The magic in his soul realm had been severely affected by the rune Triton had struck him with. Though it was mostly circulating normally now, Leon could still detect a few errant eddies and currents of power, and there was a minute flicker in his origin spark above his Mind Palace.
It would take a year or two of rest to fully recover, but not as much to get back into fighting shape.
When Leon opened his eyes in his Mind Palace, he was far more concerned with the Thunderbird than he was about the circulation of his magic power. He launched himself off his throne when he saw her slumped over a lounge in human form, but she groaned as his feet thundered across the rough-hewn stone tiles in his Mind Palace’s courtyard.
“Not so loud, Leon, dear boy,” she gasped, a hand on her forehead.
Leon immediately slowed down, gliding over to her while making no noise at all. He quietly took a seat next to her and gently asked, “What happened?” He’d have asked if she was feeling better if he didn’t think she’d outright mock the question.
“Damned ancient rune,” she bemoaned. “It targeted me. And…” Her yellow eyes cracked open and stared into the distant mist. “Him.”
Leon followed her gaze and noticed an approaching shadow. The Great Black Dragon came peeling out of the Mists of Chaos, but given the sheer size of Leon’s soul realm, it was going to take a while for him to arrive. At the very least, it was encouraging that he was flying around, looking relatively fine even if Leon could feel the wrath radiating from him like light from a sun.
“Any permanent damage?” he asked.
The Thunderbird was silent for a long moment before turning her head to Leon. “Remains to be seen. You should look to yourself first.”
“I’m… fine.”
“Don’t lie to my face, not even to spare me bad news.”
Leon frowned and let his eyes wander. They eventually landed on his throne, where the connections he had with Maia and Xaphan were concentrated, only for sudden panic to seize him.
He felt Maia’s connection there, pulsing with power, her emotions open to him. But the connection he’d forged with Xaphan through the demonic contract felt frayed and distant.
Leon shot to his feet, hardly processing the Thunderbird almost growling in irritation as he ran back to his throne. He replayed the fight against Triton in his mind, especially about how the Basileus had struck Xaphan with golden chains, and how the demon had disappeared after the enchantments on the chains activated.
“What happened to Xaphan?” he asked, mostly voicing his thoughts aloud rather than in expectation of receiving an answer.
“Banished,” the Thunderbird stated, almost surprising him with how quick she was with her response. “Chains of Khosrow. That’s what they were called in days of yore. Haven’t seen their like in… millions of years. The old Clan never used them.”
“Chains of Khosrow…” Leon murmured, able to guess at their function just from having seen them in action and from the name they’d been given. “Not a unique artifact, then?”
“No. They were a weapon aimed squarely at those who served the enemies of Khosrow. Angels and demons, mostly, but some of the old Primal Beings also created unique creatures that were affected by the chains.”
A small detail twigged in Leon’s mind. “It doesn’t work on regular humans, does it? Don’t both the Primal Gods and Devils claim to have created us?”
He could almost hear the Thunderbird rolling her eyes. “Of course they don’t work on humans, boy—they were made by humans!”
He clicked his tongue. “Right. Well, then, do they work on those with Inherited Bloodlines?”
“No. Probably why they weren’t put to greater use. The angels might as well be extinct while the demons have been forced to the Elemental Planes at the edge of the universe. Xaphan being physically present was always out of the ordinary.”
“And yet the ancient Clan supposedly summoned other demons too, to support them when they launched their assault on Ambrose’s tower.”
“It happens. Rarely.”
Leon finally turned back to her, his face hard set with worry. “Is Xaphan… all right? What do those chains do, exactly?”
“They banish,” the Thunderbird said. “Or kill. Depends. If your contract is still connecting you, then your demon is alive. He’s just not in the Nexus anymore.”
Leon felt his worry lessen quickly, but it didn’t dissipate entirely. He’d have to find some way to get back in contact with Xaphan. Thankfully, after hundreds of years with the demon sitting in his soul realm, teaching him about fire magic and other technical aspects of demonic power, Leon considered himself not quite an expert, but at least adept enough with demon magic to try and speak with Xaphan.
‘Or maybe even summon him back…’
He’d never tried a proper demon summoning ritual. He wasn’t eager to try now, but to get his friend back…
“Focus on yourself,” the Thunderbird said as she finally removed her hand from her forehead and sat up, her yellow eyes squinting in the origin spark’s light. “I am still here. He is still here. You still have access to our powers, yes? Your bloodline is unaffected?”
Leon raised a hand and summoned silver-blue lightning, followed by Doomfire. Then, after a moment of preparation, his golden eyes darkened almost to a red-orange, and a high-pitched whine could be heard from every corner of his soul realm. He didn’t quite activate his Eye of Calamity, especially since he could feel his eyes start to flare with pain, but it was enough to know that he still could if he wanted to.
“Is it possible for my bloodline to be affected?” he asked once he was confident that he still had all of his power.
“Possible,” the Thunderbird hissed. “With ancient runes… who can say? I wanted to be sure, but if you’re looking for a more definitive answer, speak with Nestor.”
Leon nodded.
“What else is different?” she asked. “I can sense… something. I felt something… when I was unconscious. What happened to you?”
Her words came sharply, but her expression was one of worry and motherly concern. Leon sighed and took a seat on the stairs to his throne platform. His eyes drifted toward his vault, where the black Heartwood seed had taken root in his soul realm.
“Does it mean anything to you to ‘open the gates of death’?” he asked, and the Thunderbird gasped.
“I… haven’t heard that said in a long time,” she said. “A turn of phrase, perhaps, but… Leon, what power did you call on?”
Leon quietly spoke to her about the strange power he’d felt after Triton cut off the rest of his magic. He spoke at length about how familiar it had felt, about how he had the impression that it had been there for a long time, but only beneath his other powers, patiently waiting for a moment when he would notice it. But it took taking away his silver-blue lightning and Doomfire for him to realize that it was there at all.
“You…” the Thunderbird whispered, her eyes flickering toward his vault, too. “You have displayed burgeoning powers over… death… Who told you of the ‘gates of death’?”
“A man named Veles,” Leon said. “I couldn’t tell you much about him. Twelfth-tier, pale, eyes like obsidian… Seemed somewhat affiliated with the Khosrow fanatics I encountered on Khosrow’s Fane, but he claimed not to be officially associated with them.”
“That description doesn’t tell me much. But I will say that I used to hear much about the ‘gates of death’ when I was yet alive. Loath though I am to admit it, he might be able to tell you more, since he was the one who ended those who spoke of it…”
“What does it mean?” Leon pressed, wanting to hear from her rather than the Great Black Dragon.
“An old cult,” she explained. “One led by a Primal God of some renown whose name escapes me. They were fascinated with ideas of afterlives and other worlds. Worlds beyond this one, universes greater and lesser than ours. They believed that our notions of afterlife are rooted in one such world, a world that belonged exclusively to the dead. To ‘open the gates of death’ was to walk between worlds freely, and to find powers and magics beyond what are used in this universe.”
“That sounds… like a lot…” Though he didn’t speak on it immediately, Leon was still reminded of his brief sojourn into the crypts of the Ancestral Hart Tribe, and there met their eponymous founder. That ‘world’ had seemed real, though Leon didn’t know what it was beyond that. He couldn’t help but wonder if that might be related to these ‘other worlds’ that this cult had supposedly believed in.
“It’s a load of nothing. The cult amounted to little, though their rhetoric took the Nexus by storm for several breathless centuries. But they made waves in their last decade when their Primal God revealed… something. I can’t tell you what it was, only that it inspired their cult’s destruction. The Great Dragons themselves led a coalition of Primal Gods, Devils, and Divine Beasts in wiping the cult from the face of the universe. It was the last act of cooperation shown before the rise of Khosrow and humanity.”
“Do you think…” Leon whispered as he raised a hand, a couple arcs of black lightning dancing around his fingers.
“That they showed something to prove themselves? Perhaps even similar powers of death as those you possess? I don’t know.”
“They did not,” the Great Black Dragon boomed as his enormous bulk finally soared over the Mind Palace. His body then flashed with dark light, descending until he stood on human legs before Leon and the Thunderbird.
He looked roughly similar to the Thunderbird in that he looked frazzled and harried, and perhaps a little wan, but Leon could feel his aura pulsing strongly—almost too strongly given the threat had passed.
“That pathetic cult showed nothing of the sort. If they had any grand powers stolen from imagined other universes, they were either indistinguishable from regular magic, or they went unused even when all of them perished in flame and the light of Calamity.”
“You’re looking all right,” Leon noted. “Any lingering problems from Triton’s rune?”
The dragon audibly scoffed. “That was not his rune. No mage of his caliber could’ve ever come up with it, or used it properly.”
The Thunderbird sat up a little straighter, her eyes narrowing slightly as she leveled her gaze on the ancient dragon. “It sounds like you know what he used.”
The Great Black Dragon gave her a contemptuous look. “Striking at one’s soul realm has been a tactic since long before you pecked your way out of your shell on an insignificant plane.”
“Rarely do mages have beings like us within them,” the Thunderbird countered.
“All who bear Inherited Bloodlines have such connections to their Ancestors,” the Great Black Dragon countered. “Striking at that connection is not common, but attempts have been made in the past. Some more successful than this one, others less so. None of us should be surprised that the fetid creatures that despise our descendants so for the gifts we leave them devise new ways to express their jealousy.”
“Kamran probably supported Triton with this,” Leon stated. “Triton answered to him, even if he paid nominal obeisance to the Ocean King.”
“A fifteenth-tier mage who hates those with Inherited Bloodlines,” the Thunderbird said. “He’d need quite a bit of time to devise such a complex rune, but for that kind of hatred, there’d be plenty of motivation.”
“This ‘Triton’ is dead,” the Great Black Dragon gravely intoned to Leon, more statement than question. But Leon nodded rapidly anyway, confirming it. “Ensure that Kamran follows.”
“He will.” A quiet promise, but no less serious for it. Leon had plenty of reasons for killing that man and needed no further encouragement.
He took a breath to continue when he felt hands on his shoulders and realized that he was being called back to the physical world.
“We’ll speak of this death thing more later,” he said as he rose and turned toward his throne. “It seems I’m needed.”
“As all Kings are,” the Great Black Dragon said. “I will wait here. We have matters to discuss. This talk of ‘gates of death’ concerns me after what you did.”
Leon paused mid-step. “How much do you know about it?”
“Not enough,” the dragon growled. “That must change.”
Leon frowned slightly, but nodded and continued to his throne. He could sense that it was Cassandra trying to get his attention, and he knew she wouldn’t do this unless there was an important update to share.
He closed his eyes as he sat upon his throne, and when he opened them again, he found his golden-haired wife next to him, red eyes shining, illuminated from below by her radiant smile.
In response to his quiet questioning look, she said, “Triton’s forces in the north are retreating. His forces here in the south are arcing northward. It looks like they’re going to try and regroup.”
Leon sighed as he absorbed that information. A moment later, he pulsed his magic senses, letting him see for himself how the enemy was moving.
Indeed, in the north, a force of several hundred arks had been left around Lancefoot as a rear guard, and the combined forces of Archelaus, Ingrid, and Illum were tearing it apart. The main force, however, was booking it as fast as their thrusters allowed on a southwestern course. Given how the remains of Triton’s main force were changing their own course, it looked like they would meet each other at the mouth of Serpent’s Neck Bay, not far from the ruins of Queenfall.
The city of Queenfall had been the last unaligned city in the Far West and had submitted to Leon not even two decades ago. Now it was a ruin, and the fleet that had been sent to protect it littered the fields outside the city walls, broken and filled with the dead. Leon hadn’t heard much from the survivors, though he knew that there were survivors. No city could be completely wiped out, even with thousands of arks—especially since Triton’s fleet had to press inland quickly before Leon’s defensive fleets could coordinate their response.
“Any sign that they’re going to try and make a final stand?” Leon asked. He’d hoped they’d just quit the war altogether, but if they were going to try and fight on…
He looked around the fleet he still had. Ragged and broken, and in need of serious reconstitution. Half of the arks he’d had when the day began were smoldering in the mountains, and the remaining half had almost all suffered damage—and that was to say nothing of the warriors that remained. They needed rest, especially since most of that fleet had joined him in the punitive campaign against Antipatra. Not to mention all of his most powerful mages were injured and needed time to heal.
In short, there wasn’t much he could do to that fleet right then, and it would be weeks before he’d be comfortable fighting another pitched battle. And even then, he’d still be outnumbered, though he’d at least be there to even the odds. Still, if Triton’s remaining forces remained in his Kingdom, he’d be hard-pressed to kick them out, and he wouldn’t be able to do so without putting a significant chunk of his remaining military might in danger.
“We don’t know,” Cassandra said honestly. “But if we’re to be ready, then we all need to help.” She straightened up before him and held out a hand. “Come on. King and Queen we may be, but we have to help.”
Leon cast his gaze back down the mountain slopes. He’d summoned rain to suppress the fires of the burning arks, but he could do much more to help his people. He took his wife’s hand and let her pull him to his feet.
“Let’s get to it, then,” he said, and they led those of his strongest mages who were physically capable enough to join them in joining the recovery efforts. They’d need every warrior and every scrap of usable metal that they could get to finally end this war once and for all…
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