, Sirius threw up a powerful shield, one he couldn't normally use in a real battle because of the death eaters proclivity towards unforgivable curses and other unblockable nastiness.


Sticking the end of his wand into the shallow, now empty, bag Sirius began pouring his power into space expansion, packing and cushioning charms. The effect was crude, but so long as he could keep ahold of it the coin purse would now imitate a bottomless bag like those sold at the luggage shops in Diagon Alley. It would be first in last out, he didn't have time for any fancy sorting enchantments or intent based summoning charms, but it would...well should...get the job done, holding the accumulated essences of all the spirits who'd come here to fight and feed, at least long enough for him to figure out something else to do with them.


Like toss them out as bait to ambush or escape something else he met here.


Sirius stuffed the primal torpor into the bag and grinned when it didn't frost over. Practical subversion accomplished Sirius allowed the shield to fall and rejoined Valor in the Melee.


Therein though, lay another problem. Where the Demons had been content up to now to face the death of many of their number for the chance to consume the spiritual essences of their brethren, it was another thing entirely for them to simply stand by whilst someone else took their meal. As Sirius began casting summoning charms and catching the motes of the recently dead in his bag, fewer and fewer demons focused their ire and battle lust on their fellows, and Sirius and Valor for the first time since the slaughter began found themselves the sole focus of the monsters attentions.


Sirius apparated wildly, trying to keep ahead a sudden barrage of fireballs from the burning flame proof Rage demons and lances of ice and blizzards launched their way by the hovering Despair. Valor, for all his confidence and ability to fadestep around most attacks fell in moments under the focused ire of those their chaos had attracted.


Sirius and his Patroni didn't stick around much longer either. Finding that the demons attacks only became more ferocious and organized as he stole more essences from the dying he hosed them down with an overpowered aquamenti and chain teleported to the furthest place he could see. After his water conjuration hit the gathered Rage demons, Sirius stayed around only long enough to see his two surviving Patronus Stags charging their own escape through the Despair demons before he was gone himself.


~!@#$%^&*()_+


Harry left Dumbledore's office feeling exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Sirius was lost, possibly dead, once more...he was alone. Well, no, that wasn't exactly true; he still had his friends. Ron and Hermione were recovering down in the hospital wing with Poppy, Dumbledore had assured him, but he was once again without family. Or at least, any who cared. As he trudged heavily through the hallways of Hogwarts he wondered glumly how it was that he'd become so attached to Sirius, He'd barely known the man for two years, three if you counted the time he'd believed the man an irredeemable monster. Even then his contact with his uncle and Godfather had been...well, minimal.


He wasn't sure who to blame for that either... Himself for not trying harder? Sirius for being so damn cagey? Dumbledore for refusing to use his considerable skill, influence and the magical worlds ease at attaining evidence to free the man? For doing what he apparently could to keep them apart? He shook his head, he was angry right now, he wouldn't likely be thinking these thoughts were he in a more charitable mood.


Brushing off the Fat Lady with the towers password Harry entered his dormitory and fell into a fitful sleep, wondering what might have happened if Remus hadn't stopped him from chasing after Sirius. If Luna hadn't dragged him away the first time they'd found the Veil and his fingers brushed it's liquid surface. Would Sirius have followed him through? Of sought vengeance like he had? As Harry slipped into unconsciousness he added two thoughts to his list of things to do before he died, right under Kill Voldemort. Make Bellatrix suffer for Sirius disappearance, and learn everything there was to know about the Veil Of Death.


Perhaps Hermione would tutor him? He'd need it to become an unspeakable...


.o0O0o.


Harry jerked upright, wand in hand and eyes wide. Last he'd been aware of was his head sinking into the pillow back at his dorm still fully clothed, but he clearly wasn't there now.


Or was he..? The landscape was...queer to say the least. What he'd first assumed was a bombed out ruin floating in an emerald mist he could now see had elements of his dorm room and even the mound of dirt he now sat on was roughly the same proportions as his bed, though he was certain his bed wasn't made or dirt and vines.


Harry stood up and moved towards the edge of the broken wall. Looking down he was that outside the opening lay a Hogwarts, but not like any castle he had ever seen. It looked as if the building had been through a war, one with muggle weapons that blew great big bloody holes in everything. Looking at it, even more than the Weasely's house, he wondered how the structure was still standing.


Harry slumped against the wall and sighed slightly in thanks when it didn't crumble under his weight. This was a dream, it had to be. Really, what other explanation was there? Nothing else made sense. Harry sat there for a moment pondering if he should embrace the bizarre as he had for the last five years and explore this disturbing part of his imagination or try to wake up when he saw a figure moving in the distance. Intrigued, Harry watched. No sense being completely incautious after all.


At first the figure appeared only a spot of light in the distance, though he was certain for the strangest reason it was more. As it grew closer and brighter he became certain it was meant for him and his gaze became hungry. He didn't have to wait long either, for the shape grew quickly in size and definition.


It was brilliant white, if pearly in cast, and moved with the gait of a four legged beast. As it drew closer he though, at first, it might be a stag, his patronus come to protect him from his own dreams, strange as they were, but as it slowed down and drew closer Harry could see that there were.. deformities about it. Almost as if it couldn't decide on a shape. The tail was longer than it should have been, much longer and bushy. It's jaw extended much further back than was normal for any equine beast and as it appeared to grin at him it had far, far too many teeth. Long, sharp teeth, almost like a wolf...or a dog...


“Sirius?” Harry asked desperately.


“More or less, pup.” The creature responded, tongue lolling out.


“B-but...how?” The boy asked, feeling weak all of a sudden. “Dumbledore said the veil meant death! They used it to execute people, because even the strongest dark wizards had never come back from it! Wha..?”


The creature laughed, a sound caught between a canine bark and equine bray. “I told you pup, I'm not your Sirius, but I am of him. His Patronus to be precise. If you notice by my form he's becoming attached to you. You did save his life after all, and are his best friends son to be certain.”


Harry looked at the thing queerly, unsure whether to be elated or heartbroken. What did it mean that Sirius could send him a Patronus, but was not here himself? Why was the creature invading his dreams? How was it doing this? Since when could Patroni even talk? Remus hadn't told him anything about this!


He asked the creature this. It laughed.


“To the best of my understanding Patronus cannot speak. Not normally. Or they can, but only to relay prepared messages for those who cast them.” The creature explained. “I am a result of the realm to which your Uncle and Godfather now travels.”


“So Sirius is alive!” Harry exclaimed with a whoop. He jumped up and danced around for a short second before throwing himself around the beasts neck as he'd seen Hermione do once. “How is he? Where is he? Can you take me too him? What is this place anyways?”


“One thing at a time, pup!” The creature brayed again. “This realm is called the fade, it is a place of dreams and magic. Before you ask you became able to find this place because you touched the Veil. I must caution you not to try to cross through it though, for it is also the reason more do not see this place and your Godfather has not returned to you. He tries, but much as none before him have crossed back over, neither can he. The way is blocked. I dare not take your dream form to him either, for the fade is a dangerous place. I can however answer your first two questions. When I left the creator he was healthy and searching a Well of Dreams for a being known as the Dread Wolf.”


Harry nodded slowly. He was well familiar with danger and delving into dangerous places after a mystery. “If it's a wolf he's trying to find, I don't think snuffles will have much trouble. Even two years ago when he was starved half to death and running from the dementors he was bigger than Remus in full werewolf transformation.”


The strange patronus laughed at him, though why he was certain it was at him and not with the idea he posited he wasn't sure. “The creators relative safety aside, pup, you will find yourself dreaming of this place again from time to time. As such, it falls to me to be your companion and protector during these adventures, so let me tell you what I have so far learned about the fade...”


~!@#$%^&*()_+


After the disaster of his first meeting with Rage and Depression, Sirius traveled the winding twisting bramble of Fen'Harel's hiding spot on his own, relying on his wand to constantly point him in the direction of center mass. Despite the spell, apparition and his recently acquired ability to fly, traveling through the mess of stone latticework was easier said than done. Often he'd found the way blocked by more of that strange blue rock or masses of demons.


Still, he had to go on. It was the only way he had to get back to England. Back to Harry. Poor kid needed someone looking out for him.


Heh, well, someone other than Hermione. Someone he could look up to, who would keep him from becoming too serious. Not too Sirius though, one could never have enough fun.


To that end, Sirius found himself turning to the skills that had made him the terror of Hogwarts and stiff shirts everywhere. Pranks... It was difficult at first, most of the things he needed didn't exist here after all; Parchment, magical plants and animals, muggle odds and ends... fortunately though, the fade provided. “Do you believe my sword to be steel? Your spells effective? If I were to cut you do you believe that you would bleed, or that your enemy should suffer under your spells? All that is in this realm is born from the singular need a dreamer had that it exist and our will makes that reality!”


To that end Sirius went to work. Remus' contribution to the group had been inventive potions and Arithmancy; James their resident genius at transfiguration and charms, Peter though he hadn't the gift had forged his own path with divination and concealment charm-work getting them out of trouble more often than he could count; Sirius own contribution had been Creatures and Runes. Ideas and hexes too, but all of them had been crafty and powerful duelists besides with half of Slytherin house and plenty of stiff prigs from the other three houses to constantly practice against.


From Sirius hands and mind came tools and materials through which space warped, the landscape became a weapon and dangerous creatures sprung forth to attack at his command. Black fairies, Doxies, and Pixies flew out in swarms to harass and distract demons, Devils snare crept across the rocks to entangle and break the unwary and everywhere he went bizarre magical effects sprung up to trap, kill and humiliate those who dared to follow in his wake.


When he could, the Black Heir would ambush lone demons, tearing them apart with cutting curses, or if he was bored then more inventive or nasty spell chains and combinations, and taking their essences in homage to his former traveling companion, Valor. It was in doing this that he met another denizen of the Dread Wolf's madness.


A spirit of wisdom.


The spirit was strange to the dimensional traveler because unlike the calmer spirits he'd met before it was an iridescent green color. Stranger still where the area just around it's domain had been swarming with demons, a mix of Pride and Rage this time, the lone woman puttered around her Library grotto uncorrupted and unconcerned.


Sirius crouched on a bridge of stone outside the library inscribing runes into the stone with a sustained drilling charm. Bits of spirit essence, each in a circle, bound by the rune cluster of Lauz, Ehwaz and sowilo in their corrupted forms.


Laguz by itself was a spell for clear and flowing thought, but merkstave, or corrupted, would create a blinding obsession focused on the target of the magic. In this case the focus of the corruption was the four spirit essences, as if the demons needed such to drive them into a frenzy. Next in the repetition; Ehwaz, the horse. When used as a magical focus it promoted a speedy and successful trip and was the center point of flu travel alongside Kenaz, the torch of life and transformation. Corrupted, ehwaz created a compulsion towards reckless haste and was a symbol of betrayal. Finally, Sowilo, lain on its side. Sowilo was the mark on his godson's forehead. When sowilo appeared it was a mark of reversal, a sudden change in fortunes. Flowing north to south it was the symbol of the sun and change for the better. Lain on its side as it was now, set between two rings, it was a symbol for night, destruction and death.


These symbols, apart from their own meaning, were used as a set of three because that was the number for transformation and expression. Repeating the set in the ring three times both for added emphasis and to make nine runes worked to maximize the power of the enchantment. The four separate rings, a symbol of stability, and their contained essences made up the four corners of a locking map, Gibo, dagaz, nathuz; Contract, limit, restraint, written as a single symbol it was a means to entrap or contain things. The whole pattern engraved over a shallow impression of the rune Jerra, a single massive symbol for purpose which was meant harvest or collect the essences of those slain by the trap into one of the four points of Gidana, the binder.


Activating the thin rune circle by filling it with blood and intent, Sirius retreated to watch as the demons surrounding the library rushed the trap with a roar of lust. The man chuckled to himself darkly, watching as they sealed their fate when the first Pride demon was torn apart, a skittering nightmare impaling it through the back as three greater Rage demons and a shade tugged on it's arms. The flurry of monsters howled in outrage as the Prides power was stolen from them by the trap, but by then it was too late as the magic grew enormously in power with the theft.


It did not take long for the space around the bridge to develop into a full blown massacre.


Sirius lay back and snickered as demons streamed in from the surrounding area, desperately slaughtering each other for a prize that would be forever out of their reach. He, James and Peter had set up something like this back at school once before, but decidedly less bloody in execution that this was. The prize then had been his cousin Narcissa. Sirius had disapproved of Lucius's advances on his family and Peter had helpfully suggested setting the rest of the school on him. Narcissa's vanity and many fan-boys had evolved the idea further and it had just taken flight...


Malfoy's bloody face and missing teeth had been one of his favorite memories prior to Azkaban... though his cousin had hardly appreciated the effort.


“That's a very clever spell” a soft voice said, from behind him.


Sirius turned in surprise as the spirit from the library he was trying to break into snatched his fade conjured butter-beer from his hands and took first a sniff, then a sip.


“Thanks,” the grim animagus replied easily, his best roguish grin spreading across his lips “it's a variation on an old classic.” He manipulated the fade to create him another drink and took a sip of the chilled beverage. “It's Ironic you know, you coming out here to see me like this.”


The green woman nodded between sips and sat down beside him. “Irony, destiny...” the spirit woman shrugged “I've been looking forward to our meeting since you first penetrated the well of dreams. My name is Idhrena.”


Sirius chuckled and raised his glass in toast. “So, you wanna go first? Or can I?”


The spirit smiled softly, and tilted it's head slightly. “I've never seen runes like that” the woman stated a smile in her voice and, as Sirius turned from watching the battle to give her his attention, on her face as well. “For many dreamers fighting a demon is a constant test of wills and killing them is all but impossible without some form of assistance. Watching this...I wonder.”


Sirius nodded. “I've a fair amount of experience with this, on both sides of the trap. At school with my friends and then later in life during the war maneuvering your enemies into destroying themselves was a staple of our lives, as was avoiding such maneuvers turned against us.” He huffed darkly and scowled at his drink contemplating turning it into something stronger. “I can't say I was always successful, even... when it counted.”


“A common sentiment among heroes it seems.” Wisdom murmured. “You hold yourselves to too high a standard. You are not spirits to embody an ideal, but rather varied in meaning and thus too in ability.”


Sirius let out a laugh akin to a bark. “So, Idhrena; spirit of wisdom, what was it you wanted to know about the runes?”


The creature smile broadened. “In the realm of Thedas, the use of runes is largely restricted to the dwarves. Not since the time of Arlathan have elves wielded such power and men have never held it safely. The reason for this is fairly straightforward, the blood of the Titans resonates with the thoughts of the dwarven gods and in enough potency to power any meaningful effects, drives all but those born to hear them insane. In all my centuries of observing the minds of scholars as they dream and puzzle through the worlds mysteries I have never seen a successful attempt to do what you have done; be a dreamer and use runes, particularly ones with so little titans blood to power it.”


Sirius looked at her oddly. “We...had beings known as titans back on earth, but they were driven out...Merlin, six, maybe seven thousand years ago? Regardless, we never used their blood to power anything. I wouldn't even know what it looked like, given how the blood of magical creatures often looks weird and has strange properties. Back where I come from wizards power runework ourselves, though we add blood if its something that needs to last a more than a few days.”


Idhrena looked troubled by his response, but excited as well. “Indeed. The blood of the titans is easy to recognize, seem to most a mineral and glows with a radiant light. Blue for most, a vibrant crimson for the blighted one. Using your own magic and or blood as a replacement though, that's genius!” She paused briefly “although you may want to refrain from demonstrating this should you ever visit Thedas. The locals tend not to take kindly to the use of blood in anything that does not involve straightforward butchery.” she finished with a rye smirk.


Sirius looked at her, perplexed, but shrugged his shoulders and let it go. It seemed silly to him, Blood was a fairly common ingredient in advanced potions, charms, the target of a lot curses, used in runes and ward-craft...Especially Egyptian in that last case, though it had been coming back in the last ninety years since Gringotts had opened their international branch there. “My turn.” He said, deciding that should he ever reach the planet he'd show them the error of their ways. “You're a spirit who, like all of theses demons, lives in this Morgana cursed maze and I find myself in need of a guide. I can't be sure, but I feel like I've been wondering in circles since Valor died...a week back I think? A month? It's hard to tell time in this place even with tempus” ribbons of smoke spewed out of his wand and formed English numbers and letters spelling out July 3^rd, 1996.


Huh.


“Fascinating...” the emerald figure murmured “I assume these characters indicate the date in your world? Yes, yes I believe I could guide you through the well, young Maker Black. If you would be willing to share the knowledge of your world with me as we travel? I'd love to study how your society developed and governed such a wide range of magical abilities.”


~!@#$%^&*()_+


For the rest of the day, Sirius spoke with Wisdom, exchanging notes on magical philosophies and cultures of their worlds. As the furious storm of demons roiled and shrunk across from them, slowly killing each other off, Sirius revealed the history of Europe's dark lords and how the ministries of the world had dealt with the muggles vs mages dilemma and Idhrena revealed what she knew of the other three mortal worlds.


Earth, the realm and origin of humanity, was to the metaphorical west of the dream realm and contrary to what Perth had told him earlier had a cycle of opening itself up to the other six worlds and shutting itself off. The last time it had done this was indeed several thousand years ago and resulted in the spread of Humans to the other three mortal plains. To the Metaphoric east, was Thedas, home and origin of the elves. They too has spread across the three mortal realms, but it was unknown whether they had been the second or third to do so as their exploration had been in the same era as the dwarves who hailed from Niflheim to the metaphoric north. The dragons had been the first explorers of the Dreaming realm, nearly sixty thousand years ago and their world to the south was unpronounceable by human vocals.


On the world of dragons, humans, elves and dwarves lived as minorities in a constant state of warfare over which ancient, cunning and hungry dragons strove to keep order. Idhrena thought it fairly novel that in that world mages were, with the exception of mercenaries, largely kept to a single city where they ruled themselves. On Niflheim dwarves and elves flourished, albeit underground and had a rich culture of magic, not seen in Thedas since the fall of Arlathan. Humans there were an interesting folk, burly and exclusively magical, they and the Dragons lived on the surface keeping each other in a serious minority on the planet due to their constant hunting of each other. Neither these humans nor the dragons were well liked by Drow Elves or Drugar Dwarves as they practiced a form of magic called Quechua, a variant of blood magic where you enchanted yourself by eating parts of your slain foes and were kept at bay quite militantly. On Thedas, home of the elves, like earth, humans were in the majority, dragons and dwarves on the edge of extinction and Elves were an underclass minority.


“That...makes no sense at all,” Sirius replied as they walked back to the Library where a single Envy demon was swiping futilely at the storm of essences. “How do the elves become an underclass minority on their own world? Shouldn't that be..., I don't know, impossible?”


“A lack of wisdom and an excess of pride from what I understand.” Idhrena replied. “A mere two thousand years ago the elves were yet still masters of their realm, as they had been for untold millennia. Their gods had connected their world to this one for much of that time and their magic, their society, their very identity had become interconnected with it. They had mastered the dragons and become their lords, the dwarven gods stepped warily around them and into this setting came the Maker and the Dread Wolf. It was not actually the fault of the Maker that the elves fell and lost their immortality. Fen'Heral, furious at the murder of Mythal forged the veil, cutting the dream off from all six realms.”


“And having bound themselves to the veil to the point of dependency...” Sirius murmured in wonder. It was not so strange a concept really, wizards were much the same with their wands, as Lily had been fond of pointing out.


“Indeed. Which is why so many of my neighbors are grief and pride rather than wisdom and compassion as they used to be. Nor did it stop the gods. Their pride would not allow them such. The dragon lords reached out through the line of their blood and spoke to the humans of the Tevinter Imperium from their cage within the abyss and founded an entire religion around blood magic. Their misuse of the knowledge led twice Tevinter's fall from power and shaped the world as it is now.”


Sirius paused and pointed his wand at the rock bridge they stood on. With a quick transfiguration, the stone rippled and a sharp spike leapt up to impale the spirit of envy like a bug in a collectors box. “Faith and Justice told me about this earlier, though they didn't blame blood magic for it. Blood is pretty damn useful, I'm trying to imagine how you could overuse it.” He said, and started siphoning the storm of essences into his bag.


Idhrena was studying the pattern carved into the stone and rubbing her arms uncomfortably, but after a few moments she looked hard at Sirius before relaxing. “Blood magic in Thedas is not as you know it on your world, Maker Black. Where to your people sacrifice through blood is archaic, barbaric and indeed a separate field altogether, on Thedas, blood sacrifice is at the core of blood magic. As is spirit and more specifically demon, summoning.”


Sirius snorted in derision. “Before I came here I would have called horse-shit. In our world demon summoning was pureblood wizards playing pranks on muggles with the occasional foray into necromancy, no literal demons involved. Although...with the similarity between these Despair demons and Dementors I wonder if perhaps there was some truth to it after all.”


“Quite so.” Wisdom replied, her voice thoughtful, her stare hard once more. “Yes, I think that might indeed be true. Their age as well is interesting, perhaps coinciding with the maker's journey through the fade...” She smiled at him. “You have given me much to think about Maker Black.”


Sirius rolled his shoulders, it still felt odd to be referred to like that without him making a mickey about it. He kinda wished they stop, but asking or telling, they persisted. “What, like the implications of ethical demons summoning? Don't. There's nothing ethical about Azkaban. The place is meant purely as torture with the hope that people come to view the punishment as so horrifying that crime itself is abhorrent. It doesn't work. Criminals just try harder not to get caught and perform worse crimes to ensure their freedom.”


The spirit hummed in contemplation. “Yes...I see. I had noticed a similar trend among the mages who escaped their circle's. Hunted by Templar, they often turn to blood,” she took in Sirius scowl “summoning arts, mind control and sacrificial magic the Templar feared in order to stay free of them. Otherwise good mages, becoming Maleficar.”


“Maleficar is the word for criminal on thedas?”


Wisdom nodded. “Criminal mages specifically, though it is a severe appellation. Merely criminal mages are Apostate. Maleficar refers to those who are genuinely abhorrent. Who practice living sacrifice and demon summoning or possession.”




Panic Room by Theory of a Deadman for the heart of Fen Harel's labyrinth
When freedom burns the final solution
Dreams fade away and all hope turns to dust
When millions burn the curtain has fallen
Lost to the world as they perish in flames
final solution by saboton.
Follow me by gamma ray for recruiting

 

Alexander of Sunnydale​

Summery: Alexander Harris was a loser; poor grades, few friends, dyslexic and a magnet for all sorts of supernatural trouble but one night of revelation will soon change everything. The gods still walk the world of men and woe betide all who crossed their path.
Disclaimer: Winnie the Poo was stuffed with fluff, but he was a cheerful fellow. I don't own any of the stories I'm about to cross over so I don't have that luxery. Think of me as Eor.​

==========​

Xander was furious as he turned towards the Library doors, how could Giles just let Buffy go down there to face the master like that? He was the one who told her that damned prophecy, He should have found a way to stop her! he thought furiously, conveniently ignoring the older mans recent return to consciousness. ​

As he turned his gaze fell on the book cage by the double doors and it's complimentary weapons rack. As had happened for the last few months the black sword laying against the back wall of the cabinet called to him, almost begging him to pick it up. Giles had never let him touch any of the sharpened weapons when he had attempted to join him and Buffy in afternoon training but what the hell? Desperate times called for desperate measures and he would need some supplies of his crazy plan was going to work anyways.​

Sweeping across the distance between the book cage and his earlier position Xander fumbled the door and pulled it wide, walking in and quickly grabbing up a cross, a belt of holy water, a rope of garlic, and finally the Gladuis. ​

He remembered that Buffy hadn't liked the weapon, something about holding it had made her uncomfortable. The grip was to rough, the balance was off, it didn't cut into the training blocks very well, it refused all attempts to sharpen it and a myriad of other complaints but it felt... somehow right in his hand. ​

It didn't matter, He'd only need it if simpler tactics didn't procure him his guide. Xander strode out of the library ignoring Willow and Giles confused cries. He had to find Buffy fast, but to do that he needed someone who knew where she was going. He needed Angel.​

==========​

Xander was running towards Angels apartment when he first heard it, the whispers of people following him. Grabbing the sword and cross from his belt Xander skidded to a stop and turned around to see who it was. He had expected the masters minions but there was no one there. ​

Is that him?
Dinners ready honey, how do you feel abou...IEEEEE!!!......
It can't be... He's to old!
And untrained, How'd he survive?
Don’t think that, he's not looking at you. He'll move on just like all the others... just like all the others
Gang members on PCP, They're only gang members on PCP...
He holds an underworld sword though.
Again!?! How does this keep happening to me? I just wish it would end!
Ooohh... do it to me again! Harder, harder!!
As you wis... WHAT? No! AARrrrrggg!!!....
Alexander, she's this way.​

Jerking at the sound of his name Xander dropped the blade and turned toward the sound of the final and clearest voice and yet still there was no one to be found. With the release of the sword however the voices faded and once again became unintelligible. Troubled Xander bend down and grasped the sword by the hilt. ​

Doing so, however, did not return the voices to their former clarity, bur rather gave him the feeling that someone was urging him to move in a direction other than the one he had been moving.​

Warily Xander gazed at the dark steel, it's polished surface seeming to resist the dim lights of the street lamps. There were many strange things on a hellmouth, if demons could be attracted to it why not demonic swords? He considered discarding it or bringing it back to Giles but thought of Buffy and the Master swept the thoughts away; he didn't have time, he'd do it later, after he'd made sure Buffy was safe. ​

"Alright, Saba, lead on." Xander said shakily and began to chase after the feeling.​

==========​

10 Minutes later.​

This way, turn right, DUCK, open that grate, hurry!
Xander was rushing through the sewers following the half heard whispers and pushing hands of an unseen presence and certain he had finally been robbed of the little sanity the Hellmouth had not stolen from him over the last 14 years he'd lived on it. But desperate times and all that jazz. ​

The fact that the whispers from the blade on his back had helped him avoid being eaten and pursued three times in the last ten minutes was entirely beside the point... He’d have suspected Marcy the invisible girl was back but why would she ever help him? Besides the voice was male and vaguely familiar. And that bothered him.​

Finally following a compulsion to dive through what looked like a dark patch in the wall of the electric maintenance tunnel Xander arrived in what looked like a rough hewn passage way he was certain was beneath the school somewhere by the time and direction he had been traveling.​

Suddenly Xander felt an overwhelming power to his right and he flattened himself against a dip in the wall not noticing as the shadows seemed to fold themselves around him. As he crouched there Xander saw an image of pure terror, a skeletal figure of chalk white skin and black leather strode past him, the eye lids on it's bald skull fluttering in what looked like ecstasy. ​

He was too late...​

The master was free and Buffy might be dead... no. NO. She had to be alive, He'd simply wait until the vampire had passed and then follow the tunnel down to wherever he found his blond friend. She would still be alive, still breathing and ready to fight. ...she had to be.​

Outside in the tunnel the Master paused. Sniffing he looked around the tunnel, his iridescent iris's passing over his hiding spot several times before turning forward again. "Strange, I thought I smelled... but no... Not that it would matter, they'll die with the return of the demons all the same. Don’t you agree Collin?"​

Xander never heard the reply as the Master and his minion moved on down the tunnel. Not believing his luck the boy rushed down the tunnel to find his earlier fears confirmed when he was Buffy lying facedown in a pool of blood. Not a pool of her own blood thankfully, but a very literal pool of the dark red liquid. It smelled fresh though...​

It didn't matter, rushing over to his friends body Xander fell to his knees sweating, his hands shaking. Rolling Buffy over he pulled the young slayer into his arms and shook her for a few seconds, calling her name and shaking his head in denial. Buffy was deathly white and she and not breathing. Not breathing! Breath! CPR!​

"Yes!" he shouted elated, there was a chance; there was a chance to save Buffy's life and this time he could do something about it. Laying her down on the rough stone floor he thought back to health class, cursing his habit of sleeping through it. After all, how was that his fault? Just like math the words seemed to just float off the page and dance around in front of him whenever he got the slightest bit frustrated. Which was fairly often when he wasn't under Willows gentle hand... ​

Wait, why was he thinking of Willow and math when Buffy was in such danger?! Forcing himself back to the present Xander closed his eyes and concentrated. Slowly the teachers voice came into focus, It was a young black woman with an Irish accent, very pretty, what had she said? ​

Oh yeah! Lay the victim on their back and tilt their head back to clear the throat; Pinch their nose and place a seal over the mouth and force air in three times, mouth to mouth being easiest. After the breaths turn their head to the side to keep the victim from breathing the water back in and start chest compressions. Six compressions and then repeat. Armed with the memory he went to work.​

Xander it's no use, a voice whispered behind him after a while. The voice sounded both depressed and relieved at the same time but he ignored it.​

"NO!" He shouted, franticly going back to chest compressions. "Breath, God damn it! Breath Buffy! Breath!" The last desperate word came with a fist slamming down on his dead friends chest. As he did so something went through him, a shuttering feeling akin to walking into the school freezers or grabbing the electric fences at the Sunnyvale vineyards. A second later the Slayers body shuddered and she coughed, spitting up a lungful of blood. ​

“Angel?” Buffy’s first word upon returning to the world crushed him, Angel… Even when the clammy coward was no where in the vicinity he still dogged his steps. Angel.​

“No, Buff. It‘s just me, y‘know, your friend. Xander?” He said with a weak smile.
“Oh… and The Master?”
“He‘s already gone up.” Xander replied sitting on the rock shelf beside her, his voice unnaturally calm.
“C’mon, I know where he‘s going.” Buffy said, her brow furrowing at the use of her full name. Not even Giles used that name? What was wrong with her Xander shaped friend? She brushed off the concern for a later time, she had a vampire to kill. “C’mon, we need to get to the school. And bring that sword.”​

Retrieving the dark blade from where he had discarded it Xander quietly followed the slayer as she made her way up the tunnel to an electrical access tunnel and from there into the basement of the school coming out the door behind the gym. From there Buffy sent him inside to help Giles and began scaling the school walls.​

Stalking off toward the doors to the school proper Xander saw his first vampire since leaving the tunnels, “Good” he Growled, accelerating, he had some major aggression to work off. By the time the vampire turned around and noticed him Xander was already on top of him. Running full tilt with the gladius held low and to his right in a two hand grip Xander brought the blade up and to the left with a roar aiding his powerful, if clumsy slash. ​

Xander stood there for a second, the dust of the demon swirling around him and gazed up at the sword he still held, now stuck in the frame of the door above him. The dark iron had passed through the vampire as if it had not been there and lodged itself in the schools masonry. Xander knew there was no way he was strong enough to do that. Shivering, he placed his foot on the metal handle of the door and yanked on the sword, landing heavily on his back as it gave quickly to his efforts. ​

Shaking himself off the founder of the scoobies stood and continued through the doors making a mental note to add this to the things he was going to ask Giles. Running again towards the growing sounds of battle Xander felt cluster of minions before he was them, A cold angry feeling in front of him and to the right, similar to what he had felt when he woke Buffy down in the Masters lair. Shaking it if he dashed around the corner recklessly, not caring that doing so was more likely to get him hurt, at the moment he’d have welcomed the pain. ​

Before him were the backs of half a dozen snarling mideon, pounding their fists on the libraries double doors. One in the back was holding a bloody hand and cursing ‘that human bitch’ saw Xanders charge first. Grinning like a jackal the young predator surged forward to strike him only to lose and arm to a sweeping slash meant for it’s head. Howling the vampire backed off, his scream alerting his companions to the new force behind them. ​

==========​

Inside the library Cordelia craned her head around and starred in awe. Through the broken wire glass of the libraries entrance was Xander, but that in itself wasn’t particularly surprising, It was just like him to throw himself into a situation he obviously couldn’t handle, but what amazed her was what he was doing. Xander was fighting seven, no now six vampires at the same time, with a sword, and winning! That was impossible, Xander was a loser, even among the Scoobies, but there he was, somehow holding his own.
As she watched he took several solid hits from his adversaries before being flung through the now unbarred doors to the Hellmouth’s surface. The way now open the remaining four minions rushed forward, heedless of anything but their prey. Such soon became their downfall as the serpentine heads of the beast dragging it’s way out of the portal shot forward grabbing three of them in it’s jaws in quick succession. ​

This was curious as well because Xander was closer to the beast that had tried to grab Cordelia and Willow’s ankles earlier, but when one of the heads approached to snap up the young man it drew back and hissed, almost as if in… disgust? Cordelia shook her head to clear it of the headache this night was forming, This was not supposed to happen. Vampires were not supposed to attack her on the eve of another victory, henticle monsters were not supposed to slither their scaly way out of the libraries floors and Xander Harris most certainly wasn’t supposed to be anything other than a pathetic looser with a sharp tongue.​

If she survived this nightmare one Alexander Harris was going to need to have a lot of answers for her,​

==========​

Up on the roof.​

“You‘re that amped about hell?” Buffy snarled at The Master, grabbing him by the neck “Go there!” she screamed throwing the ancient vampire backwards into the skylight towards the hydra below. Saddly her throw was not strong enough to match her intent. Buffy watched in growing horror as not only did the master miss the fiery red energy between the heads, the beast ignored it as it landed squarely on top of Xander who was facing off the curiously small number of vampires remaining in the area.​

In a panic Buffy hopped up on the ledge of the skylight ready to leap down and save her friends from the fight she should have ended on the roof but she then beheld a sight so utterly bizarre that she came to a complete stop. ​

The Master wasn’t killing Xander as she had expected, he wasn’t even holding her friend bait as he taunted her. He wasn’t even fighting Xander, as ludicrous as the idea was to her, what the ancient master vampire was doing was far stranger. He was talking to Xander as one would an intimidating elder and he was backing away from him! ​

She watched in consternation and then fear as The Master looked around from Giles who was dancing around the drakons’ tentacles and futilely hacking at it with an axe to Jenny Calendar her hands gesturing fiercely and eyes glowing with arcane energy to Cordelia against the book cage staring at Xander in complete and utter consternation and finally to Willow, laying on the floor only a short distance away where the severed tail had left her.​

Lashing out a hand The Master pulled the young ginger bookworm towards him and held her in front of him like a shield against Xander. Buffy watched in fear and confusion as a ripple formed behind Xander and he dropped his sword, walking towards the Master slowly, his hands up and empty.​

Buffy stood there frozen a the Greekin farce played out before​

 

Tainted?

A Drowtales spinoff

By StormFox

Credits: Authors everywhere, especially my betas, please forgive me for this, but I’m writing this as an experiment in writing OC inserts without becoming a (Marry Sue/Marty Stu). There will be several but the narrator is the main. This tale is based off various fictions, none of which I own. The primary focus fiction represented here is Drowtales, a growing, yet obscure semi-original, five year old, 13 chapter manga by Kern. This first chapter was also inspired in part by Eoin Colfers Book The Wish List.

Summary: Syphile’s life took a turn for the worse when she allowed herself to become ‘tainted’ so she could learn summoning, but what if during the ceremony… something went wrong? What if instead of a dying demon another soul took its place. Events couldn’t have turned out that different, could they?

~!@$%&^*(_)+

Prologue: Becoming

No matter who you are, no matter where you’re from, no matter how lucky you’ve been in life, you should always be careful what you wish for.

That is the lesson I learned only recently; and much too late.

I’m not sure I should really be complaining about my situation though; my life was never really that exciting before I died. I moved around a lot, always the new kid, socially awkward, hyperactive and, I’ve always thought, slightly mad. My being a boy with long hair probably didn’t help my situation any either. I went through life dreaming mostly, a C average bibliophile and martial arts geek. I had thought things would settle down and get better once I was off at college; you know, 4 years in one place, everyone is a new kid, geeks, freaks and weirdos are everywhere rather than just here and there. I should have been right at home, and for the most part, I was.
It was in the middle of my fourth year that it happened. I was walking home from the midyear open, our colleges martial arts club tournament, my nose buried in my latest flavor of the week manga when I heard some chuckling around me. It wasn’t entirely unusual, as I’ve been saying, not only am I in college, I’m weird. Naturally curious, I looked up to see who was laughing and what was amusing them. Apparently what was amusing them was me and that was the last thing I should have been doing.

“Hey dweeb,” the one directly in front of me jeered. “What’s a kung fu master doing with a girly comic book, huh?”

“Well, I’m walking home bored and being accosted by a Neolithic eclipse apparently.” I replied casually. That turned out to be a bad idea, but what did I care at that moment? I was still warm from sparring at the tournament, and while I had never been very good, I had always been fast and I was a fair hand at deflection and evasion. It wasn’t like I had never run into this situation before. They would taunt me, a few of them would toss trash my way, the leader would try to beat me to a pulp so I’d be easier to rob and he could look tough, I’d kick him around a little and they’d laugh at him and run off. It wasn’t a routine, thankfully, but it had happened often enough in the past. This was Boston after all.

“So you think we’re just a bunch of brainless bangers, huh, college boy?” The boy growled whipping out a knife. I sighed, never the smartest thing to do when surrounded by a group of sadistic morons.

“No, I do not believe you are ‘brainless bangers’, as you say. Everyone has a brain, even a paramecium. The biggest difference is the level of complexity.’ ‘Now kindly buzz off.” Snatching back my book and trying to walk past him. I should have simply let myself be pounded on. Hah, I’d be that intelligent.

As I passed the boy he brought his knife up and then down in a ridiculously wide arc trying to stab me where my neck and shoulder met. As poorly done as his attack was, it should have been little surprise to the group that I caught the attack. I brought my arm up and around his in a wheeling grapple that ended up with his hand behind my back and my fist by his elbow. Jerking forward I pushed the offending arm into a position it was never meant to bend and there was a rather nasty popping sound followed by a scream. Releasing him, I spun around and kicked the arm of an oncoming gang member, knocking the pipe out of her hands and spinning her onto her knees, where my follow up side kick impacted with her head, knocking her out cold.

The battle probably would have continued from there if I had actually attacked the leader rather than the group hot head. As it turned out, the leader wasn’t interested in me until I started resisting, it was supposed to be a quick easy ambush of a single geek on a dark campus walkway. When I started resisting the leader calmly pulled out a gun and shot me in the back.

I think he was aiming for my shoulder but the way I was moving the bullet hit me just above my right shoulder blade and continued straight in and past my heart.

Death is not kind; to anyone. When your blood is pumping and you’re really scared or excited time quite often seems to slow down like a cheap Matrix rip off. You see, hear, feel and generally perceive everything on a massively increased scale even if what you perceive isn’t strictly real. As my foot was about to connect with the girls head, and the leader pulled the trigger on his Glock 9mm automatic pistol, time slowed to a crawl.

It’s kind of a funny feeling when your mind is moving faster than the bullet that’s about to tear through you. The whole experience was all kinds of wrong on so many levels. I felt the shock run through each individual joint running up my body as my kick impacted against the girl’s skull and then there was the odd twisting sensation from the bullet moving through me and finally lodging in my liver. And let’s not forget the pain. No, we certainly must not forget the all encompassing pain as you get a new air vent drilled through you with a burning impact of 200 mph lump of metal. But somehow it just wasn’t quite important. ‘Gods,’ I thought pitying myself as I fell to the grounds limply, my shutting down to avoid the pain and ease my passing ‘I’m not ready to die! There was so much left to do! If only I had had one last chance for a grand adventure that would have been swell……’

Some say that as you die you see a warm golden light calling you towards it; others maintain that there is only a rushing darkness as your senses slip away and you cease to exist. I don’t know exactly what I expected but it wasn’t quite what I got. As my spirit left my now limp body I felt a sort of dim awareness and a distinct impression of two things; yellow and downward motion.

~!@#$%&^*()_+

Year 1082 of the moonless age; Orthorbbae Cavern; The Crescent; Syphile’s diary.

Today was insane, the unrest in Chel'el'sussoloth is growing worse and the school has been flooded with members of the clans trying to hide and escape the riots and purges. I’ve never seen so much fear and distrust at one time. At least I’m back at school though; end of year break at the compound was nearly unbearable. Illharess is only just getting over the failure of the exorcism for her favorite daughter Laele'aell; it left her in a drunken stupor for nearly 3 years! Not I’m surprised considering how little is left of Laele’s mind but I think it’s the unrest and promise of a new war that’s shaken Illharess out of it. I’m not sure whether that’s a good or bad thing…

Syphile paused as a shout rang out in the courtyard. Dropping her quill she rushed over to the door and pressed her school amulet against it; sliding the back of the crystal against the door in a circle and murmuring the door became clear enough to look out. A woman bearing the colors of one of the larger merchant guilds was fighting with one of the school guards. ‘Moron,’ Syphile thought in disgust ‘now you’re going to get thrown outside the shields and where will you be then? Among the panicking murderous commoners or the Nidra’Chal?’ sighing Syphile made a gesture and the door went opaque again.

“What was happening Syphile?” a voice on the far side of the room called out nervously. Syphile smiled at her roommate; Mal’ama Kal’Yantra was from a merchant clan of sorts. They were a small clan, even from the Sarghress standpoint, but they did possess their own formal military. They Kal’Yantra were a clan of deceptive strength and Syphile liked them. Due to their small mana auras they were often overlooked by the other clans but their golems, mechanical masterpieces of destruction, made them a force few wished to trouble unnecessarily.

“A refugee from one of the larger merchant clans seems to have picked a fight with one of the school guard. It should calm down soon. I just hope things settle before too long so it doesn’t affect our classes to much.” Syphile smiled and went back to her desk. She retrieved her quill and went back to writing.

…at least she’s given me permission to learn summoning! I can hardly wait till classes start, summoning is supposed to be one of the most difficult and prestigious forms of magic, only the golem lords can match an accomplished summoner in battle! I’d like to see those older girls mock me when I have a few dragons at my beck and call, hah! Mother, Illharess Quain’Tana wants me to learn a few canine summons though, as they’re the clans signature animal. I suppose they won’t be too bad, the mana-bearing wolves used by the clan as summons are quite large and they’re supposed to be both intelligent and cunning as well… maybe I can find one of those red dogs with lots of tails that aunt Quill'Yate keeps going on about whenever she brings her raiders back to the compound. But those may just be Halmes myths; Quill'Yate has an unusual fascination with the legends of the goblin races…

Mal’ama got up having finished whatever it was she was working on at the moment and nudged Syphile before pointing at the time keeper and leaving.

…I think it’s about time to wrap up this entry and head to dinner. If I don’t get there soon my friends might not save me a seat.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

I have no idea how long the sensation lasted but when it finally stopped, I saw what seemed to be a series of pulsating cavernous tunnels. Each… tunnel… was a different color and a few of them seemed to bleed together in sets of two at the edges. ‘Well, it’s not exactly heaven, but it certainly isn’t hell either.’ I thought. ‘Funny that I can still form coherent thoughts’ I mused as I ‘looked’ at the golden misty sphere I now was. There was nothing really discernible about my new form beyond the fact that it matched the maelstrom of other similar spheres of energy moving around me. Again with the myriad of different colors… Most of the one surrounding me were golden as well, but every now and then one of a different color would pass near me and gravitate to its corresponding tunnel. What did the other colors mean? Did they relate to different personalities maybe? ‘Gods I hope not, if they do, I really didn’t have much of a life.’

Curiously I watched my own slow but steady progress through the maelstrom of souls as I was in execrably drawn out of the spiral in the direction of the gold tunnel. As I passed the red tunnel after my seventh outward spiral I noticed that while the red souls were indeed drawn to their own tunnel that’s where their patterned movement stopped. Did they move of their own free will? During my eighth circuit, I studied each of the various tunnels I passed. Each of them seemed to have their own set of unique patterns, but after reaching their designated tunnel, each spirit seemed to make its way to the end of the tunnel. There, they would merge into a massive glowing white sphere with various energy patterns around them in colors corresponding to the color of the souls being drawn in. The red tunnel was different though. There was no cluster at the end of the tunnel; there were several massive shapes and many seemed more distinct than spheres but the red souls just seemed to move around aimlessly within their area, occasionally disappearing around their tunnels walls. That, more than anything, caught my attention.

As I began the ninth circuit in my spiral toward the cavern walls and ultimately to the golden tunnel I visualized the concept of closing one’s eyes in order to concentrate on something. At first nothing really happened, just a slight pulse in my outer aura, but as I increased the level of my concentration, I began to slow down. Suddenly I stopped in front of the silver tunnel. Shocked, I abruptly lost my concentration and started moving with the other spirits again.

‘I did it!’ I thought elatedly ‘I was able to stop and resist the current! Heh, heh, now to phase two. Holding still and lowering the effort to stay there.’

~!@#$%&^*()_

Syphile entered her room and collapsed at her desk wearily. She sighed and put her hands in her head glad that at least she was not one of the school guards. Things had not improved over the last few weeks, if anything they had gotten worse. There had been seven deaths in the school alone and as the number of refugees from the Nidra’Chal riots continued to increase and that was nothing to what was happening outside Orthorbbae in Chels main cavern. Pulling out her diary Syphile began to write.

It’s been a month since school started and things are getting worse. Illharess Diva’Ratrika has finally tired of Chel tearing itself apart and the houses inability to deal with the Nirdra’Chal. She’s sending out the entire weight of the Val’Sharen legion to deal with the problem. We’re fairly isolated here in Orthorbbae cavern but from the news that’s filtering in from the increasing number of noble clan refugees things aren’t looking good. The Nidra’Chal may be small in number but if anything I’ve learned in class so far is worth it, demon summoning is a very dangerous art to face.

Suddenly there was a muffled distant sounding thump and the lights dimmed. Looking around Syphile felt a chill travel up her spine. The Nidra’Chal were making another attempt on the barriers. The caverns ancient defenses had easily decimated the last group that had tried to force their way in but a sense of unease still filled her. Closing her eyes Syphile raised her hand and focused on her aura. Drawing portions of her mana into three distinct points and shaping it she summoned a trio of fairies she had earned during class to act as lights. One more faerie than most of the other students. Syphile smiled to herself, it was an extravagant waste of mana but they comforted her as a reminder of her worth and she continued writing.

For one thing, only highly skilled priestesses and mages can see demons in their natural forms. As purely mana based creatures the can only take physical form if they possess a host and once they have the host rarely feels pain or fear. They’re truly fearsome abominations and they give even the most skilled summoners problems at the best of times. Recently though there have been rumors filtering down from the upper forums that the tainting can make you immune to the demons parasitic qualities. The whole process is fascinating.

“Close it up Syphile and put your fairies away, It’s almost time for evening classes.” Mal’ama said in her quite way. Syphile nodded and turned back to her desk putting away the ink bottle.

I’d better go though, Summoning Professor Jaili’dro is not a patient woman. Sadistic is more like it.

This ghost cave, as I had come to call it, has no real concept of time so I’m not entirely sure how long I spent working on free and conscious movement but it felt like a matter of days before I was finally able to float about the central chamber with ease and at my own discretion. ‘But what to do now,’ I thought aimlessly. ‘I’m no longer bound to end up in the golden tunnel unless I wish it and now that I’ve tackled conscious movement this place is relatively boring.’ I mused. ‘The red tunnel,’ I thought. ‘I wanted an adventure and it gave me ideas for this. Who’s to say I couldn’t learn anything else from it?’

Gliding over to the entrance to the red tunnel, I began to study it again. As I hovered there watching the comings, goings and interactions of the tunnels occupants, a quartet of red spirits, each smaller than myself, passed me moving from the central chamber into their designated tunnel. As they passed me I felt nauseous and dizzy and there was a tugging sensation as the closest of the four pulled a small amount of my aura into itself on its way past.

Frightened I moved quickly away from the red spirits and observed them as they entered their tunnel and faded into the swirling red depths. The one that had taken a piece of my aura had turned momentarily orange where our energies met and the color had spread across him before singing into his center where he faded back to crimson, slightly larger than when I had first noticed him. ‘My next project’ I pulsed angrily ‘is to figure out how the bastard did that and then return in it in kind.’

There was a great celebration today in the main hall of the crescent. After 4 months of slaughter,r the Kyorl’Solenurn have ended the Nidra’Chals reign of terror. Fat lot there is to celebrate though; if the rumors are to be believed half of Chel is dead and much of the city lies in ruin. The clans have their little wars all of the time but no civilian has ever been caught in the crossfire before!

Syphile paused, frowning, and redipped her quill before continuing.

Ok, well maybe a few merchants who were to curious for their own good have been hit by stay mana arrows or shrapnel but nothing like this. Heinous savages the lot of them, I’m not sure what was worse; the stories of what the Nidra’Chal summoners did to the civilians when turning them into cannon fodder abominations or what the Koryl’Solnuren templar’s are said to have done to stop the swarms. For a clan of Drowsuu priestesses and exorcists’ to turn to using fire spells that would cover an entire city block, things must have been terrible out there.

I suppose Illharess is going to use what happened to the Val’Sharen to increase our clan’s standin. With their armies slaughtered and their clan in disarray there’s little to stop her from taking vast portions of Sharen territory for our own. Word on the Sharen is that four of Diva’Ratrikas five daughters are now tainted and the fifth, Sillice, is a traitor responsible for slaughtering the entire palace staff before her sisters arrived to stop her. Rumor says third daughter Sillice, the untainted one, is dead but I have my doubts. The eldest daughter Snadhya'Runes has taken over the crescent while second daughter heads the clan affairs and fifth daughter plays politician in her mother’s place. The fourth daughter lost her bloodline to the Nidra’Chal fighting along Sillice in the war; little has been said about her today but there is a rumor that she disappeared soon after becoming tainted during one of the final battles.

On a more personal note, Snadhya’Runes our new headmistress has declared that all summoners must now become tainted to continue study as a measure to guard against possession by netherworld demons, as if enough of us weren’t tainted already. Illharess is not going to like this. I’m set to undergo the ceremony and become tainted in a weeks’ time. She’d probably see me as a failure if I quit though… such a pity - I find the whole thing intensely fascinating. It would likely be healthier if I didn’t.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

My task was complete; I could now play with and draw energy from other spirits. Strangely, I felt no elation at the thought. I could now strike back at the bastard who had robbed me but it just felt… wrong somehow… to take the essence of anothers soul.

Perhaps it was a matter of perception though?

During my initial experiments along the cavern wall that divided the yellow souls from the blue I had found that other souls weren’t the only thing one could draw strength from, the other spirits, of course, were the most obvious choice but the walls and even the void around me fairly burst with energy that could be gathered if one concentrated properly.

Based on my observations of the red spirits who were in the process of making their way to their tunnel the entire concept behind draining energy from another soul seemed to be pulling energy from a nearby victim into yourself. Armed with this concept the next logical step was to start concentrating on drawing my own aura into myself.

I had read hundreds of books and watched dozens of movies on popular magical theory before my death and a common theme in all of them was meditation. Calm your thoughts and feel for the energy. If you’re having trouble, imagine the energy flowing all around you and try to pull the ripples into yourself. This one took even longer to start feeling any difference than movement had but after what felt like a day the void around me started to ripple and glow. First, a few wisps of white, then more and more until there was a corona of faint white energy appearing randomly around me but I still hadn’t managed to pull more than a few wisps into myself.

‘Damn spirit form.’ I pulsed lightly to myself ‘Everything I’ve ever read is based in large part on physical sensations. Or at least the concepts are explained by how things are supposed to feel as you do them.’ Pulsing in irritation I began to draw the ambient energy in again. It was a little easier now and in surprise I lost my grip on the power and it faded back into my surroundings. ‘Irritation,’ I thought curiously ‘or simply emotion itself?” Hell, how can I even feel emotion in this form?’ As a mental image of myself snorting in derision passed through my mind the void before me rippled outward and I began to drift again to my surprise. ‘Well, whatever works’ I thought, amused.

‘It’s a good thing I’m not training to become a Jedi’ I mused as I stretched my mind out again to pull more power into myself.

As time and trials went by I found that once I had learned to pull energy to myself it wasn’t entirely necessary to consume it in order to use it. It could be pushed, pulled and wrapped around you much like a blanket or silly-putty. ‘How very Avatar’ I pulsed softly to myself. ‘To think I’d been crafting real lessons on magic off of a cheesy kids cartoons is utterly ridiculous, but here I am aren’t I?’

With a mental sigh, I brought my mind back to the present and “gazed” at the border before me where the void took on a distinctly reddish hew. The time had come, and the hunt was on.

I plunged into the barrier.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

The old god Hathgrel’Dgen stirred as a faint ripple passed through the nether realms disturbing the inhabitants. Opening a massive scarlet eye he peered toward the source of the disturbance and growled; another foreign soul had pierced the veil and entered his domain of its own accord. This one seemed new somehow, it hadn’t come from one of the tunnel walls like the rest but rather from the barrier between realms. It made little difference, it was here now and would not be leaving; not the way it came at least, not even he could cross the barrier into the nexus and he had been trying for countless eons.

‘Pesky foreigners’ he hissed rising and shaking a myriad of impotent lesser demons off his massive chintond hide, ‘This one had better not be another elf, vile tasting cretins.’

The giant lobster like demon god scowled as he thought about the last time an elf had dared enter his domain, not only had her entry torn apart his plans for consuming the planet but it had taken nearly four centuries to subdue the soul and he still hadn’t managed to figure out how to properly eat her. “Sour, slippery little shade,” he groused remembering his last attempt. As it was he figured keeping her caged well in view of the pinhole portals her subjects insisted in continuing to open whilst she remained powerless to close them was a fitting enough punishment for causing him such a headache. At least until he figured out how to eat her… bloody hybrid aura. Mmm blood, it had been too long since he had had some real fresh blood, not since the murk-deep war on Jol’kien 5 had there been a portal large enough for him to pass through and take form.

Bringing his mind back to the present he entered the nether hub and cast forth his senses to find the interloper. Intent on finding the interloper he paid little attention to the more intelligent demons that populated the hub sparing only a glance at the bound form of the violet shade calling herself Sharress. His passage scattering the lesser demons he absentmindedly snapped up a few before his gaze fell on the intruder.

“Human…” he murmured watching the small golden form flickering in and out of focus as it battled a swiftly shrinking red specter. “Interesting.” It had been nearly two millennia since he had tasted a human soul, they had largely stopped playing with the nether realms shortly after the old goat Mephisto met his defeat at the hands of one of their cleverer sorcerers.

It made no difference; he was going to eat this one anyway. As he lunged forward to consume them both there was a flash of an elven portal opening and both vanished, sucked into the vortex. Furious he shoved forth one of his smaller arms in an attempt to draw them back in before the pitiful hole closed but was unsuccessful. Roaring at his missed chance for a fresh meal Hathgrel’dgen spun around and sent a bolt of jagged dark red mana at the smug half-elven retch, trapped in her cage.

With a deep rumbling pulse he spoke to the writhing spirit. “Enough waiting Sharess, your world burns now.”

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Summoner Jali’dro grinned wickedly as she marched the class toward the ritual chamber. Her mistress would be pleased for today they would be tainting a clan heir. Well sort of, she smirked. With Laele'aell insane and her old friend Mel uncooperative and imprisoned, the Sarghress line of succession was rumored to be Quain’Tanas’ head general and then Syphile, her prize summoning student.

She glanced down at the young darkling heir and smiled. It had been fascinating to watch over her class, the girl had a natural talent for summoning and was by far the furthest along of her non-tainted beginners. Even her tainted classmates were merely equal to the little wolf; it would be fascinating to see how she progressed after the ceremony.

Looking back up at the doors to the summoning chamber a frown suddenly crossed the instructors face. The year was almost over and she could have sworn that the girl had been scheduled for tainting months ago but something always seemed to come up. She’d suspected the girl of manipulating the situation to avoid the ceremony but she had never been able to find any evidence to support such a conclusion and had dismissed it many a time before but it somehow always struck her a suspicious. Looking down at the child you’d never suspect her of such misgivings… maybe she was just being paranoid? She had heard that it was one of the possible consequences of the tainting but up until now it just seemed to be rumor.

No matter, it was a thought for another time. “Mistress?” a voice called questioning. “Is something wrong?”

Glancing back at Syphiles bland questioning face Jali’dro smirked “Just an odd feeling, nothing more. Don’t worry about it.” Throwing open the doors she strode purposefully to the center of the summoning circle platform and whipped around to face the class who were glancing at her suddenly nervous at their teachers’ apparent disquiet.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Assemble the crystal arrays; you know your assignments, get busy!”

Today was going to be special, she knew it.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

As I plunged into the red tunnel the environment around me shifted suddenly. Behind me lay the chamber I had come from but I could no longer see the other tunnels. Shifting my gaze back to the original source of my discomfort I saw that what I had originally believed to be a single tunnel was now a vast chamber with its own myriad of tunnels branching off of it in far too many directions to possibly be held in a mere three dimensional space.

Some of the tunnels were strait while others curved around on themselves or branched out in several other directions giving the impression of a massive honeycomb. Within each tunnel swarmed beasts of all shapes, sizes and transparencies ranging from small translucent globes of energy to massive, very solid looking monsters of nightmare further down the tunnels. Fascinated by all of this it took me a while to notice that all movement in each of the tunnels had stopped and every last specter seemed to be staring at me.

Just as I noticed a pair of spirits who weren’t they almost uniform red of the other beasts the stillness broke.

The entire area was immediate chaos. As most, if not all, of the spirits suddenly tried to rush me an ever increasing number broke off their charge to attack their neighbors, too distracted by the promise of fresh naive prey to pay the proper amount of attention to their mana hungry brothers- and sisters- in- arms. As the demons drew closer the chaos grew worse and I snapped out of my frozen shock to turn to the barrier between hub and nexus in an attempt to flee. It was not to be however, I had been having far too much good luck of late and Mr. Murphy, it seemed, had come to claim his due.

Panicking at my inability to return to whence I had come I stretched out wildly and grabbed at the void separating me from the fighting demons. Pulling it in frantically I put forth a sloppy effort to focus the red energy into a barrier between me and those who hadn’t broken down into fighting just yet. As the seconds ticked by and the few unfettered demons pounded and clawed at the wall I had built it began to destabilize; first in little ripples disturbing the red mana that had oozed in to replace what I had taken and then wobbling and deforming at various points near the attacking demons.

Crack!

The larger of the undistracted demons, an almost opaque beast resembling a ring worm had chomped down on my shield and fractured it. Panicking once again I released my hold on the barrier and it exploded out ward in a massive ripple that scattered the first row of fighting spirits. The entire situation would have been hilarious in another context as in the far back of my mind it reminded me of the Greek tale about the dragons’ teeth and the forming of Sparta. As it was I had little time for daydreaming I had no chance of escaping the way I had come and it had become apparent that my attempts at barriers wouldn’t be of much use.

Pulling upon another of the ideas I had come up with and practiced I started pulling large sections of void together as best I could without touching the other spirits and condensed them like I had done for the barrier but this time instead of holding them for any period of time I released the stored mana in a series of miniature shockwaves that pushed a tunnel through the fighting spirits toward the strange ones at the entrance to one of the closer tunnels.

That turned out to not have been the best of ideas as I blasted my way through the fighting demons I gave many a target better than their own and came under attack once again not even halfway through the hole I had made in the swarm.

As the newly refocused demons closed in they began to try to feed off me as the first one I met had and I became nauseous once again. Holding myself as firm as I possibly could I tried to erect another smaller barrier around myself and by some accident used the mana in which I was floating as part of the construct. The feeling stopped, they were no longer draining me and my mind was clear but neither could I see. Not as such anyways, with the hasty creation of my improvised shield my field of vision had become limited to six points of red mana that extended out to a swirling red dome with utter blackness in between.

Screech!

Like nails on a chalkboard, or in this case teeth on a shield, the almost solid mana vibrated horridly as one of the demons resumed their attack on what they now assumed to be one of their neighbors. Loosening my grip on the shield I allowed some of the red void mana to touch me again in one quadrant and peered out of the void in that area. Most of the fighting had died down and many of the demons were darting around randomly, speeding one way and then hesitantly stopping only to rush off in another.

I sat there for a moment dumbfounded while the other demon attempted to chew away at the red sphere surrounding me. It took a long moment and a minor pang of exhaustion to shake me out of my surprise and notice that the barrier that had saved me was growing dangerously thin as the demon that resembled an angler fish attempted to gnaw away at its ‘fellow’. Tentatively I reached out into the red void around me, being careful not to touch any of the nearby demons and drew in more of the red mana to reinforce my shield and replace what the fish creature had taken.

Allowing the red void to touch me again on all 8 fields I began to build up some excess mana near the fish demon in preparation to concuss it away. As I was ready to release the pent up energy I stopped momentarily, hesitating. What if the demons weren’t all as dull witted as they seemed? Surely among the cattle there had to be a herder or two, would one of them recognize the technique again so soon after it was first used? I couldn’t be the first to have come up with such a thing.

Refocusing the slab of built up mana into a rough cone shape I released it from the outer point inward blasting the glutton away from me almost as if I had shot it from a cannon. It seemed unharmed as it sped away; more is the pity, just stunned.

I probably would have hurt it if I’d used my own mana but I needed that to fight the thief.

Doing my best to hold the shield I turned in the direction that I ‘felt’ the missing piece of my aura. I’m not entirely sure how to describe it entirely but it’s as if I could feel myself in another area. Discarding the notion and simply being thankful for my reprieve I set myself ‘drifting’ in the direction of the feeling.

As I neared the feeling the two oddly colored demons began to come into sharper focus. The first of the two to become really distinct was a massive purple octopus - like demon. Or maybe it was a spider, I really couldn’t tell as the shape seemed to join with an indistinct humanoid figure. As I looked closer I saw what seemed to be a latticework of smaller, vaguely humanoid demons surrounding her connected by streams of brilliant crimson energy.

The whole situation was intriguing and I wished to study it closer but the feeling I was chasing wasn’t coming from her, it was coming from the small red-orange demon near the tunnel wall to her upper right.

Reaching my destination I abruptly began to release the shield in a thick stream, slamming my opponent into the cavern wall. Rushing forward, my camouflage now gone, I latched onto the canine demon mentally and started trying to rip the piece of my aura out of it. My efforts also brought in much of the demons own mana staining mine a fiery orange. The mutt fought back and sank a set of ragged teeth into my aura and started jerking back and forth. Unable to spare excess attention for shielding or alternate attacks I pulsed forward, slamming the both of us into the wall as we continued to tussle, each trying to drain the other.

As we continued our struggle for dominance the other side of the hub rippled and a massive distorted crustacean burst out of one of the tunnels. As I began to gain the upper hand over my canine opponent I groaned internally and wondered if the situation could get any worse.

Never think such thoughts – they’re dangerous.

As the massive demon surged forward to engulf us the wall before us seemed to crumble in upon itself and my demon was drawn into the vortex dragging me along with it.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Syphile sighed quietly as she went about her preparations for the ritual. Keeping her face carefully impassive she wondered if there had been anything she had missed, some opportunity she had overlooked that may have been useful for getting the ceremony postponed. Wracking her brain as she levitated another crystal into the main array, she grimaced slightly. There was nothing she could think of that would have worked, at least not without rousing suspicions.

It wasn’t that she was adverse to the ceremony itself she reminded herself; a fair number of her friends were tainted and she was sure that none of them would look down on her going through with it or resisting but it was the uncertainty about her mothers’ reaction that continued to give her pause. She couldn’t remember Quain’Tana ever expressing direct displeasure against the tainted but a lot could change in nine months, especially during a war, and her reaction to Laele'aell becoming possessed was still sufficiently unsettling in her mind to make her worry.

“Syphile!” a voice like a whip sliced abruptly though her contemplations and Syphile looked sharply around to see her teacher looking at her expectantly. “Everything is ready, child.” Professor Jali’Dro said calmly, “Take a seat in the circle. Here is your dagger.”

Accepting the heavily runed knife, her neutral expression returned, Syphile turned and walked to the circle and stood in between the four floating crystals. Taking a deep breath she called upon her mana and focused it within the circle. Closing her eyes Syphile recited calmly. “*Guardians of the void, the circle is closed. A supplicant now offers herself for power. Bound by blood, formed of mana, let the way be open.*”

Gesturing with her free hand the mana Syphile had gathered began to swirl and turn violet. Pressing the dagger to her palm she drew a line of blood across it and focused her mind on calling a weak demon.

After a few moments of heavy focus the swirling mana turned red and flashed before abruptly flaring orange and collapsing. Syphile screamed.

 

Chapter 1: Ripples

Ssussunul; Inner temple; Shimi'lande Val'Kyorl'solenurn.

Shimi'lande surveyed the templar as he entered and made his report. The cleanup process seemed to be going well, the war had been; in large part, a success. Still she wondered how many they had missed. The Nidra’Chal fortress has been turned to gravel and the taint cleansed from the area but her visions pointed numerous surviving summoners sequestered among the Sharen and V’loz’Ress clans. They would deal with them soon enough; but first, Ro’oths’ Avatar would have to be taken care of. How the child managed to retain her drow form was beyond even her knowledge. ‘Perhaps the spider demon finds its generals more useful when they’re able to communicate with their supplicants better’ She mused.

“…o’Vadre is almost done with the north quarter of the city. The sweeps haven’t turned up any portals or demons in the last nine days so we’re fairly sure the Nidra’Chal presence is gone from the area.” The templar bowed as he finished his report. “Do you have any further orders my lady? …Lady Shimi’Lande! What is it?”

Shimi’Lande had suddenly doubled over groaning and holding her head as a particularly intense vision broke over her. Barely noticing as the templar shouted for healers Shimi drew in a series of deep breaths and tried to focus through the whirl of images and feelings that clamored for her attention. Something was changing, the scales had been upset and the future was now in flux. What had done this? What could possibly frighten them this much? Gritting her teeth she rammed her way through the interference in her head and grabbed a hold of the first image to assault her senses.

Her first impression was of a red backdrop and a lone figure clad in armor. There were no discerning marks on the armor but she could tell that it was a female darkling, about two decades in age. The armor and sword were simple and made of a black metal common among the upper class mercenaries of the underworld. The figures head was bowed and lines of jagged blue-white energy danced along her armor and sword. As the figure looked up her eyes found Shimi’Lande and the image became suddenly clearer.

As the shadows behind the figure sharpened and came into focus Shimi gasped. Two figures faced each other, scorching gazes locked in a battle of wills. The first was Elven in form with skin of deepest night, classical features and four burning eyes of deepest indigo while the second larger figure, dark red in color, resembled a demonic twisting of the Emberi shellfish known as the lobster. It was the elder demon god Hathgrel.

But why would Sharess fight an elder god over a single champion? What made the child special? And why had none of her visions included her before now? There were far too many questions and much too few answers. As the Kyorl’Solenurn Illharess attempted to refocus on the primary focus of her vision it was abruptly shattered to be replaced with a pair of eyes.

The eyes were common enough among the Drow, purple with a dull red glow in the pupil. These eyes were young as well, and focused, but even so they still held far too many regrets for one their age. Suddenly the eyes widened in shock and the Kyorl matriarch heard a piercing scream as the eyes closed momentarily. When they opened again the pupil was filled with a brilliant orange light. As she continued to watch the pupils elongated and the iris turned orange to match the fading brilliance at their center.

The world returned to Shimi suddenly as she collapsed to the floor shuddering and gasping. Looking up she saw the room had filled with wardens, templar’s and priestesses all looking at her with deep concern in their eyes. Well… the ones that could be seen that was as many of their eyes were covered by bands of cloth. “Illharess, what is it? What have you seen?” a soft voice before her asked. Looking up into the eyes of Ron’Nae, a blade and sorcerer from the order or the dual eyes, she drew a shuddering breath and replied.

“Hathgrel seeks his return. It seems the war of the moons was not enough for him.” Standing shakily she addressed the gathered clans-members. “It would seem that Ro’oths attack these past years was just the beginning. Little was clear but the vision centered on a young warrior, many of the details were uncertain but she may be tainted. Tell your wardens and templars to be on the watch for a darkling with orange eyes and pupils shaped like the holy eye.” Teetering forward she was caught and steadied by Life binder Jaa’li.

“You should rest, Illharess. The vision was quite intense and you will need to regain your strength.” Leading her out of the central chamber and into Shimi’s own personal quarters and lay her down on the bed. “Here, drink these.” She said handing the Kyorl leader a pair of small glass vials. “These should ease the head pain and speed the return of your mana, but I don’t want to see you out of this bed before you’re recovered, Illharess, healers orders.” Shimi’Lande smiled at the scowling healer and calmly drained the potions.

“I’ll do my best, Jaa’Li, I always do.”

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Jali’Dro stood by a bed in the Orthorbbae infirmary and stared down at its occupant her mind whirling. What could have gone wrong? How had the exorcism failed? Success rate for cleansing a demon from a student’s aura within hours of possession was unbelievably high but nothing had worked. All of the ceremonies had proven useless and the priestesses had been at a complete loss for how to remove the invader. It hadn’t even spread itself thought the girls aura yet and still the nether being had been completely untouchable, like a young oiled tiktiki.

It hadn’t helped that few enough of the priestesses had been able to touch the girl, what with her new demon attacking any tainted to touch her skin with arcs of jagged blue-white energy. Trying to move her with metal implements was even worse as the energy merrily ran up their length and set the tainted handlers to twitching uncontrollably all the same. Eventually she had been wrapped in a silken sheet by headmaster from spire Davya and carried by his untainted colleagues to the infirmary.

The expression on Headmaster Kelnoz’s face when he looked at her had been infuriating but he did at least seem concerned over the wellbeing of his families charge. The smug bastard, it was such a pity that Sarv'swati had failed to take over the headmasters council. Useless, meddling male.

Sighing she gazed down at her changed student, still yet to awaken from the ceremony in the tainting chamber. For a child from a house of commoners she was going to be a pretty one, now she wasn’t so sure. Syphiles hair had turned a brilliant silky orange color to match the Vloz’Rezz and though it was hidden beneath the beds sheets her spine had elongated to form a tail with the same fur covering it as well. Hidden among her now orange hair were her ears which had also changed, becoming wider, shorter and covered in the same orange fur.

“Just like a feral…” Jali’Dro sighed. “I wonder if her life has been shortened as well.” She snorted at the thought. The child’s life was likely to be short in the first place with the newly minted Val’Sarghress as family. She did still have her mana though, and plenty of it; especially now. Mana was life and so the girl would probably be able to whether the ages like the rest of her race but she had to survive first. Still, while she held few enough feelings for any of her students she was at loathe to lose her most promising student in a century to a simple accident.

Summoning Master Jali’Dro left the room in a whirl of robes ignoring those she passed. Headmistress Snadhya'runes needed to know the full details of the event; if she did she would be sure to keep the girl her for study despite the wishes of the Sarghress. She’d likely take joy in the act itself, just to spite them. The Sharen had lost a great deal of the City to the Sarghress wolves whom the citizens treated like saviors. They would help; she was sure of it...

Devya Headmaster Kel’Noz Val’Sarghress watched as Summoning Master Jali’dro Vel’Sulisin’Rune swept out of the crescent infirmary, her dark robes billowing behind her. He often wondered if she did that just to impress people. As one of his sister’s former friends, he knew a fair deal about the summoning instructor and she had always come off as thoughtful and distant to him. Not unkind, but then that was before she became tainted. He sighed, recognizing her path - running off to her headmaster to solve her problems like a good little automaton.

Kel’Noz shook his head as he entered his adopted sisters’ room. It was a separate part of the infirmary reserved for contagious cases and required a pair of sliding doors and air filter to enter. Contagious, HA! No more so that those damn demons the priestesses kept insisting on summoning.

Just looking down on her you wouldn’t know that Syphile had changed; she slept so peacefully curled up in the hospital bed, her hair spread out around her like a halo. The hair wasn’t to unusual, many Drow dyed theirs, and while orange was typically the color associated with the Vloz’Ress outcasts, it could always be dyed again. The tail, while harder to explain was also simple enough to hide under the skirts and armor their clan always insisted on, but the ears troubled him. There were all sorts of head-dresses, helmets and hair styles that could render the problem obsolete, but what if someone got to close? They could be explained away as high sorcery but that often required demonstrations and Syphile had never been strong with illusionary magic.

Pushing his concerns aside he focused on the larger problem. Getting her out of Orthorbbae before Jali’Dro or Snadhya’Runes came back and started sniffing around; the last thing anyone needed was to become one on Snadhya’s test subjects.

Leaving the room the head of Davya spire proceeded to the back of the infirmary and into the healers’ offices. Seeing their surprised and calculating stares Kel’Noz turned to the head healer and bowed deeply. “Mistress Bek’ti Jaal’Darya, Honorable healers” he began straightening back up “My Illharess wishes that I return to the citadel immediately along with my clan sister, your patient Syphile. Would you discharge her to me?”

Nodding once head healer Bek’ti walked to the desk and retrieved Syphiles School Key-rune necklace and handed it to Kel’Noz without saying a word. Bowing again, the Davya headmaster left the room and returned to his charge. Reaching into his voluminous robes he withdrew four violet crystals whose shape resembled corners to a picture frame. Placing them together on the floor to form a square he began to channel mana into them. Immediately all four began to glow and, as promised, formed a solid magical tray between them. He had never really given excessive thought to the dwarves but he had to hand it to the Kal’Yantra and their friends, they made some of the damnedest things. Raising the small floating square he removed his hand from it and watched it hover there waiting. Smiling he pulled the crystals apart and watched as they drew upon his mana to expand the size of the platform.

Still deep in contemplating the board, Kel’Noz turned around and lifted Syphile onto it noticing that it again increased the draw on his mana. It wasn’t much and he could probably support the thing the entire way home but it was still something to think about.

Draping a sheet over Syphile and the mana board, Kel’Noz proceeded out of the crescent glad that classes were still in session and the refugees had cleared out of the cavern. Seeing Syphiles Kal’Yantra friend lurking in the shadows of the gateway he smiled and waved to her. He would remember Mal’Ama Kal’Yantra he thought as he climbed onto his riding wolf Kiba; she had been the one to offer a way to transport the still unconscious Syphile in the first place.

The ‘Mana Board’ Syphile was resting on had been originally developed by a Durgar partner of one of the Kal’Yantra heirs 20 years ago as a means to create a sort of collective shield for battle situations. While successful in its original purpose the idea had sadly never caught on as it had the unfortunate effect of blocking outgoing spells as well as incoming. Magni’s creation was now seeing its primary use as large holding tanks in the southern Chel mana-forges. Mal had been the one to suggest their use a carryalls but their use wouldn’t likely catch on for several decades as they required a constant drain on one’s reserves to operate.

Settling Syphiles belongings into his wolf’s saddle bags, Kel’Noz set off for home.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Syphile was having a truly strange dream.

She was in the Val’beldrobaen throne room holding court with her generals, house leaders and business partners; except the room was pink, and the assembly was made up of tiktiki, young ferals and midgets with enormous eyes. The table had been replaced with the shell of a massive rust colored lobster and Sharess was bounding around the room playing jester. To complete the surreal picture there was a massive orange dog with two tails sitting in her throne and cackling insanely all the while, insisting he was a *human*, whatever that was.

Syphile wasn’t particularly concerned though, she was sure that this couldn’t be the strangest of her dreams and once she woke up she felt certain she would forget the whole thing. The sensation of floating around the court room was nice though, she would miss that.

Then the dream shifted slightly. The doors to the room opened for a unicorn with a silver coat, a golden mane and glowering yellow eyes. On its back sat a small drider that only had three eyes. Its torso closely resembled her adoptive elder sister Mel’Arnach and the tips of its hair were dyed purple. Looking up at where Syphile was happily floating near the ceiling the creature pouted and called out.

“Where did you put Fluffy?!”

Hearing a yelp beside him Kel’Noz turned to see Syphile sit up sharply on the board and look around wildly. “I was wondering when you were going to wake up,” the Davya headmaster said soothingly, placing a hand on the young girls shoulder. “Here,” he said, unclipping one of the saddlebags and handing it to her “You should change into some clean robes; you’ve been unconscious for a little over a week.” Noticing her stare he smiled sadly and explained. “You collapsed during a tainting ritual and your aura started attacking those who tried to move you. Your teacher refused to give me any pertinent details but I feel it would be safe to assume the ritual was for you?”

Eyes wide in alarm Syphile only nodded. “Do you have any idea what might have gone wrong?” Kel’Noz asked softly. “From what I understand you used some rather unusual sorcery while you were unconscious,” he remarked - smirking at the last part.

“Here” he said using a glowing fist to punch the stone floor to the right of the path. As a set of walls and a door rose from the stone Syphile hopped off the floating board and groaned and the stiffness in her legs. Walking over to the makeshift changing room she quickly changed cloths. Returning Syphile was wearing a pair of loose black silk pants a dark red tunic also of spider silk and a long grey cloak that opened in the front and billowed out behind her as she walked.

Smiling Kel’Noz gestured at the blanket Syphile had been sleeping under and it whipped into the air folding itself into the now empty saddlebag. As Kel’Noz collapsed the mana board Syphile looked at him curiously. Noticing her stare he explained that one of her friends, an older girl from the Kal’Yantra clan had offered its use to him.

Their journey continued in silence; Syphile now sitting in front of her elder pseudo-brother, until they reached the gates of the Sarghress fortress.

Quain’Tana Val’Sarghress, Illharess of the Sarghress clan slouched in her throne and lowered her face into her left hand. It had been an incredibly long week and she was more than ready to curl up in bed with a large steaming bottle of expensive over-world whiskey. It was such a pity the fighting was over as there would be no more swarms or raids to fend off as an escape from politics.

How had things gotten this truly twisted? Becoming barren, losing Laele'Aell to a demon and an emissary from the Kyorl’Solenurn comes nosing around not to mention whispers of a disaster in the Orthrobbae summoning classes. Long have I held the opinion that you make your own luck but recently I’m beginning to wonder if Sharess hates us. So much in less than a decade.

Hearing the doors to the throne room open Quain’Tana parted her fingers and gazed tiredly at the new arrivals - her son and a young woman in Sarghress robes and brilliant orange hair. “Kel’Noz,” she said loudly allowing her forehead to lower back into her palm “while you are fully free to take mates from any of the clans it’s not particularly prudent to pick one up from the Vloz’Ress when I send you orders to return with your sister in tow, and especially this close to the end of the Nidra’Chal debacle.”

Spreading her fingers again to reveal a single eye she watched her son bow and smile slightly. “I’m sure Syphile appreciates the compliment mother, it’s good to know you’re feeling well enough to make jokes.” Standing up sharply at her sons words Quain’Tana spoke in a booming voice.

“The rest of you, OUT! And shut the door behind you!” Turning to face her son, she spoke again in a low growling voice. “Is this what you were talking about when you said there had been a disaster with the summoning class? You only wrote that Syphile had been hurt and was unconscious. Explain yourself Kel.”

Looking down at Syphile, Kel’Noz sighed and began to speak. “Having run out of plausible distractions to avoid the situation Syphile was going in for her tainting ceremony.”

“Tainting ceremony?” Quain interrupted her voice dangerous.

“Yes,” he continued grimacing “Tainting ceremony. If you remember I wrote you when Snadhya’Runes became headmistress a few months ago; she made tainting a requirement for those taking summoning classes.” Ignoring Quains frosty stare he continued grimacing again. “Syphile became wounded during the ceremony and caused quite a stir in the process.” He finished, still avoiding his mothers glare.

“Injured?” she said looking back to the girl, Syphile she reminded herself, standing behind her son. “She appears unharmed, though her stare seems vacant, Syphile!”

“Hmm?” Came the distracted reply. Kel’Noz sighed as Quains gaze darkened. “Oh, I’m sorry you were saying?” she asked with a soft smile.

Quickly speaking up to cut his mother off Kel’Noz interrupted “She’s been in a coma for the past nine days mother, It may not be entirely prudent to question her now.”

Her eye twitching Quain spoke softly “Tell. Me. Everything.”

“Well, despite how things may appear she isn’t actually possessed. Not in the traditional sense at the very least.” As he paused to gather his thoughts Quain spoke up.

“Exactly how do you mean ‘not in the traditional sense’? What other sense is there?”

“Well, normally when a demon possesses a mana bearing creature their aura changes. With a light tainting it can turn any number of shades of purple or if the tainting is strong a red hue will be dominant. With a full possession their aura would become completely red, having been consumed by the demons own aura and with most of the typically summoned demons the physical structure of the infected Drow will change to match what the demon resembled in the nether realms. In Syphiles case though things seem… well it’s rather unprecedented really.”

“Unprecedented how…” she asked, now circling Syphile like a direwolf gauging its prey.

“Well, from what I gathered interrogating her classmate and friend from the Nal’Sarkoth clan Syphile had almost completed the ritual when her summoning portal suddenly flared orange and exploded knocking her unconscious. The demon she summoned entered her via the wound on her palm and sealed the cut behind it like normal but her aura didn’t change. Her body however… there are small things; most of them not particularly noticeable.”

“The ears obviously, and the eyes.” Quain’Tana murmured, nodding and continuing to prowl. “What else?”

“Her hair color is also reported to be a change wrought during the ceremony and… she also has a tail,” he said haltingly. “It’s easily hidden” Kel’Noz continued in a rush “Under the normal robes or armor most drow ware it wouldn’t even be noticed unless she wished it.” Glaring at her son Quain’Tana slumped back into her throne.

“And her mind?”

Looking pensive, the Davya headmaster responded slowly “So far as the healers could tell there was no change in her mind, there is little enough change in any tainting that does not become a full possession...but, I would have to observe her for a while to be sure. If nothing else, I’d love to study the other side effect of the event.”

Raising an eyebrow, the Sarghress queen spoke again, finally seeming interested “Yes, you did say she caused a bit of a commotion. As I remember that was how the situation came to your attention in the first place. What happened? You mentioned sorcery.”

“Quite” Kel’Noz replied brightening visibly “After she fell unconscious the teacher tried immediately to wake her and see if she was all right. Standard procedure, you understand. What was amazing was what happened when she touched Syphiles skin. According to the students anyone who touched her were hit by an unknown form of elemental sorcery. I was touched by it myself and have been attempting to understand the inherent magic’s ever since. It resembles jagged lines of concentrated mana and feels much like Mels’ spiders are crawling over your skin where the arcs move. What was truly surprising is that the sorcery seemed to differentiate between Drowolath and Ver’Drowendar. Ver’Drowendar who touched her felt pain and their muscles twitched uncontrollably where the sparks touched them. It was all quite fascinating.”

“I’m sure it is Kel, but a power that only affects… what is that noise?” Kel’Noz stepped aside to look at Syphiles who was humming an unusual tune, her eyes closed. “Girl, pay attention! And what are you humming?”

“Oh,” Syphile said “He he...sorry about that.” Syphile grinned and rubbed the back of her head; an unusual gesture, even for her.

“No, you obviously felt the need to sing despite the situation, child. Sing; loud enough for us to hear.”

Looking even more nervous Syphile cleared her throat and began again.

“*Axes flash, broadswords swing*
*Shining armors’ piercing ring*
*Horses run with polished shield*
*Fight those bastards ‘til they yield *

*Midnight mare, blood red roan*
*Fight to keep this land your own*
*Sound the horn and call the cry*
*How many of them can we make die? *

*Follow orders as you’re told*
*Make their yellow blood run cold*
*Fight until you die or drop*
*A force like ours is hard to stop *

*Close your mind to stress and pain*
*Fight ‘til you’re no longer sane*
*Let not one damn cur pass by*
*How many of them can we make die? *

*Guard your women and children well*
*Send these bastards back to Hell*
*We’ll teach them the ways of war*
*And they won’t come here anymore *

*Use your shield and use your head*
*Fight ‘til everyone is dead*
*Raise the flag up to the sky*
*How many of them can we make die? *

*Dawn has broke, the time has come*
*Move your feet to the marching drum*
*We’ll win the war and pay the toll*
*Fight as one in heart and soul *

*Midnight mare and blood red roan*
*Fight to keep this land your own*
*Sound the horn and call the cry*
*How many of them can we make die? *

*Axes flash, broadswords swing*
*Shining armors’ piercing ring*
*Horses run with polished shield*
*Fight those bastards ‘til they yield *

*Midnight mare and blood red roan*
*Fight to keep this land your own*
*Sound the horn and call the cry*
*How many of them can we make die?*
*How many of them can we make die?*
*How many of them can we make die?*”

At the end if the song that could be heard was stunned silence. Speaking in a much softer voice than before Quain spoke “Where did you learn the Emberi marching song, daughter?”

Tilting her head in question the fourteen year old heiress replied. “No idea, I’ve never heard it before, it was just going through my head and had a good beat.” She rubbed her hand nervously and spoke again. “You aren’t mad are you?”

Looking at his mother Kel’Noz asked “What was the name you gave the Halmes battalions? The ones we used to take care of the summoners who tried to storm our sections of the city?”

“War Meat.” Quain said grinning, “Congratulations Syphile, All of my daughters go through military service for the clan. Until further notice you’ve just been enlisted in the War Meat Marines. And don’t ask me what marines means, it’s something the Halmes mercenaries call themselves.”

“But!”

As Syphiles exclamation left her lips Quains gaze turned suddenly frosty. “But? We just fought a war against the tainted, child, the only one of their demons to cross our gates and live sits behind my throne chained to a massive block of dark-iron. Would you rather be placed in the care of our latest Acquisition? She came to us a few weeks ago and she has a great appreciation of the tainted. SIL’LICE! I know you’re listening, come down from there NOW!”

There was a loud thump behind Syphile and a tall woman in ice blue armor and a Sarghress tabard came limping from a spot beneath one of the ventilation shafts near the top of the hall. There was a massive, if fading, burn mark across the top of her head and her hair had been cut short and held no dye, a sign of dishonor. “This is Sil’Lice Val’Sarghress, I know what you may have heard about her but, true or not, she is now one of our clan.” Quain’Tanas smile shifted into a subtle leer “An honorary daughter.” She said looking directly into the older woman’s eyes a challenge evident in her gaze “She has kindly given us a respectable amount of intelligence on the Sharen holdings and their remaining military forces and now heads our torture and interrogation department.”

Returning her gaze to Syphile she continued. “For now you will have the rest of the month to rest as if you were on break for Orthorbbae. At the end of the month you will meet the War Meat Marines for morning and evening training, at mid day you will report to Sillice’s chambers for continued magic lessons. If he is willing Kel’Noz will tutor you while he is on break. Until I find an opportunity for you to prove yourself worthy of your position those are your orders. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Illharess,” Syphile said quietly, her head bowed. As she walked out of the throne room, Syphile began to cry.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Syphile collapsed on to her bed, silent tears flowing into her pillow. IT WASN’T FAIR! Removed from school, enlisted in an army of former slaves and a mutated freak to boot, she thought miserably, not even noticing the strange phrase she had used in her head. Her Illharess thought her a pathetic failure. She wasn’t a failure; she had proven as much this last year. You didn’t get to be the favorite student of their emotionless summoning mistress without some serious talent. She wasn’t strong or fast like the warrior queen but she was a powerful and intelligent sorceress,.. for her age. at least.

It was just SO UNFAIR!!!

Her face buried in her pillow Syphile cried herself to sleep, wallowing deeply in self pity. It was slightly irrational and would pass in time she knew but at the moment she just couldn’t help it. Slipping into her dreams Syphile hoped to find some respite and for a while she did; dreaming of white clouds, blue skies and a silver moon, a place where everything was so much simpler and knowledge was everywhere, just waiting for her to reach out and seize it. Suddenly the pleasant silence of the pleasantly alien landscape was shattered when a voice dripping with venom interrupted her halfway through a book.

“Enjoying yourself?” the voice asked from over her shoulder. Whipping around she saw what she at first assumed was a feral. After staring wide-eyed at the figure who seemed to be speaking to her despite being in a dream, she began to notice a number of differences in the creature. Most ferals appeared to be little different from their non sentient four-legged cousins; they were simply able to stand on their hind legs and walk more naturally than on all fours. This was of course primarily due to abnormalities in their pelvis and the fact that their knees faced forward like an Elf’s rather than behind like most animals.

Her observer however seemed to be much more elven in appearance, or perhaps human? He; or perhaps she, was much too short to be a mature elf. Ignoring that - he had a very human face and seemed, if lean, to be quite well muscled. He was wearing a set of white pants, white tunic, red belt and expensive looking leather boots. He was also covered in orange fur with white over the lower face and disappearing into the tunic. He had the same ears she now sported and the tail as well, though his tail and inner ears bore white fur instead of orange like hers.

“Well?” came the whip like voice again and she saw that his four primary canines were extended as well, much further even than a drows own prominent fangs.

She quailed as he stepped forward and snatched the book from her before answering, her voice full of steel she hadn’t expected to be there. “Yes I was actually. How is it that you are in my dream, unless you’re a part of it? My sub-conscious come to berate me like my bitch of a foster mother?”

The figure laughed mightily and when his gaze returned it was softer than before. “Yes, I saw that. Nice going singing my song to her. That was hilarious. Could you concentrate on the face she made? …I’d like to frame it,” he finished, a vicious grin on his face.

Frame it, she thought. How could you frame a memory she pondered. Perhaps you could levitate some dyes onto a silk canvas and think of the image, but that wouldn’t really be framing the memory itself, it would be more of a memento.

“That it would be, kid. But I was thinking more along the lines of you thinking hard enough on the memory for me to find it in your library; or mind, as it were.” Seeing her shocked expression the figure laughed again and turned a smirk on her. “Yes, I can hear what you’re thinking, brat. You’re the one who’s in my head, remember? What? You didn’t know? These ‘books’ you’ve been so happily reading are my knowledge and experiences. I’d thank you to keep your pointy grey ears out of them, thank you very much. Unless you’d like me to ransack your mind while you’re watching?”

Seeing her wide eyed denial he held out his clawed hand grinning. “I suppose this is what I get for asking for an adventure as I died. Since we seem to be stuck with each other, the name’s _____ Nice to meet you.”

~!@#$%^&*()_+

“You think I was too harsh on her don’t you?” The Sarghress Illharess murmured feeling her son’s disapproving gaze focused on her as she stared at the door her latest disappointment had left through.

“I certainly don’t” the ice summoner spat, forming a chair out of the room’s moisture. “Pathetic little demon spawn. Were you serious about me continuing her education as a spell weaver? Are you sure I can’t just play with her?”

“Yes,” The stone mage said, creating his own chair out of the floor and turning his glare on his counterpart “I do think you’re being too harsh. Both of you,” he added, showing a rare bit of forcefulness. “Despite what you’d like to believe little sister, Syphile is neither tainted nor possessed; not by a demon in any case. As to your displeasure with her mother - are you more distressed that she went through with it in the first place, or the fact that she failed to do it properly?”

Quain’Tana only glared at him. After a moment she bowed her head and let out a massive sigh. “Both really, this may only be her first failure, but even you must see that it was in quite a spectacular fashion.”

“True, it was supposed to be one of the simpler nether summons but from what I understand only the portal is simple, holding portals open yet impassable while you search entire worlds for a suitable spirit is another thing entirely. It’s part of why they treat the ceremony like a test for intermediate summoners. Teachers are often said to end up helping their students maintain the window and sometimes even have to guide them to appropriate nether zones. While she summoned something that not only wasn’t a demon” he paused to glare at Sil’Lice, before returning to lecture mode “but apparently attacks them on sight is either an amazing accomplishment that could open an entire new field in the art or an incredible stroke of luck. Good or bad, take your pick.”

“Fascinating as this undoubtedly is to you” Silllice drawled “I really don’t see your point. She’s possessed and you know it. Furthermore, whatever breed of demon it is, it’s deceptive and dangerous. I think she should be my personal project… urk!”

“Enough, both of you” Quain’tata said removing her hand from Sillices throat and settling back in her chair. “Whatever the circumstances, whatever the outcome, she still willingly submitted herself to being tainted. I sent her to learn beast summoning, wolves and dragons, not nether demons. She still failed me. Twice.”

“Return to your duties, Silllice, and Son? Get some rest, you’ll need it.”

~!@#$%^&*()_+

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE’S GONE?” the furious shriek emanating from the healers ward of Orthorbbae echoed across the crescent and could be heard in the lower levels of the nearest of the eight towers.

Snadhya’Runes was furious. No, she wasn’t furious, she was far beyond that; blood would rain if the situation was not rectified, the underworlds lack of the clouds be damned. “You should have brought this to my attention when the matter first arose, Jali’Dro. This is unacceptable. We don’t even have any idea how the event occurred now. Was it a flaw in the summoning; did the brat know where to look for a different type of soul; was the soul in the wrong realm and how did it even get there? Thousands of questions; millions of tests, ALL OF THEM LOST BECAUSE YOU WERE INCOMPETENT!”

Closing her eyes and breathing heavily Snadhya made an attempt to reign in her fury before it consumed her and made the situation worse. Unsuccessful she opened them again and glared around the room balefully. The healers and summoning teacher were pressed against the walls and ceiling, most of them several feet from the ground, their equipment smashed and broken. It had been centuries since she had let her anger get the better of her control like that.

Her sudden increase in annoyance caused several of the entrapped staff to begin choking under the pressure of her mana and she put forth another effort to reign herself in. As the raging maelstrom of pressure sorcery receded and the medical staff fell to the ground the Orthorbbae headmistress began plotting. This would need to be handled delicately; even if Quain rejected the girl she would happily keep her even at the risk of a direct conflict with the remaining Sharen forces if it meant it would cause her and her sisters distress. Come to think of it the… woman… would probably welcome a chance to gain a modicum of revenge against the Sharen for the wound Sarv'Swati had given her four years ago; it was a thought that still made her smile and likely would for decades to come.

Not that she hadn’t already gained too much - In the months since the end of the war the Sarghress had been sweeping through the city, killing her soldiers, looting Sharen guard stations and winning the heart of the remainder of the wretched commoners. It was enough to make her vomit. 42 blocks lost in a matter of days and there was little enough chance that even with the upgraded armor and tainted troops that they’d be able to stand against the entire might of the 12 houses of the mercenary queen. Not anymore… not yet.

“It seems I will need to take a direct hand in this.” The leader of the Sharen spoke, her voice dangerous. “The professor will make a full report of her observations from the ceremony and the past nine days as well, I shall decide how to deal with her later. The healers will repair the room and replace their equipment. They are free to use the school trust, don’t let me hear of you abusing this privilege.” Sweeping off towards the door Snadhya paused before leaving the room and glanced back at the rooms’ occupants, stunned by their good luck.

“Pray.” She sent back to them and swept out of the room. It was time to put their connections with the Vloz’Ress to good use.

~!@#$%^&(*)_+

Syphile raised her hand, halfway to touching the strange figures own and paused, a curious expression on her face. Looking up into the figures face and then back to her hand, not quite understanding what it was wanting she haltingly asked for an explanation. “Uh, what exactly are you wanting and why do I feel the urge to hold your hand, I don’t understand.”

Rolling his eyes the figure replied smirking “The gesture is a greeting and was originally formed as a sign of respect. You offer your right hand to another and you are essentially leaving yourself vulnerable. You are showing them that you have no weapon in your hand and that it is far from one you do have. If they return the gesture it was meant to be a sign that you felt comfortable enough with them to do the same. Now days it’s a simple greeting that few ever think over; it’s a human thing. You’re probably feeling compelled to do it because you’ve been gallivanting around in my head. I’m curious though, why is your mind organized like a library? Admittedly this is the first mind I’ve ever viewed but it’s still curious.”

“…Oh.” she said quickly taking the strangers hand and shaking it firmly before continuing. “I suppose I’d represent my mind as a library because the library at school is the one place I’ve ever felt truly comfortable. I guess. What did you say you were called though? I couldn’t hear anything when you said your name.”

“Really? That’s odd, my names is _____; how about then?”

“Nothing, your mouth moves but nothing comes out.” Syphile replied shaking her head.

“Huh, well what would you call me?” the stranger asked raising an eyebrow.

Syphile stared at the stranger, momentarily struck dumb by the casualness of the question. The… creature… claimed to be a dead human turned feral mana being and seemed largely unperturbed by being sealed inside the body of a child who was not only of an entirely different race but of the opposite gender as well; and yet the only thing that had sparked anger in it was an unavoidable invasion of its nonexistent privacy. Closing her mouth briefly she gathered her wits and replied “I’d call you insane dog boy, I suppose you heard why just now?”

Snorting; the stranger replied by once again raising an eyebrow, as if to say ‘duh’.

“Alright, how about red feral?” Syphile asked receiving a glare in return. “Fuzzy.” a raised eyebrow. “Rust fang. Overbite. Cub. Moon dancer. Silky. Death howl, Jitters, maniac, Mok’nathal, Ariel.”

“Please Odin say that came out of your head and not mine.” The figure whined grabbing his skull in mock agony. Syphile shot him a nasty look and shot a reply back.

“My head, you idiot, I though since you weren’t responding to boys names you might like a girls better. Why, what does Ariel mean to you?”

“Where I come from Ariel is a young mermaid, a sort of fish person similar to what you call a feral, she’s about 16 years old, naïve as they come and irrationally obsessed with a person of another species that has made a habit of hunting her race. She makes a deal with a demon in which she sacrifices her immortality in order to be with him and becomes heartbroken when he falls for someone else. Both the original story and the revised version created by the children’s entertainment industry are so sweet they’re sickening.”

“Uh huh... Ok, how about that name you mentioned when you were making fun of me? Odin.”

Suddenly looking embarrassed the figure scratched the back of its head and replied. “I wouldn’t presume to take such a name. I’m not that good.”

Cocking her head to the side, instantly curious, Syphile asked the obvious question. “Why not? What’s so special about that name?”

“Well for starters he’s the king of the gods, being named after him is pretty big.”

Syphile was momentarily dumbstruck and responded without thinking. “Your gods are ruled by a male? No wonder you’re a slave race!” The figure before her blurred before her eyes and Syphile suddenly found herself awake in her bedroom wracked in pain as blue white sparks danced across her body from a point on the side of her jaw. As the attack subsided she sat up in bed rubbing her jaw and cursing.

Looking up she once again saw the source of her discomfort. Facing her, hackles raised and sitting on air was a transparent figure or a large orange and white wolf with two tails and sparks dancing all over his fur. “So it would seem that I can see you when I’m awake as well” she grumbled still rubbing her jaw. “I’m not going to get any rest from you am I?”

Not if you keep insulting peoples gods you won’t. The reply was silent but she heard it none the less. Do you see me insulting yours? No. Now if we could get on with finding something to call me? Or do you intend to insult me again?

“How about butthole?” she asked petulantly. Sighing Syphile tried to wipe the anger from her voice. “Khul’Shalkrum.”

Sitting back on its haunches the dog tilted its head and looked at her quizzically. “What does it mean?” was the only reply.

“It’s a phrase in the old tongue meaning living weapon. Not many still speak it and to those who do it will appreciate it as a sort of an inside joke; even more so for us as you openly profess to being dead."

“I can live with that, Khul’Shalkrum Thorson. Try to get some rest kid, it looks like you’re going to need it soon enough. And do try to stay out of my memories."

Rolling her eyes at the revised name Syphile set her head back down on the pillow and drifted off once more.

 

Warden General Kyo’varde of the Order of the Twin Eyes looked up from her desk as a young blade walked into the room. The young brunette bowed deeply waiting for her approval. “Rise, blade. What do you have to report?” she asked simply.

“I was sent by our outpost in the border city of Felde, ma’am. The justicators squads there have been unable to find anyone matching the descriptions given; I also have here the monthly report on tainted activity in the city.” Taking the scroll from the blade runner Kyo’varde broke the seal with a flash of mana and unrolled the encrypted message. Scanning the report she sighed; while she understood the use of encryption for securing communications she often found it a nuisance as so few documents were ever intercepted, let alone important ones.

According to the report there were 87 tainted currently in the city, most of them in a supply group from the rapidly growing Vloz’Ress heretics. The justicators also reported that they had managed to quietly purge five tainted business leaders from the top of the cities society without being implicated in their deaths. She would have to send a purifier squad over to ambush the caravan, if she could get the dwarves’ help maybe she could get some cannons as well.

Hmm… as repulsive as the diminutive creatures were they were at least untaintable and their cannons were quite useful for killing larger numbers of demon spawn. The problem was to have enough to really make it worth the effort was difficult; the dwarves had become even more paranoid of late, if such a thing was possible, and refused to hire out groups larger than a dozen ambushers at a time. Not only that, the standard cannons were the only thing they were willing to rent out to ‘the long ears’. It was such a pity that mana was incapable of recreating some of their more useful artifacts. Their jagged-light staves had been pure genius, making even the best armor ineffectual. “ Which is part of the reason they still had some clear air cities, “she reminded herself.

Smiling slightly she thanked the messenger and asked if he had anything else to report. To her surprise he nodded his head hesitantly. “Speak.”

“It is little more than rumor but I came across a group of students from Orthorbbae on my way here, there seems to have been an unusual disturbance recently in the summoning classes there. From what I managed to hear a portal exploded. One of the students became heavily tainted and was soon after removed from the school by her clan. It could have nothing to do with your search but it would likely be prudent to look into the matter anyways. Strong tainting rarely turns out favorably, I can’t figure how the Sharen think they’ll get away with it. I’m sorry m’lady - you asked for facts, not opinions.” The blade bowed deeply again and Kyo’varde dismissed him, thinking deeply.

Reaching a decision, the leader of the heretic hunters put away her work and stood up. This would need to be investigated carefully and she knew just the people to talk to.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Sene’kha stood in her study near the top of the newly rebuilt Vloz’Ress fortress thinking. There were always extra demons who escaped into the underworld when one opened a portal but one there had been one recently that had been of particular interest. This demon was small, almost unnoticeable, and as far as she had been able to tell it had been completely unimportant.

What it had been was a messenger. It had headed directly for Kharla’Gen and as soon as it entered her aura she had gone wild. Moving almost at random she had sped around her room gouging marks into the walls. By the time she was done all six walls and the ceiling was covered with a strange script her scholars had only begun to translate and the floor was covered knee deep in rubble. The message seemed to be some type of warning so far but throughout the message two names kept being repeated - Ro’oth and Hathgrel’dgen. She knew who Ro’oth was but the other name filled her with an unshakable feeling of dread, something she had not felt for centuries.

Whatever this message was they needed it translated, and fast.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Kel’Noz watched as Syphile walked by head down, trying to look unobtrusive. It was strange, he had expected her to be relatively depressed after having her dreams and accomplishments torn away from her, but instead seemed to have become distracted and aloof. He had tried talking to her twice in the last week but she had been… strange. Her attitude seemed to be distant most of the time but every now and then she would burst out in snorts and giggles for no apparent reason. She would be doing something or talking to someone and out of the blue her attention would shift to somewhere just to the right or left of her focus and she’d start to laugh. He even caught her talking animatedly with thin air one day.

Kel’Noz had been passing the slaves’ quarters at the back wall of the fortress when he heard laughter and, Interested, he had naturally sought out the source of the voice. Quietly opening the door to a supply room that sat against the back wall of the cavern he saw not two or even a group of people but a single young Drow holding a piece of rock and a shard of the harder diamond like ceiling of cavern and gesturing wildly to thin air.

Behind her was a sizeable depression in the wall of the storeroom. “and so I had been talking with Wen’Dros about It, you know, that pretty Beldrobean girl you said you liked, and she told me that if things got any weirder in the lab then the Vloz’Ress girl would have created an entire new species of idiot. I told her I felt kind of sorry for the boy and you know what she said?”

There was a pause and then “of course not, boys are used for experimentation all the time in Orthorbbae.” Another pause and a cackle erupted from Syphile “No, I’ve never turned a boy into a guinea pig but I have heard that the Jaal’Darya can change a male into a female capable of bearing healthy genetically sound children.”

“ …no, seriously, there’s no clone, they actually took the male and used a ritual to turn him into a female.” After a moment there was a shrieking laugh and she spoke again gasping for air, “Oh yeah, I’m sure you’d make a lovely girl, fur-face, in a couple of centuries when the Vloz’Ress rule Chel and everyone is crazy… no I don’t think I’m being too harsh. Quit whining you big baby.”

Turning back to the wall Syphile held up the two stones and started channeling mana through them, still chatting with no one and the depression deepened slowl,y the rock before her condensing and moving back to form new space. Closing the door quietly, Kel’Noz began to walk back to his rooms.

That had been three days ago. He had caught her back in there twice at different times in the day. He thought it had been lucky that he had noticed her because she seemed to come and go from places almost randomly. Yesterday she hadn’t visited the room at all, of if she had he hadn’t noticed. And the wall had been filled in as well, or at least he hadn’t been able to find any indication that there had been a hole there beyond the mana residue covering it.

No, whatever she was up to he was relatively sure she wasn’t going mad; it had to be something to do with her unusual tainting. Could it possibly be she was able to talk with it? That would certainly be new but of course it was rare enough to find a Vel’akar let alone one that wouldn’t demand complete control of the host, even the Vloz’Ress only had three and one of them was insane.

But it didn’t feel like a demon. When he looked at her aura the discoloration that marked her ‘tainting’ was a single solid patch of orange that generally settled itself just above her stomach. Demons were red for one thing, and they always spread themselves out across the entire aura staining it a shade of purple or in stronger cases even a red hue. Thus the term tainted.

This entity seemed content to keep to itself while still staying within Syphiles aura and seemed to be having active interaction with her. He wondered if she could still become tainted or possessed by a normal demon or if her tenant would fight it off like it had attacked her tainted teacher and classmates. It was definite food for thought.

Do you think he’s figured it out? Syphile asked worried.

I don’t know, possibly. It’s more likely he thinks you’re nuts. I keep telling you to just think what you want me to hear, so long as you want me to hear it I’ll hear it no matter where I am in your aura.

I’m doing that now aren’t I? She returned.

Yeah, you’re doing it now, but what about next time we don’t notice him approaching, He already knows you’re doing something in the storage room, remember? We caught him checking out the door we made, replied the spirit.

And you saw he couldn’t find it or even the door key, now who’s being paranoid?

With good reason. Khul returned. You know Quainy will want to know why you need a secret room all to yourself and she won’t likely be placated by an explanation we both know is bullshit. The best outcome would be that she’d appropriate it for some other use.

And you know she’ll be much angrier about the tunnel system we’re starting than the secret rooms we have planned. She made the walls and ceilings of her fortress thick and gave the rooms sliding doors for a reason and you know as well as I do that reason wasn’t for us to do stuff like this she returned snidely. You know Kel is already working on ways to combine other elements for unique spells? It took us a week to figure out how to do hard to soft mineral conversions and the mad scientist himself has already worked out sound to wind in the two days since he caught us.

Really? When did he work that out?

I saw him finish it this morning when you were plotting out how to organize the tunnel system and if we should make it cover the entire fortress or just the target areas. There were papers all over his walls and he looked like he had been up all night again.

The mad scientist himself, huh? So how’d he get sound to affect wind and vice versa? Were you able to read anything?

No, nothing, sorry. It was hard enough to conceal my aura. By the way, how’d you get the idea for using salted meats to augment mana regeneration?

I read it in a book once, thought it might work. I’m just lucky it did or else you’d likely have laughed at me all night.

Of course!

You’re rude. So what do you think of those exercises I gave you?

They’re interesting no doubt, well fascinating really but are they truly necessary?

They helped me battle opponents quite well.

Yes, and you used a stick or fists, your sword was never tested against anyone and I prefer sorcery to fighting anyways, why do you think I was so happy in Orthorbbae?

Because you’re a rude, irrational bibliophile who only fights when she has the advantage, Khul returned deadpan.

Now who’s being rude? Besides, if anything you’ve shown me is true, you’re quite the bookworm yourself, Syphile returned - finally reaching the duos destination. They were in the throne room behind Quain’tanas seat where a circle of blue stone had been patterned into the floor. Turning to face the throne Syphile touched her fingertips onto the backs of a series of green stones in a sequence, her mana flashing at each gentle tap. Suddenly the ground beneath her spun, opening and closing a hole in the stone and allowing the young darkling to fall through into a small room.

Remind me why you had me set a lock on a revolving iris she asked as she stood in the small tube rubbing her bottom gingerly.

I thought it would be amusing. Magicians used this trick all the time back home when they wanted to seem to disappear. But for them they usually had a lot of smelly explosive powder and the turning was their own doing. I thought an iris gate would not only look cooler but be more effective at keeping people from breaking through if they can’t work the key.

And you had me waste all of that mana and meat last night to make the iris crystalline so they couldn’t magic it out of the way, yes?

You were able to retrieve the mana they absorbed weren’t you?

That’s beside the point and you know it.

Never change Syph. Never change.

I was under the impression that change was what you wanted.

…how are you coming on working lightning mana consciously?

Coward.

That bad, huh?

You should know, you’ve been in my head for the past three and a half weeks.

Of which you’ve been conscious two weeks and two days. I haven’t been there all the time; I do have things to do for us you know. Two heads are better than one. Immediately he came to regret that sentiment as Syphile treated him to a mental image of both of their heads on a taurems body. You’re a wicked little girl aren’t you; at least you didn’t shave the poor beast as well.

Eww, that’s a little too vulgar even for me. Is there any way to erase a memory from your head, Syphile queried, bringing out the two stones she had been working with earlier.

Well, there’s brain bleach but I’m not sure you’re ready for that just yet, came the immediate and amused response.

Brain bleach? Bleach? That isn’t another one of your human terms again is it?

Syphile was immediately treated to an image of her tenant beating his head against a stone wall. Wine, Beer, Whiskey, alcohol in general. Sigh. Give me a moment and I’ll get back to you.

As Khul contemplated the question Syphile began drawing on both of their manas to expand the room. A few minutes later the spirit responded.

There are two viable ways I see. As we’ve become able to visualize our minds, memories, experiences and thoughts as concise objects it should be possible to draw upon a specific one and either misfile it, essentially burying or forgetting the memory, or imagine the book holding the thoughts and memories you want erased being destroyed. For the first I’d suggest using it on older memories only, the second you could use on fresher memories without damaging your mind too much.

Of course this is all speculation until you put it into practice, he said as an afterthought.

The two of them stayed there expanding the tunnel for most of the day coming out twice for more food and once later that night to go to bed. Time was running short and there were still at least two entrances left to build. And then the real work would begin.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Shimi’Lande Val’Kyorl’Solenurn strode through the halls of the temple fuming. She hid it very well but it never ceased to bother her when Chirinide insisted on arguing with her. Didn’t she understand that it was the will of the goddess? Vague though they might sometimes be she had visions for a reason. Not to mention the timing was, if possible, worse than usual. They had lost an entire party of holy lances to a raid on the Vloz’Ress and they were no closer to locating the child from her vision, the one who would be at the crux of a battle between Sharess and one of the old gods.

Nothing had come from the blades tip about the summoning accident. Well no, that wasn’t quite true. They had checked out the young warriors’ information but had been blocked at every turn by that damned tainted scourge of a woman Snadhya’Runes. As soon as the headmistress got wind of their search she had gone to measures to hide it. Not even Waes’Soloth would tell them anything. It was infuriating. She knew the Beldrobean matriarch disliked the tainted almost as much as she did so why did she follow that red eyed dog and her sisters?

‘Waes never does anything without reason so there must be some method to her madness.’ She thought. ‘Now if only Chirinide were that deliberate. Where is she anyways? It’s been nearly 10 hours.’

“Lady Illharess! Lady Illharess!” a young warden called running down the halls after her. The child looked out of breath and nervous, something was wrong.

“Speak young one, what is it?” the Kyorl leader asked trying to keep her voice kind.

“A mixed party of darklings and drowussu civilians are at the gates, they’ve found 3 bodies and a child with a knife wound through her throat, one of them is Chirinide.” Shimi’Lande stood there stone still in shock; Chiri was dead… no, this could not be! She had to see for herself. She practically flew in her haste to reach the gates. Arriving, she saw the three bodies on litters, one an older woman with her throat slashed open, the next a light elf ranger who looked to be on the worn end of a gnomish grenade and on the third litter was the badly burned form of her daughter.

Walking over to the group Shimi’Lande placed her hand on what was left of her troublesome daughters face and tears began to cloud her vision. As she sat there on her knees mourning her daughter her sight shifted inward and the vision she had told her daughter of earlier that day shifted and sharpened revealing a slightly different girl in her daughters place, her hair and eyes were gold, she wielded the fires of the holy light and had visions of the future in her own right.

Looking up at the child with the knife wound she smiled sadly. “Take the child to my rooms” she told one of the gate guards. “We’ll give these three a proper send off later. I’ll see to the child personally.”

She had lost one daughter to gain another; it was the will of the goddess. Sharess truly worked in mysterious ways; she just hoped some of them would be less painful.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Syphile got up on the last day of her ‘rest’ and immediately got the feeling that it would be much wiser just to stay in bed for the rest of the day. Naturally she ignored it. Gathering her black padded silk pants and tunic, as had become her custom, Syphile got up and began her morning rituals.

Her rooms were a small 5 room suite consisting of a bedroom, a small study with a desk and large bookshelf covering one wall, a large central room that was largely empty, a balcony looking over the Sarghress fortress and finally, a spacious washroom. She had chosen these rooms specifically, when she had been offered new accommodation as an honorary daughter of the Illharess, for that washroom.

Immediately upon entering the room you were forced to step up onto a ledge roughly 6 inches off the ground. The ledge was there to hold back the 4 inches of warm water that constantly covered the floor. Immediately to your right was a small partition that was kept dry and filled with towels and a space to dress and undress, directly before her was a steam wheel that could turn the air in the room into a sauna and finally to the right was a large built-in bath tub.

The tub itself was 6 foot square with a three foot wall and sliding stone partitions made to keep the jets of water inside the tub if the bather so wished. Inside, the bath was circular with several spaces to sit down at various levels and a drain at the bottom. The tub had nine spigots from which water could enter the bath placed in three concentric rings, three above, three below and three at waist level all spread evenly along their circle.

The water in the bathroom was entirely self-contained with heating, water pressure and filtering controlled by a central mana core beneath the steam wheel. Such set ups, while rare anywhere else, were commonly found in the chambers of the Val’Sulisin’Rune. There were three such washrooms in the Val’Sarghress fortress. The first was a slightly larger version in the rooms of their Illharess Quain’tana and the third in the room just below Syphiles. The two tower based suites had been installed by, and on the suggestion of, the fortresses architect with the intention of housing visiting Sulisin’Rune dignitaries but they rarely saw use in the years since their alliance with the clan had been formed.

Khul had been immediately impressed the first morning she had gone in there and they had spent hours in the bath soaking and discussing the magics inherent in the system. It was also where they typically did much of their plotting. It was surprising to Syphile how easily plotting came to her, she had never considered herself a bad person or a politician and those were most typically the types of people who found plotting to be useful skills.

Putting such thoughts aside she brought her attention to a problem that had been bothering her for the past few days. The tunnel system was going poorly. The three most important rooms in the lower levels had been connected and the entrances had been carefully concealed to prevent people from finding them without having a fair idea where to look and what to do. They hadn’t even begun to start the tunnel between her rooms and the rest of the system.

Not only that she was meant to start exercises with the War Meat the next day and the closest tunnel to her rooms was in Sillice’s torture chambers. Intellectually she understood the purpose of the torture and interrogation division; not everyone could be bribed or bewitched by faerns into telling you what you needed to know and bribing always left the informant with some considerable digression on what to actually tell you or even if what they told you was factual.

While torture could easily make a person reveal to you anything they kept hidden for the promise that the pain would stop when the information was given - there was also the problem that some people would tell you what you wanted to hear rather than the truth as it was more likely to stop the beatings than facts were.

Even so, none of that had prepared them for the scene that greeted the duo when her tenant had finally convinced her of the necessity of placing escape tunnels in the cells. Through careful planning over a period of two weeks and precise timing they had managed to enter the cells when none of the T&I staff were present, especially Sillice herself.

Upon entering the main room of the T&I headquarters Syphile had taken one look around the room and immediately emptied the contents of her stomach onto the floor. Old dried blood covered the floors and there was a fair amount on the walls themselves, the stench of death and charred meat permeated the air such that it was practically a physical presence in the room. Spread around the large chamber were tables with chains and buckles spread across their surface, some of them set on tilting stands, others stable. Against the back wall were a series of Drow shaped metal boxes Khul identified as ‘Iron maidens’ and to the right was a series of metal implements of various twisted shapes and most of them looked wicked sharp. At the end of the row was a set of what looked like rods but the ends of the metal, glowing a dull red and smoldering in the icy air of the chamber, drew her attention in a morbid grip that had taken several of their precious minutes to break. Beyond the furniture and tools filling the chamber there were 7 shapes spread across the room, bleeding and moaning quietly. They couldn’t be rightly called people anymore as neither of them had been able to tell quite what the figures had been before entering the room.

Khul’Shalkrum had been glad they had stolen a large amount of meat for this job because he doubted he could have convinced his host to enter the room willingly after the first time. Syphile had immediately fled to one of the empty holding cells and set to work creating the escape route without complaint thankful for the lack of light after the door had closed behind them and they had stayed there until the tunnel had finished and been connected to the main conduit.

Since then three more tunnels had been opened in other holding cells emanating from the floor up into the cells rather than the other way around.

But after today there would be little enough opportunity to disappear for long periods of time and build tunnels.

Sighing Syphile shut off the water jets and grabbed a towel. After drying off she went back to the central room and began moving through the exercises Khul had shown her. He called them ‘tai-chi’, though he still hadn’t explained what the name meant, and they were a set of movements meant to strengthen the body without use of external weights. The exercises achieved this effect by having the user stress their own muscles against each other as they moved through a series of positions meant to be repeated in battle. They also allowed the user to enter a sort of detached single-mindedness that allowed her to work on her mana lessons from Orthorbbae as well. After an hour of the exercise and a great amount of sweat Syphiles concentration was broken by the sound of clapping.

Whipping around into one of the many aggressive stances Khul had given her she turned to see Quain’tana leaning against the doorway bring her hands together in a slow sardonic clap. Seeing Syphiles new position she raised an eyebrow at her once, and possibly future heir. She was less than impressed however as she watched the blood drain from her wards face and her complexion turn ashen.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! She thought as she quickly bowed before her foster mother. I almost attacked Quain’tana, she is so going to kill me!

Hmm? Did you say something?

YES! Haven’t you been watching? I was going through those exercises you gave me when mother interrupted and I almost attacked her! She’s going to kill me! Syphile shot back desperately.

Hah! She’d probably be pleased if you did, it’d make her believe you had a backbone. And no I’m not always watching, I may be inside your head so to speak, but I spend the time while you sleep trying to figure out how to use your new mana affinity and generally wait till you call me to stop. It seems only fair since my presence appears to have changed it; not that you had much training in the affinity, I mean blood, really? Unless it’s not so much blood as genetics? That’d be cool.

As the conversation took place quain’tana watched the girl closely. This must be the madness Kel has been talking about. Speaking with her demon, it’s made her interesting if nothing else. Singing songs she’s never heard before, conversing with thin air, sneaking around doing goddess knows what with stone magic and practicing strange martial exercises. At least most of it seems useful, Might even transfer her to the fallen legion. Let’s see how she handles this assignment first.

“Interesting display kid. What was that?” Quain asked her voice neutral.

“It is called Taichi.” Came the quiet reply.

“Hmm,.. Follow me.” The Sarghress mercenary queen turned and left the room expecting Syphile to follow like one of her soldiers. As she heard a quiet padding behind her she continued to speak. “I’ve found you a new assignment, complete it satisfactorily and your probation will be rescinded. You will be recognized as an adult and you can choose to go back to Orthorbbae or transfer to your choice of my armies. As you’ve been skulking around in the shadows doing goddess only knows what for the last month you’re likely unaware of the situation so I’ll explain when we get there.”

~!@#$%^&*()_+

20 minutes later, Mel’Arnachs tower

Spiders huh? This place is creepy and the moans don’t help the ambiance any. Remind me what we’re doing here again?

Quainy is talking us to seen Mel and give me my chance to reaffirm my worth.

Uhuh, I was referring to the question of what exactly we’re doing here that’d allow you to prove anything to her. Maybe she wants’ us to stop that infernal racket?

Syphile glanced up as Quain from her position on the ground to the queens’ position apparently lying down on a portion of the upper wall (read spiderborn) and snorted. At this the Illharess opened and eye to gaze down at her charge and raised an eyebrow in question. “I’m sorry, illharess, I was simply wondering why you might need me here and the idea popped into my head that you might be waiting for me to enter Mels room and put some sort of stop to the noise.”

At this the other eyebrow rose to meet the first near her hair line. “Your assignment is indeed related to the noises in that room. Quite perceptive. However no, your assignment will not come in making them stop, but rather after they have stopped. Patience child.”

Patience, what’s that? Such a curious word, it is. Khul offered deadpan. Syphile was unable to suppress the giggle of mirth from hearing the comment but thankfully she wasn’t required to for as she began to succumb the air behind the door split in a piercing scream and then cut off.

“It would seem it is time to enter.” Quain’Tana murmured quietly. Smiling to herself she dropped down the wall and waved her hand at Syphile. “Grant us entry.” She demanded in the same quiet dangerous voice she had been using since their first meeting that day.

Syphile walked up to the door and looked at it carefully. There was a handle on the outside but no hinges, were they inside, or was it another one of those sliding doors? Placing her hand just below the handle Syphile collected her mana around and through the door and closed her eyes. A lock! Now to push it… “Well? Are you just going to stand there and do nothing? Knock on the door!”

Ignore her, Sif. Unlock the door, it’s practically the same as the stuff we’ve been setting up, just bigger.

I know. As Quain’Tana lifted her hand to strike them there was a thump and the door swung open. Looking back at her ‘mother’ Syphile aksed. “Coming?” and strode into the room.

HA! The old crone is stunned! Nice work kid.

I’m not a kid; you’re hardly older than me. What’s she doing now? I hear her boots.

She’s grinning and walking quickly, whether to pass you or catch up I’m not sure. Hope she doesn’t hit you, I feel everything you do even if it is only to a lesser extent. Quain’Tana, as it turned out, did not hit them, but merely took a position slightly ahead of her former heir and strode purposefully into her first daughters lair.

Looking past the Sarghress leader she saw a massive spider standing half over a massive alter blur and spin around to glare at them. “Peace Zhor, I’ve come to see my new granddaughter.” Quain said raising her glowing hand in a gesture of piece. As if. It was only light sorcery but as Quains affinity it might become anything she desired in short order.

The massive spider slowly and grudgingly backed over the alter to reveal Mel’Arnach, Quains first daughter, holding a newborn wrapped in a cloth and held tight to her chest. “I thought you might come, mother.” She whispered her voice hoarse but happy. “She’s so beautiful.” Mel murmured to herself, no longer noticing her mother still standing over her smiling.

“Congratulations Mel, you’ve given birth to a healthy female Drow… much to my surprise.” Mel merely gazed down at her child her face almost literally aglow.

This can’t end well.

But it’s so sweet, and Quainy seems to approve, how can it be bad? Healthy females are much more important here than in your world, accept it.

It’s not that. According to what you’ve told me mel has been imprisoned in this tower for the last 30 years for her habit of ‘pissing in the wolfs eye’ as it were. Now the self same wolf is bringing us here for an assignment and looking at her daughters child like a fine steak? That speaks legions of badness.

“Well, this has been nice. We’ll be leaving now.” The Sarghress Illharess said sounding much to chipper for anyones good. With a swift movement she grabbed the cloth and scooped the newborn drow into her arms. Zhor and Mel froze in shock, staring at the space the child had just occupied.

“NO! Give her back!” the younger woman cried trying unsuccessfully to sit up and reclaim her child.

“No.” her mother replied simply. “You lost your right to this child long before it was conceived. As leader of our clan and our family I hold the right to dictate the style in which its children are raised. You are unfit and I am far too busy to raise her. Syphile, say hello to your new assignment.”

All-father bless, this is not going to be pleasant.

You said it. Syphile agreed. I just hope Mel doesn’t do anything stupid or try to kill me over this.

Tears streaming down her face Mel’Arnach frantically turned to Zhor a silent plea in her eyes. The spider closed its own three main eyes as if in pain and shook its massive horned head. As Quain’Tana turned on her heel and began to march out of the room mel rolled over on the alter her face a mask of fury. “Give me back my child, you thief! I’ll kill you!”

Quaintana stopped mid-step. Dropping all pretense of calm she turned around slowly her eyes blazing and shoved the wailing newborn into Syphiles arms. “You dare?” She grated. ”after all that I’ve done, all that I’ve given you, all that I’ve put up with you would dare speak as such? I began with nothing, I raised my army, I created this clan, I brought you up and put you through school and even a position of power within the clan I created and you’ve done nothing but oppose me. You have fought me and rebelled like a spoilt child at every turn and now you would dare to threaten my life to wanting my granddaughter to be raised by someone I can respect? I’ll beat you till you beg for death and then death you shall receive.”

A loud chittering interrupted Quains rage as the massive form of the spider Zhor leapt over Mel shielding her. Its main eye narrowed the massive arachnid began hissing as it glared furiously at the Illharess. Turning it lunged toward us, fangs bared and its forelegs raised. Panicking Syphiles hand snapped out and landed palm down on the spiders’ furry head. As electricity coursed down her arm I concentrated on its shape, forcing it to stun rather than fry the massive beast.

As we stood there panting the electricity cut off and Zhor fell from Syphiles hand twitching but not getting up. Oh shit Syphile though looking quickly back and forth between her dumfounded foster mother and sister. As the source of todays problems began crying again Mel got over her shock and screamed. “Zhor! What have you done? You murderer! You Vel’Akar scum, what have you done?! Zhor!”

The spider isn’t dead, but it won’t be getting up for a few hours, it’s merely unconscious. As Syphile repeated my words Mel stopped her screams and broke down sobbing once more.

“Let this be a lesson to you.” Quain’tanas voice said cutting through her daughters sobbing. “Neither you nor Zhor are strong enough to take your daughter from me, even Syphile can defeat your pet spider, so don’t even try.” Whirling around she walked over to where we were still standing and reached for Syphile. She paused at grabbing her arm and instead too her shoulder. “Come.” She said and left through the tunnel.

When we were almost to the door the queen stopped and looked at us. “She is my granddaughter, my blood. It will be your duty to raise her until her tenth birthday. Do not fail me.”

Syphile bit her lip and responded. “Are you sure you want…”

“Are you questioning me?” she asked her voice dangerous. “I don’t know what you did back there with the Aware ‘Zhor’ but I will not go down so easily.”

“No, M’lady, I simply don’t think I’m really the best choice to raise a child, I’m not even of age to bear one myself, let alone raise one!”

“Are you that incompetent? Over the last month I had begun to hope you had changed. Is this simple task to much for you?”

“No! No. I shall do as you wish, I only hope you like the result.”

Her eyes narrowing Quain’Tana nodded “Very well. Her life is your own now; if she dies you will dream of deaths mercy.” She turned away and began to march up the tunnel.

“Illharess, do you wish to name her, or must I?”

“Ariel” she called over her back. “Call her Ariel.”

Well hell.

 

As we watched Quain’Tana walk away up the tunnel connecting Mels quarters to the rest of the tower the two of us stood there stunned.

Well hell. Khul muttered.

Isn’t that the name you balked at?

Exactly. The kid’s still crying by the way.

Yeah. Have any suggestions?

Beyond killing it? You could try singing, swinging it around slowly in your arms or feeding it. What do baby Drow eat anyways?

What would I sing though?

Something quiet, don’t you ever sing to yourself when you’re upset?

No.

… Repeat after me, the song is called He Mele No Lilo. ()

~!@#$%^&*()_+

30 minutes later. Outside Syphiles room.

“Hello Kel… Is there something wrong?”

“Wrong?” he responded. “Oh quite possibly; it depends on why Quain’Tana decided you needed a new door,” He said eyeing the bundle is Syphile’s arms.

“WHAT? What new door?” Kel’noz watched as the girl rushed over and began running her hand along the smooth stone searching frantically for something. “Where’s the handle; my lock, the key? Why do I have a new door in the first place?” her voice was unusually high he observed. As he watched her eyes widened and she looked down at the bundle in her arms. As he inspected it closely his face darkened.

“So she did it then. I was hoping this could be avoided. The child is my sisters; isn’t it?”

“Well, umm, yes. Yes it is. Maybe, I think it’s actually mine now. After a fashion…” Came the harried reply. “Who changed my door?”

“Four Durgar and a recently contracted faern. He’s a hard minerals earth sorcerer. The door should respond to your aura only, though if I’d known why mother wanted a new door on your room I might have refused.”

“Oh.” Placing her free hand firmly against the new door Syphile’s hand began to glow with accumulated energy. As the door learned her signature patterns began to appear on the smooth surface. Seconds later the lines faded and the door split down the middle; sliding away into the walls. “Um, did you want to come in?”

“I think I just might have enough time. I’m supposed to be packing to return to Devya tomorrow.” Syphiles expression grew pained but did not respond. Walking in she held her hand on the door to allow him entrance and then let it close.

The Devya headmaster opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Syphile speaking softly. “Your sister’s going to kill me isn’t she?”

His first response to the situation crumbled on the Faerns lips hearing the resigned and fearful tone in the young girls’ voice. “Probably.” He replied with a sigh. “She’d have to learn where you live first if Quain doesn’t give you new quarters to house her granddaughter. What’s her name by the way?”

“Ariel.”

“A pretty name. Now; you know that I don’t approve of this and I’ll be making regular checkups when I’m on break. The guards will likely have been ordered not to reveal the location of your rooms or any room mother decides to set up for Ariel. That should keep you safe from Mel, mostly. If she finds you she’ll likely try to force Ariel’s location out of you, but she won’t kill you or keep you over long in case it harms her daughter. She’s never been one to work with mother, but after this I fear I may lose her.”

“So what am I supposed to do? I don’t know the first thing about being a mother and I can’t just give her back. Besides that he isn’t being much help either.” Syphile’s voice was pleading and Kel wondered what her tenant had offered her in way of advice.

“He?” Quain’Tanas son asked, feigning ignorance.

Syphile’s gaze darkened to one of annoyance and focused on the older man “You know perfectly well who I’m talking about. You’ve practically been stalking me since you caught me playing in the storeroom. Don’t try to deny it! I saw all of those papers covering the walls in your study; you suddenly becoming fascinated in how one element might translate to another so soon after I figured one out can’t be a coincidence!” Kel’Noz had the good grace to flush with embarrassment under the young girls gaze.

“I’m perfectly free to be curious when one of my charges starts experimenting with high sorcery.”

“High sorcery?”

“Yes, you’re turning one element into another. I’d think that would be pretty advanced magic. It’s not something to be toyed with lightly.”

“… I still don’t understand how you managed to get a tuning fork to make the air in your office move; turning soft minerals hard is much simpler. There’s an incredible amount of air in soft rocks, the sorcery teacher in the crescent explained it when she demonstrated how to use wind sorcery against stone mages. She had us raise our shields and made the pillar explode.”

“And you used the two different styles of rock to form a mordant for the mana to compare from! Quite ingenious.”

Now it was Syphiles turn to blush, she hadn’t received many compliments since returning to the fortress and it felt good to find one in the disapproving figure of her adoptive brother. Khul didn’t count; they were connected and merely making things bearable.

Hey! I resent that!

Doesn’t make it any less true, thanks for ruining a good moment.

You’re welcome, chibi.

Furface.

“Syphile.” Kel’Noz’s voice cut though her internal bickering.

“Yes?”

“I was asking what you planned to do now that you have a child to look after. You were talking with IT again weren’t you?” The master Faerns voice was grave.

“Yes, and I don’t know what to do. He has given me a few suggestions but for the most part even he isn’t sure what to really do.” Kel’Noz’s face lightened a bit in interest but still maintained its disapproving countenance.

“He? Interesting; what were your tenants’ suggestions?”

“Once I told him we could neither ignore the situation nor kill the child he suggested singing to calm the screams. It worked but what about next time? What if it isn’t simply upset? I have no idea what to do with a baby or even what to feed one!” Kel’Noz sighed and rubbed his face in his hands. The spirit being violent, even if only slightly, was troubling, but more so was the entire situation.

“I’d suggest getting a slave to act as wet nurse, but you could get milk from various animals. The Nal’Sarkoth for example run a modest business selling milk from their clan oxen. It’s nowhere near their largest business venture, but that’s more from lack of interest than anything.”

“Thanks Kel, I’ll talk to Vaega about it.”

“Take care Syphile, Take care.” Kel’noz replied and left.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Sene’Kha stared down at the completed translation for a long time and then laughed.

She couldn’t help it. For centuries the Vloz’ress demon cult had studied the nether void in hopes of preparing for the eventual return of the demons; knowing that Sharess was dead and laughing at the Kyorl’solenurn for blindly following a ghost of a memory. And yet here, right in front of her was proof; irrefutable proof, that not only was Sharess alive and kicking, so to speak, but she was the personal toy of one of the most ancient and vindictive of the demon gods.

Not only were both sides right, but in the end it was they, the Vloz’ress, who were the less deluded. Now wasn’t that a horrible irony.

Sene’kha leaned back in her chair and contemplated sending Shimi’Lande a copy of Hathgrels message. It might be worth the cost of sending them an eye of Ghaz’rok to deliver the message. An invention of their resident Vel’Akar, Umpus, the eyes were exhaustive to make and incredibly expensive due to the large crystal structure needed to form one. Their amazing ability to transmit images between the eyes with rather amazing clarity was what made them truly valuable. It was only a highly advanced form of light sorcery, true, but it was something no one else had been able to do and Sene’kha was sure that the fanatics would smash the one she sent them after the message was finished. But if she could just record the Kyorl Illharesse’s face when the message was understood it might possibly be worth it.

Shelving such amusing thoughts for later the Vloz’ress puppet-mistress returned her thoughts to the rest of the message. What had disturbed the petty elder demon into action had been a soul. But this was not just any soul, it was a human soul. In the nether void. Since when did humans even have souls? There had always been legends among the slaves of Embiri or Halme champions possessing mystical powers, but all allegations had proven false and none had ever shown even a passing ability to manipulate mana, let alone produce it.

It was probably gone now though, the message raged that the soul had been stolen from the old gods clutches by a Drow summoner and entered their world a little over a month ago. Gone or not, it mattered little, the petty elder demon wanted their world to burn and had sent Kharla’ggen orders to make it happen.

Maybe this could be turned to their advantage though? They had plans to bait and trap one elder demon god once they could find the bait, why not a second?

~!@#$%^&*()_+

War Meat Training stockade; the next day.

“Ragnar!” Hollered a voice from the opposite end of the courtyard.

Ducking a blow from his opponent the halmes commander shouted back over his shoulder. “*Not now Darkling, can’t you see I’m busy?*” Ducking another blow to the head, the officer spun around and struck his opponent square in the stomach driving the wind out of him.

“*see? You weren’t busy! Not that you couldn’t have handled the match while talking at the same time. Isn’t that a recruit anyways Goddag, Ragnar Drakson?*” Pith’ra Sarghress said, offering the customary bow to the halme commander. “*How are things?*”

“*I was, I could have, and yes. Now what are you here for ambassador, and what’s with the new girl? Trying to train a replacement to get away from us already?*” came the amused reply.

“*Would I ever do that to you guys?*” returned the Sarghress trainer, feigning offense.

“*That’s how we got you.*” Ragnar replied deadpan.

“*Touché. No, this is a new member for your command. According to the boss lady she even speaks your language!*”

“*Not as bad as you, I hope? So what am I supposed to do with an elfling? She’s shorter than me, doesn’t even look as old as my daughter, and what, you expect us to take orders from her? Are you drunk?*”

“*Alright, to business then. No, there was no joke or alcohol involved here. Quain is displeased with the kid is being placed under your command for the next few years. Entry level recruit. Train her, work her hard, and let her rise through your ranks like she was one of your own soldiers.*” Finishing his statement, Pith turned on his booted heel and walked back toward the fortress.

Rounding on the small darkling Ragnar frowned. “*Let’s see what you’ve got kid.*”

Syphile and Khul’Shalkrum stood slightly behind and to the right of the sarghress ambassador to the Halmes division of the War Meat, lieutenant Pith’ra, watching them talk.

The commander was amazing, handling a blade-staff like an artists’ brush, he had literally danced around his opponent as they had been walking up. Even when Pith had started talking to him and forced him to divide his attention the commander had still easily beaten the other halme. As they stood there listening to them talk Syphile had some difficulty keeping up with what was being said. Hey fur-ball, what’s up with this? You said you were human and both Quain and Kel recognized that song I sang in the court room, why am I having trouble understanding him?

Any number of reasons really. We talk mind to mind so there’s no communication error between us but even a single human language, just like chellian, can have hundreds of variations depending on where someone grew up. That and he’s talking really fast. He sounds like a drunken Texan to me. No idea what to tell you, just speak when he talks to you and hope he understands.

You’re a lot of help.

You couldn’t live without me.

Want to try me?

“*Let’s see what you’ve got kid.*”

“^Yes sir,” Syphile replied cautiously.

“*Speak up, get a spear and talk properly damnit! That accent is terrible. What is it with you elves anyways?*” The man grumbled.

Did you get that?

Most of it, the rack is behind you. Get a stick fast and try not to disappoint him. We’re under his command now and I don’t think he’ll be as restrained as Quain.

Like I needed you to tell me that? She grumbled quickly grabbing one of the blunted blade-staves from the rack. Let’s see if your skills mean anything, furface.

Commander Ragnar watched as the small girl ran over to the rack and grabbed a spear just a little bigger than she was. Considering it was the smallest one there she at least knew proportions. It was time to see if she knew how to use one.

When she was back before him the girl bowed and leapt back into a strange, if solid, fighting stance, the blade pointing toward him. He began to circle her slowly. He thrust his own blade at her one handed a few times at increasing speeds only to have them knocked aside. Each strike came closer to hitting her. Her reaction time would need a lot of work certainly but at least she wasn’t a complete rookie.

Spinning his spear he brought it sweeping forward in a heavy overhead strike like a staff. The blow was blocked but the kids’ stance was wide open now. Tilting his head slightly to the side he quickly reversed his grip and brought the bottom end of the spear around to impact against the girls jaw. Apparently seeing this she brought her stick down in an attempt to block but merely ended up blunting the blow and earning a bloody lip.

The testing went on for 10 minutes more becoming increasingly advanced and by the end of it the girl was shivering and heavily colored, a distinctly darker shade of black. “*You’re not bad kid, certainly not a rookie, but you’ve a long way to go if you want to survive ambushing a group of red eyes. You’re dismissed. Go use one of your funky healing lights and report to me tomorrow morning.*”

Syphile limped her way up the tower to her rooms fuming. She had kept the sound to a minimum while creature had slowly beaten her to a pulp making comments the whole while but she was about ready to explode. Fucking bastard, why didn’t you let me electrocute him?!

You’re not serious are you?

Of course I’m bloody serious! He beats me black and blue and you’re muttering ‘ take it, don’t cry out, do this, strike there!’ None of it worked!

And this brings us to me allowing you to kill a man with electricity how? I have no more idea how to use it than you do.

You made it attack the people at my school and Mels spider Zhor! Of course you know how to use it! Don’t lie to me!

As you wish. I. Do. Not. Know. How. To. Turn. On. Your. Lightning. Sorcery. You did that yourself both times; all I did was reshape it.

You seem to have figured out the others pretty easily. Syphile returned sullenly channeling some mana into her door to open it.

You lent me access to your memories of the lessons the Yathraines gave you. They explained how to make your mana affect each different element they could teach, lightning wasn’t covered. Besides, why haven’t you figured it out yet? Not only have you done it twice already, on instinct, but you figured out how to turn soft stone dense in a manner that impressed a skilled Faern in what seems to be a phenomenally short time. I mean 7 months of research on elements that are basically the same and you found a comparatively low mana method of altering them. You’re trying to get me to make up an entirely new, or more possibly forgotten, concept in what has only been 1 month.

Ahhhh…. came the relaxed thought from across the link. Returning to the ‘windows’ Khul glanced out to see Syphile sliding into the large bath full of hot water.

You haven’t been listening to anything I just said, have you?

What was there to listen to? You were justifying being useless, right?

…

I take that as a yes.

I can drive you mad. I know the perfect song to do it as well.

You wouldn’t dare! How can you even call that a song? There are but two rudimentary lines that just keep repeating.

“Mistress?” came a voice from the door.

“Yes, Maev?” Syphile called.

“The child is fed for the moment, may I return to my room?” Maev; Syphile reminded herself was the wet nurse one of Quains Deves’ has sent to her the previous day shortly after Kel had left. The woman was a lifesaver.

“Yes, you may return to your quarters, thank you Maev.”

You should get her aura patterned into your door.

Being paranoid again? I thought that was my job, it’s my life that’s in danger you know.

Tell me that again when I stop feeling your pain.

Feeling my pain. Syphile remarked bitterly. You hardly know my pain. Shared physical sensations aside.

Just wait till Ariel no longer needs a wet nurse, then you’ll have all of the duties involved with raising a child. My mother loved telling us horror stories about raising kids.

Don’t talk to me for the next hour or so.

Your wish is my command.

If only.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Syphiles journal; Sarghress central tower.

Today marks a full month since the beginning of my care for the demon child. While I say this primarily in jest the situation is not far from the truth. Screaming constantly for one reason or another she allows me little rest; never more than a few hours at any given time. My one escape from the madness comes in the beatings that masquerade as training with the Halme commander Ragnar. At least he claims my efforts show promise so my time is not completely wasted on bruises.

The Embiri shogun; their equivalent for a commander, has proven to be of some help to my situation however. She suggested I learn a practice called meditation; it is a state similar to the trance Khuls TaiChi exercises induce and does provide an effect much similar to actual rest.

Further aid has come from Nei’kalsa who suggests reading to them when their screams are for attention rather than food or their ever-present waste. Truly, how much shit could an infant produce? Is that little truly used by their bodies? Nevertheless, I have adopted this technique as a method of coping with my situation. It feels good to work out ones problems while reading a good book aloud. The child may not understand anything that is being said, but it can’t possibly hurt them and it tends to keep them silent if they hear voices nearby.

Goddess I hate the screams; they make Khuls nagging voice seem like a pittance in comparison. I do hope he never reads this, I’d never hear the end of it.

Speaking of books I’ve taken to self study, an old habit of mine that Khul was wise to push me back to. The sessions with Sillice were little more than thinly veiled excuses to torture me for being tainted. That monster of a woman hardly seems to understand, let alone care, that Khul is not a demon; he is an ethereal I managed to summon in a tainting ceremony and that is all she feels the need to know. The tunnels were a marvel, it is likely unwise to record mention of them but I cannot help but wonder at our forethought and what may have happened had it not been.

The sessions with my fiend of an ‘elder sister’ were not all for lack of success however, Khul has finally produced results with allowing me to call up lightning at will. It should be no end of use if I am ever able to use it in a real battle. Pray we never face the Durgar however; pacifists no longer, I often wonder how we toppled their society as quickly as we did; while fleshlings they are not entirely comprised of such. Half of the diet of the mercenaries in the camp consists of rock. No falsehood, they actually pull out bars of earth and chew them swallowing soon after. I have little doubt that it does indeed have some effect on their strength and durability as a gnome can be pierced by a Halme dagger whilst these Durgar ‘storm hammers’ can punch their way through thin steel without bruising.

I am told by former Halme mercenaries who joined the Sarghress while they were still free that the stone they live in and consume actually contributes to their skin color as well, I wonder what should happen if one of them were to eat or live in a vein of bloodstone, as it’s loose sandy formation a deep crimson in color. A red Durgar would be quite a sight. Or of marble maybe, might they gain the dark spider web markings?

Undoubtedly there is some nutritious value to them from different minerals but I have yet to understand what it may be.

In other worries I have met Mel since our encounter in her lair. She was livid for it had not taken hours as my idiot companion offered but days that Zhor slept from the blast. I fear I shall never look at wall fastenings the same way after that encounter. As a personal reminder, NEVER use lightning sorcery when you’re bound to a wall by tapestry hangings. Or any metal for that matter. Lightning needs an outlet.

A note on lightning affinities, should any after me earn one. Lightning appears to work on a division of self. Just like there is right and wrong, male and female, good and evil, there is also a division of mana. It is not all one feeling but can be separated into opposites. These opposites naturally wish to reconnect as a whole and allowing them to do so will generate the element. After that it is a matter if will and imagination. Surely there are many properties to be explored in how this lightning affects the mana sciences but that is at least the general idea.

I better wrap this up, my ward cries once more.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

2 weeks later.

Mel’Arnach sat in her lair, head in her hands, and growling in frustration. She had been following Syphile for the past month but the girl had this infuriating ability to escape her without even knowing she was being followed. Often she would travel well lit corridors with plenty of inhabitants she wouldn’t have a chance of staying hidden in or double back to the kitchens on a whim, but sometimes she would just inexplicably disappear.

She couldn’t understand it; there was no such thing as teleportation, it was just a myth made up by civilian magicians about the wondrous things one could learn in Orthorbbae. Nevertheless Syphile seemed determined to probe her wrong. Mel had gotten frustrated a few nights ago and set her little sister on the harlot. Laele had come back as ordered and shown her an old storehouse. But there wasn’t anything there. She questioned her sister asking where she had last seen Syphile go but all she would do is gesture at the storehouse door.

She had searched the area over and over. There was no more mana residue here than anywhere else in the fortress so Syphile hadn’t been working on an invisibility art. The room had some deep shadows and darkly colored stone but that wasn’t unusual for the fortress had been made of stone quarried from several different caverns and fused together with earth sorcery. The only oddity in the warehouse was a pattern of green stone on the back wall.

Brushing her fingers along the discolorations Mel flared her mana over the surface of the stone… and nothing happened.

Mel sat down on a crate, furious. She was nearly 400 years old for Sharess sake! How could a 16 year old slip of a failed summoner beat her? How could she possibly vanish from Laele’aell in a sealed storeroom? There was only one goddess forsaken door!

Standing back up she leaned down to examine the markings again. Looking closely she saw that one of the discolorations was now a darker shade of green. Immediately interested, Mel repeated her earlier action. As the mana danced across the surface of the stone she watched closely and ‘felt’ a few sparks sink into the green patches. To her dismay the darker green mark returned to its original hue and nothing happened still.

Growling she flared her mana over the stone that had turned dark and it darkened once more. Choosing another at random she flared her mana over it; the stone darkened. Smirking she selected another stone flaring her mana there… and the pattern changed, all of the discolorations in the stone a uniform soft green. A Gollum lock. Now what in the world would Syphile need with a Gollum lock?

It was time to pay Syphile another visit.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

The lair of Mel’Arnach; Sarghress tower.

Syphile groaned as she regained consciousness. Rolling over on to her side she curled up and grabbed her head, moaning.

What had happened? Had she had too much wine before falling asleep? Had she rolled out of bed and hit her head on the floor? No, that would have woken her up… cracking open an eye syphile cast a bleary pain-blurred gaze over the room. It was large, not her bedroom. Fuzzy grey shapes were moving around on the floor. Groaning, Syphile rolled over on her back, still holding her head. Perfect, just perfect. It seemed she had not made it back from the library. So that meant either this was another play date with Sillice or she was going to have a second chat on the meaning of parenting with her dear older sister Mel. Due to the lack of Silices usual chorus of moans and screams this was probably Mel.

“Ah, you’re awake!” came a cheery voice from behind her. Goddess thate voice was driving straight into the center of her migraine.

“Hello, Mel.” Syphile moaned in reply. Sitting up she noticed the new chain around her neck. Perfect “Decided you need another pet, Missus spider?”

“Quite rude it is, dear Zhor. And naughty to. Do you think we should discipline her? It could be fun.” Mel said conversationally, apparently ignoring Syphile.

“It can’t talk to you. Even the dragons have lost their speech; it’s a fair wonder your pet is anything more than a hungry animal.” Syphile growled resting her head against her knees. The response to this comment was a chorus of hissing and clicking accompanied by mels clucking tongue.

“And they were so happy to see you, dear child. Why do you offend us so?” Mel asked in mock hurt and innocence, stroking Syphiles cheek. “You know we only wanted to get to know you better.”

“An yet you still wonder why you have such a dreadful reputation around the fortress... hmm, I wonder why people might get such ideas. You know they say you rape women, eat the flesh of still living men and Sillice is even spreading it around the slaves that you killed your own daughter? Oh, and you’re slowly turning into a drider because you’re screwing Zhor, did you know?”

There was a sharp pain on the back of her neck and Syphile saw blackness once more.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

You know, I may just be paranoid, but it might not be the wisest thing to antagonize a mother who believes you’ve not only wronged her, but are an uncaring demon? I mean, after all, you have changed physically because of my presence.

You’re not helping the situation any. She’s probably brought me here again because of your actions. It’s not like you’re innocent in changing me. Different ways to think, different ways to act, knowledge others couldn’t possibly give me, you changed my entire bloody aura. I was the meek unlucky brainiac, I was this worlds ‘Willow Rosenberg’ before you came. Now what am I? A creepy freak, stuck with a child to raise and a dozen special projects that quain would likely kill me for, getting beaten daily by a human male, all because of you. And now this, because you decided to zap Mels bug.

… There was a silence and suddenly the library of Orthorbbae materialized around her. Yeah, I got you to start the projects and landed you the training with our human friend but you tainted yourself and your queen was going to stick you with raising it anyway. You’re Mels guest for electrocuting her boyfriend, so I messed up. If I hadn’t interfered you’d have roasted the bug. Not a great loss all told, but mel’d kill you for that; or if she didn’t it’d be to spare her daughter death by neglect.

You’re exhausting yourself repeatedly with intense mana control and elemental manipulation sessions, building tunnels and stealing things that would get you executed anywhere else. Those tunnels have helped you escape pain from Sillice many times and using your mana forces you to gain a larger threshold. Beyond that your Houdini act is probably driving the ice witch mad which I can assure you is bringing you no end of amused attention from Quainy who probably thinks you’re growing a spine.

An your lab? Quain may not like magic, but she sees its usefulness and the fact that you have a lab made with stolen materials and refuse will probably impress her. Metal takes a while to shape because it’s hard and there is no space to compress, but if you get it hot or turn it to dust things get much easier, thus the forge and interest into sound mana.

As to commander Ragnars beatings, well I can’t really justify that, but he still talks to you while you spar. Normally that means a martial teacher is impressed with you, and you are getting better. What you need to watch out for is when he stops talking. That can only mean one of two things, he’s either deemed you a duty and no longer worth the effort to train or he’s taking you seriously which means he stops pulling his punches.

And what part of that is supposed to comfort me?

Who said it was? You’re waking up now, Mel’s giving you something.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Wrenched back into consciousness, sitting up, head back, mouth open, Syphile jerked forward coughing and expelling the liquid moving down her throat. On her knees coughing syphile spluttered out a question. “What was that?”

“A stimulant. Now shall we get back to your discussion? I want to know what you were up to in storeroom 18 that requires the use of a Gollum lock. If you don’t tell me, I’ll tell mother, and she won’t like you hiding things in her walls, little Vel.”

Ah, the storeroom… so that was what she was after.

“The storeroom… so Laele’eall isn’t out to eat me, that’s good to know.”

“I’m fairly surprised you noticed her, that’s no small feat.”

“It would be, if she bothered to hide herself. I supposed you simply told her to follow me, because there was no stalking involved.”

“And what is you’re doing in the store room? What, precisely, are you hiding.” asked Mel, kneeling face to face with Syphile now.

“You haven’t exactly done much to inspire my trust. Personally I don’t give a damn whether you do or don’t see your daughter but there’s a few, teensy tiny little problems.”

“Oh? And what might those be?” Mel spoke, her voice that high, fasle, sickly cheerful voice having returned.

“Would you like a list, or would you prefer a detailed report?”

“You’ve been sounding less and less like yourself these last few weeks, my dear. What would mother think if she knew a demon was raising her granddaughter?”

“You know, if you kill me, I can ensure that any pain you visit upon me will be revisited three fold on your little girl, Mel.” Mels face instantly darkened.

“What have you done?” she asked her voice hard and cold as ice.

“Done? Absolutely nothing; it’s more a question of what will you do? See, our rooms are both hidden and sealed by Quains order, I’m sure you’ve noticed the lack of quarters in my old corridor and the guards unwillingness to reveal our location to you? If you kill Syphile, your daughter starves.”

“No…”

“Do you know what happens when a person starves, Mel?”

“Stop…” Mel whispered slapping the face of the fiery haired girl before her.

“Quain knows, many of the soldiers know, many of them have felt and seen the agony it inspires; the desperation. Ask them, look into their eyes as they remember. See the horror.”

“Silence!” There were tears beginning to flow down Mels face as the voice continued.

“The first there will be a small pain in the abdomen, but don’t worry, it’ll grow. The longer there is no food the greater the pain becomes, until suddenly it stops. It stops because the body has gone into hibernation mode. The first things to go from there will be the body’s fat stores. The body, sensing no food is forthcoming sends enzymes into the blood stream. They tell the body to eat the fat, the hunger must be sated. But even in a child, the fat will burn off quickly. Babies need a LOT of energy.”

“Stop! I command you!” lifting a shaking hand and pointing at the girl before her she tried to use shadow sorcery to block the girl out, but in her emotional disquiet her control was hardly existent and the shadows wavered and flickered like a fire.

“Next the muscles will atrophy. The fat is gone, but the body still needs fuel, protein is a fine source of fuel, and what is muscle but protein?”

“No, please, stop!” Mel began backing away from the boring gaze of those brilliant orange eyes. She couldn’t stand it, how could anything speak to a mother this way? To describe their child’s plight of indescribably agony like they were discussing the color of the local stone?

“Then once there is only enough muscle to stumble around and twitch by the body realizes that there is nothing more to be gained from the muscles, but it doesn’t care. It still needs to feed. So it turns on the only thing left. The body begins to eat the organs. Now the pain becomes so great that the mind can no longer process it and simply ignores what it’s being told. It must eat! The stomach begins to swell as the organs rot inside the skin, eaten by the very body they serve and maintain. But still it is not enough.”

Mel was down on her knees by the wall, her head in her hands. “No… no, please…stop.”

“Oh, but you haven’t heard the worst of it yet, Mel. You need to hear this; you need to understand why you need me. The worst part of this whole situation is, as the body nears the stage where the organs begin to fail, giving them food is the worst thing you can do. Like a rabid dog, or a desperate drug addict suffering from withdrawal, they will grab the food from you and devour it, but by then their stomach can’t handle it any more. They vomit, spewing half digested food and acid out through their already damaged throat and mouth, burning and eating away at what is there. Or if they’re too far gone, the food cannot be digested, it simply sits in their bellies, rotting. The food they so needed now becomes a poison in their blood, boiling it and bringing a return of the terrible agony. But then at least they don’t have to suffer a lingering death.”

“Why are you telling me this? How could you be so depraved as to tell the mother of the terrible death of her first daughter? In detail?” Mel sobbed looking back up into the face of her tormentor.

“Because you need to understand…” Syphile replied, her voice normal once more, the light gone from her eyes. “You need to understand that at the end of the day, when all is said and done between us, that is me, and me alone who holds all of the cards. I die, she dies suffering. You torture me, or get others to do it for you, she is neglected. Call it mutually assured destruction; I get hurt, it hurts Ariel which hurts you. You asked earlier why I wouldn’t give you access to your daughter despite not caring either way? Because my life depends on Quain seeing her as a success. ”

“Get out.” Came the whispered reply as a key clattered on the floor in front of Syphile. “Just get out…”

Well it seems using the Gollum lock as a distraction from the real one is working quite well. What do you think?

Shut up.

This is about that speech I gave to Mel, isn’t it. it was not a question, they both knew how it had affected her.

Did you really have to be that cruel? It even made me shudder, and I could see the memories. You were painting her, her own images in her mind, ones of her daughter suffering this!

It’s not right, I know. I feel terrible as well, but in the end it’ll be better for you… I hope.

How? You just turned a dangerous psychopath into a murderous one, you hypocrite.

Choice spending of 100 ada if nothing bad comes of this.

You’re on, but your stake is being my quiet attentive slave for the next 10 years.

What!? That’s hardly fair!

And 100 ada’s a fortune, now shut it furball.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Three weeks later.

As Syphile walked to the War Meat camp that morning she was surprised to see a flurry of activity around the halme gates. Looking around she saw the commander standing by the door a white stone bottle in his hand. Taking a large swig of its contents the man waved to Syphile a cheery smile on his face. Instantly a feeling of dread crept up her spine; the last time the commander had smiled at someone like that there had been an open camp single person spar. The man had been pitted against one of the storm hammer dwarfs; the result had not been pretty.

“*Good morning, Kit! How goes my favorite fox-girl?*”

“*She’s rapidly becoming frightened sir, and you?*”

“*And what reason might you have to be scared, Kit?*” Ragnar asked, mock hurt in his voice.

“*Because last time you smiled like that at someone, you put them in the hospital in the name of entertainment. And now you’re smiling at me.*”

“*Don’t be like that, little kit. I wouldn’t hurt you, you’re not even a proper vixen yet.*” the commander replied grinning.

“*And what exactly do you call our morning workouts then? Good training?*” she asked, continuing the game they always played, still cautious.

“*Exactly!*” Ragnar exclaimed happily, taking another swig and seeming pleased that his charge understood.

“*You know, most people would call that abuse.*” Syphile returned deadpan.

“*Don’t be like that! We were going to take you with us this time, introduce you to the three pillars of society, we were.*” the grizzled fighter said, swinging his hammer around lazily.

“*Pillars? Do I want to know?*” Ragnars hammer thumped onto the ground head first and he leaned on the haft his face a mask of mock shock and hurt.

“*You disappoint me, kit. And here I thought we were close?*”

“*Your people also say familiarity breeds contempt. Our people certainly know this. Mother has lived for 700 years and has had Mel for nearly 400. They hate each other near all the time; though I think that’s mostly Mels’ fault.*”

“*Be that as it may, want to come? We could use an extra hand.*” he said his face now serious.

“*Mother give us a mission? Someone opening portals in the city? Sharen or Vloz’Ress?*”

“*HA HAH HA! Hold up there kid! The last portal master we killed was 6 weeks ago. Not like during your war, Portal masters sneaking around everywhere. We weren’t much use when the Red eyes stormed the Sarghress walls, half of the squads were lost just killing a handful of summoners, but the ones who snuck past? We were a great response for that. Got 13 with the help of the orcs. No, today we’re going on our monthly tour of two of the chief pillars of your culture.*”

“*And those are?*”

“*Sex, Blood and food. We’re going out after the last two; ostensibly it’s a grocery run since there’s no war or demon portals of recent. We do the grocery run; sure, but we also play the gladiator arenas. It’s how me and my men paid for our dinners before Quain recruited us.*”

“*Uhuh, and you wish me to come because I’m part of your unit now? Surely you do this more often than this.*”

“*Well, I’ll admit it’s not entirely innocent. There’s big money in the arenas, and the money’s better when it’s a rookie. You’d have to win of course… but you’re better now than most rookies and with that thunder touch you have I can’t see you losing in the open unlimited circle to anyone but the champion, a dwarf by the name of diamondhead.*”

“*Diamondhead? What’s he like?*” Syphile asked, as always, fascinated by the unknown.

“*Yeah, Diamondhead. He used to be the champion of the dwarves, or so people say. Old as the hills themselves. While many of the dwarf warriors chew stone as a source of food, he’s said to consume gemstones. It’s probably rubbish of course, but no elf has bested him in the 30 years I’ve watched the arenas.*”

“*Why though? You said he was the champion of the unlimited arenas; that means mana arts. Surely no dwarf would withstand a powerful sorcerer?*”

“*That’s just the thing though. It doesn’t even faze him, he just starts glowing and walks right through the spell to hammer the stupid long ears into the wall.*” Ragnar smiled as the young darklings eyes widened and she started babbling about magic and wondering how the dwarf might achieve such an effect. He had her, hook line and sinker. Now he just needed to get her into the arena and the ada would start rolling in. Now, to get her some proper armor; that metal stave would only go so far.

 

Quain’tana stood in Syphile’s main room gazing down at the sleeping infant in the stone basin that protruded from the wall. It had been nearly a month since she had gotten a few hours alone to breath; between meetings with the council of nine, the Deves heads, working logistics with her generals, dancing around the clan politicians and maintaining her physical skills she’d hardly had enough time to sleep! It was a pity there wasn’t an active war at the moment so she could justify larger delegations of responsibilities and go enjoy herself once in a while. Damn Kel’noz and his sensible arguments… him and Rosof.

Turning her attention back to the peacefully sleeping infant she snorted. Her granddaughter was going to have an interesting life if any of her reports were accurate; Syphile was turning into quite an interesting character. She had set one of the fallen legion, a promising young shadow stalker by the name of Maeve, to keep tabs on the girl immediately after placing Ariel into Syphiles care but by then it had already been too late. The child had developed a knack for disappearing from detection by her stalkers in some of the strangest places; a fact she found great amusement in on the numerous occasions T&I had reported to her Sillices growing frustrations. Also, Maeve believed the rash of missing materials was somehow tied to the girls’ activities as well; Syphile’s journal was not the most illuminating of sources due to the foreign script it was written in but the watcher had noted that the writing tended to increase dramatically directly after the disappearance of supplies.

The girl was up to something, and something usually translated to a backbone. Hearing the ghost of footsteps behind her Quain’tana smiled. “You’re back early Maeve, anything interesting to report?”

Maeve, she saw, still in her slave getup smiled and spoke softly. “Possibly, Illharess.”

Raising an eyebrow she turned back to her sleeping grandchild. “And?”

“It would seem that the human divisions have seen fit to alter the time of their supply run into Chel. Syphile is with them.”

“GET LAELE’AELL NOW!”
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Warden Glae’dryn cast his gaze around the establishment and sighed in disgust; how it was that their darkling cousins would find such amusement in such senseless bloodshed was well beyond her ken. She only hoped that her queens’ premonition of the visitor making an appearance in such a place was accurate.

Frowning down at the current fight between a surprisingly well armored Orc and a pair of the houses Taurem she frowned, wondering if she was being punished. Her blade had died last month when she had run afoul of a pair of Vloz’ress berserkers. The two Templers with them had been injured as well but not without killing the brutes and their handler. It wasn’t really her fault, she kept reminding herself, the Templers had the demon spawn well in hand so she had taken her blade and gone after the tainted swine behind them. Logical, no? As it turned out the bastard had quite a talent for illusions and she had ended up giving the air a spectacular thrashing while her blade attempted to skewer the twitchy little creep.

Her blade had been stabbed through the back.

And now she was here.

It was an important job certainly. If she found the child from Lady Shimi’s vision it would be a fine jewel on her cape, but the queen’s vision had been uncertain as to which arena would be the one and thus she waited - totally alone save for the scum of the city for their dubious company. I hate my life.
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Syphile stood in the challengers’ atrium and fidgeted. For an arena that boasted a battle every 10 minutes there were a suspiciously small number of souls in the room. That was probably because these fighters weren’t owned by the establishment. Glancing around and studying the assembled warriors, Syphile thought about how she had come to be here.

Begin flashback

When she and the group of 23 humans had entered the city, they had almost immediately split up. The Embiri and Halmes each perused different sections of the market with the coin they were allotted for supplies and Commander Ragnar of the Halme division had sent her off to one of the cheaper armories with the other rookie the group had taken on in past months, Joel Jackson.

Joel was a 23 year old underworld orphan who had decided that it was time to ditch the streets of the city and join the largest multispecies mercenary force in the underworld - the Sarghress. Joel was the young recruit she had seen being beaten soundly by the commander when she had first joined. Now that they were back in the city his cockiness that had earned him the thrashing that she typically withstood had returned.

At least he had something to back it up this time around.

Since Commander Ragnar’s crazy scheme for world domination wouldn’t start for another hour or so, they had very little money with which to get her some armor. Thankfully Joel knew just the place; you didn’t survive growing up as an orphan, let alone a human, on the streets of Chel without learning where to find food, work or some type of protection; Joel had found all three in a small bolt hole in the north quarter of lower Chel’el’susoloth.

Every elf in Chel knows how to use mana. Most practiced it as children because making lights was pretty. After childhood the most typical users of mana were those who sold their power at the mana forges in north western Chel, but every so often, about one in every twenty or so would actually develop their powers as a way to earn a living - honest or not. As it turned out Joel knew an enterprising Darkling in the under-city who had developed a talent for the high art of shape shifting, a rare skill that combined the elements of blood, bone and often, empathy. While it held the properties of none of its composite affinities, it gave a similar and highly useful result.

Consequently the merchants’ main trade was in biological products, easily reformed by his unusual skill. Weapons and pieces of armor crafted from condensed bone and carapace hung everywhere on the walls and even from the ceiling; armors of hard and soft leather stood on racks that took up the main floor of the shop and on the back wall behind the counter were squares of material that were labeled to contain various reshaped organs and meats beneath their shiny shells. Joel had found the man when he was young and made a living hunting the large bugs that inhabited the surrounding caverns. The bugs were later stripped of their shells to be reformed into specially tailored chitin plate armor made from the shells of the underworlds large bugs while their various organs and muscles became squares of meat to be sold to other customers. Large and armored though the insects had been, not very many could handle a human ramming a stick through their eyes and into their skull. After purchasing a set of the chitin armor they had proceeded to the alleyway next to the armory.

“Come on Sif, I know a… shortcut.” Joel looked hopefully at the young Darkling. She raised a skeptical eyebrow, wary. “It’s this way.” Without waiting for a reply, Joel took off running down the alleyway. Syphille, running to catch up, muttered an oath under her breath. “Blasted Halme.”

After almost ten minutes of running, Syphille caught up to the Halme boy, in a dank water logged ally, out of breath. “Joel, I’m going to kill you for this shortcut later. Slowly and pain…” she trailed off, seeing Joel standing stock still. He was facing a rather irate looking group of people, among which were a Taurem, a Dwarf, and several burly Dark Elves.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Joel said, voice breaking slightly. He prayed that the Darkling girl hadn’t noticed. “What brings you to this section of Chel?” He grinned, and slid his hands behind his back, grasping the hilts of his two knives. The largest of the Drow growled.

“You, Joel Clarkson.” The Drow looked rather annoyed and ready to bite the Halme’s head off. Judging by his size, he probably could. “You have caused us a lot of problems since you joined those War Meat Marines.” He definitely did not sound happy. The Dwarf muttered something unintelligible, and hefted a wicked looking axe. “We should just kill him now, Kal.”

“There’s no need for that,” Joel squeaked. He heard the Darkling girl behind him laugh at something. Please don’t let her be laughing at me! He pleaded silently.

“What’d he do?” Syphile spoke up from behind him, “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“He managed to run out on a debt and survive. Because of this other little shit, clients have been getting it into their heads that they can skip out on debts by hiding behind other organizations. Like the Sarghress. We’ve already lost six other losers to them including a special interest of mine…Jer’kol.”

“Loan sharks, huh…” Syphile muttered. “You sure know how to pick them, kid.”

“Enough talk, back off feral, the human’s coming with us.” As the group spoke and stepped forward onto the water covered stones Syphiles eyes narrowed and her face turned a deeper shade of black. Whipping out her staff she rammed the rod between the crumbling stones that made the floor of the shallow pool. Joel gazed on in awe as sharp arcs of visible blue white energy sped down the metal pole, across the water and into the group of thugs making them jerk spasmodically.

Syphile wrenched her staff out of the water and turned her brilliant orange glare on Joel. “Arena. Now. No detours.”

End flashback

“Hey you,” A voice called out, slicing straight through Syphile’s reverie “The brat with the orange hair! You’re up next; your name’s just been given to the announcer.” Nodding, she stood up and began to strap on her new armor. Hefting the dark-iron pole she was using for a weapon, Syphile proceeded to the gates, wondering what odds the bookies would give Ragnar on her fight. Standing before the gates she waited and watched as slaves cleared the ring of the dead bodies from the last fight and shuddered.

“Today, my fine patrons, we are presented with a new challenger!” boomed a voice from beyond the opening gates. “A rare and mighty creature from the moons above has come to the ring of blood to do battle with the toughest scum of the underworld!” The announcer continued as Syphile reached the center of the pit. “But such daring young travelers should be careful what they wish for, because she has now found herself ambushed by a family of Xuile’solen. Give a rousing welcome for our young traveler, The Storm Fox!” As the crowd roared its interest there was the metallic thump of a lock being thrown open and the gate on the other side of the arena opened to reveal five ‘sightless’ of varying ages. Damn. “You have two minutes to place your bets before the fight starts.”

“RAGNAR!” Syphile shouted as she crouched down and watched the quintet slowly move along the arena walls to surround her. “If I die down here, I swear by the nine moons, I’ll become a poltergeist and haunt you for the rest of your miserable life!”

“I told you it was called the circle of blood for a reason, kid, what did you think it’d be like?” he called back, toasting her from the second story wall. “Besides, you better win. I got great odds on you!”

Syphile’s own reply was cut off by the sudden beginning of the fight as a knife wielding child suddenly rushed her from behind. Managing to spin and face her attacker the blades bit into the carapace armor covering her arm. Whipping her staff up, she caught the mutant drow boy in the ribs and sent him sprawling off to the side. Closing her eyes for a moment Syphile ordered Khul to begin actively reshaping and storing her mana as the lightning element. Opening her eyes and resuming the staff fighting ready stance she looked at her charging opponents. It was time to dance.
===========================================================================================================================================================
Glae’dryn looked up from her drink in interest as the crowd began to gasp and shout in excitement. She had heard the announcers introduction but dismissed it as the usual tripe such establishments came up with for such events. A young feral warrior visiting from the moons, Hah! Shoving herself into a position by the wall overlooking the arena, Glae’dryn gazed down on the fight. It wasn’t really what she was expecting given the excitement of the crowd and the noises emanating from the pit. For one thing there was very little blood staining the ground or the remaining fighters. For another the lone fighter was NOT a feral.

Looking around carefully, she saw that three of the young girls’ opponents were down and she was busy dancing away from, and around, the two adults. Three bodies were scattered around the arena floor: The one in the center was lying down in a fetal position, its hair covering its face, the second was laying against the wall blood slowly leaking from a indentation on the top of her skull, and the third was on the other side of the arena halfway between the wall and the center twitching like a human having with intense brain fever.

There were a few things in common with all of them, their hair was frizzy and still moving of its own accord and each of the Xuile’solen children had multiple burn marks covering their bodies. These were signs of mana arts. No feral had ever had mana, but the bushy tail, furry orange dog ears, and extended canines begged to differ. She hadn’t seen any feral with such tails before, but it reminded her of the foxes she had seen the Qin’dalasque riding in her tour of the border city Val’Raveran. There might be something there. Was this some new variant on the drow form? Or perhaps ver’drowendar with partial deformations like the berserkers? Her mind reeling as she watched the young girl trade brightly flashing blows with the older drow outcasts, Glae actually considered the possibility that the announcer had been telling the truth.

Learning the stranger had entered with a group of Sarghress regulars she shook her head and quickly went to the arena office and asked for a messenger bat. If this was her target she might just be in luck, but even if it wasn’t this was still something Illharess Shimi’lande needed to know. The Sarghress were sheltering something twisted and impure, it was their holy duty as the Val’Kyorl’solenurn to make sure it was not a threat.
===========================================================================================================================================================
Commander Ragnar, Private Joel, and Private Miko watched the fight unfolding in the pit with glee. They had each placed a months’ pay as Sarghress legionnaires on the girl below and the odds were 5 to one against her even with the handicaps for her superior weapon and armor. As it was an unlimited arena that hosted Elvin fights in addition to slaves, mana attacks were allowed, but no penalty had been issued as Syphile’s opponents had been Xuile’solen. Too bad for the sightless ‘long-ears’ that Syphile’s attacks were primarily elemental. Ragnar thought sadistically.

The Embiri, Private Miko, had expressed some worry for Syphile at the beginning, upon seeing she had not only five opponents but that each were carrying a nasty array of weapons and would be resistant to the mana attacks. After the first two went down her worries quieted and she began to watch the match intently.
===========================================================================================================================================================
The Xuile’solen child beside Syphile was down and breathing painfully as Syphile turned to keep an eye on her other four opponents. Damn it. she thought as she took in the four other opponents and the one lying on the ground beside her, Two more than we’ve ever had to work with before. Might as well take this one out before he gets his malnourished carcass off the ground she thought, jabbing the now electrified staff into the side of his head sharply enough to give him a concussion.

Taking a quick glance at their opponents, Khul and Syphile began gauging them as they were being taught. The two adults were the fastest and very likely the most dangerous; the ‘mother’ held a spear while the ‘father’ wielded an axe. The boy she had just bashed in the head had been carrying a pair of knives, it was too late to pick them up, and beyond a general knowledge of how to properly use a pair of daggers, they were by no means experienced with them. The closer of the two children looked to be about 18 and was carrying a large war hammer; slow but powerful, she’d likely be dead if it managed to hit her and it would be difficult to block. The farther one carried a pair of small axes, probably meant for throwing, but as they were still in the girls hands it was likely she didn’t want to lose her weapons on the chance she might get a hit.

Making a split second decision Syphile shot for the girl with the axes. Hearing her move, the Xuile’solen began to shift their positions to follow her. Upon closing in on the younger girl, Syphile brought her staff whistling around to impact the girls left wrist. Hearing the attack her opponent hissed and tried to lower her arm to avoid the blow. Instead of losing her hand, she lost the axe. The return strike whipped toward Syphile’s neck, and she bent backwards at the waist, coming back up in a hand stand, her right foot impacting her opponents jaw in the process.

As the younger drow righted herself she smiled seeing the other girl reeling from the blows accompanying electrical blasts. It was time to end this before the others could get here and put her in real trouble. Leaping forward, an impressive two feet into the air, Syphile brought the end of the staff down on the ‘sightless’ girls head leaving a massive welt in the hard bony skull. As her staff connected and sent its electrical payload through the girl’s body to make sure she didn’t get back up for a while, the Xuile’solens remaining axe came around and bit into Syphiles armor, leaving a cut on her leg.

Cursing, Syphile used the length of her staff to vault across a stretch of the arena in the direction of the final Xuile’solen child wielding the war hammer. As Xuile’solen relied mostly on sound to navigate this impromptu act gained her some precious time and distance from the elder sightless. Landing to the right of the mace wielder, Syphille swept her staff upward, aiming to connect with the older Drow’s chin. Sensing the incoming pressure of her weapon, the boy swept the haft of his hammer before him, deflecting the blow. Using the momentum from the act the mace wielder spun, bringing the large stone head around in a wide devastating arc. Ducking beneath the blow Syphile backpedalled furiously, avoiding the hammers whistling arcs: right, down from the left, up, from the right again, a quick reverse from the left, again and again. Backed to the arena wall, Syphile raised her staff parallel to the ground to meet the latest blow from above and the staff shattered in the center leaving her with a pair of shorter rods with jagged edges. Falling back against the arena wall, she quickly rolled to the side to avoid another relentless blow from the hammer which shattered against the arena wall. Finally, some luck. Syphile thought.
===========================================================================================================================================================
Private Joel grinned. At the rate that Syphille was winning, he would be able to earn enough to pay off some of his more serious debts, and still have enough left over to spend on other things. He winced, seeing the Drow girl electrocute her third Xuile’Solen. While he had never been on the receiving end of any type of lightning, it looked painful. Extremely painful, he noted, watching the young Sightless twitch spasmodically on the ground.

Ouch! he winced again, seeing Syphille begin working on the older sightless woman. He made a mental note to never annoy Syphille again in any way, lest he find himself on the receiving end of her ire.

Syphile was having trouble with her two final opponents, he noticed, they were rather inseparable, always trying to maneuver to double team his squad mate. She wasn’t giving them an easy time of it at least, for every move they made to preposition, Syphile would scurry the opposite in an attempt to keep facing a single opponent at any given time. heh, looks like she still hasn’t gotten used to fighting multiple opponents. How did they even see though? Joel wondered. He had heard that some of the stronger emberi trained with blindfolds on like the grey ‘long ears’ did but the graylings had magic eyes on their weapons… such things had stopped making sense to him long ago. There were white elves, grey elves, there used to be brown elves, black elves, spider elves, dragon elves, snake elves and upon meeting Syphile, there were apparently wolf elves. But what were the ‘sightless’?

As he watched Syphile catch per opponents spear with one half of her fractured staff and shatter it with the other he pondered the question. What made the sightless different from the other elves he had encountered? Well they had no eyes for one thing, hence the term sightless. They had long prehensile tongues and heavily canine teeth, but so did many elves. Well the teeth anyways, not the tongue. The ears were also a little odd, much wider than they should be and always moving… that was about it. So what creature had all of those features he though as he watched Syphile flip backwards repeatedly, trying to gain some distance from her attackers.

Large adjustable ears, poor or no sight, canine teeth and long tongues… there were numerous creatures like that in the underworld he thought in frustration. If only he had some other attributes to add to the list.

He broke off his musings abruptly as a large blob of white guano fell on his nose from a passing messenger bat. Bats? Bat elves? Maybe… but the dragon elves the Black Dragon Arena was using had wings so maybe not… his thoughts were interrupted again by a flash of light and an explosion from the pit below. Looking around frantically his eyes bugged as he saw the elder male sightless crumple to the ground, a large smoking hole in his chest.
===========================================================================================================================================================
Tlek’gyr was furious.

She and her family had spent the last century living in relative peace in the outer caverns between the bright and the wet air cities of the sighted elves but that had all ended two months ago. Life had been hard for them but they had endured and carved out a fine home for themselves in the deep pool cavern where there were plenty of fish and large bugs near the pool for them to eat, and it was quite satisfying to chow down on a fine meal of leg-worm after a long fight with the beasts.

But it seemed such things were not meant to last; last month a group of sighted elves had come with ropes and clubs and had taken her family to fight in a sandy pit day after day just to be allowed some barely adequate food. Mushrooms of all things - the savages.

She and her family had survived eight fights since then by working like they had hunted, as a family. They would surround their target and start whistling in order to keep ‘sight’ of their surroundings and their prey. Once they were all in place they would rush their prey from all sides and start stabbing it, never giving it time to recover or focus on a single one of them. But today was different, she could hear it, her family was dying. Jlof’jik, her youngest had attacked too soon and the sighted elf had sent him down screaming. That had been enough to send her into a rage but it had not ended there, her daughter, her precious daughter had fallen next, and then her eldest son.

When she had finally been able to reach the swiftly jumping elf she had abandoned all pretence and attacked her with a savage fury only a mother could manage. So many times her ears had watched the vile sighted elf dodge or block by the barest margins, always jumping and twirling, keeping her mate from helping her, it was infuriating. Finally she had lost her last shred of control and swung her staff around like a club only to have the nasty little girl before her break it. Thrusting the splintered end of the spear made staff at her opponent she watched, her ears twitching in surprise, as the girl fell backwards and kept doing so, all the way across the pit. What was this creature?

As the creature finished moving she and her husband spread out to different points in the arena to avoid the possibility of the girl missing one of them only to hit the other with any attack she might come up with and prepared to charge.

During all of this the figure had not moved from its position. Was it wounded? It didn’t seem to be favoring either arm or leg as far as she could hear. Hissing an order to her husband both of them charged. As they neared the halfway point in the arena their opponent stood from her position and threw one of its weapons at her husband forcing him to dodge and slow down. Confused, Tlek’gyr listened to the pole as it spun back toward the opposite arena wall and imbedded in the stonework. It was foolish to throw away one’s own weapons and if nothing else the little savage had shown herself to be anything but foolish. Hefting what was left of the spear she prepared to impale the child who had caused her and her family so much pain this day.

As she hurled the shaft at her opponent the girl raised her arms and remaining fragment of staff at Tlek’gyrs husband and a thunderous crack rent the air. As the shockwave of air and sound passed through her body she doubled over, clutching her head in agony. Crumpling to the ground she removed one of her shaking hands from her ears and sniffed it; blood. The sound had broken her ears and made her well and truly blind.
===========================================================================================================================================================
Circle of Blood medical bay.

Syphile screamed as the remnants of the spear were being pulled from the side of her leg. Sharess damn-it!she thought furiously. Shoddy, cheap, piece of shit bug armor! “OWW!” she roared as the bottom portion was yanked unceremoniously from her thigh. “I’m going to kill Joel when I get out of here;” She growled menacingly. “Him and his stupid armorist.”

“Now, now.” A voice replied coming up behind her. “That’s not very charitable of you, now is it? You should at least give the boy a head start while he pays off his debts. He did find you some affordable armor after all.” The figure emerged from the poorly lit passage way to reveal a beaming Commander Ragnar. “And by the damage the stuff has taken it looks like you need more training, it saved you a good deep scratch at least four times down here. Not to mention your bright idea to catch that war hammer with your arm.” He said tossing the shattered carapace at her.

“You did well out there though; fetched us a pretty ada while you were at it too. It’s a pity we can’t sell you really, I had to knock heads just to get down here, the passage way was so thick with bidders offering small clans for you that I had to leave Joel and Miko outside to block the passage.”

“Oh thank you so much for curbing your excess, I’ll be sure to remember it next time you try to bother me for cash.” She groused.

“Ah, don’t be like that!” the commander mock whined. “I made sure to take out your cut from our winnings.” He said grinning and throwing a heavy leather sack at her. “An ada in five from each of us, as agreed.”

“It was an ada in four, you cheapskate.” Syphile said glaring at him and continuing the game. It was useful for blowing off steam and the man tended to be more jovial when she went along with it, taking more time to teach and less to spar; something she was always grateful for.

“Yes, well, the other ada pays for your continued lessons,” came the smirking reply. “Ah ah ah, no using magic on your commanding officer outside of the sparring ring! And how do you even have any energy left after that fight? Never mind, that’s not important. We have to get moving; your aunt and her army have turned up outside and indicated that we’re to return A.S.A.P. She looked pissed.”
==========================================================================================================================================================
Quill’yate Yurun’hiir Val’Sarghress was an imposing figure and knew it. Standing over Syphile, she glared down at her ‘niece’ as they strode along Chel’el’Sussoloth’s under-city streets waiting for an explanation. As she and her Highland Raiders had just returned on the far side of Chel earlier that week from a long five year trek through some newly unearthed ruins on the over world, she had allowed them some time to enjoy themselves at the gladiatorial arenas known as the Ring of Fire.

She and her girls had been shocked to find nearly a quarter of Chel in ruins, but as the story slowly came out from the surviving civilians, their shock has quickly turned to fury. Their last week had been spent giving the bodies of the dead and inedible a proper send off and gathering things of great value for salvaging. The War-Golems she thought should be gathered before the Sharen could come back for them, if for no other reason than to deny the dragons their use.

Quill’yates mouth quirked up slightly as she remembered the salvaging process; transporting the Golems had been relatively difficult before she had found the large violet scorpion Mech. The thing had incredible strength, a long wide back and impressive speed for such a large construct. It had taken her most of that morning to work out the kinks in the basic controls for the droid, but it was one of those times she had been quite happy with the knowledge that she was a battle sorcerer nearly six and a half centuries in age.

This morning marked the end of this salvage run as the pack lizards were full of weapons, armor and the Golems they had collected. The War Golems were ready to go and it seemed they had yet to be noticed by anyone important. A pack of Xuile’Solen had got it into their heads that her troops would make a good meal two days back, but no one had died; well, no one except the sightless family. Carefully disguising the caravan, she had allowed herself and most of her troops some downtime at the local arenas and bars.

She had been happily watching a fascinating fight between some Jaal’Darya changeling and a quintet of Xuile’solen when Laele’aell and two of her Fallen Legion handlers had appeared behind her and informed her of the current situation. Laele had wanted to drop into the ring, kill the gladiators, retrieve the target and dice anyone who got in her way while delivering Syphile home; her Fallen Legion handlers wanted to let the battle finish and extract the girl quietly, they had figured informing her was a convenient way to curb Laele’s excess, because mindless as their commander may have become, she still took orders from known superior officers.

Broken from her reverie by Syphiles voice she returned to the present; listening expectantly. Syphile spoke for a long time as they made their way back to the caravan and continued to talk as they sat there, Quill’yates troops gathering around them. The ancient general listened quietly as the young sorceress detailed the trials of the last few months; the Nidraa’chal war, the pressure from the headmistress, becoming changed, the confrontation with her mother, her apprenticeship and subsequent escapes from the embittered Sillice Val’Sharen Sarghress, Her assignment to Ariel and the troubles that supplied her, and finally her relationship with the War Meat and how it had brought her to the Circle of Blood arena. It was quite a story, she had to admit. It wasn’t as harsh as what she and many of the orphans of Chel had endured, but it was certainly more interesting than their own early years.

“So what about your new friend, this Khul’shalkrum you keep mentioning. How does he fit into all of this?” she asked. To her surprise Syphile began laughing. Looking back on the girl from her position inside the cock pit of the scorpion mech she saw Syphile doubled over in tearful laughter.

“He is the reason” Syphile gasped out, wiping her eyes and returning her gaze to Quill’yate “that I have come to doubt the sanity of the tainted.” Noticing Quill’yates raised eyebrow from the approaching war Gollum she continued more calmly. “He is not my friend but rather my tenant, my seed as it were but for the fact that I am not tainted. It’s hard to explain. He’s the ethereal that I summoned from the nether realms, but he isn’t a demon. He was bound to me during the ceremony but he hasn’t spread through my aura. His presence has changed my mana but our energies are separate and seem to be different in nature. Mostly it just gives me a headache when I think about it.”

“…Uh huh. Get on, we need to be getting home quickly. Your Halme and Embiri friends will finish their business here without you. We’re due back home.”
===========================================================================================================================================================
Fighting down her distaste of the area, Warden Glae’dryn followed her target into the ruins of the Nidraa’chal war. Looking around at the rubble, she shuddered. This place gave her the creeps. Picking her way around the rubble she made an effort to stay hidden from the rapidly returning Highland raiders while maintaining a close eye on the young fox girl.

Strange she thought, observing the Sarghress caravan That such golems should be left to rust. The new demon arts of the Sharen might make them obsolete true; but their worth was still immense. It was a wonder that they were yet to be collected. Truly though, it is a wonder that much of the battle field had not been salvaged by commoners or clans long since. Nearly half the Sharen army had fallen in theses ruins, and several of the Deves houses had completely disappeared here.

As she watched, musing, she noted the conversation between the darkling general and her target. Interesting, if she could have a conversation with one of their generals, she must have some importance. As she watched the Highland Raiders finished packing up, there was some momentary confusion, a fair number of them were climbing onto the various Golems. Why would they do that? Her answer came moments later when the various groups of Golems began to glow and change shape to become pack dragons. Light sorcery. “It makes a strange kind of sense I suppose,” Glae murmured to herself. “If our informants are worth their commissions, the Sarghress raiders often transport highly valuable relics in their caravans. Light sorcery would be a logical step for security. At least with the more sensitive items. But do they hire the sorcerers or train their troops? Most of our information says they don’t put much emphasis on the mana arts, it’s always been one of the Sarghress weaknesses.”

“And so the plot thickens.” Came a voice from behind her followed by a sharp pain and darkness.
===========================================================================================================================================================
“And so the plot thickens.” Mave whispered into the Drowussus ear before bashing her over the head with the hilt of her ninjato. This was the fourth grayling spy this month she had redirected. Sighing she lifted the young woman onto her shoulder and started off towards the Drowussu fortress. Grunting at the weight, Maeve sighed. At least she wouldn’t have trouble acting drunk this time, the girl stunk of enough alcohol to make it seem real and was heavy enough that tripping and swaying wouldn’t be much of a problem.

Let’s get this over with.

 

Disclaimer: Quite sadly I do not own the world of Percy Jackson or any of the characters actually used within his writing, not that he owns all of them either but still…, I only own Gent and Summers families.
Summary: Rick Riordan defines a half blood as the child of a Greek deity and a human being, so what would happen if a half-blood child of a titan made their way into the melee? I chose two of the third generation triplets, Selene and Helios.
Bios:
Selene- Titan goddess of the moon. My mom and Auroras’ aunt. Big into romance, she generally visits on the full moon and has a family candlelight dinner with us; well, just me generally. Presumed profession: Romance novelist.
Arthur Gent- My dad and current consort to Lady Selene. He’s a 38 year old literature professor at Columbia University but I never really see him.
Artemis Gent- Me! How to describe myself… I am a 16 year old, currently unknowing, half-blood son of a romantic literature professor and a goddess. The moon-Titan Selene, to be exact. Like many half-bloods I am plagued by the disorders ADHD and dyslexia. Unlike many half-bloods, and many afflicted humans for that matter, my dyslexia comes and goes regularly, following the phases of the moon, not that I’d have believed why before my adventure. My dyslexia is rarely much of a problem though as I am home schooled with my cousin by our tutor, Ms. Emily Dawn. I love comics, enjoy using computers, am an accomplished cook and, though I’ll deny it point blank if asked, I enjoy reading poetry.
Helios- Titan god of the sun. My uncle and Aurora’s dad. Presumed profession: Military test pilot, everyone’s sketchy on the details.
Angelina Summers- 35 years old and one of the ninjutsu Instructors at the bujinkan New York City dojo. She is Aurora’s mom, my aunt, and current consort to the titan god of the sun. She is also a hobby falconer.
Aurora Summers- An eagle eyed adrenaline junkie, my almost 16 year old cousin, Aurora is the daughter of Angelina-Sensei and the sun titan Helios and like her father she has a disturbing tendency to know every last one of your secrets. A literal whirlwind on legs I have rarely seen her sitting down for more that 10 minutes at a time and then always at the edge of her seat. She currently holds multiple belts in various martial arts and has recently taken up the sword as well at her mothers’ Ninjitsu classes. Like all half bloods she is ADHD and dyslexic but this is not often a problem due to the fact that we are both home schooled by our tutor, Ms. Emily Dawn.​

​

Dyslexia. For most it is a stable condition that denies the victim the ability to view letters and numbers in order giving the general effect of stable illiteracy. Not that you can’t read, it’s just a lot harder. Not so much for me, it comes and goes quite regularly, and has ever been the bane of my existence. But that’s the least of my problems.

Especially recently.

It all started a year and a half ago, just after me and my cousins’ families moved from a suburb outside of Chicago to the top of a skyscraper in Manhattan, of all places. The schools were letting out for the winter holidays and I was in our practically roof top Manhattan apartment waiting for my dad. I was reading my latest graphic novel; a manga called “Hellsing”, and half listening to the TV when all of a sudden thunder started sounding over the empire state building. ‘Odd’ I thought ‘I was certain the night was clear just moments ago, there was supposed to be a full moon tonight.’

Carefully marking my place I set down the book down on a stack of X-men comics and walked over to the apartment window. Outside was an utterly strange sight; directly above the empire state building an ever expanding disk of swirling black clouds was forming, but that wasn’t the weirdest part. I could swear there was something above the building itself.

After an hour of fruitless staring I finally decided to ignore it and return to my comics. After a while I got bored with the repetitive dialogue and went to the kitchen to start cooking diner. My mom was coming for her monthly visit soon so I got out one of the gourmet Italian cook-books and started hunting around for the scented roman candles. ‘Always with the romantic scenes my mom, I swear I’ll never understand her.’ From what I can discern whenever she visits she’s a romance novelist. I never really did know, my tutor, Ms. D, refused to keep her books in the apartment, something about them being inappropriate for children - whatever that meant. I mean, they were written by a mother – how inappropriate could they be?

That was the last I really thought about the incident for the next couple of months but as summer began to gather I stared out at the empire state building more and more often. It was strange enough to have a constant storm but for it to persist into the summer months?

That summer was when the news started getting interesting. According to the reporter tracking the story, someone was leaving a cross country trail of chaos. That this someone just so happened to be 12 years old really caught my interest. According to the reporter the selfsame kid was a run away from our area who had stolen and blown up his dads car, wrecked a New York city tour bus, killed the owner of a gnome emporium just outside of Jersey, blasted a hole in the ST. Louis arch, set a circus full of animals loose in Vegas and ran off a mattress sales man in Los Angeles. This morning he was on live TV ‘swashbuckling’ a guy who looked like a psychotic biker. But that wasn’t the strangest thing about the video, according to the reporter on scene it was a shootout between gang members rather than a kid and a giant with swords!

I was thoroughly perplexed. ‘Something’s up here’ I thought as I walked over to the phone. I picked up the receiver and dialed in a number.

“Hello” said a slightly breathless voice on the other end.

“Hey Fire-cracker, it’s me” I said grinning.

“I have a name Moony” she replied snidely.

“Yeah, so do I cousin.” I replied still grinning.

“Alright, Artemis cut to the chase. What’s up?”

“Have you been watching this weeks’ news Rory?”

“Yes I have twerp, and my name isn’t Rory! For the last time, repeat after me - Aurora. Uh. Roar. Uh.”

“Alright Aurora,” I returned smiling “turn on the channel 5 news.” There was a moment of silence and then I heard a TV on the other side turn on with the same dame reporter covering the fight. “Isn’t that the guy you’ve been stalking on the internet news reports?” she asked “A Perry someone?”

“Yeah” I replied “Take a look at the fight and then compare it to what the reporter’s saying. You might find something interesting.” I waited a few seconds and heard a snort of disbelief.

“The kid’s fencing the guy and the reporter’s saying it’s a shootout, what’s up with that?” she asked. Aurora Summers is my cousin and has, as I mentioned before, always been a firebrand. It was as if she could just never keep still, even when we were little. As it was she was on her third martial arts discipline and had taken up fencing besides, if anyone would find a sword fight on the news intriguing I knew it would be her.

“I don’t know, but something’s fishy” I said not knowing how truly ironic that statement really was. “I was thinking we should probably keep an eye out for him, if nothing else meeting him could spice up our summer.”

“I know perfectly well how to spice up my own summer, Moony” she shot back primly, but I could hear the undercurrent of excitement in her voice. I had her -hook, line and sinker. I was pretty sure she’d endeavor to help me keep tabs on this kid. At least until she got a chance to fight him.

For the next year we watched and waited. Aurora and I ended up spending a lot more time together than we typically did during the year. Mostly though, I did research on this Percy character while she trained and kept me from getting to serious with ludicrous commentary. I started up a blog on Percy and Aurora, the human whirlwind, got me signed up in her mom’s martial arts classes. I never really had a prayer of beating her in the physical aspect of ninjutsu but chemistry and creeping around in the shadows aspects worked out pretty well.

Then we got a hit. A private school on the Jersey side got firebombed and the news report mentioned a Percy Jackson and Tyson fleeing the scene with a blond haired girl.

The hunt was on.

Scanning the web for unusual occurrences we soon found a series of complaints from a Long Island produce farmer. What the man was complaining about wasn’t truly odd, the New York tabloids ran a multitude of interesting stories where witnesses claim to see strange creatures, odd lights, and unexplainable disasters -what was odd about the reports was what the cops found when they investigated.

The report stated that the area in question held nothing but a MASSIVE pine tree, one that seemed to be dying. The cops had brought in several botanists to take a look at the tree and see what might be harming the area and how it could be contained. According to the report the tree had been poisoned and the toxins were leeching into the surrounding valley, with absolutely no idea how to reverse the process the area had been cordoned off until further notice by the CDC.

A week later our plans were finalized. We had found a topographical map of the area and were ready to start snooping. The training Aurora forced on me ended up coming in handy. Much to my cousins’ disappointment, we had decided that it would be better to discover Percy’s potential by observing him rather than finding ourselves sorely disappointed or having our butts handed to us on the fly. As we crept up to the drive and past the police cordon I almost broke out laughing. Why were we spending so much time on stealth? The cops who were supposed to be quarantining the area were asleep and snoring for Kali’s sake! ‘oh right,’ I thought sheepishly ‘I’m the reason.’

As we made it to the tree we felt a wash of static pass over us and suddenly we saw the camp. It spread across the valley below, a valley that, by the looks of it, was normally beautiful. Aurora passed me a pair of binoculars and we scanned the camp. There was a mansion; two rows of oddly shaped buildings that we would later find out were sleeping quarters, a rather swampy looking lake, something that looked like a miniature coliseum and a series of enclosed spaces. Rimming the entire complex was a massive misty forest. On closer inspection there were barely discernable shapes moving along the forest’s edges and a few of them felt massive. Abruptly, Aurora nudged me and pointed toward the dorms. Patrolling between the buildings were some truly strange creatures. They looked like a cross between a hag and a really ugly bird. I turned to Aurora intent on getting her opinion of the creatures when she punched my shoulder and jabbed her finger at the shadows of the sea-stone hut. There was a boy moving in the shadows of the hut obviously avoiding the creatures. He was slightly taller than the Percy on TV but he seemed to have the same features as the one on TV.

We turned to each other and grinned. “Target acquired” we said in unison.

We then started to make our way along the shadowed edge of the forest, checking on Percy’s progress every few minutes. Then we lost him. It was my turn to check on the target and I looked up to find the field he was running across empty. He shouldn’t have been able to move that fast! Then we heard the rustle of a fast moving body heading away from us in the trees about 20 feet ahead. Motioning for me to follow Aurora quickly made her way into the darkness. As the mist closed around her I sighed and plunged in myself. We almost lost Percy several more times in the next few minutes, none of us were exactly being stealthy at the moment, but we eventually came to the edge of the forest and saw Percy lying down on the sand with a six pack. I assume it was soda, but you can never be too sure with the runaway adventurer type.

Thankfully for us Aurora decided it would be a good idea for us to stay in the forests shadow and move a good 100 feet to the right. It was a good idea, lying in the middle of the path to study someone is a sure way to be caught.

As we settled into our new position I felt a buzzing at the base of my skull. I looked over at Aurora and she nodded. She felt it too. We started looking around and were about to give up and ignore the sensation when suddenly a jogger appeared out of nowhere! Let me clarify, when I said he came out of nowhere I meant it literally, one second there was blank dune encrusted beach and the next there was a jogger heading straight toward Percy out of thin air. We were too far away to catch the conversation that followed but when it was done the man baffled us once again by not only disappearing but conjuring three mustard yellow duffels in his place! But no, the surprises didn’t end there. As soon as he was gone the blond girl from the news reels, and that Tyson guy, came crashing down the path looking for Percy. They started arguing about something and Tyson turned toward us. Not only was he massive, he had a single enormous eye in the center of his forehead!

Aurora turned to look at me “Cyclops!” she said. “It’s a real live Cyclops, Artemis, straight out of your game, the Age of Mythology! How can such a thing even exist? Or those hags for that matter.” her voice held utter shock, but her eyes told a different story - she was excited.

“I truly have no idea, even in myths the last one should have died off over a thousand years ago.” I was just as confused as she was. Stupid us, during our conversation our target turned plural had summoned a means of transport by which we couldn’t follow, Hippocampus, another creature I thought had never existed outside of legend.

As our quarry sped away from us across the waves Aurora and I took out binoculars back out and followed their progress. So much time wasted tracking this kid down we might at least try to guess his next move. Then we saw it - a massive cruise liner surrounded by a fog bank. “Hey Moony, think you can remember the name of that ship? You’ve always been better with letters than me.”

“Yeah,” I muttered absent mindedly “hand me a pen, would you please?” She did and I carefully traced the shapes onto my arm. When I was done I looked down and I saw the words I had written - The Princess Andromeda. “Alright” I said after translating the letters “think we should go home and start tracking the ship?”

“It seems the best for now” Aurora replied sadly “seeing as you wanted to study the guy instead of just attacking him,” she finished sourly. I sighed and we made our way back to her apartment.

By the time we got back the sun was just starting to rise, I decided to fall asleep on the couch while Aurora felt it would be a good idea to play Evanescence music and beat a training post to splinters. She was still at it when I awoke around noon and there was a rather swiftly growing pile of sawdust surrounding her. I shook my head and stumbled into the kitchen. After cooking us a pair of truly delightful omelets (if I do say so myself) I walked over to the computer. You know how I mentioned before that my dyslexia comes and goes? Well, let’s just say I thank the gods for whoever invented audio translator software.

After a good couple hours of searching through trash I finally found the planned course for The Princess Andromeda Cruise Line. According to the United States port authority The Princess Andromeda was due to stop in Miami in eight days time. It wasn’t likely that Percy would be staying on the Andromeda but it was the best lead we had so Aurora and I set about making plans again. As we started discussing travel arrangements we came to a disagreement. I wanted to use our parent’s money and fly first or business class, Aurora wanted to be adventurous and ride in the cargo hold. We played chess for it. Aurora won.

Six days later, rattled and cursing, I climbed out of the cargo hold of our aircraft and found myself climbing the fence at the Miami International Airport. We then proceeded to the dock that was supposed to berth The Princess Andromeda. It was already there. We looked at each other and grinned. Infiltration! Careful to avoid being seen we crept along the wharf keeping to the shadows. At the back of the massive cruiser was a set of rungs attached to the side of the vessel. Always the quieter one, I ascended first and peeked over the rail. The deck was clear so I finished climbing and stood back for Aurora.

As we crept through the ship we couldn’t help but feel impressed. The ship was enormous and even the area marked as the crews quarters looked like a first class suite. But as we continued along the ships various decks and rooms I began to get edgy. Beautiful it may be but the place felt like a mausoleum, there were no discernable passengers or crew anywhere so far. Even in a liner this big that was simply unnatural. Eventually we gave up stealth and started looking for a map of the ship, we found one of the fire escape maps and decided to go where there would most likely be a crowd if the ship was still populated. We jogged forward along the ship until we came to a balcony overlooking the pool.

Honestly I have no idea why we were still shocked after all we had witnessed since starting our observation of Percy, but seeing literally dozens upon dozens of different mythical creatures and extinct creatures casually mixing with humans in an Olympic sized swimming pool still set our jaws flapping in the breeze. There were harpies, giants, Cyclops, Stormwings, tenabrach, and even a hydra in just one 1000 square foot area. Aurora nudged me and pointed to the open area to the front end of the pool where there was a kid in poorly crafted, shining yellow armor. But that wasn’t what caught her attention, it was who, or rather what, the kid was fighting. It was a skeleton, and honest to god skeleton!

And that’s what got us caught. Well, sort of. At some point during the fight between the yellow clad kid and the skeleton, another kid walked up behind us with a black mastiff about the size of a bear.

He looked at us oddly and said “I’ve never seen you before, new recruits?”

“New as they come” I replied stepping up quickly “still kind of getting used to this too. Do you know who does room assignments? We had a friend who was supposed to meet us here but we haven’t been able to track him down.” ‘Just keep him off balance’ I thought desperately ‘if he’s too busy trying to help and ally, maybe he won’t notice we don’t belong here.’ It was a good plan, and it almost worked too. Stupid mutt. The dog, which we later learned was a hellhound, didn’t like us. When its human friend stopped to talk to us the dog stopped to sniff us. Whatever it smelled on us scared it. Again - stupid mutt. The guy we were talking to turned around, ready to take us to whoever ran personnel in the ship and froze seeing the cowering dog.

“Bollocks” I heard Aurora mutter behind me. The camper started to turn around and pull out his sword but Aurora was too fast for him, with an almighty crack her fist transited the space where his jaw used to be and he crumpled to the ground unconscious.

I looked at Aurora. “What are we supposed to do with the dog?” I muttered nervously. “It’s obviously scared of us… but scared dogs are often the mean ones.”

“I don’t know, Moony. You’ve always been better with animals than me.” I glowered at her and walked forward slowly. Four feet from the mastiff’s nose I knelt down and held out my hand and started talking to it. A tip when talking to skittish dogs, let them come to you, and DON’T show fear. Talk to them softly and calmly and hope that they don’t decide to bite your upturned palm off. It usually works. Thank the gods it did this time, I don’t know what we would have done if this creature had decided to take offence to us. Eventually it calmed down enough for me to rub its ears and let us pass.

After that we ran for it, if Percy was going to be on this ship at any time Aurora figured the burke would likely enter from the main gangway at the front of the ship. And so we waited. It took him until evening the next day to arrive. He did indeed come onto the ship via the main gang plank. The blond girl Annie-something and the Cyclops Tyson were still with him but this time he also had what I think was a fawn, two furbolgs and an older human escorting him onto the ship at sword point.

The deck started filling with creatures and humans the creatures kept referring to as ‘half-bloods’. Though half of what was anyone’s guess, they certainly looked human to me. The deck started to fill quickly once Percy and his friends arrived. He started arguing with the older boy and threw something at his head. The older boy ducked and laughed but I was still trying to see what Percy had thrown. As everyone else’s attention focused on the sword Percy had pulled out of his pocket of all places, behind the older boy the air had solidified into what looked like a window. I nudged Aurora, “This guy’s performing magic as if it’s nothing. We have GOT to figure out what’s with this guy.”

The older ‘half-blood’ slashed the window and engaged Percy sword to sword. It was pretty interesting to watch and gave us a lot of the type of information we were looking for. After a few minutes the older kid got a lucky shot off on Percy and cut him across the leg. As the older boy stepped up to a struggling Percy he shouted “you can eat your dinner now, Oreius! Bon appétit.” The furbolg holding the blond giggled and opened his mouth wide. As he reached the apex of his height, ready to slam down with his jaws and break the girls head in one stroke, an arrow sprouted from the top of his head. Letting out a sigh Aurora and I snapped our heads to the right to see a swarm of centaurs pouring from another of those mist windows near the back of the ship.

Aurora and I looked at each other. “War” I said.

“War,” she agreed “think we’ll be safe here till it’s over?”

“Not likely” I snorted “let’s try to escape as the fighting dies down”

“About 30 seconds then.”

I looked back at her “Why in 30 seconds?” I queried “Why wouldn’t it take longer?”

“Think about it Moony, centaurs with bows. They’re built for speed and running and they’re using ranged weapons so they’re obviously going to use hit, nab and run. Over quick” and indeed it looked like she was right. The centaurs had shot down a fair number of the creatures on the deck leaving it strewn with various items and rapidly dissolving bodies, several of the centaurs were grabbing Percy and his friends and the rest were starting to move off.

As the deck cleared, the centaurs running off laughing and the crew giving chase, I looked to where the furbolgs had stood. Like the rest he had dissipated primarily into dust but within each pile of dust there was a pair of paws. Seeing that the last creature had left the ship to follow the centaurs I went over to the piles and picked up one of the paws wondering why it hadn’t dissipated with the rest of the bear-man. As I picked it up it abruptly shifted and I almost dropped it. By the time it was done reforming it had turned itself into a short metal glove with three steel claws extending from it. I showed it to Aurora and she grinned at my explanation of the paw/glove. Seeing one of the duffels the jogger had given to Percy lying, only slightly torn, off to the side, I quickly ran over, tossed it to the center of the deck and got Aurora to help me scramble around gathering the remaining beast parts from the deck and stuffing the loot into the duffel. Once done we promptly ‘jumped ship’ and ran away so as not to be caught by the remaining crew.

Newly laden with a duffel bag full of exotic items we decided to hop a Greyhound bus back home. For one thing they never run security checks and for another a coach bus is much more comfortable than an airplane cargo hold.

We didn’t get a chance to examine our booty until we got home late the next day. Quite sadly only about one third of the items we had collected were left. As the duffel had never left our sight since we got off of the ship and the creatures bodies had dissolved I figured the missing pieces had simply taken longer to dissolve than the rest of the body.

I lay the bag out on Auroras kitchen table and opened it. What we had left in the bag were the paw of Oreius, the spiky tail of a manticore, a pile of Stormwing feathers and a shiny yellow sword left by one of the ‘Half-bloods’ the centaurs had knocked off the deck with a clubbed arrow. Opening the bag completely Aurora hefted the sword and her eyes widened as it started shifting. We grinned at each other eager to see what the sword might become, the other items that had changed used been pieces of animals so they kind of made sense, but for an already crafted item to change was unexpected. By the time the metal stopped flowing the thick broadsword had shifted into a cut down nodachi with a full foot and a half handle and five and a half feet of double sided, razor edged, glowing yellow blade. Grinning like a maniac she gave the blade a few swings, her eyes lighting up as the blade sang through the air, and immediately added the sword to her cabinet.

“And what is they say about boys and their toys?” I said grinning as I picked up the remains of the Manticore tail. Just like the paws and sword the tail began changing upon contact. By the time it was finished I was holding a brown leather belt with about a dozen throwing knives attached to it. Aurora and I each pulled out a knife and examined them. They looked to be made of a hard black substance, I’d swear that it was obsidian the way it reflected light but Aurora insisted it was polished black iron. Being she has much more experience with weapons than me, I took her word for it. Anyways, the blades were long, dual edged and wedge shaped, the handles were about four inches and wrapped and each handle ended in a ring just wide enough for my thumb to fit through. Twirling the one I had selected around my index finger by the ring I looked around the apartment. Seeing a training log like the one Aurora had forc…*cough* persuaded me to buy, I took aim and threw the blade. My aim was terrible, but I at least managed to hit the log as wide as it was.

After a few seconds the knife faded from the log and we looked at it in shock. We looked at each other. Why had the blade faded? Was there only one use? I turned my gaze back to the belt and my jaw dropped. The knife I had thrown was back in its leather strap! Useful, that.

I lay the knives back down and it started changing back into a severed manticore tail. “Ugh, why’d it have to change back? It’s useless like that.”

“Feeling cynical? I thought that was my job.” I replied smirking as I dodged a thrown handful of monster dust.

“Twerp” she shot back laughing. “So what do you think these feathers are for?” she asked picking one up.

I picked one up myself and examined it. “I don’t know, It doesn’t seem to be changing like the others. And it feels…warm.”

“Yeah, they do, don’t they?” she said thoughtfully, lightly tossing a few in her palm.

“C’mon” I said dropping mine back into the bag and hefting the entire thing “I have a feeling about what they might be for, and using them inside might be messy.” Aurora raised an eyebrow and followed me to the roof top stairs.

“This isn’t something you read in one of your picture books is it?” She asked warily, following me up the stairs.

“They’re graphic novels” I replied heatedly “And a guy can learn a lot reading them!” Outside was much like the rest of Aurora’s apartment, except out here was where she kept her gymnastics bars. I never did understand how she could blithely practice leaping tumbling and flying out here on a regular basis, but she always was an adrenaline junkie…maybe this was just another thrill for her. Maniac.

Looking around I found a relatively clear space and set the duffel down. Pulling out two of the longer feathers I took another look at them. They were made of a silvery material and, for the most part, were as supple as any other feather I’d seen, but the edges were like razors. “Stand back” I said looking at her “It’ll probably be a bust, but if I’m right it might still take up a bit of space.” She raised an eyebrow at me and then her eyes widened in comprehension and she quickly took a step back. Rolling up my sleeve I dropped the first feather back in the bag and the second feather against my skin. Suddenly the feather started to get really hot and it seemed almost to melt into the skin of my forearm. We both watched eyes wide as feather patterns started spreading up my arm and then faded. The burning sensation moved up to my shoulders and held there for a few seconds and then a set of wings blew out of the back of my shirt. DAMN it hurt. By the time the pain faded I was curled up on my knees, shaking, and Aurora was staring at me. I felt light as I stood up and looked at my cousin. “Shit,” She said “are you OK?”

“Yeah” I grunted “I think I’ll be alright” bouncing up on my heels. On an impulse I decided to leap and stretch my new wings. The rush of the air against my face felt great. Of course being me my random paranoia returned pretty quickly.

“Cool” Aurora breathed “try them out! Do some acrobatics!” she was grinning like a kid at Christmas.

“Alright” I said apprehensively. Who knew how long these things were going to last? Pretty long as it turned out. Much to Aurora’s disappointment, I did not immediately begin with acrobatics designed to make a bat dizzy, I began by simply flying in circles and hovering. After about 10 minutes Aurora got annoyed waiting for me to slowly work my way up to dives and barrel rolls and grabbed a feather for herself.

It only took her half as long to get into the air as it did me but I’m still unsure to this day whether that was because her wings were smaller than mine or because of her father’s affinity with heights but when she did get up she went straight into a barrel roll dive over 34^th street whooping for the first 15 floors and then shot back up like a bullet. “Think fast!” She hollered, 50 feet above me now, and flew at me pumping her new wings like a humming bird. ‘Holy shit’ I thought and dodged to the right. After the adrenaline started pumping it became much easier, I dived on her.



It wasn’t until Aurora went in to get some drinks that we found out the catch behind the feathers power. Each feather has only one use which expires upon landing and they hurt even worse coming off than when they’re growing. I almost blacked out myself when I landed.

Sadly our bit of fun attracted a great deal of attention from the local news chopper. Not only were we caught on film but now everyone would be aware of us. Thankfully, for once, the mist came in useful. On the human side at least. The news reporter later that night had us as a pair of 30 year old hang-gliding enthusiasts making use of the cities strange updrafts and wind currents.

Elsewhere
Cold grey eyes stared out over the city. The room behind those eyes contained a large table surrounded by expensive leather arm chairs and a glassy marble table stretched the length of the room. The others had left and the owner of the deep calculating stare was left alone to contemplate what they had seen. None of them had sensed these…interlopers. Her father had not and they had trespassed through his very domain.

They would require study. It was highly irregular that anyone with such abilities would be noticed by the public but it was completely unacceptable that none of the board knew their names. They knew the names and faces of EVERY half-blood. And to only become aware of their existence via a chance viewing of the mortal news channels…

In a flash of light Athena disappeared, there was work to be done. Though we did not know it, in that moment we ceased to truly be the hunters. From that point on, we had become the hunted.

After seeing ourselves caught on live TV news we agreed to attempt to keep a low profile for a while. If our little sky trip had caught the notice of such a well watched news station, well, who knew who or what else could have seen us? We decided to keep our new ‘trinkets’ with us just in case, it had become obvious that the Greek myths weren’t completely mythological and if the monsters existed, who knew what else did? I would wear the paws of Orieus which now looked like martial arts gloves, Aurora would keep the Manticors tail which had morphed into a belt again and we would both keep a pouch of stormwing feathers as a safety net. But even so, we needed to know more. Especially before the ‘more’ learned too much about us.

Now, I’m pretty sure that everyone has, at least once, heard the phrase be careful what you wish for, but I should have known better than to think it wouldn’t apply to me. Terrible things always happen to other people, right? I’d be so lucky. The answer to my silent wish presented itself the moment I stepped through the door of my apartment. Before me stood a sight I had only ever seen once or twice, my mom, my dad and our tutor were sitting around the dinner table on a night that was not lit by a full moon and boy did they seem pissed.

My mother was the first to notice my arrival. Any kid who had ever crossed to far over a line knows that their mother is generally the absolute last person you want to know about such an occurrence and I about to receive my first lesson in why that was so. I’ve caused trouble before, make no mistake, but the reactions of my tutor and parents had always been to force me to think the even through, exploring all of the possibilities and brutally point out things I missed, errors in my logic and generally make sure that I learned from what I had done but this time there was only the slightest trace of understanding in Selene’s opaline eyes. No, what was there now was pure cold fury and I saw it reflected in the eyes of both my father and tutor as well.

“What” Selene said quietly “exactly, were you and your cousin doing in the air below Olympus with Stormwing feathers of all things?”

‘Shit’ I thought my eyes becoming perfectly round. ‘This is most defiantly not good.’

“You have no idea, Artemis.” My mother said coldly.

It was then, as my jaw dropped that I started to put it together. We had never covered old Greek mythology in any great detail with Ms. Dawnson but I did still have her lessons drilled into my head none the less. I knew all of the names of the “Greek Eternals’ as Ms. Dawnson called them, their parents, their children and a basic idea of what each represented. Selene was the name of the titan goddess of the moon. In myths she always visited her current lover under the caress of the full moon. Not having in Zueses war with Kronos, Selene had been allowed to continue to walk the earth freely until her powers were later usurped by Artemis, the maiden goddess and daughter of Zeus. My namesake. The heroes in all of the storied had always had one godly parent and one human one; they were the half-bloods. I was a half-blood. The half-blood son of a Titan.

“So, Uncle Helios is The Helios of Greek mythology and you” I indicated my mother “are the Lady Selene, the moon titan.” I said quietly.

“Figured it out have you?” my dad said. No one spoke up to quiet him. Man was I in deep.

“Yeah, bit of a shock. I should have known though, the moment I started seeing the myths coming alive around me.” I slumped into a chair. I looked up at my mom. “I doubt a review of my actions would be of much use here? Should I bow? Is there some sort of penance ritual I’ll need to do? I’m frankly at a loss right now.”

“Oh no, you aren’t getting out of another performance review, but the damage has already been done. As amusing as it would sound in any other context, your cousin twice removed, Artemis the goddess has been set to hunt you two down. My brother can keep yours and your cousin’s movements from the eyes of Zeus and Apollo, but no one evades the huntress. No, you two are going to have to go to the camp and turn yourselves in; before she finds you. And fates help you if Athena has taken interest. My nephew is an idiot but his daughter is an entirely different story. I’ve muddied the waters, as it were, but unless the two of you stay within your respective apartments and never use the phones, one of them will find you eventually. I feel it’ll be sooner rather than later though, neither of you are the type to hide away from the world, especially if there’s an adventure waiting for you.” She paused and then frowned “Come to think of it though, I’d be kind of disgusted if you were that type of person.”

I sank further in my chair. I was royally screwed. Sink under house arrest for the rest of my life or be hunted by Artemis and Athena? Choices, choices. “We’ll make our way to camp half-blood.” I said after a long uncomfortable silence. “Are there any strengths or weaknesses Aurora and I should look out for?”

My mother smiled. Closing her eyes, she began to chant, her voice carrying a great deal of power. As they rang through the apartment the eerie words embedded themselves into my memory.
“Push and pull, yin and yang
In my absence your powers wane
A traveler lost to endless night
May find their love beneath my light
And dare not to move below the ground
For there my light cannot be found
But if you look deep into your night
You may find an inner light”
“Umm… yeah. I’ll think on that. What about Aurora?”
“You see the world as endless fun
Fall with the night rise with the sun
Be always wary of the deep ones ire
Child of light who plays with fire
Learn to sail on the falcons crest
By the light of day you’ll never rest”
“You know, I think I hate riddles.”
“Your loss Artemis” my dad replied.
“Mmm... now for your review. Tell me everything. ”


Three hours of talking later I stumbled into bed humiliated. So many mistakes. I looked at the bedside clock and saw it was almost 2 am. I had been up for nearly three days straight and it seemed we had left a trail a mile wide. We’d be lucky if lady Artemis didn’t show up tomorrow. Of course she’d have to know what to look for, did gods keep track of mortal information channels? Probably; my blog was being wiped, every IP I had ever visited was being fed a miniature virus, Aurora’s dad would be visiting the greyhound bus companies’ offices tomorrow and dad would be working on inscribing a new set of cell phones with ancient runes.
Despite my exhaustion my mind was still spinning over my review. Mom had been incredibly interested in the ship we had followed, The Princess Andromeda. But why, it was pretty obviously a neutral ground for half bloods and magical creatures wasn’t it? But then why was that dog afraid of us? I reviewed everything I had heard the creatures say regarding the ships half-bloods. They had been derisive and crude, as if they thought half-blood’s weren’t worth the air they breathed until they proved otherwise…
Could it be the dogs fear? That would certainly highlight us to a hunter… it couldn’t be that simple, though that would be problematic in of itself. Was it the buzzing we felt since stepping on the ship? I had figured that was just background noise from all of the magical creatures, but what if it was something more?
Such thoughts whirling around my head endlessly I groaned and stood up. Walking over to my desk I flipped open my laptop and started typing into word pad. When I looked up I saw the riddles my mom had given me. Sighing I hit print and went to bed, finally falling asleep.

Noon, a week later.
I had spent the last week trying to puzzle out my mother’s poems. This was made harder by the dual fact that being cooped up inside with ADHD and the return of my dyslexia as the full moon neared. It was therefore a welcome distraction when uncle Helios teleported in behind me. I was reciting my poem to myself when the room was suddenly filled with blinding red and gold light and an intense wave of heat. This had happened three times this last week; every time Aurora wanted to visit. As the vortex of flame cleared I saw Aurora standing next to a tall guy who had every appearance of being 19. Uncle Helios hated looking old, ever since the both of us had found out the ‘family secret’ he had practically refused to look older than 25 years old.
“Hey moony!” Aurora chirped “How’s the puzzling going? Figure out what we’re going to inherit yet?”
“Slow going, firecracker.” I returned “yours is easier than mine, so I’ll start there. ‘You see the world as endless fun’, that one’s pretty obvious. You see reasons to play in almost everything. The second and sixth lines are a bit more specific. ‘sink with the night, rise with the sun’ and ‘by light of day you’ll never rest’ refer to your dads influence, you gain energy from your father and while you’re in his presence you may as well be chugging caffeine, while at night it costs you more to do something than a normal person. Line three is a little confusing though, ‘be wary of the deep ones ire’, there are multiple ‘deep ones’ in Greek mythology so I really don’t know who you should try to avoid. Line four ‘child of light who plays with fire’ refer to who your dad is and infer something about your powers, I’m thinking pyrokinesis. Line five however, I’m blanking on.”
“My riddle is, as I said, harder.” I said breaking from ‘lecture mode’ as Aurora called it, to frown. “I had thought the first line ‘push and pull, yin and yang’ might mean I had telekinesis, but I haven’t been able to move anything yet. Maybe I just need a trigger or something…” I paused, frowning again, and continued. “‘In my absence your powers wane’ was much simpler. As with your dad, my mom’s power is tied to a celestial body, the moon. As the moon waxes and wanes my power rises and falls accordingly, I’ve kind of already noticed this over the years because I’ve always been more excitable and energetic just before and after mom’s visits on the full moons. The next two lines make no sense separately but a lot together when placed beside my research into Selene.” I paused and took a breath before reciting again. “‘A traveler lost to endless night may find their love beneath my light’. Mom was known in mythology for helping lost travelers find their way and often the paths she led them out on brought them to someone they could have great romances with.”
Aurora grinned, “That explains all of the ‘romance novels’ she’s always writing. Do you think she could give Aphrod…”
“Don’t say the name!” Helios suddenly barked. “Security barriers drop when an immortals name is uttered by one who knows of their existence! Our bastard aunt is NOT someone you want noticing you.”
Aurora was shocked for a moment and suddenly looked down shamefaced. “Yes, sir” she whispered.
I had never seen Aurora so much as flustered, had something happened recently? I’d have to talk to her privately sometime soon. “May I continue sir?” there was still an aura of malice in the air but somehow I knew it wasn’t directed at me or Aurora. Helios nodded. “The next two lines went together pretty nicely as well and provided a warning for me as far as I can figure. Probably for you too, Aurora.” And then I closed my eyes and recited “‘dare not to move below the ground, for there my light cannot be found’. Best I can figure it’s a warning about our powers and not going below ground level anywhere. The last two lines however I’ve been completely unable to decipher. ‘But if you look deep into your night, you may find an inner light’.” I frowned as I repeated the last two lines of my own riddle.
“What about meditation?” Aurora asked. “We’ve been doing it in martial arts for the last few months; it’s the only time I’ve ever sat still for more than 5 minutes”
“You stayed still for nearly half an hour while we were stalking Percy” I shot back smiling slightly.
“That was different and you know it!”
“Different how?” I asked twitching my eyebrows suggestively.
“It’s not like that you prat! It was cold and dark and I was tired!”
“But wouldn’t that be all the more reason to move? It’d help keep you warm if nothing else.”
“I’m going to kill you for this later, twerp,” Aurora growled from the couch. “”


Sitting on Hera’s throne in Olympus as a male will get you turned into a girl. Sitting on her throne as a female, whether you were originally male or not, and she’ll turn you into a peacock and stable you outside her cabin in camp half-blood.

Artemis Gent; difficult to anger, impossible to restrain.

It was a cool night and the moon was full. Smiling I walked down to the shore of the canoe pond. Stopping at the edge of the pond, the water up to my ankles, I kneeled down and ran my fingers across the water. As a miniature wave washed over my hand I looked out across the surface of the water. It has been calm last I looked, what had happened? As it turned out I wasn’t the only one who thought about taking an early morning stroll, Percy Jackson was piloting his canoe around the opposite side of the lake at high speeds without oars. I smirked, it was about time someone outside the family actively practiced using their powers, it was a good way to work out various frustrations.
Closing my eyes I drew in a deep breath and held it for a second before releasing, centering myself. Feeling the inner power my mom granted to me I extended my hand toward the surface of the lake and began practicing. Push and pull, back and forth; Aurora still teased me about using a kids TV series as a basis for learning to control our parents gifts, but it worked! The pratt took far too much pleasure in teasing me mercilessly.
Push and pull, back and forth. As the wave began to rise I made a scooping motion and separated the raised body of water into a large globe which slowly began tracing patterns in the air around me as I moved through the forms. Splitting the liquid comet into four evenly sized streams I stepped onto the water and began walking; sweat beginning to form across my temples. Perhaps four was too many?
As I continued to work on my control, almost dancing across the surface of the pond, I missed Percy stopping his canoe less than 20 feet away. An unexpected surge of water broke me from the pattern I had worked out. Spinning around I slammed my palm into the forefront of the jet of eater and pushed. The cone of lake water exploded into a spray of small drops, showering Percy with his own water. Naturally the kid didn’t even have the decency to get wet.
“How are you able to do this? My dad is one of the big three, god of sea! Your mothers the moon, how do you get away with using water better than me?” The kid looked sullen; I guess things must not be going well with Anabeth…
I shrugged, “I practice a lot, unlike you Olympian-wannabes.” Turning away from him I moved my feet back into position to start over and noticed that I was no longer standing on the water but almost up to my knees in it. Sighing I focused my powers and brought myself back up to the surface when Percy started talking again.
“It’s things like that” he said irritably, pointing at my feet, now on top of the water. “I single-handedly sail a galleon across the sea of monsters, direct currents and breath underwater, but that works for me, my dad is the sea god...”
“One of the sea gods.” I interrupted absentmindedly. The fifteen year old glared at me before continuing.
“One of the sea gods, then. But your mother is the moon, what does that have to do with water and how you blocked my water spout?” The kids arms were crossed and he looked angry.
“As you keep repeating my mom is the moon, as a celestial body what do you think it’s purpose is? You’re the son of the sea, this one should be quite familiar to you.” I was being rude, but the kid was being obstinate and standing on water without moving was tiring. Percy’s eyes narrowed as he replied.
“The moon causes tidal flow, but Lady Arte…”
“Cousin Artemis is responsible for an abstract concept bound to a magical artifact known as the moon chariot, which your father helped your uncle steal for his precious daughter.” I said quietly, looking darkly at Percy from the corner of my eye. “My cousin may use the moon as a symbol and claim the credit for its glory, but while she draws a measure of power from the moon, my mother IS the moon personified.” I looked at Percy who’s mouth was open in shock, It wasn’t often someone openly disparaged the Olympians and lived to talk about it. Percy himself was one but that had been a supervised spar with the god of war, such as he was. Mom was probably going to berate me later for all of this but the kid just kept talking, what was I supposed to do? “Anyways, ” I continued, my voice still calm, but not quite so grating “there’s a lot of things associated with the moon and I’m still trying to figure out what will and won’t work and what could have active applications, what you’re asking me about here, this control over water, is a more specific use of what I’ve found to be the primary power, push and pull. And if you don’t mind, I’m going to continue walking. You wouldn’t expect it to be, but it’s more difficult to stand on the water than it is to walk on it.”
Turning away from Percy I flexed by power and began skating across the surface of the pond, the younger kids’ canoe keeping pace a little behind me. “So, why is it easier for you to move across the water than stand on it?” The kid asked curiously. Excellent, a neutral question where I could go into lecture mode without people getting mad at me.
“Surface tension.” I replied, turning around while keeping up the ‘figure skater’ routine. “Ever wonder why when you fall into the water from a foot or so you slip in easily with a simple splash but when you fall from 50 feet or more it’s like slamming into a brick wall? Same principle, when standing still the water has a much lower surface tension so I have to pull more water towards my feet to keep up a stable platform, but when moving the water is harder and I can use less mass for the same effect.”
“How are you learning all of this? You’ve only been here for a few months and your mom hasn’t visited since you tried to bunk in the Artemis cabin.” Percy asked sounding incredulous.
“…”
“What?” he asked, confused by my gaze and utter lack of response.
“…You’ll laugh at me.” I replied deadpan. Percy raised an eyebrow, incredulous.
“Why would I laugh? If you’re this good with water I could really use your advice! And I still don’t get how you stopped my waterspout.”
“…There’s this children’s show… Avatar the Last Air-bender.” I said haltingly, watching for the expression I knew would come. “The primary girl uses the power of the moon to fight with water, her control centering around push and pull. It looked familiar so I tried i… STOP LAUGHING!” I shouted, my control over my powers breaking for a moment and blasting Percy backwards into the lake, still laughing as he hit the silt at the bottom, and sending his canoe skipping and shattering across the surface of the pond, towards the peer.
​

 

Hermione sat by Harry’s bed in the hospital wing, eyes red and twin muddy tracks in the dust on her face. Harry was the best friend she had ever had—the only true friend she had ever had—and, because of her, he was lying here hurt. Because she had gone back to help that bully Ronald Weasley, rather than simply dividing the black fire potion between them. How could she have been so stupid? Hermione knew she wasn’t really to fault, but her sadness, and what she suspected to be a mild form of survivor’s guilt wouldn’t let her mind rest. He just looked so helpless lying there. Hurt. Because she hadn’t been strong enough…

Shaking her head, bushy hair flying, Hermione rubbed the tears off her cheeks and turned her thoughts to what Dumbledore had told her when he had brought Harry out of the traps to the hospital wing. Lord Voldemort was a wraith, a sort of unconcentrated malevolent ghost that, instead of being incorporeal like the school ghosts or solid like Peeves, existed as a black sulfurous smoke that was able to possess and control people. She briefly remembered at the beginning of the year, when she first learned that ghosts were real, finding a book in the school library that talked about different types of spirits and how the ministry regulated them. Surely researching such things would be more helpful to her best and only friend than sitting by his bed crying like a useless ninny? Getting up, the bucktoothed brunette placed a small kiss in Harry’s forehead, patted Ron’s arm, and left the ward.

Three hours later, and some help from Madam Pince, the young witch found the book she was looking for. Thanking the woman profusely, Hermione received a rare smile from the old crone as she skipped off toward the hospital wing once more. Hermione spent the next three days reading, ignoring Ron who had woken up fully healed the first day, and only leaving Harry’s side to eat and sleep. The book was fascinating, full of spells and rituals used to control, harm, banish, ward against and bind specters and spirits across the last thousand years. Madam Pince had insisted this was the tome the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures: Spirit Division used whenever they needed to deal with a particularly pushy ghost or violent poltergeist.

Reading through the book carefully, Hermione learned about a wide variety of things, such as how to do a proper séance, how to force a ghost to ‘move on’, banish inferi, the proper way to collect various types of ectoplasm and references for potions it could be used in, seven different ways to ward yourself against possession and even the basic theory behind Lich and their Phylacteries, items which were mentioned to be the basis for the creation of Horcruxes, an item the book refused to elaborate on due to its dark and horrible nature, even when compared to the rest of the book’s contents.

That’s probably what Voldemort is using to be a ghost, Hermione groused as she reread the chapter on Lich and the accompanying reference. It’s dark and horrible beyond belief, so much so that even a necromantic text refuses to mention it, that’s exactly the type of thing he’d do, assuming he could ever figure out how.

After five days of reading and rereading, Hermione was confident she knew what to do. Harry had woken up that morning and, as someone with a close connection to the offending spirit, would be an incredibly powerful talisman in the ritual she was considering. Now, she just had to get Harry to go along with it.

Hermione put several locking charms on the empty classroom she had set up the rituals in as well as an anti-poltergeist ward to keep Peeves from doing anything disastrous and went to find Harry. He was in the boys’ dormitory, flipping slowly and longingly through that scrapbook of his parents Hagrid had made when she found him and it caused her to shake her head in melancholy, her own eyes tearing up slightly as she remembered what her friend had suffered because of Lord Voldemort, what he had lost.

“Hello Harry,” she said quietly, hoping not to startle him.

“Oh, hello Hermione,” he said looking up with red, puffy eyes and a smile. “I was just looking through Hagrid’s scrap book again; see this one here? It’s their wedding. She looks so happy here. Dad’s wearing some funky robes and mom’s dress looks like those funny togas you see in old movies about Rome. I can imagine her as a goddess,” he added, face grinning and tear-stained.

Hermione moved to sit on the bed beside him and looked through the pictures as well, examining each one as Harry pointed out his favorites. It was warm and beautifully sad feeling as Hermione sat there with him, being shown a softer side to Harry, being trusted with something so private and special. It just made her all the more determined to do what she had planned and prepared all week for.

“Harry…” Hermione said hesitantly, looking into his eyes for several long seconds before bowing her head and continuing. “What if I were to tell you I’d found a way to make Voldemort pay for what he did to your parents?” She looked up slowly and was caught by serious and intense gaze unlike any she had seen from her friend before. She trembled slightly, feeling as if she was being judged and felt a streak of fear at what he might decide. Would he find her worthy? She’d hate to lose the friendship between them for any reason.

“What do you mean?” the boy before her asked slowly, his voice level and emotionless.

“Well, since Professor Dumbledore told me how Voldemort escaped at the end of your battle with Professor Quierrel, I’ve been doing research in the library. I’d found reference to books and spells the ministry was supposed to use to control ghosts and spirits in passing before and wondered if there was something more concrete to it, so I asked Madam Pince and she found this for me,” she explained in a rush, pulling out the thick hide bound book. Harry took it from her and opened up the first of her book marks, indicating the ritual for summoning existing malevolent specters.

Harry read the next two bookmarked pages quietly while Hermione fidgeted beside him on the bed. She was glad he hadn’t pulled away or started yelling at her and it gave her hope that their relationship just might continue, but this long silence was beginning to scare her.

“Hermione?” Harry asked, his voice hesitant, heavy with something Hermione was sure was sorrow and not a little bit of fear.

“Yes?” she asked, nervous energy building in her own gut as well at the green eyed boy’s demeanor.

“Do you think there’s a spell in this book that could allow me to talk to my parents?” Their eyes met and Hermione’s heart almost broke at the depth of sadness, longing, and strangely, most frighteningly, hope, in those brilliant emerald orbs.

“Oh, Harry, I don’t know,” she said, looking down and hugging him tightly. “It references a few divinations that can allow you to speak to the dead who didn’t leave ghosts, but it doesn’t list any actual details because the ministry deems most necromancy to be illegal.”

“Oh,” he said looking down to hide fresh tears. “I suppose what we’re about to do is illegal as well?”

“No, Harry,” Hermione replied, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing lightly “just restricted. There’s a department in the control and regulation of magical creatures that uses these spells to police ghosts and those who deal with them. If we’re caught we’ll get in trouble for not having licensed supervision, but not for doing it to begin with. On your first question though, Hogwarts is supposed to have a divination teacher and a divination class as an elective in our third years, perhaps after were done with Voldemort we could go and ask the professors about it?”

Hermione’s heart clenched painfully at the tremulous smile Harry gave her at the suggestion.

“So, I suppose you want my help on this?” he asked softly after several minutes sitting there.

“Yes,” Hermione nodded. “First off, because I don’t think I’m going to be powerful enough for the ritual I’ve set up for us to do and could use the support, second because your experiences with Voldemort previously in both a living and unliving capacity would make you a powerful totem for allowing us to draw him in, and finally because I think you deserve to be a part of this. A part of his downfall… something is keeping him alive and none of them described methods are in any ways pleasant and several of them are quite alarming.”

Harry looked again at the bookmarked pages and then looked her straight in the eye. “You want to put him in a box?” he asked incredulously.

Hermione blushed furiously under his gaze. “Yes,” she said defiantly, “If whatever method he’s using to keep himself around won’t let us send him to the other side, I plan to put him in this and burry it on holy ground.” She said pulling a shiny pink plastic pencil case covered in rhinestones.

Harry snickered, snorted and then broke out laughing hysterically as he stared at the container Hermione had proffered. “Harry,” Hermione whined after several minutes of this “please don’t laugh! It’s not that funny…” Harry gave her an incredulous look and she relented slightly, “Well, ok, I guess it is, but I’d intended it to be more humiliating than amusing. See here,” she said opening the box and pointing to the runes painted on the inside of the container “this is an old Greek binding for what’s known as a doom box, sort of a container for any kind of mystical nasty’s in the area. According to the book it can also hold corrupted souls such as poltergeists, wraiths and dementors.”

Harry nodded as Hermione showed him the page and began explaining how it worked. She could see he was losing interest as the details wore on, but that he allowed her to speak where others would cut her off or blatantly stop paying attention made her feel special.

Half an hour later, the pair of them were down in the room she had prepared for the occasion and Harry was fingering the ring of salt with interest.

“I’ve got to ask,” the tousle-haired boy said, turning to her, “why salt?”

“The honest answer?” Hermione replied, looking up from her book as she reread the instructions for the hundredth time “I don’t know. The book said something about purity, but it also mentions how ghosts have trouble crossing running water, as if it were somehow difficult for them so my best guess is it has something to do with electricity. You can’t use most muggle technology in magical areas because the magic enhances electrical currents in a random manner causing shorts, arcs and occasionally explosions or electrical fires, so perhaps the ionized particles in that make up most salts are dampened by the grains being too close. It would also explain the water thing. More than likely though there’s probably something mystical about salt I just don’t understand right now.”

Harry nodded as he took that in and Hermione smiled before turning back to her book. Reading it one last time to make absolutely certain she hadn’t miss-memorized something, she motioned for Harry to take his place and began. Moving her wand in the pattern prescribed by the book Hermione began chanting, tapping her wand against the various ingredients and runes to activate them before motioning to Harry. Nodding Harry used the silver potions knife, an athame, to open his finger and draw a symbol in the center of the circle while she held the book open to a picture of it for him. “Blood of the victim, spilt in wrath, I summon my persecutor. Spirit of the damned, by this most holy of rites I bind you to this circle and bid you come before me. So I have said, so mote it be, so I have bled, so mote it be, so I have entreated, so mote it be.”

As Harry stood there, the circle of salt began to glow with an eerie, dappled teal light. A feeling of power built in the room as unnoticed by them a storm built in the formerly clear, sunny sky. Then, as the power peaked in the room, causing the furniture to creak and groan under the pressure of the magic in the area, a small black dot tore itself into existence above the rune Harry had drawn and black smoke began to billow out of it, screaming bloody murder.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. Talk about clichés, Hermione thought, slightly shell-shocked at the sheer amount of power Harry had just been made to expend.

“Potter!”

Hermione shuddered as the voice slid over her, high and cold. The smoke had only spoken a single word, but even still it was enough to make her feel sullied and dirty. How had Harry managed to escape a conversation with this thing without vomiting?

“Voldemort,” Harry replied, fury boiling though his voice despite its lack of volume. God, she hoped he would never speak to her like that.

“How is it that you, a boy of eleven with no extraordinary magical talent have managed to summon me here?” the specter asked, snarling as it surged forward, grinding its shadowy face against a translucent barrier directly over the salt line.

“That would probably have something to do with my friend Hermione,” Harry said coolly, gesturing towards her. “People don’t call her the smartest witch in our year for nothing.”

Voldemort rounded on her, seeming to study her, though it had no eyes. Or throat and tongue for that matter, but for all that it was still managing to speak. “Stupid meddling mudblood bitch!” it snarled, before turning back to Harry. “She’s just like your mother, interfering where she isn’t wanted. I spared her this time, like I offered to spare your own mother, but no more. Next time she will die screaming while you watch, Potter. It’s fitting I think, your own mother died the same way!”

Harry’s eyes, angry before, were absolutely frightening now. “Hermione. Forget the spell and hand me that box. This bastard doesn’t deserve a chance at peace.”

Nodding jerkily Hermione rushed around the table, extracting the pink pencil case from her messenger bag and handing it to him. “You’re right, Voldemort, it is fitting. A mudblood very near and dear to me deprived you of your body and ended your reign of terror, and now another similar mudblood is going to ensure that you never hurt anyone ever again, once again using me as the tool to do it. Enjoy eternity, asshole,” Harry spat as he took the box from her and opened it within the salt line. Voldemort screamed. Without lungs or vocal chords to limit him, he screamed horrible, terrified and agonized screams as he was drawn into the lurid pink plastic, growing smaller and smaller until he was finally compressed within and the lid snapped tight shut.

Over the next century, the occasional person would stumble across a horcrux and become possessed. Each one tried to become a dark lord in their own right, following in the footsteps of their creator and each summarily died at the hands of Harry and Hermione Potter; but Harry’s remaining six years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were relatively peaceful. There was a little bit of turbulence in his second year with the diary and the third with the return of his Godfather, but both events were quickly resolved by the duo, neither lasting much past Christmas.

 

Ginnevra Molly Weasley paced the seventh floor corridor of Hogwarts in a towering passion of fury and confusion. How could Harry not want to come back to Hogwarts? How, after everything was said and done, could he not want to start their relationship back up again? She had thought at first that she had simply missed him on the train ride up, but no. She hadn't simply missed him, he'd not even been on the train. When Pigwidgeon came back with his reply saying that he needed to a break to work things out and that he was heading out on a world tour, she had nearly screamed herself hoarse. Only being in the middle of the Great Hall at dinner time had stopped her from doing so.

As the door to the room of requirement burst open, Ginny rushed in. Harry was Her true love, and she was his, he just needed to see that. Her mother had needed to trick their father with a love potion to get their relationship on track, so she would have to do something similar. Unfortunately Love Potions took about a month to brew, required the target to be nearby to drink it. It could be done by mail of course, but having time away to work through the feelings involved has a long history of not working out particularly well. No, what Ginny needed was a spell, something that would show Harry what true love was, that would turn him back to her and let him off gently. If there was on thing she had learned from her time observing her lover it was that he did NOT like to be forced into something.

As the room morphed around her, trying it's best to fit her shifting, erratic and highly dangerous desires Ginny finally settled on a plan. A ritual would work best, it had to be ritual, simply due to the distance and lack of present target to focus on. It would have to be subtle too; something that would help Harry come back to her. Something that would help him understand what true love really meant.

With that final thought, her direction and mind set a large book set on a reading stand appeared in the middle of the room. It was opened to a ritual already. “To help a friend find True Love.” She read off the top with a victorious grin. This was exactly what she needed. She'd need to ask the house elves tomorrow if there was something she could do to thank the room for it's help, but for now, she had a ritual to prepare for. Reading the directions thoroughly she found she'd need something of Harry's and a picture of him to work as the focus. A lot of the other ingredients she could get from the students supply room and the rest from Professors Slughorn, Sprout and Hagrid.

Ginny shuddered at that last one. As much as she loved the great teddy bear, Hagrid desperately needed lesson on how to actually teach his subject. Monsters were all well and good, and he was quite knowledgeable, but the manner in which he presented everything and his near refusal to go over the 'boring creatures' needed a lot of work.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Harry was in his vault packing things for his trip. He probably wouldn't need so much as the Potter's own meager fortune, letalone Sirius Black Family Trust, so he ended up leaving most of it there. He took a lot of the gems and one of the smaller mountains of gold coins, but left the vast hoard behind. Most of what he was interested in were potential utility items and mementos. His mothers Library of self edited books, Sirius collection of enchanted weaponry (both magical and muggle) and Bonville T120 flying Motorbike, Jame's notebook of Marauders inventions and processes and another similar book from George Weasley, this one enchanted to update as George's own did. He had put them all and a great number of Black and Potter Heirlooms and the contents of his trunk in a backpack enchanted for him by Hermione. He was messing with his FireBolt broom and contemplating whether or not he should take Hermione's advice and add a selection of potions ingredients to his inventory alongside the muggleborns personally selected Library when reality split behind him.

A soft blue light from Ginny's ritual engulfed him before he even knew what happened and Harry Potter and his backpack disappeared from the world forever. All that was left when the Goblins came to check the vault ten years later was a blackened and still smoking outline, blasted into the floor.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Harry's arrival in Arendelle was spectacularly unremarkable. There was no buildup, strange weather, fearful omens or even flash of light and accompanying uncomfortable feeling of inter-dimensional travel as usually followed wizarding transportation. In fact, the transportation from his vault to the shore of the new world was so sudden Harry didn't even notice anything had changed until the cold hit him with the ocean breeze a couple of seconds later. Looking around in shock Harry could see first that he hadn't been noticed by anyone during his transition to this... place.

Where was here? Why was he here? What had caused him to spontaneously travel from his Vault under all sorts of incredible magical security, to the docks of what looked to be a medieval town. Or perhaps early colonial, postindustrial town might be more accurate. The cloth work was fine and intricate in a way that hadn't been seen on the common masses before industrial looms. So sayeth Hermione anyways. The beautiful bookish brunette was always full of interesting little things like that.

He watched with casual interest as the ship continued to load and a kindly looking woman climbed the gangway with a man in regal finery and a purple cape. A King? He's have said ridiculous, but well, how had he gotten here in the first place? That was utterly ridiculous.

He reached into his pocket and remembered with a mental twinge of pain that he'd left his wand on a night stand beside a set of armor he was debating the utility of while he played with his broomstick. Damn! That meant the only wand he had access to was the Elder wand, which had kept appearing to him despite his attempts to bury or destroy the damn thing. It was now in the bottom of his backpack along with his invisibility cloak and the resurrection stone which had insisted on following him as well. On the upside this meant that the elder wand would likely die with him, no one knew he was here, he had no idea where here was and he had no idea of there were any wizards here. Unlikely, but then so was traveling through time without warning.

And space as well, though how much he was still uncertain.

He stood there trying to imagine what to do as the ship took off, sailing towards what looked like a sea gate. He looked down at his broom and shrugged. Well, he'd wanted to get away... It just annoyed him that he hadn't been able to do it himself. It would certainly make anyone trying to catch up with him much harder at least. Whirling around he mounted the magically cushioned wood and took off, missing the open mouthed stare of Princesses Anna and Elsa as he flew past their their windows on his way out of town.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Anna watched in astonishment as the strange boy who had appeared beside her parents ship put the broom he was holding between his legs and took off into the air like a bird. She had to tell Elsa about this! Perhaps it would be enough to finally drag her sister out of hiding! She rushed through the castle toward her sisters door and knocked on it frantically. “Elsa! Yoohoo! Have I got a story for you! You won't believe what I've just seen!”

To her great surprise, Elsa actually opens the door. Anna backs up a little in surprise as the almost manic look of excited enthusiasm on here sisters face. “It was a boy in robes on a broomstick, right? And he was flying through the air!”

“How did you knooow..?” Anna asked, torn between elation that her sister was nearly out of her room and talking to her once more, disappointment that she couldn't be the one to spill the news and confusion over Elsa's own reaction to it.

“I saw him!” she crowed. “He flew past, outside my window. I thought for a moment I might have gone insane!” she giggled, the rushed back into her room, grabbing stuff and putting it in a bag. “Where do you think he was going?” she called over her shoulder.

“Umm... Elsa.” Anna hesitated. It seemed obvious to her that her sister was in love, and she really didn't want to break her heart, but it seemed unlikely even to her that her sister would be able to keep up with a flying man. Letalone find or follow him. “Up.” She said simply, “and south I think. Elsa, why do you think you need to follow him? How would you even follow him? He's flying!”

Elsa froze in her tracks, and Anna was astonished to see ice forming on the ground beneath her sisters feet. She felt a headache coming on. “I'm sorry, Anna, I can't explain it, I... I just need to. Alright?”

Still looking at the floor under her sisters feet Anna nodded. “I think I understand, but he was still flying. Also, I think there's something else you should know.” Elsa turned around to look at her younger sister, pain and hope in her eyes. “He appeared beside our parents ship whilst I was watching them from the walls. He didn't walk up, or fly in, he just appeared, and looked confused. I... I think he might come back soon. If there's magic involved... I don't think you chasing after him will work very well...”

Elsa looked at her sister and then came over and hugged her. Then, taking her by the shoulders Elsa said. “I love you Anna, I never stopped. But you have to understand, I can take care of myself.”

Anna looked to the side around her sisters back “I got the feeling, yeah.” she said, staring at the growing pattern of frost.

Elsa followed her gaze and squeaked, jumping back, her hands now on her cheeks, gazing fearfully at Anna. She calmed down when Anna just looked at her, an odd expression on her face. “This is why you hid yourself away?” she asked.

Elsa nodded. “You hurt me somehow didn't you?”

Elsa nodded again. “I forgive you.”

Elsa stared at her sister in shock.

“What?” Anna asked. “It makes perfect sense! We were always so close as girls, and then you just shut me out all of a sudden on a night I can only remember part of! Father was always worrying about something and mother was muttering about her sister, I didn't even know mom had a sister, so I thought maybe you were sick or something! Perhaps it was a family curse or sickness you didn't want me to catch! But now I see you've just been being silly and protective and I can understand because I feel the same way about you!” she paused “At least I think that's right, because I really don't know what you're thinking and...”

Elsa was hugging her again and Anna quickly shut up and returned the hug.

“So...” Elsa said awkwardly, “You think he'll come back?”

Anna giggled. “I don't think he'll have a choice. I've read a lot of books while you've been shutting yourself away and none of the stories about magic give their victims much of a choice about things. The way he just appeared? Yeah, I think he'll be back.”

At this, they broke apart again. “So...” Anna said slyly, “Do you wanna build a snowman?”

Elsa put her face in her velvet gloved hands. Her sister was totally incorrigible.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Flying up and around, mentally mapping the area Harry quickly figured out that the town he'd appeared in was in southern Norway, but it was like no Norway he had ever read about. It was more like the Norway Luna had described, with it's magical towns still using long houses and classical Norse architecture. There was also the problem that he hadn't seen a single modern building, boat or aircraft in his entire week of searching, even moving four hundred kilometers and hour for most of the day. Norway, Sweden, Finland, Denmark, Germany, France and finally back to England and good old London....

Except that London was much smaller, had no suburbs and was made of wood. Further, there was no Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley was called 'the Bazaar' and much smaller, Buckingham Palace had Wards and Prince Henry was at Hogwarts, which wasn't so much a castle as a very large wooden hotel and lecture hall in the middle of a forest filled with dangerous magical creatures. The year was also 1132. There weren’t seven years of instruction either, but a rather odd and complicated system of apprenticeships and tutoring which had been developed by the students rather than the four masters. Rowena the raven-clawed which turned out not to be a name but rather a reference to her ability to shape-shift into an enormous black bird somewhat resembling a raven, taught Arithmancy, Divination, transfiguration and charms. Godric of Dorne was a muggleborn and former Irish spell-sword who taught monster slaying, creature taming, Runes and defense along side being famous for Riding a Griffon into battle. Salazar of the Fen was a Pureblood from Boston in south east England, near where the chunnel would have been in modern times, he taught Potions, Herbology, warding, alchemy and ritual and occasionally partnered with Godric of Dorne in his classes on magical creatures, most particularly on the uses the slain or domesticated beasts could be put to. Finally there was Helga Hufflepuff, a welsh born half blood, and apparently the only one whom Hogwarts a History actually named correctly. She taught Healing, blood magic and partnered with Salazar in potions, Rowena in Divination and Godric in runes as well as bringing in the castle's House Elves, which turned out to be Brownies, little Fey creatures that literally lived to work and fed on honey and barley.

Helga also turned out to be an expert legillimancer, something she put to great use in mothering all of the four masters enclaves of apprentices, seeing through her patients bullshit and helping Godric and Salazar deal with the magical animals that surrounded the castle, both as a defense and as a means of gathering magical ingredients. Especially the blood, of which she used heavily in her own magic to a degree which Harry thought equaled any wand.

As much as he would have liked to Stay however, on the ninth day of his leaving the spell which had brought him to Arendelle brought him back, and did so again every ninth day after that. Just like Anna had predicted.

Upon arriving in Arendelle the third time Harry decided that whatever magic had brought him here really wasn't going to allow him to leave. Considering what he knew about curses, the big ones as opposed to the nastier hexes he was used to, he considered himself lucky that this one was at least gentle in its insistence that he abide by its terms. Whatever had banished him through time (or possibly dimensions, Hermione-isms again) hadn't left him with any sort of warnings in the form of headaches, injuries, loss of magic or special punishments he was aware of and even seemed to be allowing him to travel, so long as he didn't stay away too long or go too far. Regardless, He really needed to figure out what was going on. What was so special about the Norse kingdom? Why was he constantly being brought back there? What had brought him in the first place?

Stowing his broom in his backpack he wondered around town, wondering what to do. He didn't really have a whole lot of skills to speak of. He was a good teacher, but there was really no one to teach defensive magic too nearby and he wasn't sure he wanted to test the curse out by going to Horwarts and teaching there eight days out of his apparent nine day cycle. He was a good fighter, but there wasn't really anyone to fight. The magical beasts of the area were all kept at bay by the rock trolls and the Fey leaders. He supposed he could travel the peninsula and collect muggleborns like the four founders, but that would still require him to base himself here in Arendelle and he wasn't entirely sure how good an idea that would be. Durmstrang for example was in southern Finland, not Norway and he didn't remember one having been started here. It was possible he supposed, but how much dare he change time? Or did that even matter? He'd gone really far back, simply being here was likely to have an enormous ripple effect, but then there was the subject of Georges inventory journal, which had kept updating and now contained a page in the front which he held conversations with the last twin on. That had been a bit of a shock, but it lend credence to Hermione's recitation of the muggle multiple universe theory.

Far more important however was the simple fact that Harry couldn't read or speak Norwegian. Ancient or otherwise. Hell, it had been hard enough to understand the High English of 1132 when he spoke to the founders and their students. That at least had been solved by Helga and her blood magic and Salazar and his parceltongue, but he wasn't sure who to really trust in Arendelle to do Hufflepuff's blood ritual with. Eventually he simply accosted a lone man in the mountains and performed the knowledge transfer with him and tried his best to ignore the screaming about sorcery and begging for mercy.

When he returned do Arendelle a day later it was to find a Funeral in progress. The King and Queen were missing and the remains of their ship had been found on the shores of Denmark, having floated in some time last week. Their bodies had still not been recovered, but as only half of the crew had been found so far, most of them partially eaten, and more were still floating in... It wasn't looking good. Going down in the north sea, in the middle of a storm... even with a rowboat at best or drifting wreckage at worst, staying afloat only guaranteed death by hypothermia as opposed to drowning.

Still, he had been talking with George and the pair of them had decided that it would be... amusing if nothing else, to have a branch of the Wheezes open up in Arendelle, be it nearly 900 years in the past, or in an alternate dimension that fit a similar time discrepancy. Hermione would likely disapprove, but then this was the same girl who abused time travel simply so she could take more classes during third year.

I didn't get time to attend the Funeral, and frankly it seemed rather rude to do so, but I did listen to the gossip. The princesses were in mourning, which made sense, but Elsa, who had been shut away for quite some time, had been taking it very poorly. Something that was gossiped about in particular was how the place where she had paid her respects to her Parents memorial cairne was frozen, and had stayed that way for most of the day. This may just be a coincidence Harry thought as he finished transfiguring himself a shop out of an empty lot near the docks, but he could have a magical princess on his hands.

This could be the reason he had been sent here. After all, what did a hero do, but save pretty girls?

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Princess Anna, busty 16 year old tomboy and rule breaker extraordinaire crept quietly through the streets of Arendelle city, flitting from shadow to shadow. She had bullied the soldiers into teaching her the sword nearly two years ago, simply for something to do while her sister Ignored her, and today it had turned out to be a fortunate occurrence rather than simply a painful way to blow off her frustration. The palace guardsmen had been talking, as they often did, and forgotten that she was there, familiar as she had become in her routine of practicing in their yard. And so she had heard them talking about the newcomer in Arendelle.

In a single day and night, during her parents funeral no less, a strange man dressed in Pants and coat of a strange material had set up a small storefront down on the wharf. From the ground floor he sold herbal remedies, revenges, jokes and the most curious mechanical toys he claimed to have learned from the wonder-smiths of Greece.

Anna was convinced that this was the flying boy from a month ago. If the boy could fly, then that meant he had magic. If he had magic, then that meant he was like Elsa. And most importantly, if he was like Elsa... then maybe, just maybe, he could help her. And that would make any trouble she might get in worth it. While her sister hadn't shut her out after their meeting a month ago as she had previously, she was still wary. Still scared of her powers and afraid to touch anyone. And particularly, afraid of hurting her. Anna couldn't stand to see her sister like that, and now that she had a chance to help... She was going to take it.

After all, what was the worst that could happen? It wasn't like a man who sold genuine healing drinks could be evil!

Reaching the shop she paused and marveled at the smoothness and detail of the wood carvings that covered the frames of the door and windows. And such big windows! The castle had them of course, but glass was expensive and hard to craft, no commoner could have more than a few. This man, possibly the flying boy, had an entire store front of them, seemingly just to display the toys he made.

Going to the front door of the shop she tried to open it. When the handle wouldn't even budge she moved to the back. When that failed too she tried the windows and cursed that she'd never had the audacity to learn to pick locks. It certainly would have helped her getting though to Elsa if he hadn't been stymied by a simple door, but being the princess of Arendelle meant you were known and when you went places without a cloak you were also noticed. Even under a cloak you could be easily noticed if you weren’t careful. When it wasn't cold it was suspicious and if the material was good it told people you were important so the people who could teach her still weren't willing. They didn't tend to like rich or important people in a general sense.

“Who are you?”

Anna squeaked and turned around. “You shouldn't frighten people like that!”

The sneaky person was a boy in robes, about her age, or maybe closer to Elsa's. He was only a little taller than her and had a very thin beard. He also had the greenest eyes she'd ever seen. They were bright emeralds that shown with his amusement. “Forgive my rudeness then, I suppose I should let just any pretty girl try to break into my shop... Though that would be a sight better than the usual suspects.” He finished with a grin. He was laughing at her! Humph!

“Are you a witch?” Anna demanded.

The boy's eyes widened slightly. “How rude.” He replied, putting a hand to his chest. “Witches are women. I am quite clearly male, so I am a wizard.” He snorted and then muttered quietly “And I've been spending far too much time with only George to really talk to.” He refocused on her and asked. “Why do you want to know? And given the state of the people around here, why aren't you running?”

Anna set her expression to one of determination. “My sister is like you, but she needs help. She has trouble controlling her powers but she won't let anyone in. I thought maybe... We have money if that's what you need.”

The boy smiled. “Follow me.” he said and walked into the shop, it's door now open to her.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

Of all of the magic Harry had learned over the years, the branch he had come to love the most was transfiguration. It was just so utterly... useful. Magic was, at it's base, using ones will to alter reality to suit their needs. With charms work and curses, you needed a supply of power to work because every time the jinx, hex, curse, charm or charmed item acted or was used it used magic to perform the necessary act. Transfiguration however, with the exception of animation, was a fire and forget sort of spell. It allowed you to alter the physical, molecular and even atomic structure of any substance on a whim, turning one thing into another. Transfigurations did not change back when they lost power like charms or curses, they did not stop being what you made them unless artificially animated, you changed the structure of the thing and it simply remains such. The reason for this was because the magic involved in the spell was totally used up in the act of changing.

Harry told Anna to follow her and took a glass figurine from one of the counters. It was delicate work, something he could have sold for several gold pieces in this time, such was the detail of the craftsmanship. He charged only a silver. A gold if they wanted it to dance. Drawing his magic up from his soul he let it flow through his arm and crushed the doll. He smiled slightly as Anna gasped and began reforming it into a thin pane of glass, oval in shape and perfectly flat. Despite the power and utility of transforming things from one nature to another it was always easier to change things to other forms that were more easily linked within the mind. It was why they used such inane spells as match stick to needle and porcupine to pincushion.

Moving along on that same thread he took a silver coin and transfigured it's shape to adhered to the back of the glass, turning it into a glossy, perfectly reflective surface. The silver was important because it would hold the magic he was about to place on the Mirror. Grabbing a block of wood from a work bench he transfigured that into a ornate vined grip and holder for the mirror, before turning the wood to stone. It was always best to go with the classics he thought warmly. Watching the disney movies at Mrs Figgs place was the only thing that made the excessive cats and overwhelming smell of cabbage worth it.

Well, that and being able to get away from Duddley and his friends.

Talking the mirror with him to the back of the store, Anna following along, he took out the book George had given him and opened it to the section where the man had been fiddling with mirror spells. There were quite a number of mirror spells in wizarding culture. There those that conferred a manner of personality to the glass, causing it to offer advice on fashion or hygiene. Then there were spells for communication, such as the mirror his Sirius had tried to give him in his fifth year that had belonged to his father as a youth. Further mirrors allowed for the deflection of spells, the storing of memories, scrying on distant places and even divination for those with the gift. George had even been messing with an old spell that allowed the user to travel by mirror, but it was unstable at the best of times and usually ended up with the traveler being stuck inside the mirror or getting splinched halfway through. An unfortunate fact that had put pay to George's ambitions of reaching through joke mirrors and grabbing peoples noses.

…Thank Odin for that actually.

The one Harry intended to use was a cross between the personality and the communication spells. The idea he was going for was fairly simple in theory. Anna's sister, the crown princess, was having trouble with her magic. Reasonable, given she had an adult core and had never been taught control.

 

Ever since I can remember I’ve been in love with stories. When a particularly passionate storyteller told me a tale, or I read the right book, the work of fiction would just seem to come alive in my mind. I could see the heroes and their trials, hear the dialogue as though it were being properly voice acted, and sometimes I even imagined I could smell the environment being portrayed to me. That last part wasn’t always for the better as what I believed then to be my imagination could summon some pretty horrifying odors to assault my poor abused senses.

Explaining this to my friends and family got me pats on the head, more stories and the assurance that I would one day develop into a great storyteller in my own right. That maybe, if I studied hard enough, I would become a best selling author, a box office breaking movie producer; or my personal favorite; a AAA Game Developer. It wasn’t until I was 16 and at college that I learned the truth was far, far stranger.

Portal Fantasy (Jumpchain SI)
Arc 1 Bioshock Infinite​

The event occurred at 4:30pm on October 30th. I was hiding in Dr Barletta's practical physics classroom watching Goblin Slayer when the portal opened. I was supposed to be with the rest of the student body suffering through a seminar on Diversity Inclusivity and Equity and how Halloween was racist colonialist white supremacy and probably toxically masculine as well, but honestly; no amount of shaming was going to stop tomorrow’s Halloween bash. It was as close as America came to a state sanctioned excuse to drink, cosplay and have wild unprotected sex, and only a true zealot was going to pass that up.

Besides, I had better things to do with my time! And the universe it seems, agreed. Though we had somewhat different priorities.

My first indication that something was wrong was when my headphones switched abruptly from the dulcet tones of Yui Ogura to a sound halfway between a fire alarm and knives on a chalkboard. I ripped the wifi headset off with a yelp and stood up in the same motion; almost immediately panicking and fumbling as I saved my laptop from being dashed against the cyclotron.

Only, Dr Barletta’s cyclotron wasn’t there anymore.

In its place was a… hole. It wasn’t like a disk or a door, but as if a graphics error had scooped out a sphere of space whose edges were defined by electrical sparks and replaced it with a clipping object. Only instead of an object, it was two people and another office.

“Brother,” the first one spoke, turning to the second “did you check the clock? The calibration temporal seems to be wrong.” I stared, somewhat dumbfounded as what appeared to be a Victorian woman. Her hair was long and done up in a bun large enough I’m certain it would fall to her waist if unleashed. It was an indeterminate shade of auburn that could have either been brunette or ginger, depending on the light and accented a high broad forehead and face full of freckles. She was wearing a three piece suit in khaki, tan and white with a green tie and brown skirt.

“No, all reads and settings are proper,” the other one, the man replied “ everything is as we calculated. Occam’s Razor would suggest the subject simply isn’t here as arranged.” He looked remarkably similar to the woman, wearing a masculine version of the same outfit; with a similar shade of hair, eyes and skin. I couldn’t see their features well enough through the static and clipping to tell if they were siblings, twins or just a narcissistic couple; but I had a feeling.

The man walked over from what looked to be a bank of controls and tapped on what looked to be a Tesla coil with… a wrench. I knew it was a wrench, because the image of the room on the other side of the disturbance immediately cleared up. “Boy, go fetch your professor; there’s a good lad.”

“Ahh…” I reply brilliantly, shaking myself. “I could call him,” I reached for my phone. If anything was important enough for Barletta to be here, and not at protecting his job from the campus communists, it would probably be this. Glancing at my computer I could see it was no longer fuzzing like it was under attack, so rather than going to the wall phone I pulled out my cell and pulled up Barletta’s number. It was his student contact number, so chances were, he wouldn’t respond; but I sent him a photo of the pair regardless.

“Message sent;” I told them. “But it’d help if I knew who was calling?” I asked, fishing for information. Whatever this was, it was BIG, and I had the oddest feeling that I knew these two.

“Robert,” The man replied, “and Rosiland,” the woman added, “Lutece” they finished together. The niggling feeling of familiarity spiked again, but something still wasn’t connecting. Granted, I read a lot of conspiracy scientists websites and occasionally listened to the Alien Scientist Podcast but that didn’t feel… right somehow.

I nodded, “and the guy in the suit?” I asked, pointing behind them to the man in a long-coat and top-hat. “He your patron?”

Rosiland stepped out of the portal area and they both turned to scowl at the man. “Jerimiah,” the woman said, reproachfully “for the last time, we won’t sell.”

Several thuggish looking men came out of the doorway behind Jerimiah, and started cracking their knuckles. “I’m aware. Even at double, even free from the responsibility for float field maintenance so you can focus on your science crap, you still refuse my generous offer.” Jeremiah grinned broadly under a rather impressive mustache. “Lucky for me though; you an yer brother have been real naughty. Naughty enough for the Prophet to sanction this here hostile takeover.”

He gestured to his men. “If you would escort the siblings into their device,” he drawled, “w-what the hell?”

Fink was looking down at his lapel where a beam of green light had created a shaft of illumination that was sparking smoke where the light glittered on his coat. “This, Mr Jerimiah,” I replied, “is a laser. It's a device that emits a beam of energy which, when charged, can burn through solid steel and make it drip like butter. I imagine you're a bit less durable than steel.”

Of course, my toy was a bit less powerful than I’d suggested too, but Jeri didn’t need to know that. It could still set his suit on fire if I got the beam on the same place for a few seconds, or blind him in half a second, but no cutting up him and his goons like a James Bond villain. I typically used it for messing with cats, burning leaves out the window of a boring class or charring graffiti into walls. The school does have lasers that are powerful though; particularly that cyclotron the portal had replaced with these jokers and the wielding lasers in the shop classes; but those were rather unwieldy and made for poor weapons.

Then one of the toughs sprouted glowing veins across his face and arms and charged me; putting himself in front of his boss and passing through the portal.

That was his mistake.

Upon passing through the portal the wall of meat abruptly collapsed and began convulsing as his body fuzzed and clipped as the portal had when it first opened.

“HOLY SHIT!” I shrieked, jumping back. My bluff had been called, but the guy was in even worse shape than I’d have been able to put him in. I don’t think of myself as a coward, and casually slaughtered millions in video games; but seeing something similar in real life, I was a bit shell-shocked by this whole thing.

“Boy!” Robert Lutece shouted. “Fire your device! NOW!”

I did as asked without even thinking, and Lutece slammed his wrench into the portal machine again. The portal spazzed out once more, but this time the electrical arcs glomed onto the beam and turned it into something blinding and loud!

The roar of the portal caused me to jump and drop my laser pointer, flinging the beam out of line of the portal and cutting off the reaction. When I could look at the portal again, the scene was one of devastation. A foot wide section of wall had simply been wiped away in an arc and was rimmed in glowing red and white embers. Rosiland Lutece was already spraying the edges with some sort of fire extinguisher while Robert was clutching the burnt stump of one hand.

The men who were attacking them though… Jeremiah was cut in half, as were 2 of his four men. The third had just stopped convulsing at my feet and the fourth was missing an arm and mercifully unconscious. His chest still moved up and down, in heavy labored breaths; but he was also limp and blessedly not screaming.

I on the other hand was.

Now, on one hand, I’d slaughtered literally millions of entities in video games and seen the results of a Laser Induced Plasma Channel before this. On the other, using one to kill three people? I was wrestling between stunned shock and full blown screaming panic. At least I hadn’t started throwing up yet, but bloody fucking hell, this was too much for any afternoon, letalone one where I was trying to relax and play hookie.

Thankfully, there were still pressing needs extant to distract me. As with all men, work is a good escape from worry.

“Boy. BOY!” Robert Lutece barked at me from the other side of the portal. “Help me get that one back on this side of the tear. I’m a bit out of sorts, right now,” he held up the stump of his wrist, which he was jabbing an absolutely ENORMOUS syringe into.

“Right,” I nodded, a bit too sharply. “Right. This man doesn’t belong here. It’ll be hard enough to explain the light and noise. It’ll do no good for me to have to explain a man who doesn’t exist as well...”

Quite how I was certain the man didn't exist in this world I was unsure, but certain I was. “So,” I started as I quickly found an equipment cart to lever the beefy, easily 250 pound tough onto. “Why exactly did crossing through the portal... afflict him, like this?” I asked, grunting every few words as I worked. “Is it a sort of gravitational lensing as the body passes the event horizon? Or does the mass-energy need to be converted somehow? Like how my laser became a plasma channel. Would moving slowly change the severity of the trauma or is it the same for everyone?”

“The body and mind have a magnetic field that resonates in a certain frequency,” Robert explained as I stopped babbling. “That frequency is harmonic with the place on either side of the portal. Passing through the event horizon as you call it causes the traveler to ring like the proverbial bell, until you once again synchronize. Whether you’re synchronizing with new spatial, temporal or dimensional coordinates the malady is different, but in each case, there does tend to be a… reaction. Said reaction is strongest when you yourself already exist on the other side of the portal somehow, be it temporally or dimensionally as you and your duplicate ring together. ”

I finish wheeling the big guy over as he talks and fiddles with his portal device. It’s a bit hard to hear him over the shifting distortions, but I figure I got most of it. It confirms my suspicions about them being from another dimension though; or… almost. Dimensional travel was mentioned, though it was not said whether this particular trip was dimensional or merely temporal/spatial.

Hah… MERELY. Spatial portals, never-mind temporal ones would be the biggest development in the history of… everything! And here I was shocked into a state of being unable to process the enormity of that.

Probably for the better, that I just go with it, honestly. Freaking out properly as this deserves would be incredibly embarrassing.

As I tilt the cart into the barrier, electricity plays across both the man;s frame and the cart, but while the cart behaves as expected and zaps me like a taser, the man stops convulsing. Incredibly odd, though, given the explanation I’ve just received, perhaps it should have been expected.

Though perhaps taser isn’t the right analogy. While my muscles do spasm and it hurts like a bitch; rather than feeling numb and rigid, I feel… almost warm and refreshed, like I’ve stuck my arms too quickly into a too hot Jacuzzi with all of the vents on full blast.

“Woah! Stand back, we’re having a power fluctuation…”

I jerk back and it ends.

“Odd,..” a feminine voice enters our conversation. “Items are usually best able to handle transition; it’s humans, and particularly the human mind, that causes the most fluctuation.” She looks at me, and Robert goes back to fiddling with the machine, the stump of his hand now having regrown most of the palm and starting on fingers.

“It occurs to me you never introduced yourself,” she states, cocking her head to the side only slightly.

“Your, ah, friend, distracted us.” I deflect. “Ah, Devon. Devon Jolly. Friends call me captain.”

Rosiland’s brows raise. “Oh, and why would that be? You seem a bit young and shell-shocked to be in the army. Was there a major war?”

“Um… well, yes and no. My middle name is Roger. Jolly Roger, arrg pirate, captain, see?” Though assholes call me other things. “As for War, honestly, which one? But no, not for me.”

The lady sighs at that last remark. “As ever, it seems.” She clasps her hands together in front of herself. “Well, Mr Jolly, I wish I could say it was good to meet you; but it seems we must say adieu; each of us has quite a bit to be getting on with, I expect; what with the fallout.”

“We’re going to need to step up our timetable; now that Comstock knows what we intend.” Robert stated, the portal clearing and settling again. The name comstock sends that suspicious feeling of familiarity rocketing up to a feeling of alarm bells; but the Luteces keep on, oblivious.

“What you intend, Robert. I’m only going along with this because I love you.” Rosiland sniped, irritably. She turned back to me, a forced smile in place. “I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure.”

“It has,” Robert adds.

“But tempus fugit.” I nod and stick out my hand to shake through the barrier. There’s SOOO much more I want to ask, especially now I feel I’ve almost figured them out; but they seem in a hurry. “No rest for the wicked and all that.” I say, already debating plunging through the portal to join them; just on the off chance my suspicions are true.

Those words are punctuated by the strangest reaction yet. As my hand penetrates the portal, it fuzzes once more, and painful, scratchy, pounding warmth spreads up my arm. As that happens, the portal rapidly shrinks until with a shout of alarm from the other side the sound of latch being thrown heralds the portal snapping shut entirely.

In its place, is professor Barletta’s Cyclotron, and atop it… an old DVD copy of Bioshock: Infinite.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

I’d say I stood there and stared at the game box, open mouthed, for a good half an hour, and under other circumstances, I might have. Unfortunately the pounding of feet outside in the corridor don’t leave me much room to procrastinate. I snatch up the DVD case off the particle accelerator and stuff it in my bag, praying against fate that this isn’t actually a dream (as that would make the most sense) and nobody here has RPG super-plot senses.

I have barely enough time to get back to my computer and pull up a screen full of porn before three professors, two rent-a-cops and a hated “student representative” burst into the room. Quite how they let that useless prick into the party, I’ll never know, but at best guess, all six of them were at the assembly I, admittedly, should have been attending.

There was a lot of shouting as seven people tried to talk over each other. First they accused me of firing the cyclotron, before it was discovered that the machine had no evidence of being used. Then they tried to accuse me of setting off bombs, which again, clearly no evidence, as that was in another world. Then the councilor tried to accuse me of patching into campus light and intercom and seized my computer. I may have made things worse for myself by breaking out laughing when he saw what was on my computer; but again, no log evidence on my laptop or the campus system of me accessing or a foriegn attempt at access.

Eventually, they had to let me go; though the D.I.E. priest scheduled an appointment for me in his office that I doubt I’m going to attend. Rebel that I am.

Eventually it was just me and professor Barletta.

“So what really happened?” He asked. I opened my mouth to deny everything again and he glared at me; before setting a white noise generator on the desk beside us and turning it on. “I know when you’re lying out your ass, Jolly. The truth.”

I held back a grimace with forced calm. “Does the name Lutece mean anything to you?”

His face darkened then paled, and he hissed between his teeth. “What did they tell you?”

“Very little;” I groused. “But then, it’s hard to miss a pair of video game characters famous for inter-dimensional portals portalling into your hooky spot.”

The professor snorted. “Even harder to admit too, if you don’t want a psych eval,” he grumbled. Then he sighed “we were supposed to meet again tomorrow.” He explained. “I would have missed the staff Halloween party, which would be no great loss or surprise, and exchanged a few more pages of theory on quantum superposition. They’re good people, the Luteces.”

I bit my lip and the man's gaze sharpened on me. “I think… they would have missed that meeting.” I explained haltingly. “Or perhaps might have appeared without a portal.” Barletta’s brow raised. “The date on their side is 1909. According to the game timeline, Jeremiah Fink sabotages their machine, turning them into omnipresent, omniscient but fortunately or unfortunately only human-potent, gods.” Barletta swore. “The light and noise was caused by an interaction between the portal and my laser pointer” I held up the device “developing into a plasma channel.”

He winces. “Damnit, Devon, I told you to throw that thing away.” I shrugged and he glowered at me. “What happened then?”

I draw in a shuddering breath. “I-I think I may have k-killed Fink.” I replied. “About 2, 2.5 years early. On one hand, guy is more or less the sorta person who’d actually give DIE a legit point for existing; he’s everything wrong with capitalists, racists and possibly, though never confirmed, men from 1910. On the other hand, I helped a man tear out his chest with an unstable dimensional rift and it did NOT feel like a video game!” I was hyperventilating and speaking through clenched teeth by the end of that statement. Grabbing my head I closed my eyes and fell into an office chair. “I think I’m going to have nightmares about this shit.”

The professor leaned back against his accelerator and hummed. The event was probably too distant for him to really feel much about it, but he looked pensive. “You… may not have changed as much as you believe.” He said, slowly. “Among other things; the game makes a point of just how many parallel instances of that reality there are, first with the coin trick at the beginning of the game showing you that Booker’s tried to save his daughter 122 times already; and again at the end when Elizabeth shows Booker the field of lighthouses. Players counted a thousand there, with 12 Elizabeth's’ who became dimensional gods. Following that, and what I’ve been able to get out of them about reality formation and collapse, your interaction likely caused a new scattershot of temporal branches with short half lives…”

“What DOES create or collapse realities?” I ask, jerking forward in the chair. I had wanted to ask the Luteces this, but things proceeded too quickly. “Is it infinite like Hollywood suggests with every decision causing a new branch? Or…”

“No. Or, not usually.” Barletta interrupts. “Under… normal circumstances, for whatever value that word has in such a conversation; realities are formed in two ways. The first is a variance in quantum constants. One reality has a slightly different value for one quantum constant than another, or a set of differences, or an entirely new or missing constant. The variance this makes in the parallel reality can be minute enough to miss or large enough that everything is different; and I’ve had little luck thus far determining quite what the pattern here is. Too little data; and limited largely to earth itself. But the fact remains that the primary foundation of the multiverse seems to be based on quantum laws of reality and their variables. Each is incompatible with each other, and so form independently. There are, however, enough of them to give a convincing illusion of infinite realities.”

“The second way…” He grimaces here. “The second way is to get the dimensional braines to interact. Similar to DC Comics Infinite Crisis. Only that’s an example of universes with the same quantum foundation collapsing into each other rather than being born. When two realities collide, such as some hero or mad scientist opening a portal or the Luteces and their tears; a new pocket universe or thousand are born based on the interaction almost in a big bang type fashion with the universe spreading out from the point of contact. DC and Bioshock have so many universes and it was so easy to collapse them all precisely because of all of the dimensional interaction. New universes are not born by mere human whim…; except in such cases. Comstock was likely creating and collapsing such universes constantly with his prophet act; aging by literally experiencing fractions of the constant time loops.”

He puts a hand on my shoulder. “As for your killing Fink in self defense; you and he currently exist in a quantum superposition of that having happened and NOT having happened simultaneously. That reality was created the moment the portal opened, likely collapsed as soon as it closed, and in the off chance it was strong enough to survive your rather violent interaction, will be different from the one I was in regular contact with.”

“How would that work, exactly?” I asked, leaning forward. I very much wanted to believe him, but it seemed… well, as far fetched as Bioshock existing in the first place!

“When the portal opened, at least two new realities were created. One set paralleling ours, another set paralleling theirs,” he replied. “When the portal closed, the strength of the interaction, based on the length of time it was open and the amount of variation that occurred due to the interaction would then determine whether a new reality was born entirely, branching off from that point, or whether the new realities would integrate back into the originals, as fragments of dreams, anomalous items and deja vu. If, like in DC, the portal were open for weeks or months and spawned entirely separate storylines from each of the contributing universes before closing again, maybe something more substantial would happen from the collapse.”

“Like a retcon, or new continuity.”

He shrugs. “Your experience was only a few minutes; it’s honestly out of character that you remembered anything at all. I have to work with the Luteces for hours at a time and exchange physical data for it to stick; and even then, sometimes papers I remember exchanging with them still have to be recreated from dreams and memory. Likely as not, this reality will collapse into a day-dream of yours where our meeting here will be a feeling of guilt for you and suspicion for me.”

With those words, he dismissed me from his workshop.

~!@#$%^&*()_+

I didn’t forget though. Professor Barletta never brought up the gamebox I’d taken from his lab and it didn’t disappear into my dreams over the next two weeks; though the professor himself appeared to have done so. Instead, it lay on my desk in the dorms, Booker Dewitt and Elizabeth Comstock staring out at me from the cover accusingly.

The game itself was an oddity as well. Once loaded, it would play on Steam or the 2K games launcher precisely as normal, without any differences from what I remember playing it new when I was 7.

But with the DVD in the tray…

With the DVD in; the DLC menu would occasionally spaz out, messing up small to large portions of the screen like a glitch. It took me a fortnight to finally click on it.