Magelight 3.4

There was something to be said about the costumes capes wore and the relationship we had with them.

I told Kenzie and Darlent, when our team was just starting out on our well-intentioned dream escapade, that the agents preferred the masks because it was a way of helping to solidify the identity of their hosts. Beyond examples like Valkyrie's warrior flock and how powers worked to incorporate costumes into power effects like Breakers or my own forcefield, it was a gut feeling of mine that costumes may play a part in setting landmarks in the vast cosmic system that structured powers for future cycles.

Bookmarks in the library of data stretching back untold ages, to use a metaphor I could relate to the most, with segments of chapters highlighted in men and women wrapped in dramatic conflict. In the dust of Cradle's agent, I'd seen the ghosts of it's past hosts, alien life used much like we were to complete an even greater alien agenda. How would those aliens be bookmarked in comparison to us? If we lost this battle against the Titans, what would we look like compared to the future victims of the system?

What history do you have, my Fragile One? What history will we have down the line?

Concerning. Concerning as hell.

But that wasn't my biggest focus in the moment. No, costumes and agents were a larger relationship than what I had in mind.

My Antares costumes was a work of love and the result of reaching out to those who could help solidify that facet of myself. Weld to handle the melding and forming of metal armor under my direction, Crystal to offer her opinion on the glitz and glamour, and Sveta and I to work the needle for the fabric parts. The golden armor had saved my life more times than I could count; from bullets to blades to far too many deadly powers. The wide and removeable sleeves had given me a feeling of being held and a defense against the world, further enforced by the addition of my armored jacket.

Kenzie had further enhanced the glamour aspect, allowing me to literally radiate light.

Together, they worked as a representation and compromise between myself and the Fragile One. A representation of what we were and what we strived to be; a star holding a dangerous center, reaching hands ready to lay waste to all that stood in my way of keeping the City safe. A compromise, because to throw myself back into the hero scene after years of torture and hatred was to acknowledge that I was going to need the power that would remind me of those hellish years for the rest of my life.

I wasn't sure if I could ever accept those black feelings for what they were, but slowly, so so slowly, the Fragile One and I had grown closer. One compromise after another, to the point that I felt the Victoria was ceding ground to the Antares.

Still concerning. Not as concerning as it could be, with how I felt about the Fragile One.

I ran my hand over the leather breast of my armor, feeling the texture difference between where crafted leather met slightly crisp fabric, the latter half taking up maybe forty percent of the armor space. Similar marks were left on my left-shoulder armor, where that splash of dragon fire had curled up and nicked some exposed flesh. Brother Borri had done his best to clean out the armor and care for it's damaged sections, but even after two days of scrounging the temple for materials, there was only so much he could do for repairs.

I didn't begrudge him for it, instead asking for his services in adding a few details to the armor for my eventual departure to Winterhold, him replying with written text. If the name wasn't obvious enough, Arngeir had explained the dangers of traversing the cold tundra of Winterhold, expositing on its lack of vegetation for food and shelter, and the deadly chill of the constant heavy winds. That was excluding the bizarre creatures called 'Ice Wraiths' that apparently thrived in these hazardous conditions, among other threats like ice wolves and werewolves.

Ice Wraiths, wolves, and fucking werewolves aside, the cold was my biggest concern. My forcefield was great for handling extreme temperatures, but it couldn't warm me up if it broke at the wrong time and left me exposed to the elements.

Our combined work culminated in sewing multiple removeable sleeves into sockets of the leather armor and a cloth tasset wrapped around my waist, also sewn into the armor, scavenged from unused robes in the temple. The tasset was more for added warmth than anything protective, offering a decent cover for the front and back of my upper thighs, and the sleeves were much the same with the added benefit of being one tiny step closer to my old costume.

The final bit of work was the incorporation of the Greybeard hood into the neckline of the armor, another accessory that was both functional and identical to Antares, though the hood was a bit larger than my old one. It wasn't a problem for me; I had always enjoyed clothing that was larger than normal on my frame.

From that point on it was only a matter of dying the rest of the leather, pants, and boots a similar color as the robes to prevent them from being an eye-bleeding clash of a fashion disaster. The effect was better than I could imagine, the leather now taking on a black-grey tone that blended well with the robes and even made the charcoal burned section of my armor pop in a distinct way, like a small shimmer of black flame on grey. Matching dyed gloves completed the set.

It wasn't even close to my old costume and the lack of gold dye or even thread for highlights made that feeling all the more powerful. But it was another step towards making this outfit something I controlled. Something that was mine.

And, in a thought that brought a small smile to my face, I could imagine Ashley approving of the color scheme at the very least.

"Taking one last look of the world, Dragonborn?"

Arngeir had stepped next me, hands clasped between the large sleeves of his monk attire. The two of us were outside the temple grounds, staring out and down at the view below the mountain, and I couldn't help but wonder how he handled the cold. I at least had my forcefield to shield me from the worst of the wind and snow, shaking her a few times to dislodge any buildup, but Arngeir just seemed to take the freezing temperature in stride with only his robes and thick beard.

I wondered if he had a spell that gave him some protections against the cold like Byron had passively, but I couldn't think of a reason for him to not share that information with me. And from how he acted, magic wasn't something he was well versed in, when all was said and done.

Just another oddity of this world, Victoria. When will you not be surprised?

Hopefully soon.

I turned back to the view, watching as the fog and mist below moved slowly over the tallest of trees. I answered, "Just readying myself for the journey. The last time I really traveled from place to place, I had a guide with me, sort of backed me up when things got rough."

"You traversed the woods of the Whiterun Holds by yourself for two days, battling inner concepts many warriors would break under," He intoned. "And you made your way to us by yourself, following your instincts."

"I sort of cheated with my forcefield and flight in the woods," I said. "Didn't have to worry too much about the cold and safety when I could just sleep in the tree tops with natural protections."

I glanced at Arngeir, "Plus, it was you who called to me. I just followed the voice."

"Did you follow, knowing where you would end up?"

I shook my head.

"Then accept the wealth of knowledge that your instincts have provided you in fulfilling your destiny. Trust that those same instincts will guide you further down that road as time moves on."

"I do. Now, I mean." More than you know. "It took time, and help from some very close friends, but I've learned to trust what my gut says. It's just..."

I gestured to vast world below the mountain.

"...Just a bit daunting to go out there with only a map."

Arngeir hummed, "Daunting though it may be, there is no other option, no?"

I thought about it. Had thought about it. Fight, Flight, Freeze. I could and was going to fight whatever or whoever was keeping me here, be it via magic or powers, and I would return home to continue my fight with the Titans, so long as that was still possible. I would avoid any unnecessary detours and conflicts when I could, keep myself focused on the task at hand.

But to Freeze? To stay in this crazy world of dungeons and dragons, and give up all hope?

"Fuck that," I said and felt a bit embarrassed when I remembered I was in company.

Arngeir merely smiled slightly, stroking his snow covered beard, "Words of Power that is. No judgment here. I was a fiery youth years past as well, once. Maybe not quite as sharp tongued."

My cheeks warmed, "Sorry. Force of habit."

"Mhm. As for going out into the world with just a map..."

He glanced back to the temple entrance and I did the same, happy to move on past the moment. The backpack was huge, almost comically so. A bed roll, various kinds of blankets, several changes of clothes, rudimentary toiletries, baskets filled with food and mead, all tied together with makeshift straps of rope. Even when bundled together as tightly as possible, the amassed luggage was easily up to my chest in terms of size.

Somewhere in that bundle was sack of gold coins, around three hundred 'Septims' according to Arngeir. I had initially rejected fifty septims, only for the monks to return with a hundred and fifty. After the second rejection they came back with three hundred, and I was worried that rejecting them again might literally have them go broke, leaving me with a large sack that I begrudgingly carried with me. Not that I didn't appreciate the money, just that I felt a bit off in taking so much from people who have at least tried to help me in this world.

Much like with the wagon transport to Whiterun, I had the Fragile One knot the straps together, and I was more than a little proud to feel how the fingers handled the delicate task even better than before.

Only a little less than a week and she had already improved her dexterity so much.

Keep it up girl, I thought. Every step we take is invaluable.

I floated to the backpack while Arngeir trekked slightly behind, taking a bit more effort to walk through even the lighter patches of snow. Once there I took a second to have Fragile One shake residual snow off herself and then pat down the pack, removing snow from it as well. By the time Arngeir had caught up, I had already maneuvered the backpack behind me, a similar way to how I had once carried the Gun Dragon built for me.

"Should you desire, Dragonborn," Arngeir spoke, "You can wait another day while we send a message for more supplies from nearby villages. More food or gold, perhaps?"

I smiled but shook my head, "You've done more than enough. I know we didn't agree on everything, but I can't thank you guys enough for helping me out. You're not wrong about needing to get out there, no matter how nerve-wracking it might be."

Arngeir looked up at me, a wistful expression on his face, "I will wish you well, Dragonborn. Although your journey will be fraught with peril, I believe you will persevere, so long as the path of wisdom remains open to you. "

I held out my hand. Arngeir seemed surprised for a moment, before smiling and clasping my wrist. We shook.

"Sky above, Voice within, Dragonborn."

I nodded, "And also with you." I didn't know much about religion compared to Rain, but that sounded like a neutral way to respond.

It must have been close enough, because he smiled, releasing my hand and stepping back as I floated up a bit more. I gave him one last parting salute and he returned it with a bow.

I took off, the weight of the backpack meaning nothing to me as I went from zero to forty-five in a few seconds, turning off my flight and letting momentum carry me over the edge of the mountain. I let the backpack roll me around, getting a final look of Arngeir peeking over the edge. I waved as gravity took hold, twisting myself to face the oncoming descent.

I fell into the rolling mist and fog, forcefield outlined in droplets of water, unimpeded by flight for a few long seconds. The slight nausea I felt from finally imparting flight onto my body had nothing to do with vertigo, even if my power didn't protect me from that sort of thing.

I slowed to a stop and flew to the right, away from where Arngeir had been looking out in the distance.

I wasn't going to Winterhold.

Not just yet.

I circled around High Hrothgar, making sure that I wouldn't be visible to Arngeir or the other monks as I flew up. Arngeir had mentioned it on the night I asked him to tell me as much as he could, how the leader of the Greybeards isolated himself from humanity at the 'Throat of the World', surrounded by an eternal blizzard. From what he said, Paarthurnax would only allows visitors when he called for them, even if they were the most loyal of disciples.

Or if they were 'ready', whatever that meant. He didn't feel that it should be elaborated and I held my tongue when I saw how serious he was about it, moved on to another topic, another line of questioning.

But it never left my mind.

Sorry Arngeir, I thought. But I have to try to reach this Paarthurnax and get some answers. Whole universes could depend on it.

Maybe so, but it didn't help that pit in my chest that came with the lie, and betrayal of trust Arngeir had given me. The same feeling I had gotten when my team and I knowingly went behind Defiant's back to reach the dreamspace and stop Teacher from destroying the world.

It wasn't regret, not exactly, but there was still a feeling of guilt and empathy to be had. I liked Defiant, respected him, and it hurt when he said that his opinion of me was lower after the fact. I didn't know Arngeir half as much, but he was an anchor of sanity in this bizarre reality, and I imagined that however he felt about this... it would hurt.

But I couldn't let myself be lead around the nose with potential information held out of reach. Not anymore that I could stand by and let Teacher get away when I had the chance to nail that son of a bitch to the wall.

That heavy feeling was a weight when I felt so very light in the open air.

Air that quickly began to darken and chill as I flew higher and higher. It took me a moment before I realized that the eternal blizzard didn't extend to just around the mountaintop, I could feel how drastic the difference in air pressure was through the forcefield's senses, how much quicker it was to collect ice rather than just snow. Despite the lack of exertion for me, I could almost sense the air thinned as I went higher and higher.

We've done this song and dance before, haven't we? Flying so far up that we could feel the slightest of differences in air with our power.

It wasn't a happy memory, but it was one of the few where we truly began to be in-sync.

I spent some time making sure that the ice didn't collect on the backpack too much, not wanting to test how water proof the materials were, beginning to wonder if I'd have to double back and hide my backpack somewhere before I returned. Wouldn't do to sabotage my own trip-

A phantom shape in the wind caught my eye. Or rather, caught the corner of my eye, and made me give it my attention. Gone of course, that was how Mirmulnir seemed to operate, but not before bringing attention to the aberration of mother nature above me. My eyes widened at the sight.

Leviathan's arrival in Brockton Bay had created storm-clouds so thick and so powerful that only the most catastrophic of hurricanes could compare, but he usually only isolated it to large city in scope. The blizzard that wrapped around the mountain peak wasn't nearly as large, but whatever force concentrated it over the mountain had also condensed it to the point that it almost looked like a solid mass, a literal blanket of weather draped over tons of rock.

It didn't look impenetrable, per se, but it didn't look like it would be easy to navigate either. Even a hundred feet or so away, I had to constantly spin away the ice that was splashing against my forcefield, and I couldn't imagine what it would do to my backpack.

That return trip is looking more and more likely.

I ventured forth a bit closer, keeping my forcefield arms out and reaching, slowly closing that distance to the blanket of cold. I didn't want to go back down just yet if I didn't have too, but I didn't want to risk my backpack too much. If I felt the danger was too severe, I'd retreat and think of something to do-

One of Fragile One's limbs made contact with the very outermost of the layers and everything immediately went wrong.

The limb, already encased in ice from the surrounding wind, was engulfed in a blue light that slid up and around the forcefield faster than I could process. There was no logic to my actions, only instinct, but I dove down and back from the whirling blizzard, blinded by a light that seemed to stick to my forcefield like glue. Surrounded by the light, my eyes strained to make anything out as we fell, but it was about as successful as staring directly into my dad's flashbangs once they went off in your face.

All of a sudden the light dimmed and then vanished, leaving spots in my vision as I felt my forcefield pop immediately after, and I slammed bodily into the ice-shell of the Fragile One that I was encased it. The biting cold wind and the ice barrier was a slap in the face, knocking my hood back and making my own breathing hurt. I blinked rapidly as I tried to figure out what the flying fuck had happened, keeping pieces of ice away from my face, before belatedly noticing the backpack tumbling beside me.

Fuck fuck fuckity shit fuck!

I flew to the spinning backpack, practically slamming into it with my vision still slightly fucked up, feeling the remnants of iced forcefield hands shatter against my armor on impact. I dug my fingers into my cargo and began flying out more than down, pushing against it's weight to slow the fall while still getting away from that killer cold. A second later and my forcefield was back, pushing away the worst of the chill and taking hold of the backpack with ease, but still leaving me to shiver within.

I pulled up my hood and rubbed at my face, wiping away ice that had already collected at my eyebrows and lashes, and I could already feel my lips crack.

"What the fuck?!" I breathed out, puff of fog following suit. I was still reeling from what had just happened while my body was desperately trying to warm itself up again after the sudden temperature drop. I had prepared this costume for the tundra cold in mind, but I didn't think I'd have to rely on it so fucking soon.

My forcefield had been tested in the field of battle against extreme temperatures and had always held up well. I still backed away from things like Sundancer's plasma ball - I wasn't crazy - but I'd endured streams of flames from Lung, blasts of water from Byron, and even balls of lava from Teacher's goons. Not once had my forcefield broken under those kinds of attacks, not without there being secondary factor, like Byron's water being condensed enough to act as a physical impact or the Pharmacist's flames targeting powers themselves.

I was very fucking tempted to go with the latter interpretation, because there was nothing natural about that light. It was hard to tell when I had been busy panicking, especially since I was still flustered, but it felt like my forcefield had held on for less time compared when I tanked Saint's laser sword head on. What didn't make sense was that my forcefield returned faster than under Saint's assault, which went against every experience I had with the rules of how it functioned.

Had the light counted as a singular hit, despite engulfing me over a period of time? What metric was being used here that made the distinction for that effect? And what the fuck would that light have done to me if I had touched it? The ice had already formed around the forcefield before I touched it, and I was basically blinded, which means that I didn't even see what effect it dealt beyond extreme cold.

I gave the shrinking form of the blizzard a wary glance as I flew back even more, wanting to get more space between me and the anomaly. Beyond my pride, I wasn't hurt, but the experience left me more than a little spooked.

Great job Victoria. Not even five minutes into departing and you already fucked up.

"What about you girl," I asked as I flew along, rubbing my arms to build up friction. "Any insights you want to share? Or just more of the silent treatment for now, because you're just as embarrassed as I am?"

No thoughts that felt overly focused on. No odd shapes in the corner of my eyes or lurking in the shadows of the clouds. I even relaxed my control of the forcefield, careful to make sure the backpack was secure, but there was not directed movement by my agent. The Fragile One was content to stay in silence and my gut said I wasn't too far off the mark in that regard as to why.

I continued to fly, still bathed in the fog of the world.

The plan to force a meeting with Paarthurnax was scratched for the time being, at least until I could get my shit together and figure out something to bypass that storm. If everything went well with the College, I might not even need to return, and I would leave this world up to it's own devices. If not... then I had options. Not as many as I would have liked, but some nonetheless. I could return to the Imperials or Whiterun, explain my situation and see what resources I could scrounge up there. Research more about the Dragons, which was already sort of parallel to my goals anyways, if I was to figure out this whole soul dilemma. The same could be said for the rock back at the border.

Will it be that simple though?

Experience told me no. Hustling back and forth between two different locations, avenues of investigation cut off, and random changes made to my fundamental self in ways I didn't understand. All this in little less than a week? Not so simple after a first glance.

My instinct had me think of a running theme in all these events; myself. Always faced with a problem I couldn't solve and forced to retreat, backtracking and desperate for something new. The magic rock, Mirmulnir's soul, and now the eternal blizzard.

It wasn't a new feeling. I had thought as much while I was exploring with Sevitus. W

ithout my team at my side, there were things I couldn't do alone, no matter how hard I tried.

As the endless fog surrounded me, I didn't want to think about what that meant about my chances of getting home.