The Scythe and the Seer, Book 3 of the Enchanter's Cycle

All of their preparations were made. Her facsimile had arrived in Takauji’s private villa outside of Higoi and begun relaying her orders, last night’s gifts had arrived at the usual place, and their essentials were packed in a series of bags and crates.

Even then, the servants were (very carefully) storing them in a satchel that endlessly recycled space, and could thus hold far greater than was intended. That little gem had been a wedding gift from Elurra, and it’d been invaluable as they traveled from Hitorigami City to the Iron Tower and back.

Their temporary room seemed barren, empty, though it was still finer than anything she had known as a child. The balcony and fireplace had been a nice touch.

Shinabi, endlessly enthusiastic, seemed to take all the people around them in stride, pestering laborers here and there, then bolting away at the sounds of their angered voices. His claws left shallow gouges in the wood-paneled floor, and Kaileena couldn’t restrain a smile as the cleaning attendants fumed.

Rairakku was there to see them off, as was her more immediate family, who had remained after the ceremonies to check up on her. Kaileena was grateful, if a little irritated. Their departure was supposed to be a minor event, but now it felt like she was leaving everyone behind.

“Remember...” Gatsuyu said, “Whoever is out there, you will always have a family here in Teikoku. Be well, Sister.”

Kaileena nodded, and offered an embrace. She held at bay the tears that threatened, “I know this well, Brother. Perhaps you will visit Arteth and I in Moonshadow when this war has ended.”

Brother smiled at that, “That we may. What do you think, Nagomi?”

Nagomi, an old acquaintance from childhood and soon to be her sister-in-law, nodded as the servants handed Arteth the infinite-bag, “Definitely. And it won’t be long, either. Kaileena...don’t get too used to not being beside us.”

They shared a laugh before Arteth informed them he was ready to begin the spell. Obliging, the others gave them ample space, and he intoned a deep hum in the back of his throat. His words, unintelligible to her, were nonetheless rich with authority, his blue runes flaring into a blinding light that engulfed them.

Kaileena nearly vomited as a sickening wave of vertigo struck her; it felt like she was falling through the floor all the while being dragged upwards by the top of her head. Shinabi, caught in the radius of the spell, yipped plaintively, then howled with fear.

The feeling passed, and the blinding light dimmed, revealing something far removed from their room in Hitorigami City.

Kaileena saw but did not comprehend a great late-day sky with bright red constellations, an overlarge red sun descending the horizon, and hundreds of giant floating crystals cut in geometric prisms.

Looking down, for they were at a great height, she saw great roaming fields of blue grass blown this way and that by a fickle wind, and winding rives that appeared almost black in the low ambient light.

An even greater sight was that of the city (for it was a city) before them. The height had disoriented her, but now Kaileena remembered Arteth’s tales of flying-mountain-cities.

The stories didn’t do it justice. Never could she have considered something so massive to be potentially airborne, but what stood before her was a city ten times that of her nation’s capital, with soaring spires ringed with gold, domed structures made from glass, revealing village-sized gardens, greenhouses, and from what she could see with augmented vision, animal menageries.

Her puppy collapsed on the ground, insensate from the teleportation, so she scooped him up, stroking his forehead.

Returning her vision to normal acuity, lest the detail and color disorient her further, Kaileena flinched at the sight of dozens, nay, hundreds of Kamiyonanayo flooding the wide area she found herself in. It was some manner of entry pavilion, with large slabs of engraved rock floating this way and that by some means of enchantment similar to the El’Dari flying carpets.

Beside the Kamiyonanayo she saw clusters of Silkrit with blue skin like hers, as well as Elves, short and squat cow-men, an Ogre or two, and other mortal species she was unfamiliar with.

Many stared, but others didn’t even seem to notice. That was a sensation to which she was unfamiliar; to not be worthy of a second glance...

“Home.” Arteth said dryly, “For what it’s worth. Ah. Here they come to greet us.”

A group of seven Kamiyonanayo swooped down on their great black wings. She didn’t recognize any of them. All but one were armored for battle, in shimmering glassteel and dark titanium. They didn’t look pleased to see her or Arteth.

“Oh...let me see, let me see.” mused the Kamiyonanayo who was not dressed for war, instead garbed in golden breeches and an odd mask that obscured half his face. It was white, possibly porcelain, ringed with bronze, depicting a wolf with a human-like, leering grin.

“Hmmm, yes, ah...Dur’Arteth, the Betrayer, the Oath Breaker. How...nice...it is to see you. Feeling well, I wonder?”

“Armathras.” Arteth groaned, “What a delight.”

Kaileena flinched as her beloved took hold of Verlangen’s hilt, which was by no means an idle threat from him. Shinabi, still cowering in her arms, yipped at them.

The other Kamiyonanayo drew a small golden fork with two prongs, smiling, “Elurra and the rest might tolerate your existence in Aurora, but this is our home, and yours no longer. You are not welcome here.”

The armed Kamiyonanayo also drew weapons and advanced a pace menacingly, and the area quieted to a deathly stillness.

“Oh?” Arteth asked with dripping sarcasm, “Since when did I heed the word of one like you, stripling? When last I checked, I had helped defend Teikoku while you were here, no doubt deciding on which terrible pun to speak to me when I would eventually reclaim what is mine by right.”

“No more jokes...” Armathras replied dryly, “Not anymore. You gave me a nasty bite at the end of the Dreadborne War. One that has not yet healed.”

With that, the Kamiyonanayo removed his white half-mask to reveal a red puckered scar running down his chitin head plate, crossing and sealing the eye socket, ending at the bridge of his nose, half of which was caved in and partially filled with dried mucus.

An audible gasp was heard, to which Kaileena understood; Kamiyonanayo had a regenerative healing far beyond that of a mortal. A permanent scar should have been impossible...

“It aches...” Armathras explained, “Every. Single. Day. When I speak, it’s twice as bad. A few may have forgotten the agony you caused, but I live with it daily, as a constant reminder of what you truly are. So draw that sword; I may be weaker than you, but I have considerable backing. How many here would jump at the chance to strike down the Firstborn who betrayed his kin, who betrayed Surthath? Quite a few.”

“Surthath-”

“Is not here!” Armathras snapped, “His presence is no longer here. He has vanished, and the Dread Hammer lurks in the shadows, planning who knows what. Had you never been born we would still have peace here, and Aurora-”

“Aurora and all its souls...” Arteth interrupted, “...and all mortal souls in the Veil would still be finite in their existence, would still succumb in the afterlife to the Heart of Darkness and be destroyed. Morag Toth would still be alive, as would the vast majority of the R’yzthaek. And if you call this place anything other than peaceful, I invite you to look elsewhere. Do not speak to me of things you know not.”

“See for yourself, then.” said one of the armored Kamiyonanayo.

Arteth must have felt his peoples’ dispositions directly when he telepathically accessed the hive-mind of his species. He’d told her that all of a Kamiyonanayo species can feel others of their kin when either within a certain proximity or when focusing their minds in such a way.

“They shut me out.” he finally said, and Armathras smiled fiercely, “Of course they do. A vote was called before your arrival; to decide the terms of your return. While we could not convince the entire species to vote for your exile...yet...we have agreed that you should remain unwelcome in our cities and in our unified mental connection. You will find no allies, no friends, here, betrayer.”

Arteth nodded with a weary sigh, releasing his hold on his sword, “So be it; I am not welcome. I expected nothing less. Well then, I see no reason to linger in Hrynn’Rylak and you bear no right to bar me from Moonshadow proper. That right is Surthath’s alone.”

Looking past him, Arteth nodded again, speaking much more loudly, “I’ll just take my tower home, as it is still my property. And pity the fool who now inhabits it, if indeed any do.”

Runes crackling, Arteth lifted his hand, and with thunderous protest the ground shook as something massive in the distance rose above the city limits. She gasped as she realized that Arteth had ripped his home, a tower more than four times the size of her own, from its foundations, and was pulling it towards their location.

“I will take it someplace far from here.” Arteth noted, “And leave it rooted someplace more pleasant, more...inviting. Good day.”

With that he renewed his teleportation, and Kaileena found herself yet again awash in blinding light.

Vala ran into broad daylight, but thanks to the blood she’d claimed from Furin’s neck stump it wouldn’t kill her. Her burned skin and eyes were already regenerating.

“Child!” Vala yelled, “Don’t run from me! I will not hurt you!”

Receiving no answer, she sighed, “All this trouble for nothing...the lack of gratitude disturbs me.”

Then again, she knew what she looked like to Humans. It was hardly surprising. Sniffing the air, she couldn’t determine the girl’s whereabouts. Feeding had dulled her senses; the necessary cost of safely walking in the sun.

Knowing her mundane methods would not avail, and that she couldn’t leave a child alone in such a wild frontier, Vala extended her consciousness outward telepathically, in such a manner that she hadn’t successfully attempted before. With luck, those reverberations would return upon contact with a living brain, much like an echo.

The moments waiting increased her concern, for such waves covered vast distances quickly.

“Has she died already?” Vala wondered, “That would be awful...”

No...there...there she was. North and East, back towards the border with the Central District. The girl had doubled back and covered a great deal of ground, but fear lent one speed she supposed.

Stretching her limbs, she sprinted, covering great distances at speeds Humans could not hope to achieve naturally. It didn’t take long.

She stopped at the outskirts of the forest, looking to the distance to find a long trail of smoke leading up to the skies. That trail pointed down to a burned building. Its wood was black, and clouds of ash already drifted from the smoldering embers. The roof had caved in, shingles displaced in a wide pile. A faint crying emanated from inside a corner of what was once two walls.

Thoughtful, Vala proceeded, cloak and scarf concealing her features. She found the girl curled against something soft and fuzzy, a blanket, beside two charred husks. Human bodies. Looking at her more closely, Vala guessed she was six or seven years old.

“Stay away...” the girl-child whimpered, “Or father will hurt you when he gets back.”

One of those corpses was male, so she presumed that was him.

“I do not think so, child. You need to come with me. It isn’t safe here.”

“W-what?” the child asked, “What do you mean? I am h-home. I am safe. Home is always safe, right?”

“It certainly should be.” she replied sadly, “Come with me. I can take you away from here.”

Now the child looked to her directly, eyes frantic and filled with tears, “I want to stay here. Go away.”

“I will not.” Vala replied softly, “And you must come with me.”

She held out her hand, then approached slowly, and the child screamed, “No! Father will get you! Once he gets back.”

“What does he look like?” Vala asked idly, coming no closer, and the child shook, “He’s big and strong. Mama always said he was a soldier. He took his big sword with him when he fought the other one.”

She looked down and saw a weathered katana in the larger corpse’s hand, its guard blackened, its blade corroded by the ash and heat. He had fought, indeed.

“And I am certain he fought bravely.” Vala said gently, “Please; he would want you to come with me. It isn’t safe here. Let me take your hand.”

Shivering, the girl finally acquiesced, whimpering at her touch, and she smiled, “There, there. That wasn’t so bad, was it? What’s your name?”

“Kuri.” the girl replied, “I am Kuri. Mother and Father call me something else, but that’s what the other one says my name is. I believe her.”

“The other one?” Vala asked idly, lifting the girl and carrying her out of the ruined house.

“Tenri.” Kuri replied, stopping her dead and sending a spike of icy cold dread into her heart.

“Who?” Vala asked again, deathly still, and Kuri nodded, unmindful, “Tenri said my name was Kuri, and that I would remember why when I was older. Mother and Father never heard her when she talked, so they didn’t believe me. She said one day I would find her mother, and that she would know what to do.”

Now shivering herself, all Vala could say was, “Well, I truly have no idea what to do. I guess she was wrong about that...”

Aika found herself uncharacteristically flummoxed.

She’d waged battles with nigh-impossible odds, faced down and killed vampyres, witnessed a duel between godlike Kamiyonanayo and a matriarch, and assisted with hundreds of assassination missions and reconnaissance missions deep behind enemy lines.

And yet here, at a fine clothing store, she found herself unable to decide what to wear to her date with Ryū! The irony!

The tailor, poor man that he was, was of little help; Silkrit tastes differed from Humans’, apparently.

Or maybe it was just her.

“White or brown silk would complement your natural coloration.” he argued, but she vehemently protested, “If I want to look monochrome, perhaps. Red linen would be far nicer, but I can’t seem to find the right shade.”

“These are all the tints I have.” the tailor replied, flustered, “With more forewarning to prepare dyes, perhaps I could have been of better service. I would be happy to take an order for next time.”

Sighing, Aika accepted defeat, “I’ll stick to what I know, then; black it is...but that silk over there looks very nice. What do you have for that?”

That perked him right up, “I know just the thing. Wait here.”

Obviously happy to be away from her, the Human went into the back room, tossing aside a few straw baskets in his haste. While she waited Aika looked back to herself in the shoulder-high reflective device humans called a mirror. Tail flicking uncertainly, she studied her own features; vanity was universal to her gender, perhaps.

Her armor had done a good job of preventing additional scars, save the ones she’d already endured as a slave. Outside of her lower back and the pale scar running down her chest where she’d been dissected, her skin was smooth and flawless, though her body was entirely composed of unattractive lean muscle. Silkrit males preferred softer, pudgier females, with wide hips for laying clutches of eggs.

It could have been worse, of course. She’d seen others of her kind that were nearly indeterminable from the males. Or she could have been possessed of those odd chest extrusions that Kaileena had. Those just seemed...extraneous.

“Ugh...” she groaned, “Just listen to yourself. Keep a lid on all that when speaking aloud.”

Reaching over to touch the black silk she’d pointed out earlier, Aika caressed the square of material. Its smoothness was unlike any fiber she knew; no wonder Humans loved the stuff! To feel it rubbing against bare skin must be incredibly soothing.

There was a sound to the side, that of the tailor returning with a lump of silk cloth in his hands.

“Now then, It’ll take me about an hour to sew out a suitable tail slit and compensate for the lack of breasts, but this looks like just your size. Put it on as best you can, and if you want it we can discuss the fine details like the price.”

Koukatsuna rose, ate a sparse breakfast, and went to the training courtyard outside the villa.

While he was still in no condition to spar, he wanted to at least keep mentally fit by studying the combat techniques of the soldiers, many of whom had briefly been his understudies. He was greeted by a sea of scowls, but promptly ignored them. He wasn’t about to start caring now what people thought of him.

Taking a seat against a support beam, he got cozy and watched weapon practice. The soldiers were armed with either katanas or naginata, with a smaller section practicing with crossbows and black powder rifles about a bowshot down the path.

With sword or spear, the technique was the same; kendo, the local style utilizing ruthless precision, speed, and intimidation, akin to the careful, mostly diagonal strokes of a paintbrush.

“Hello again, Rinshi.” Koukatsuna said aloud, startling the woman behind him. Sighing, Minamoto’s second daughter knelt three paces to his left, following his eyes back to the active training.

“How did you know I was there?” she asked, and he snorted, “My body may be broken, but my sense of smell still works fine.”

Silence stretched as they watched the goings-on. At first the soldiers practiced in synchronized routines with steel weapons, before pairing up and switching to bamboo or wooden replicas for direct contact. Cycling whenever a winner and loser were declared, soldiers were reorganized into trios of more seasoned fighters, with the less so being re-instructed by a scowling field commander.

A few of them happened to eye Koukatsuna at some point or another, and each of them scowled disdainfully.

“You should be resting.” Rinshi finally said, “Recovery will be slower if you move about like you do.”

Koukatsuna shrugged, “Recovery will do me little good if I go mad staring at a wall.”

Suddenly uneasy around the girl, he reached into a belt pouch for his pipe, then calmly tamped it.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asked suddenly, having forgotten his station, but Rinshi shook her head. With that, he lit, and breathed in the tonic-enhanced cannabis, sighing after a few hits as a sudden wave of euphoria washed over him, relaxing his muscles.

“There we go...” he said around the pipe, taking another long draught, before coughing, then tensing and gritting his teeth as a loose filament of smoke went out through a nostril. Rinshi held a hand against her mouth, shivering, and he recognized the gesture to be one that Humans made to cover up their laughter.

“Oh...” Koukatsuna said with mock agitation, “You like that, huh? Watch this.”

Taking a long, deep puff, the bladedancer stuck out his forked tongue and blew through it. The sensation was like standing next to a large fire and breathing in, but the exhaled fumes made a rough triangle when filtered through.

Rinshi tried and failed to cover her mirth, then burst into laughter, “My uncle once made a ring with his smoke, but I cannot say I’ve ever heard of someone making a triangle.”

“Comes with the territory.” he replied, “Or just the tongue.”

“...So why are you out?” Koukatsuna asked after a while, “Especially talking to me. I thought I was beneath the attention of most everyone here.”

With that the mirth drained from Rinshi’s face, “I wanted someone to talk to that wasn’t interested in who I was to marry and how much more I should be doing to honor my family’s name. You seemed like a nice person, that was all.”

He stared, agape, before bursting into painful laughter, smoke issuing wildly as it was forced from his lungs. His ribs were killing him by the time he got control over himself.

Teary-eyed and ignoring the venomous stares from the soldiers, Koukatsuna replied, “Nice? Nice?! Really? Hmm. Glad to know I made that kind of impression. Is it really that bad for you here?”

“Not really.” Rinshi conceded, “I will have to leave soon to attend my engagement ceremony. After that, I will only return the day of the wedding, then never again.”

Saddened by that in his own numb, distant sort of way, Koukatsuna nodded, “My...er...well, I’d made some effort to learn the names of all the nobles in this district. Who’s the lucky man?”

“Commodore Atsushi.”

Koukatsuna hid his grimace; Atsushi was a former naval officer, retired to a private mansion far west of Fusestu near the Central District’s border. The man was a war hero, but apathetic, cold, and ruthlessly determined. From what he’d seen, Rinshi was made of softer stuff. That wouldn’t be a pleasant match for her, especially because he knew Atsushi to be in his late thirties. He still didn’t understand the Human habit of spring-winter matches...

“Hmm...” Koukatsuna said, fishing for something to say, “Make the best of what you have, I suppose. Ryū tried and failed to teach me better wisdom than that, so take it or leave it.”

Rinshi nodded, “I thank you for it. But my maidservant is probably searching for me by now. I will go to her and suffer today’s lessons. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For talking to me. For listening.”

Nodding blankly, Koukatsuna finished his first bowl, and started on the next one. But as she walked away, her footsteps almost as light as Ryū’s, he sighed and squashed it.

Later maybe...right now he felt like he’d had enough.

He was still strumming his Sitar when there was a sudden knock at his door.

Ready in a heartbeat, Ryū smoothed out his layered black and red linen robes, which gave him a fierce but dignified and confident aura. His curling horns had been polished to an almost mirror shine, the residual dirt that always seemed to find its way in the nooks and crannies prodded out. His weapons were stashed in a locked trunk under the bed; outside of a formal tanto he was unarmed.

Just as well. He had no intention to fight this night. He opened the door, and his breath caught. There was Aika, dressed in a fine silken kimono the color of night. Fine ivory-white embroidery the shape of gusts of wind accented the material, and the under-layer and obi corset were white as well.

“How beautiful you are, Love Song.” Ryū breathed, “Be it draped in silk or Skraul viscera. I have made reservations at a fine tea house that just opened up in the village, or, if you prefer, we can go anywhere else and do anything else this land has to offer.”

“Tea sounds lovely.” Aika replied sheepishly, “But perhaps after that I would enjoy a nice walk in the moonlight.”

“One of my own heart.” Ryū said with an involuntary grin, “That will do just fine. Your hand, milady?”

Jhihro watched the fluid slowly drip down the beak of the alembic and into the waiting vial.

After a long, long trial-and-error period of experimentation, he’d finally succeeded. In harvesting the fluid secreted by vampyre fangs, coupled with a specific combination of hormones, spinal fluid, and electrochemical stimulation, he had simulated the means through which high-ranking vampyres controlled slaves outside of the arts of magicka!

Upon direct injection into the bloodstream, he could command the Silkrit half-bloods created by Uejini and imprisoned by the Te Fukushu. Not only that, but by overriding certain synapses in his own brain he could command other species of half-breeds on a limited scale! Certainly, the energy-based Mrrg would be immune, as would any other non-carbon based life form, but science be praised it was progress!

He was nearly ready to implement his alliance, as had been done in secret. Oh, how both the vampyres and his own kin would regret providing him with such useful tools and such a perfect place to undertake his research.

Oh, how they would scream! Oh yes, they would scream in despair and frustration!

“I am nearly ready, now, nearly ready...” he giggled, considering his trump card; a very, very special brew he’d synthesized over a month ago. Was it time?

Three tools at his disposal; the vampyric command hormone, a large supply of gas-based neurotoxin, and that particular brew...

“Four days should be sufficient to get everything in place. In the meantime all there is to do is to wait for this to take effect.” Jhihro decided, approaching his private stores and withdrawing a four-pronged syringe, each valve containing a special fluid, that when combined with the other three would grant him a mighty boon.

Let none dispute his absolute mastery over science and alchemy, for he had created liquid immortality; the one hope of ascension for his race and the extermination or subjugation of the Skraul! The others would not accept it willingly, not yet, and since he couldn’t replicate the psionic domination that destroyed the minds of the half-breeds wailing in his laboratory, he could not force his gift upon them.

But they would come around once he eradicated the indigenous population of Humans and secured a new home world for the new empire, a Silkrit empire.

But first things first...he had to get out of Karyu with his army in tow.

Kaileena tried and failed three times to talk to Arteth as they walked the fields of Moonshadow over the course of the evening, his tower comically floating behind them like a gargantuan piece of luggage.

“I appreciate your support.” he said on the third attempt, “Truly I do, my love. But I wish to be alone with my thoughts for a time.”

That said, they continued in silence, eventually reaching a dense forest. A babbling brook ran somewhere in the distance, and Kaileena caught brief glimpses of bizarre fauna; six-legged turtles with reflective shells, a bright red bird with a sheet of dark purple quills down its back, and a lizard with a fat, wide lobster tail.

But still...the majesty seemed hopelessly tarnished. To be rejected by your own family... It had been her greatest fear after Shinabi had passed away. But Gatsuyu had never blamed her for that; had accepted her just as readily as if he’d welcomed her back from a long journey. That was what families were for, wasn’t it?

Stroking the space behind her puppy’s ears, she held him close, lest he bolt off into the forest and get lost. To judge by his squirming, he seemed hells-bent on doing just that.

Deep in the forest they found a large clearing, perhaps an ancient dried pond. The ground was soft, but a simple transmutation would harden it to the consistency of granite.

“Kaileena...” he said wearily, startling her, “My strength wanes lugging this thing around. Could you deal with the foundation so I can affix it.”

Nodding, Kaileena lowered Shinabi and kept him penned in a four-by-four foot circle of telekinetic energy. Activating the power of the Phoenix Stone, she cast a spell, a proper spell, purely relying on Blood Magicka to achieve the desired effect.

Her veins blazed, much like Arteth’s runes, but where his were blue her veins were white laced with pink, the same color as the emanations of the stone. The bowshot-sized space shifted; the sparse plants growing in the dried bed pushed away (but still kept alive and rooted), leaving the desired ground barren and uniformly flat.

Telekinetically compacting the sand-sediment, mostly quartz fragments, into sedimentary sandstone, Kaileena then molded it through intense pressure into quartzite, a form of metamorphic stone, before finally blasting it with localized heat into a platform of pure quartz.

Granite would have been more suitable, but with another surge of power from the Phoenix Stone Kaileena enchanted the material to the density and hardness of diamond. The expenditure of energy allowed her to relax, easing the constant metaphysical pressure that the stone brought her, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Arteth, nodding, lowered the tower, and, through magicka, fused it to the foundation she created.

“A good idea, that platform. As is I can just move it again if we decide to take it with us to Teikoku. Let us see how my abode has fared and what I will need to mold it into the palace that you deserve.”

They dined at a Silkrit-run but Human-style luxury teahouse called Tokage Kamukoto, which translated as “Lizard’s Bite”; an apparently amusing pun stemming from Humans commonly comparing the Silkrit to certain species of small reptiles. Its decorum was lavish, with finely lacquered wooden floor panels and walls, which upon the latter hung giant bladed fans, watercolor paintings, and other such curiosities.

There were low, circular tables with fine engravings carved upon them, upon which rested elaborate paper lanterns that glowed soft yellows and reds. In place of chairs there were small white cushions for them to kneel on.

There were many in attendance, primarily Silkrit, with Human nobles sprinkled here and there, but the volume of voices was low, allowing more privacy and intimacy at individual tables.

They sat opposite each other, though the small table hardly separated them. More than a few eyes observed their evening, most simply curious. After a brief appetizer of seared scallops with a sauce made from miso, butter, and vinegar, they dined on tuna rolled with plain rice and seaweed that was dipped in a dark sauce made from fermented soybeans. They also sipped sake from shallow bowls, engaging in general conversation.

Oddly, when the conversation shifted to her earlier days, she felt comfortable telling Ryū all about her upbringing; the woman who had taken her in and been a mother when she could...before the Skraul took her down into the undercroft and she never came back up. Her quiet years as a simple maid, cooking and cleaning when there was need, trying to understand herself and her world.

He was a bit brief with his own retelling; his tribe, his profession as a healer, his burgeoning family. He quickly glossed over what happened after the night of the raid, but he seemed more than eager to tell her about his months alone in the Human world.

“It was amazing...” he said with breathless enthusiasm, his gaze distant, “Seeing so much green again, hearing the sound of rushing water, feeling cold, pure wind on your face. Though my task was always my focus, I very much enjoyed myself as I tracked Kaileena and her friends, and even more so when I came to be accepted among them. It helped me remember...a great many things.”

Nodding, Aika took his hand in hers, “We are all what we are, but our hearts are the same, I think. Silkrit, Human, Kamiyonanayo...yours, and mine.”

His hand squeezed hers, and Aika laughed with delight as they brought out the desert course; uiru steam cakes served on a small platter with a pair of taiyaki, large fish-shaped cakes, one blue, the other pink. A steaming ceramic teapot was set beside it, with a pair of tiny cups.

Pouring herself a cup, Aika sipped the tea lightly, enjoying the soft warm feeling that spread through her as she admired the desserts. The uiru were cubed, about the size of her thumb. Some were light green with a darker green stripe, others were yellow, and a few were red with dark red splotches. She waited for Ryū to eat a strawberry cake, then popped a chestnut flavored one in her mouth, enjoying the chewy texture and light sweetness. The green one, she found, was a green tea, very mild but effervescent, like weak mint.

When they finished the uiru, each took a taiyaki; her the pink, Ryū the blue. Each took a bite at the same time.

“Custard!” she exclaimed with delight, finding the creamy filling to be one of her favorite sweets.

“Cream cheese.” Ryū said with less enthusiasm, forked tongue flicking in irritation. She had a tasteful laugh at his discomfort, and after they finished the tea Ryū led her out quietly while leaving appropriate payment, since they both knew that the management would refuse to charge either of them, being such prominent members of the Te Fukushu. Aika agreed with Ryū; that meal had been far too wonderful to be free.

And then they set out under the moon and stars. The wind was abominably cold, but Aika endured happily, for there was no warmer place in all the world where she would have preferred to be.

“Here we are.” Ryū said suddenly, stopping her. There was a large pond in Karyu, but winter had completely frozen it over, creating a circular flat surface. Moonlight reflected off the ice, giving it an illusion of brightness.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, and Aika frowned, “On Ice?”

“Worry not, Love Song, for I will not let you fall.”

Leading her, Ryū wrapped his other hand around her waist, bringing them close together. As she stepped onto the ice, Aika found it to be oddly textured; even her soft slippers found stable footing easily. Laughing, she moved forward gently with Ryū, their motions slowly circling around a central axis.

The vampyre hardly looked physically imposing with his deceptively light frame, but he easily spun her around his hand as she stood on one arched foot, before sliding back into his arms as he reversed direction.

Before long Aika forgot the cold, for while Silkrit were technically cold-blooded they retained body heat easily, even in very low temperatures. And Ryū, as connected as he was with the elements, radiated a constant heat that hid his undead nature. Soon it became nearly stifling, and they disengaged, each of them laughing, though Aika was the only one who was breathless.

Midnight came and passed, and Aika found herself seated at a large bench, watching the moon beside Ryū.

“I wish every night was like this.” he said, “I would certainly not miss the light of the sun so much.”

Aika turned his head to face her, and kissed him. It was so instinctual, so right, and he returned it in kind, his warmth melting into hers.

“You are tired...” he noted after a time, and she began to protest, but he smiled again, “I know the look. Come now, let us get you home. We all have a big day tomorrow.”

“The scouting expedition.” Aika agreed sadly, “We will be gone from here in the coming months, hunting down the last of the vampyres.”

“And I will be accompanying you this time.” Ryū corrected her, “So you need not feel so upset. Worry not; together it will not feel like so long.”

Nodding, Aika rose with him as he led her towards her house, which she shared with three other Te Fukushu hunters.

“Will we not go to your house?” she asked, and he laughed, “I am a gentleman...mostly. On the second date, perhaps. What either of us consider a date, however, is up to one’s perspective.”

Smiling, Aika followed this male, this vampyre, to whom she found herself growing more and more connected, and wished above all else that they would know many more nights like this one. Maybe when the war was over...

Vala gathered fallen branches and piled them on the flat patch of sediment she’d chosen for their camp, protected by the shadow of several clustered trees.

Placing the smallest twigs in the center with scruffs of dried grass, she slowly branched out with larger pieces until she had a roughly conical structure reaching to knee height. Digging up loose sediment and forming a ring around the structure, she closed off her fire pit to prevent it from growing out of control.

When she was satisfied it wouldn’t spread upon ignition she sat down beside Kuri and began trying to make a spark to light it. If need be, Vala could fight off any vampyres that wandered by...but the local fauna would already be scared off by the heat and light of the fire and she wanted to avoid conflicts as much as possible.

After her stunning declaration of Tenri’s involvement, Kuri had spoken little. Vala knew precisely why.

“Kuri.” she said softly as the friction of the two sticks began to produce sparks, “We should talk about what has happened.”

The sparks met the dry grass in the center of the cone, and a small ember came to life, fed by waving fresh air into the mix. The girl shivered, and for a moment Vala saw absolute desolation in them, but then it glazed over, and she smiled, confusedly, “About what? Mother and Father will be mad the bad men burned the house, but we can live in the city. That is where we go now, right?”

Vala chose her words carefully, “I need to know if you have any uncles or aunts, or grandparents. Do they live in the city?”

The flame slowly came to life, and the temperature in the air went up a little.

“No.” Kuri replied, “Granma and Grandpa went away two seasons ago. I don’t know where...but papa never talks about it.”

“There are no others, no friends of your parents...who you could stay with for a while?”

Kuri shrugged, “No. Why? Mother and father will be back soon. And when they do we can go live in the city.”

Thoughtful, Vala eyed her for a while, considering, then, “Your parents were very brave, and they fought to make sure you were safe. I finished the job for them, but that in no way tarnishes their bravery.”

“What are you talking about?” Kuri asked, confused, “They are-”

“It’s alright.” Vala whispered in her ear as she leaned in and embraced her gently, “I’m sure they’re very proud of you for being as brave as you were. Not everyone could have evaded a pack of vampyres like that.”

“I...” Kuri moaned, shivering, “I couldn’t...I...”

“Shhhh... Easy now. I know not where this path will lead, but I know that we will walk it together if we must. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

The girl tried to speak again, and then once more, but her words broke into quiet sobs, and Vala felt a dampness on the back of her cloak.

“Hush, now. Everything will be alright. I know...I know it’s no comfort...but I’m glad I found you. My own journey has been rather lonely up until now.”

Kuri cried for a time, then managed, “Tenri was always nice to me, and you are her mother? You want to go find her, right?”

Vala nodded, though they couldn’t see each other’s faces, “That’s right. I haven’t seen my child in...in a long time. Would you like to see Tenri in person?”

Kuri nodded, her chin rubbing against her shoulder, and she smiled, “We will go see Tenri then. The three of us can get along, hmm?”

Kuri whimpered, though Vala didn’t think the sound was intended as a reply. Already her choked sobs grew fainter, so she set the girl down, wrapping her in the linen cloak, scarf rolled up as a pillow. Her eyes were already closed. The heat of the fire soon quieted her further, and she passed into slumber.

Hours passed in silence.

Vala watched Kuri sleep by the fire. She would find no sleep herself, not even the fitful hour or two she usually indulged in.

“This was no coincidence.” she decided, “Surthath’s grimy fingers are all over this. But what does it mean?”

The fire offered no counsel, and she jabbed at it with a stick in her frustration.

Was it not bad enough that she had suffered the death of the only thing she’d ever felt affection for? The one thing that had revealed the shallowness, the hollowness, of everything else in her life?

Now...to weather the prospect that Tenri was somehow still alive? And worse, wrapped up in Surthath’s mad prophecies and portents?!

“Damn you...” Vala cursed, “...for tempting me with this. What do you want from me? From my daughter? How does this accomplish your end; the defeat of the Dread Hammer and the Skraul? How? How? How?!”

Arteth’s tower was wondrous.

While Kaileena was saddened that her beloved had requested some time alone, she understood his need and had decided to tour her new home in the meantime.

There were seven floors, each one accessible by a pair of spiraling metal staircases. The walls were polished marble, and like Lenao’s tower it’s outer shell was forged of a single piece of material. The lowest floor was a study; with stacks upon shelves upon rolls of books, maps, and scrolls and odd clockwork devices.

There was also a series of aged stone slabs within a large cubical glass display, which, upon further inspection, had engravings carved into them, each wildly divergent but equally primitive. She couldn’t even begin to guess how old they were, or where they had come from.

The second floor was a treasure hoard the likes of which surpassed any fable dreamed by mortality. The sheer hills of gold quietly disturbed her; who could not be crippled with guilt knowing of the less fortunate when they possessed such outrageous wealth? Then again, this much wealth would cripple Teikoku’s economy if it were heaped on all at once.

The third floor was some manner of museum, with odd trinkets, fragments of bizarre architecture, and (she saw with distaste) a disturbingly inventive array of torture implements.

“I see...” Kaileena mused, “...These must belong to other, less benevolent species of Kamiyonanayo.”

The fourth floor she could not locate any entrance to, though the walls that housed it surged with strange latent magicka. A portal room, perhaps?

Arteth was in the fifth floor, so she passed it without a glance. He would confide in her when he was ready.

The bedroom, comprising roughly a quarter of the sixth floor, was about twice the size of her own, with a huge circular bed with draping translucent curtains the same violet color as the sheets. Its roof was a skyline, which seemed impossible, but Kaileena soon determined that what appeared as the night sky was in fact a sort of celestial map, which modified itself in real time. The stars and moons were a glowing fluid like quicksilver, contained within a dark glass dome. She decided that she would very much enjoy looking upon it while she and Arteth lay in bed.

A large metal balcony lined the outer ridge of this room, offering a fine view of Moonshadow’s wilderness. She stood there a moment, holding Shinabi, before setting him loose and withdrawing his necessities from the infinite bag. She set him a bowl of water and some dried meat, then locked him in with a kiss on the forehead.

The bedroom was one of the five chambers accessible from the stairways, each of which converged in the exact center of the tower. The next door around the circle was a bathhouse, containing a soothing pool of water. Approaching, Kaileena sniffed the heavy mineral tang, appreciating the enchanted floating crystals that played all manner of lights through the water and onto nearby surfaces, endlessly performing alongside hovering tuning forks which resonated with a soft but elegant music.

The next room was nothing less than a harem. Every piece of furniture and every color of every fabric screamed lavish debauchery. Lines upon lines of bottles filled a shelving area, as well as illicit substances and “devices” of which she knew not and was quite grateful for the fact. There were a few books on top of a chest beside a larger bed, which she did not approach. They probably only contained “pictures” anyway.

Gross...

The fourth room was a dining hall, with a great hearth that was still lit. Hundreds of eternally burning candles orbited around a single prism of crystal overhead, forming the illusion of a moving chandelier. Plates, bowls, utensils, cups, and platters, all of burnished gold, were arranged in a geometric pattern on a huge rectangular table of lacquered rosewood, with large ewers of gold near the center.

The final room was another surprise; as she opened the door she found the entire thing to be constructed from iron, forming an interconnected network of railing that merged seamlessly with the marble of the rest of the tower. It was if a small chunk of marble wall along the peak had been blinked out of existence, with the framework serving to replace it. What it contained, suspended by five curving pillars, was a great resonating crystal, which hummed with power.

“This is what’s powering the enchantments in the tower...” Kaileena observed, touching the stone’s warm surface. It was twice Arteth’s size, long, and slightly beveled, bursting with all the colors of a rainbow. That its energies had lingered millennia since its occupant had...left, was nothing short of extraordinary.

After a few moments of looking at it a sour thought occurred to her; the stone was not unlike herself, an artifact that survived outside of its own conscious will. Eternally powering an external object. Trapped within a cage that was not of its own making; where this stone’s prison was iron, hers, it seemed, was circumstance...the fate that had damned her to an eternity as a homunculus.

Shaking away the wave of sickness, crushing sadness, and yes, even bitterness, Kaileena did not bother to see the final floor; Arteth’s observatory, that she’d wanted to see since he’d offhandedly mentioned it. Instead, she returned to the bedroom, emotionally numb, undressed, and fell into the bed...

...Sometime later, she felt something soft and wet rub against her shoulder. Looking up, she saw Shinabi, perched against her, holding a toy between his teeth. Expecting something from her...just like Teikoku, Fate, and the Veil itself.

That infuriated her more than she ever imagined it could, so she snatched the toy up and threw it across the room, turning away. A few moments later there he was again, brushing against her, and turning, she saw it in his mouth again, his eyes expectant.

“Your needs are simple, at least.” Kaileena noted sarcastically, to which Shinabi just stood there. Sighing, she threw it again, and waited for him to come back, “If only mine were the same.”

Larlax cursed as he woke. His alarm spells had been triggered. A city was under attack.

“Blast and be-bother...” the wizard groaned, “Can they not let these old bones have a moment’s peace? Nu! Ready yourself. Sector Eighteen is under attack; North Complex.”

With that, Larlax rose from bed, threw on his crimson robes, and belted on a selection of wands; enchanted focal rods that would augment his devastating spells.

Thus armed, he teleported himself from his quarters and into a maelstrom. Black-skinned Skraul swarmed the streets, their feral, red eyes affixing to him, his head level with their knees.

“Damned rats!” he snarled, aiming his wand of petrified wood.

A shadow covered him, and something large bounced off of his defensive barrier from above.

“Damned flying rats!” Larlax cursed, as he looked up and saw a swarm of winged, grey-skinned fiends circling overhead. As the terrified citizens of Sector Eighteen tried to evacuate through the magickal portals lining the outer walls, the fiends swooped down and grabbed them, only to ascend to a great height and drop their cargo. Dozens of his kin were already splattered across the floor.

Activating rudimentary levitation, Larlax extended it to four that were plummeting at that very moment, before redirecting the energies into a net encompassing the entirety of the underground city. As other citizens fell they were caught by the strands of the net and pulled towards the portals, and as the Alaae rose into them they were incinerated by a flowing energy current.

Ripples of distorted space appeared in the distance as his fellow wizards arrived to defend the besieged city. As before, they would purge the vampyric infection, then reconstruct the defenses and return the citizenry. There was nothing else to be done; nowhere was safe.

“Not this time.” a familiar voice replied behind him, and suddenly Larlax felt his spells collapse into themselves. The telekinetic net vanished, as did his barriers, as did his connection with his wands. A hand clamped around his shoulder, cold as iron.

Nu shouted a hasty cantrip, and found her position instantly exchanged with Larlax just as Don’Yoku’s mace brained her, splitting her chitin crown and headdress. Bad, bad. Made her mad. Mad, mad, mad!

“Gratitude is as a restorative wine.” Fox chided, “Refreshing but perilous. Drink not to excess of my bounty.”

“Of course...” she gurgled as her natural regeneration closed the wound, restoring her ruptured blood vessels and damaged brain cells.

Larlax shrieked an evocation over the din of battle, and her back scorched from intense heat, making her yelp and leap away as the grip on her shoulder loosened. She turned, a new spell from Worm readied, just as the masked Human managed his own.

The city went silent, deathly still; the shadows lengthened and all color effaced. The citizens, still fleeing, paused, only to find a greater horror. They did not see what swooped down upon them with tentacles and pincers and claws, but Nu saw them just fine. She wished she had not. No, no.

R’yzthaek, Dur’Artoth’s terrible generals, shapeless monstrosities that dined on sanity and joy. Bad, bad, very bad!

“A mass teleportation...” Nu gasped, “...not to another world, but to the Faded Veil; the intermediary between the realms of mortal and immortal.”

“He is the source.” Worm explained, “But do nothing! Kill him and the gateway will reverse itself, dragging the R’yzthaek into the Veil. That must not happen!”

“But all these people!” Nu protested, “We cannot let them-”

“You must.” Worm snapped, “And you will. I will find no decay if there is only the absence of life, and neither shall the Gnomes have a home when their entire world is besieged by unspeakable madness.”

A gibbering, gurgling R’yzthaek descended and wrapped its tentacles around Larlax as the wizard tried and failed to resist its telepathic scrambling. Tears in her eyes, Nu roared and charged the Djinn of Dur’Artoth, her staff crackling with Worm’s enervating power.

She would whack it good, and it would let her friend go!

A dark, ebony-plated hand closed around her weapon, snuffing out its magicka. Eyes wide with fear, Nu looked upon horror incarnate; a twisted mockery of Father’s four-horned visage.

“Hello there...” the Dread Hammer said in a voice that crushed hope, extinguished light, and she screamed as an icy chill entered her body, deadening her senses. Bad, bad, bad!

Expending every ounce of self-control, Nu extended her consciousness to Larlax and fed upon his magicka to strengthen a last, desperate spell.

She screamed its final couplet as her organs burst and her muscles ruptured, her blue blood spraying the Dread Hammer’s titanium armor. Then, everything went dark... Dark, dark...

I frown as a little sister escapes with one of the native wizards, but shrug with contempt. The battle is over.

Turning, I watch with delight as my servants rape and ravage and destroy. A R’yzthaek burrows its tentacles into a female Gnome, then releases its hold as the victim’s brain is pulled out. A Skraul corners a male and tears out his throat. An Alaae tears a mother and child to shreds, feasting in its mad, gibbering abandon. A swarm of its fellows converge upon a screaming wizard, and ignore deathly wounds caused by its spells in order to incapacitate it.

The entire city is depopulated in mere minutes, reducing it to a morass. Glorious...

“Leave the wizards alive.” I whisper to my underlings, my voice cracking the very stones of the city with the sheer force of its unbridled tenor, “We will grant them the dark gift.”

Emerging even in the Faded Veil in my true form exhilarates me, and with a smile I approach the spot in which the prisoners are being gathered, near a ruin that had been a home.

My eyes lock upon those of one Gnome, a female wizard, and she grovels, sobbing, her mind broken with the sight of her home crumbling around her and her death, her un-life, her god, approaching!

With a sudden lunge powered by my wings I claim her tiny body in one hand, raise her over me, and sink my teeth into her flesh, searing her blood black with my saliva.

She screams, then moans in ecstasy, her flesh writhing beneath my grip, and I complete the ritual with the blood kiss, spitting her blood, interlaced with my own, down her throat.

Releasing my new slave, who thus feasts upon the dead beside my other children, I continue my grisly work. No mere vampyre, I am the very source of the dark gift, and their transformation by my hands will end with them utterly subjugated to my will, their very souls extinguished forever.

I will use Carthspire’s legendary wizards against itself. Now that I am able to move freely without Surthath’s interference, the war for the Veil is about to take a dark turn. I will again use mortal champions against one another as I had in the old days as tyrant of the Dreadborne Horde; playing an endless game in which all the pieces will pass through my hands.

“Weep and despair, brother!” I scream with delight, “For this time the Veil will bow and acknowledge the One True God!”