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A tremble wound its way through her body, the surest sign yet that she was beginning to stir. Her eyelids fluttered, yet remained stubbornly shut. Her aura was stronger than it had been since Leon left for the planes, but still, Serana didn’t yet wake. Even a couple jolts of silver-blue lightning didn’t help, indicating that the problem was concentrated in her still-healing soul realm rather than any assaults on her mind.
“She’s getting better,” Nyra whispered more to herself than to Leon.
“She is,” he concurred. “A few days more, maybe.”
“She has a White Dragon scale; she’ll recover,” Nyra said confidently, but Leon could still hear the tiniest of wavers in her voice.
He squeezed the younger woman’s shoulder, then left her to continue her vigil. As far as he was aware, she’d rarely left his mother’s side—only to fight Triton’s forces and to attend to bodily necessities, and given her tier, the latter was minimal. Leon was grateful; he had many duties to see to as King, and knowing that someone like her was watching over his mother, even if Nyra couldn’t actually do anything to help Serana, was a comfort.
He was more comforted knowing that his mother was on the mend, even if she hadn’t yet woken up. ‘A few more days…’ he silently repeated as he left the bedside.
Just outside, he found Lucianus, several of his other secretaries, and a host of Tempest Knights waiting right where he’d left them. Normally, he’d have also had a couple Paladins with him, too, but right then, he’d given his Paladins orders to either rest or help wherever they could rather than trailing after him as he attended various meetings in the palace. He also found that Gaius, Ipatameni, and their respective secretaries had appeared.
“Something happen?” he asked, his concern spiking at seeing his remaining High Ministers outside. If they’d needed something, they could’ve contacted his staff and arranged a meeting; that they’d sought him out was not particularly comforting.
“Your Majesty,” Gaius said, “nothing happened, but that doesn’t mean that work doesn’t need to be done.”
Leon frowned, waited a few seconds, and when Gaius didn’t continue, he said, “Let’s walk and talk. I have a meeting with Icarius and Penelope about helping the refugees back to their homes. They’re going to need a lot of support to rebuild…”
“We’re ready to render that support,” Ipatameni stated, “but we’d be more ready if we—”
“Not yet,” Leon growled, knowing how his Steward was going to finish that statement. He’d grown tired of them bothering him about this over the past few days. He knew that they had a point, but he wasn’t ready to give up.
“They haven’t been found, Leon,” Gaius said as he walked a step behind Leon. “We… cannot just let the Chancellor and Marshal positions go unfilled.”
“And they will be filled,” Leon replied. “Later.” His tone was final, though he wasn’t sure how much the other two were going to take it as such. However, as he exited the healer’s wing of his palace, he noticed several Tribal elders speaking with Icarius and Penelope in a lower courtyard. Eager to get away from this conversation, he simply stepped into the air and started flying down.
To his frustration, all the rest of those following him did the same.
He could understand Gaius and Ipatameni’s insistence on filling those positions, but he couldn’t help but hesitate. It had been a week since the end of the war, and his forces were stretching themselves thin with everything that had to be done. Garrisons had to be reinforced, final casualties had to be counted, entire cities had to be scouted…
Queenfall, Culain, and the castle of the Seventh Iron Order had been struck hard by Triton’s forces. Triton himself had carved a bloody path through the southern cities of Leon’s territory, causing immense damage not just to the area directly around the Artor Valley but also to everything that he could reach south of the Blackbone Fens.
So, with Triton’s fleet having retreated, Leon’s fleets had largely dispersed to their various tasks. The Lion’s Portal was being reinforced, detachments were sent north to secure the coastline and evaluate the state of the northern vassals, and much of the remaining fleet elements were reinforcing the southern coast. Given that the refugees who’d fled into the Artor Valley also needed his support, that left depressingly few available people to continue scouting the mountains around the valley for potential survivors.
Triton had fought hard, penetrating the storm wall repeatedly in his efforts to destroy Artorion. That left considerable wreckage and many bodies still unaccounted for in the mountains. And given they’d disappeared during Triton’s first storm wall penetration, neither returning to Artorion nor being used by Triton for propaganda, it was assumed that both Iron-Striker and the Jaguar were still out in the mountains.
They’d been missing for weeks, and the assumption at this point was that they were dead. But Leon held out hope that they’d be found, and their status could be confirmed. They were post-Apotheosis mages, and those of such power were tough.
As much as others shared in his hope, those of a more practical bent still insisted that these open positions be filled, and as much as he wanted to believe that both could still, potentially, possibly, be alive, Leon was finding it harder to dismiss those voices.
When Leon landed in the courtyard, he caught everyone there somewhat by surprise. He could also almost feel the pressure from Ipatameni and Gaius as they landed behind him, with Lucianus and all the others following shortly after. Their eyes bored holes in Leon’s back, and the reason for it was plain enough for him to see: the most qualified candidates for filling those open positions were also in the courtyard.
Icarius and Penelope were there, both of them hashing out a few details with the elders about reconstruction—Heaven’s Eye would be crucial for material acquisition. Leon could foresee that Elise’s mother was going to have quite a bit of work trying to equitably divide what Heaven’s Eye could provide, especially since it was Icarius himself speaking with the elders.
Beside the leaders of Heaven’s Eye, some of the highest-ranking and most powerful elders in the Tribes were present. Singer-in-Caves, Solomon, and Xanthippe had been in the city for a while, aiding in resettlement and reconstruction, but Sar and Frode had both rushed from Aeterna to Artorion in the past couple days, bringing with them considerable Tribal forces that had been mustering to aid the Kingdom during the war. They hadn’t been numerous enough to do anything on their own, but if he’d known about it, Leon might’ve put in greater effort to get those reinforcements to the Nexus after seizing back control of the Lion’s Portal.
“Ah!” Icarius exclaimed with all the gusto of a man who saw the perfect opportunity to foist work off onto someone else. “King Leon! Just the man we were hoping to see! The giants have come out of their deep caves and have opened up their reserves of material, along with offering their construction services! However, there is only so much they can do, and several Tribes have been trying to monopolize their abilities. We could use some mediation…”
Leon smiled bitterly as he surveyed the gathered elders. “We’re going to be…” He blinked, and a figure appeared in the corner of his eye. His voice caught in his throat as he realized that Veles was now present, seemingly utterly unconcerned that his very presence indicated that the ward scheme for Westmount had some kind of flaw.
More shockingly, however, was that as everyone either stared at Leon curiously for simply trailing off or trying to follow his gaze, Sar alone seemed able to see what he did.
The Hart rose from his seat in alarm, not challenging Veles immediately, but still clearly able to see the pallid man.
“Your Majesty…?” Gaius whispered as Sar conjured a weapon while looking to Leon for instructions. The Tempest Knights followed suit, but none of them seemed to see what Sar did—though none were Harts, which Leon noted.
“You can see me?” Veles asked with a broadening grin.
“Yes,” Sar replied.
“Stand down,” Leon stated as everyone else’s confusion only spread. “He’s no threat. Are you?”
Despite the tinge of danger in Leon’s voice, Veles looked far more concerned with the fact that Sar could see him rather than Leon’s subtle threat.
“No, no, I’m not,” Veles said.
“King Leon?” Sar whispered as he sidled up to Leon, unwilling to turn even slightly away from Veles. Everyone else in the courtyard wisely got out of the way, forming a rough semi-circle around the ghostly man that only Leon and Sar seemed able to see.
“I’d like to finish our conversation, if you’re not busy,” Veles said.
Leon frowned, but glancing around, he said, “Everyone can wait here. I’ll deal with this.”
Veles flashed him a grin, and with a snap of his fingers, he and Leon were suddenly elsewhere, standing at the summit of a steep hill in a gray world that color had completely abandoned. The hills were bare stone and dirt, and the mountains in the distance weren’t any better. The valleys were filled with mist of palest blue, while the sky was completely monochromatic gray.
“This place just keeps surprising me,” Veles said. “I hadn’t thought someone else was going to see me…”
Leon looked around, unable to recognize anything. His heart thumped in his chest a little harder, but he wasn’t quite worried yet. At the very least, he trusted Sar to explain what he saw to the others… though he doubted that would assuage any fears…
“Yes… surprise,” Leon whispered. “I don’t suppose you could have requested a meeting ahead of time instead of just showing up?”
“The number of people who’ve been able to see me since I became… stuck… could be counted on one hand. Now… with you and that man… I’d need both hands…” Veles held up one hand, all fingers extended, and the other with only one. “That makes arranging meetings ahead of time… problematic…”
Deciding to just dive in, Leon shifted into a more comfortable stance and asked, “What does that mean? ‘Stuck’? You’ve said that before, and I’m going to need more details…”
A harrowed look briefly flickered across Veles’ face, but it was just as quickly suppressed by an unremarkable smile. “If you’d indulge me, Leon Raime, I’d like to ask you a few questions, first. I want to gauge a few things, to know what you know before I can explain anything…”
Leon clicked his tongue in muted annoyance, then acquiesced with a nod of his head.
“Hmm. Let’s begin simply. What does death mean to you?” After Leon gave him a blank stare for a couple seconds, Veles clarified, “Is it an end, or a beginning? Is it oblivion, or is there more? Cessation of existence, or a step beyond mortality?”
Understanding the question more now, Leon answered, “Neither an end nor a beginning. It is rest. Rest with Ancestors long gone.”
“… Is that it?” Veles asked. “Nothing more? Just… ‘rest’?”
“The Ancestors rest in various ways,” Leon continued. “Some by fighting. Others by feasting. It depends. They watch over us from the afterlife, keeping an eye on their descendants. If we dishonor our names and lineages, our Ancestors might forge a personal hell to punish us with, once we join them in death. But such punishments are never permanent, and we will, eventually, reunite with our Ancestors.”
“Interesting…” Veles whispered. “A… somewhat conventional belief. Most people I’ve known have believed in some kind of afterlife, and our ancestors always have parts to play in such beliefs…”
“How does that relate to you being ‘stuck’?” Leon asked. “You said that you wanted to study death… were you punished for doing so?”
“Punished wouldn’t be an… incorrect way to phrase it, but it would imply a level of intentionality that isn’t accurate.” Veles started pacing, though clearly more out of excitement than anxiety. “Nothing is punishing me—more that I attempted something foolish, something that you almost repeated seven days ago, and made many mistakes in doing so.”
“Did you ‘throw open the gates of death’?”
Veles grinned. “Something like that, yes.”
“Are you going to explain that?”
“I told you seven days ago that I’m not yet willing to share that story. But I can speak on what I’ve learned because of it. What I’ve discovered about what I’ve become.”
“Stuck,” Leon repeated.
“Stuck,” Veles said with a knowing smile. “Between life and death. Let me continue with a question, Leon Raime. How does one ascend to the fourteenth-tier?”
Leon frowned a moment, wondering where Veles was going with this, and answered, “Creating simple life. Trees, plants, small animals, that sort of thing.”
“Yes,” Veles confirmed. “Do you see what that is? What kind of power that is?”
Leon shrugged and asked, “Is that ‘power of life’? To contrast… what we did? Using ‘power of death’?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Veles exclaimed, but his demeanor suddenly became more somber. “It is thus my deep regret to inform you, Leon, that one cannot use both life and death. One must give. A man must choose: life or death? In all my years, I have found no middle way…”
Leon went quiet, unsure how to respond, unsure if he was even interpreting the man’s words correctly—at the very least, Veles didn’t seem all that used to speaking with other people.
“That,” Veles continued, “is why I call myself ‘stuck’. I am a post-Apotheosis mage, but I cannot gain magical power. I am stuck in the tiers, wielding death, and thus, unable to wield life.”
Leon’s heart skipped a beat, and he felt his extremities grow cold. “Are you… saying that I might be stuck, too?”
“Yes.” A simple answer, ringing with finality. Leon almost staggered backward, and after a moment, raised a hand. He stared at his palm as silver-blue lightning flashed around his fingers. At this point, he was fairly experienced and proficient in creating wisps, able to do so without using the specialized equipment that he’d once needed.
Magic gathered, and he tried to animate it with a touch of origin power.
After a moment, his magic dissipated, and no wisp formed.
“Fuck no…” he whispered, the muscles in his legs growing jittery. “I can’t get stuck… I need to… I have…”
“Relax, my new friend,” Veles whispered, though it took until he continued for Leon to truly do so. “In all my many years, I have found nothing immutable. Not even death. I am confident that a solution to this predicament is out there, and have searched for it endlessly. If you are as afflicted as I… well, I hope you don’t think too harshly of me for my elation, as two heads are better than one, aren’t they?”
Breathing deeply, Leon said in a shaking voice, “And… three better than two? Three with Sar? Maybe more if that’s… that’s something that the Ancestral Harts can do…”
“Yes, three,” Veles said. “We’re going to have to speak about these ‘Ancestral Harts’ and their power, but for now… I’m eager to speak more about you, and your experience with death. I saw you wield it before, in the form of lightning. How did you come by it, if I might be so bold as to ask?”
“I… uh…” Leon whispered, wanting to do almost anything but honestly answer that question.
“I would guess either a Universe Fragment, or you were touched by something connected to death. A black star, perhaps? Or a Devil’s Tear?” Veles smiled and laughed at some private joke. “What does it say about this that the Universe Fragment is the likeliest single thing to be responsible? Truly, we are cursed beings, you and I…”
Leon just staggered back slowly until his calves brushed against a boulder sticking out of the bare gray dirt. He all but collapsed onto the stone and let his power play through his fingers again. Again, no wisp formed.
“The… the power of life…” he sputtered. “I… I kind of… wondered at that… Why is creating simple life… why is that fourteenth?”
Veles’ smile turned sympathetic for a moment and then thinned into a teasing grin. Indulging Leon, he asked, “Is the power of life not profound?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Leon halfheartedly agreed.
“But not something that screams ‘I am now more powerful’, is it?”
‘Can’t fucking be true…’ Leon thought as he stared at his fingers.
After a moment, he glanced up and, after an awkward pause, responded aloud, “No, no it isn’t…” He shook his head and forced himself to concentrate. If he was truly stuck, then… Veles would be invaluable help in becoming unstuck…
“Life is integral to power,” Veles said. “Look into your soul realm. Is there life there?”
Leon frowned, then nodded.
“Is there?” Veles pressed. “True life? Or is there only the facsimile of it, created through the Mists of Chaos?”
Leon leaned forward, realizing that Veles was correct there, at least so long as the Thunderbird and the Great Black Dragon didn’t count.
“From life comes power,” Veles continued. “Creating true life, even if only simple life, means an enormous gain in power, as even that simple life will become a source of power. A soul realm filled with life is a soul realm filled with power.”
Leon nodded, his eyes growing wide as he realized the true implications. His soul realm was immense, able to hold quite a bit of life, if he were able to create it. Existing in someone else’s soul realm was nearly impossible… unless that existence began in the soul realm…
“That… reframes quite a bit…” Leon whispered as he thought back on his and the Thunderbird’s discussions on ascending to the fourteenth-tier. She had focused mostly on the creation aspect rather than the broader view of why he was creating.
“And it is almost certainly impossible for you, now,” Veles said, his tone dropping as Leon felt his stomach plummet.
‘Stuck…’
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