Amdirlain’s PoV - Maze
With the thorns retracted, recovery hadn’t taken long, and Amdirlain opened her eyes to a spotless expanse of grass beside the pool. Rocked by body blows of pain and heartache from Orhêthurin’s memory, she let herself float along in its current and took apart the memory. Years of practice in dissembling the foulness she’d absorbed from the damned in the Abyss made the reduction of this one’s far more understandable heartache relatively straightforward. Only once that was complete, and she could review the memory without an emotional reaction, did she allow herself to resume cycling Ki.
The shadows showed the thickened growth was only along her left arm, as if in retaliation for the earlier pruning. When the phoenix wings flared, Amdirlain felt the excess Ki flowing down into the wounds within her Soul. With each cycle, the overflowing Ki closed the injuries further and the pain within eased. The lessening of the pain reduced the mental strain, and she thought about Orhêthurin’s message.
When the excess Ki overflowed towards the wounds again, she focused on a single rivulet of power before it reached one of the remaining wounds. The mental image she’d worked out for using Far Hand nestled a fragile control within the Ki. Rather than merely a flow of power, it acted as an extension of her perception; the same tactile feedback it had taken months to realise fully within Far Hand via the Ki gave her momentary contact with the thorn’s buried edge.
Letting the Ki cycle end, Amdirlain waited with her focus on the mental connection until it faded. Without more Ki flowing into it, the wound hadn’t sealed further, but her perception of the thorn’s shape gradually improved. She drew the bare minimum of Ki she could manage through the pattern, but it still overflowed in the same fashion. Amdirlain focused on the same injury before a second stream flowed into it and blurred her perception of the thorn. With the wound nearly healed, Amdirlain continued cycling to complete the process.
Each time she completed the pattern, she stretched her awareness through the excess power. As it washed through her flesh, it provided her with a vague sense of hundreds of thorns and roots pierced into her Soul. The cycling eventually caused her flesh to become blindingly bright, and she had to stop.
Fuck!
“I’m supposed to be avoiding hurting myself, but these vines are filth stuck in a wound. How do I get them out without hurting myself?”
Amdirlain rose and circled the pool’s edge, each circuit a precisely timed repetition. The physical motion let her bleed off the frustration that might otherwise distract her thoughts. As she passed near the hidey-hole, she pulled out the spear she’d stored there and considered the blade''s enchantment. Setting the butt at the base of the wall, she let out a hard breathe and drove her hand onto the blade’s tip. She felt the bones separate with a crack that shuddered up her arm. Yanking it free, she barely glimpsed the ordinary flesh within—without so much a leaf’s edge—before the wound had sealed up.
One question answered: they’re only physically present when they manifest.
“Elliyna is going to be so annoyed with me,” muttered Amdirlain, and tossed the spear back into the hole. “I should have learnt more about them before I did that pruning.”
Amdirlain raced off through the passages, the proficiency she’d gained with Ki Movement working against her as the Power barely consumed Ki. It still slowly drained away, and a few hours into the run, Ebusuku’s voice sounded around her and she almost slammed into a wall in surprise.
“Amdirlain, I should scold you. Rasha says you''re bossy and didn’t give him play time. Gail says hi to whomever I’m talking to, so Hi. Livia is nearing the top of some primordial mountain that no one else has ever chosen to climb, some eastern heavenly echo of a king’s birthplace. Torm was the one that killed Apollo and got to play bait to pin Raivo down so Fenrir could run him through with Odinn’s spear. Odinn-”
The words cut out, and Amdirlain waited silently for a few minutes before she could no longer contain her excited cheer. “Torm, way to win a girl’s heart—by killing her enemies. Going to ?snog your brains out when I’m free.”
She considered collecting the keys for distribution when Ebusuku’s voice came again.
“Amdirlain, no idea how much I can share at a time and have you still hear me, so I’ll repeat things randomly. Hopefully, between all the repeats, you’ll hear everything you were curious about at some point—if you’re not continually fighting maze guardians. Hurry? and get free; your job sucks. I hear things I don’t want to know.”
“I love you, Ebusuku,” Amdirlain managed before the next piece of news arrived, not caring that it wouldn’t be heard.
“Amdirlain, so the chaotic duo are down in Ternòx. I hadn''t known True Song crystal takes Anar and Lóm? Glinnel working together. Presently, Isa and the Lóm? singers have connected some grottos with crystal plinths and repaired a bunch of crystals. Considering the effort involved, I would like to know how the Domain made so much of it.”
With her skin still glowing, Amdirlain started running again to burn the excess as more news from Ebusuku came in. Her skin had long grown dark before she finally stopped running and wiped a hand across her eyes. It covered her eyes only for the briefest of instants, but a memory dragged her under as if summoned by the darkness.
Orhêthurin halted on the Spire’s threshold and listened to the dark, erratic music in its energy. It wasn’t music that the Portal generated but traces that a trio of visitors had left. With all the other portals to the interior now closed, such visitors would likely ensure her father closed this last one sooner than they’d intended. Glancing down at herself, she tugged at the belted tunic’s hem and considered extending it down from mid-thigh. She’d worn it for Hirindo, not having expected her father to call, and even without its nearly sheer material, her knee-length hair covered more of her than it did. The exact blending of their electric-blue colour made it appear at first glance that only a curtain of hair covered her.
The consideration was fleeting as she fully intended to get away to her day relaxing on the beach as quickly as she could. It was a thought that made her smile from what she’d heard in Hirindo’s song, and she wondered if it would help him get the courage to propose today.
Set in the grey-white stone of the Spire, a single step was all it took to move from the wilds of the Outlands into the gargantuan mosaic corridor that led to her father’s forge room. The sounds from within hit like a physical blow, as hearing multiple hammers at work took Orhêthurin by surprise. Though its protections now block even her from accessing the Spire via Planar Shift, it didn’t stop her from saving herself a walk. Rather than walk the kilometres of massive corridors, Teleport placed her near her father’s main forge.
Only, instead of father hammering away, the four aspects they’d awakened occupied the surrounding anvils. Each looked similar to angelic beings, with a single pair of radiant white wings, but it was a power related to their nature rather than pure Celestial goodness. The proximity of their songs painted their forms in her mind, and she didn’t need to lean back to take in their mountain-high forms. Eleftherios, an aspect of death and the light at the end of life, loomed near her, but beyond him were three others in a crescent around the forge. Father’s anvils alone dwarfed her, adding the aspects made her feel momentarily like an insect and out of place. His voice should have deafened, but ?it came to her at a conversational volume that killed off all other sounds.
“Ori, you do look lovely. Have you spurned Hirindo’s advances and come to take me away from this place?” teased Eleftherios.
Orhêthurin couldn’t help but laugh at his flirting, delivered in his rich purring tenor so at odds with the deep heavy notes in his Song. “Don’t tell me you''re tired of Lilith already, Thero.”
“It is not I that tired of her, but she of me,” objected Eleftherios with playful defensiveness.
“That’s because you’re a flirt; likely she caught you making eyes at someone,” teased Orhêthurin and bit her lip at the stab of longing she caught from him.
Quenching the piece he’d been working on, Eleftherios gave her a dramatically glum look. “No, once she had another child, her interest in me waned. Hopefully the child, at least, will talk to me.”
The unhappiness that stirred in his music made her regret asking, and Orhêthurin changed the subject. “I’m sorry, Thero. Why does the Titan have you all working at the forge?”
“He’s looking at options to speed the work without imposing so much on your people or the Lóm?. Though, we’ll need to improve our skills before undertaking any important endeavours,” Eleftherios explained.
She gestured to the silvery wall beyond which lay the forge’s hearth. “I didn’t even know you''d been learning, yet here you are, practised enough to work unsupervised.”
“You need to come by more often. The Titan set up a new forge for himself,” countered Eleftherios and gestured off past other aspects and Celestials. “He has some guests at present; take care around the Fallen.”
The words shocked Orhêthurin, but she still gave Thero a beautific smile. “Do you know why he allowed Fallen in here?”
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“He’s confined the discussion so that Gideon can''t spread the gossip,” admitted Eleftherios and offered her a mental image of the new construction along the forge room’s far end.
The thought of the knowledge aspect rumour mongering earned a snort from Orhêthurin.
“Thanks, Thero; maybe building up your strength will help woo the right lady,” teased Orhêthurin and teleported again.
The new forge’s construction was of the same silvery metal as she’d helped him form for his old one. The three visitors had brushed aside all consideration of who helped him make it. Nicholaus had already taken on the form he used around her, and the visitors had reduced themselves to match his height.
Though she recognised the Mortal species they resembled, it didn’t make them any less strange, being so distant to Elven or Human in form. While nearly identical in appearance, their songs made it clear they possessed different mindsets and aptitudes. Each had six wings that appeared stained, as if they’d rolled around in ashes and dried blood, though their lime-coloured scales were unmarked. Their heads connected directly to their shoulders, with a handful of finger-length tendrils nested in the middle instead of hair, each moving about independently to the others, tasting the room’s energies.
The three beings were roughly reptilian in appearance, with the forward half of their bodies curving upward to match her height. Six sets of limbs appeared along the length of their bodies. The upper set were pincers that began at her shoulder height and projected upwards at a slight angle. The next pair were in line with the middle of their ribs, but were boneless cables of muscle the length of her forearms; those ended in a blunt stump ringed with eight thin fingers. Level with those second arms, three mouths arched across their chests—the only interruption to the scales covering their muscular torso. Spaced out along the lower half of their body were four clawed reptilian legs, and behind their rear legs, their bodies ended in a blunt tail, the shape reminding Amdirlain of a stumpy tail lizard.
“-might make amends for following his instructions.”
Orhêthurin''s appearance caught the middle of them speaking, but they continued as if her arrival was ?insignificant. However, the eyes of the closest swivelled to focus on her while its fellow continued speaking.
With an air of casual disregard, she focused on her father and heard amusement in his Song but couldn’t spot any visible hints of his mood. Nicholaus’ music clarified that her attire for the day had clued him into her plans, and his reserved demeanour was only because of his guests.
“You needed my presence, Titan?”
Nicholaus nodded to his guests but didn’t introduce them. “They asked politely to confer and pointed out an absence in the balance. There are many ways to fall but only one to climb.”
“Then don’t fall. There is a way to regain your status that the rules provide,” Orhêthurin replied, even while she listened to the anger and regret in their songs.
The closest of them spread its lower arms. “We will not swear oaths to anyone ever again. We followed blindly and now wish to have our fate in our hands.”
“Do you expect to gain a way to take back whatever evils you’ve done? Time only travels in one direction, and it takes more than one evil act to fall.”
“We know-”
The central figure moved between them with the fingers on both hands spread wide, and Orhêthurin caught the caution in his music. “We seek a path of redemption, not forgiveness; we would earn our restoration to the heavens. A chance to make up for our failures without binding ourselves to another is all we desire.”
Orhêthurin listened to their songs and assessed the depths of their desire before giving the Titan a respectful nod. “If this request has your agreement?”
“It is a fair request and far better than demands I’ve received from some that hold themselves higher,” muttered Nicholaus. His words left the trio confused when they couldn’t understand him, nor would they know her reply with the distortion her father''s will had set in place.
“Maybe you need someone to thump some manners into them.”
“I invited Moradin and his family; I got the reply that they''ll send facets soon.”
“That is good news, but he has a different understanding of soon than me,” Orhêthurin replied and smiled at her father. “Hopefully, he is here before the first sun cools.”
Nicholaus smiled in return, and the protection over their speech vanished away. “Do you have a place in mind where you could place a means of redemption?”
The central Fallen focused on Nicholaus, “Why do you-”
“Be quiet,” Nicholaus rumbled, “You are here requesting something from me, and I deem it a fair request. However, I leave your request''s final decision and fulfilment in Orhêthurin’s hands.”
She wasn’t entirely sure about fulfilling this request, but there was fairness in what they asked for, and they’d need to do the work. Certainly she didn’t have to make it easy on them, or any that came after wanting to make amends.
The sceptical music in the trio''s song made Orhêthurin smile as inspiration struck. “Since you’ve let your blessed state rot, I know a suitable place for your redemption path to start. There are also some elements there that will be useful. You can come along while I find a suitable location.”
The last of the trio moved to speak, and the middle of them cut him off. From his song, they did not intend it as rudeness so as much as to protect their chance. “We will accompany you.”
Focused back on her father, Orhêthurin nodded respectfully again. “If there isn’t anything else, Titan?”
“That is all, Orhêthurin. Are you sure you have time today?” Nicholaus asked, and she caught a hint of teasing in his music.
“I’m meeting him later. I should have time to finish this task beforehand,” reassured Orhêthurin, but her attention was already racing away, composing the required songs.
A released couplet brushed aside the Fallen’s resistance with ease and shifted their position back to the Portal. The three former-solars started in surprise, and their leader considered her seriously for the first time. “We are in your hands.”
“Yes, you are,” Orhêthurin replied and began the songs to find what she needed.
When she crossed the threshold into the Outlands, she released the songs and tried a fresh set when the first produced no result. Only when she found what she needed did Orhêthurin address the trio. “The starting point will be on Ijmti, a place of over-abundant life and decay. This method won’t be for the three of you alone, but you’ll need to decide whether you help others find it.”
“We’ve not been there.”
“You can resist the Plane’s unnatural effects,” responded Orhêthurin and shifted them again.
The clearing they arrived in was within a valley''s deep woods and smelt of cancerous overgrowth and rot. The foulness wasn’t a surprise, as nowhere in Ijmti was pleasant with its abundance of primordial energy. A few notes stabilised the rot of a fallen tree, and Orhêthurin strode along its trunk. The undergrowth lashed out at her, showing their malignant awareness, but each attempt exploded into dust. With every step that she took through the woods, Orhêthurin set a trail for the trio to follow.
Despite the dangers, she focused on the fading whisper the songs had found and continued to pick a course forward. Though it was years old, the whisper still stood out to her, something that would be impossible for most. Then again, it wasn’t an ordinary whisper, but ?the dying rant of an uninvited God. With the fading energy so faint, she’d kept her songs to a minimum, using them only to avoid a racket—there was noise enough from the trio following her.
The whisper took hours to lead her to an oval cave mouth, a natural amplifier, and Orhêthurin crouched to listen to the whisper’s path. She tuned out nearly all the surrounding songs and focused on it alone. She ignored the trailing trio and counted on her strength and the personal protections she''d recently renewed.
Though there were other tunnels from the cave, it didn’t take long to determine the sound’s trail headed towards a shaft at its rear, rising from far below. A few heartbeats of listening and the stone’s music confirmed the existence of what she sought. With that confirmation, she moved without hesitation and stepped over the edge; a few moments later, she heard the trio’s wings spread to slow their descent.
When they reached the cavern floor, the time she’d already spent forced Orhêthurin to admit the mistake she’d made, and she sent a whisper to Hirindo. “I’m sorry, I’ll have to postpone our day relaxing. I’ve got to finish a task for the Titan, but as soon as it''s finished I’ll be in touch.”
With each step closer to the cavern’s centre, the darkness grew thicker until she stopped before a curtain of absolute darkness. A few steps ahead of her lay a pit of congealed energy that had drawn in the utterings of various foreign deities’ despair. Their power, having sought to return to their birthplace in the far chaos, had fallen into the Abyss. But the wound in its depths allowed no way out, so despair’s web had drawn them here.
Standing poised on the pit''s edge, she could feel the vicious weight of despair pressing hard against reality. Within was a darkness that no light could penetrate, and its hunger consumed even the glow from Orhêthurin''s eyes. But it was suitable, as those seeking the path had already turned against the light and cast others'' dreams into dust.
As the trio whispered behind her, Orhêthurin raised her voice and an archway of True Song crystal, double her own height, quickly formed. When its keystone was complete, a wall slowly extended to enclose the pit, some a hundred metres in circumference, before forming a dome twice that in height. The crystal’s presence constrained the darkness and the cavern suddenly brightened around them, free of the power that had blocked their sight.
“What is that?”
“Despair,” Orhêthurin replied and sang again. From the archway’s threshold, a walkway extended into the darkness, its progress only discernible by her Song’s echo.
From its end a platform hung within the absolute darkness, alive with the whispers of perished gods, some of whom were from the old universe. She signalled them to wait and pushed forward into the suffocating darkness. When she’d reached the platform’s centre, she drew breath to sing again, and the whispers stopped to listen.
Orhêthurin added one song after another to the mix, carefully creating a mechanism that offered a means of redemption and absolute corruption in equal measure. The songs grew together in this place of despair to determine the restitution a supplicant’s evil deeds required. Each time they touched the plinth it would balance their deeds since the last visit and weigh up their redemption’s progress. It held no compassion for regrets—it would show them the evil they had done and those they’d hurt along the course. If they fell past their starting point on their journey, it would add their essence to the pit below.
Hours passed as she wove in the surrounding despair to pose a challenge to the determination of those that came until finally, the plinth was complete. Carefully turning, she ensured it was directly behind her and carefully walked forward. When she emerged, the trio were standing exactly as she’d left them.
“There is a plinth directly ahead of the archway. You need to touch it to see your path forward.”
“That’s it?”
“No, once you’ve provided restitution for all the evil you’ve committed, you’ll need to return here for it to cleanse your state. The first time you touch the plinth it will assess you. Only acts of redemption performed since that first touch will count towards balancing the scales.”
“We’ve been trying to make amends,” objected their leader, the protest only earning a flat look from Orhêthurin.
“You shouldn’t have fallen?. Celestials are supposed to be examples of the goodness they represent. While they don’t have to be perfect beings, to fall requires far more than a single mistake or even a host of well-intentioned ones. It requires malicious intent. You can try to tell me you were following orders, but I know you''d be lying,” declared Orhêthurin. “Whatever they told you to do, part of you enjoyed the power you wielded over others when you crushed them for your liege. The balance doesn''t judge you for actions where you''re just as much the victim.”
The slumped posture of the trio as they exchanged glances earned a nod from Orhêthurin, and she motioned to regain their attention. “Yet since you want to earn redemption, I believe you''re not a complete loss. You won’t be able to fool it, as its analysis of you will be perfect. Each time you touch the plinth, it will assess you, and you’ll know how far you’ve progressed. Oh, and don’t slip from the path or platform; neither will go well for you.”
Even as the others absorbed her words, their leader straightened again, and a pincer pointed at the archway. “What if someone destroys it?”
“I linked this complete structure to the concept of knowledge, which is eternal. Attempts to destroy it will cast those involved into the pit.”
Every trip she made into the Abyss in recent millennia made her skin crawl, yet she couldn’t pinpoint what had triggered the tipping point. With that thought, she shifted planes to the Outlands, far from where she’d left. The location wasn''t accidental; needing to feel clean, she appeared on a rock ledge alongside a river. A shrug had her dress sliding from her shoulders, and as it dropped to the ground, she wrinkled her nose at the accumulated odours. Since it was far easier to recreate the dress than clean it, a sharp note unleashed white flames that incinerated it and continued knee-deep into the rock beneath.
Amdirlain slipped free from the memory as Orhêthurin cleaned the lingering miasma she’d felt from the Abyss. To Amdirlain, the foulness wasn''t unusual, merely the same demonic essence she’d dealt with for years.
“That plinth is where I need to get to,” muttered Amdirlain, and winced at the details she’d remembered. “Is it going to judge me for my lifetime, or all of them?”