MW: WOAH IT'S ALMOST BEEN A YEAR SINCE THE LAST CHAPTER, I GOTTA GET MY SHIT TOGETHER
Hope everyone's been doing well since the last chapter, and hope you've been developing some theories or some shit cause it's about to get groovy. Still on track from the last chapter, moving through the Morganthe questline. This story has accidentally become a metafiction as I've been writing it with it's questioning the truth, the nature of choice, and the unreliability that comes with changing desires and feelings. So I suppose that's what I'll label it as from now on. Thank you so much for reading, though, and I hope you all stick around. Or not, since I know some of you have lives. I'll continue this until it's done, though, even if it takes forever, because I love writing this and I love creating more and more. So thank you for keeping the dream alive!
Down to business. Pre-chapter Q&A:
Q: What's with the chapter names?
A: Ah, so I've decided to give the secondary names (the word or phrase after the slash in the title) more of a water motif since this is about Celestia, the world under water. Zafaria might have a more explorer/adventure theme, with Avalon having a knight-esque theme and Azteca having an archaic theme. The word or phrase after the arc name usually has something to do with a phrase uttered by a character in the chapter or a general idea expressed in the chapter. I hope you like it.
Q: Are we going to see more of other characters?
A: YES! Talon, Astra, James, Hunter, Leif and Eron aren't the only people on the team! The next chapter is all about the rest of the characters who usually get left in the dust-Mirror, William, Vincent and Maximillion. They are important to the story and while Talon is the most main of all the characters, each and every one of them impact one another and especially him, and as such I plan to flesh all of them out for that purpose. Right now though, we know that Mirror is attracted to Talon and is rather blinded by that that she ignores clear red flags (the man killed a guy for god's sake). We know that Vincent is rather brooding but wants to help Talon because he doesn't want him to be consumed by reckless Necromancy use, Maximillion is possibly the one person who believes that Talon is completely wrong (and will for some time in this arc) and shouldn't be the leader, and William is brash and outspoken about how he views Talon.
Q: How old is Astra?
A: About twenty.
Q: What happened to To Survive in the Wild?
A: I'll write that soon. For now I've been so into planning this that I haven't had time to plan that. BUT some submissions for To Survive in the Wild will appear in here, and they'll be integral as well.
Q: How will the story end?
A: You won't like it.
Q: How does this arc end?
A: I'm trying to make it so that you don't like it.
LET'S GO!
15 - Celestia II / Wet
"You never said we were going to get wet," Talon glared at his brother as the group of wizards shuffled towards the entrance to the Grotto.
After the White Owl...well, water wasn't something Talon enjoyed any more. Not as if he didn't expect Celestia to have water. Well, he didn't. Now, knowing it did, he hoped they didn't have to swim.
Hunter gave a sigh of resignation. He had to restrain himself, seeing as despite Talon's absolute stupidity, he was still Hunter's older brother. "Hey, at least they had enough water-breathing devices for all of us," Hunter answered, trying to remain optimistic. The best he could do was make light of their situation. They were in a war and they were all...explosive, and that certainly wouldn't help anyone. It would only lead to further mishaps and a potential separation of the team, causing them to fail their mission and doom the Spiral to a reign underneath the heel of Morganthe. Granted, thinking that and deciding to abide by that philosophy when only hours before Hunter himself had been explosive and quick to condemn was hypocritical, but whatever. People change, right?
The Diviner paused momentarily before the gate, wondering how being underwater would affect his magic. He didn't want to fry any of his teammates, and being wizards wouldn't save them from death by electrocution.
...Okay, well, maybe he'd fry a few, but it wouldn't be worth it to kill them meaninglessly.
Talon groaned in exasperation. "We're only here because the Crustaceans, or whatever they are, might be tied to Morganthe, right?"
"Right," James reminded the Necromancer. "The Crustaceans—they attacked the explorers without provocation, and we know Morganthe's been here, if she isn't still. She could've enticed the crabs to attack the explorers as a way of getting to us. But why..." He trailed off, lost in thought.
The Thaumaturge made a fair point. They'd received word of shadow weavers from the scouts, hence why Ambrose had sent them to Celestia first. Hell, Talon had met Morganthe—not like he was about to share that with his team—along with Valkyrie, and was sure she'd be near him, having made several attempts to recruit him already. If Talon was in Celestia, she'd be there, too. For him? Maybe. Or maybe she had other plans and Talon was busy trying to reassure himself that he was a half-decent human being and an average Necromancer who could hold his own against both the forces of villainy and mediocrity without suffering a mental breakdown because he was truly miserable and unloved.
Either way, they had orders, and Talon wasn't going to fuck up again.
...He hoped.
The Necromancer sighed, shrugging his shoulders and cracking his neck. "Okay. Alright. Let's get this over with." He stepped forwards, the entrance to the Grotto opening in response. Water gushed forth, splashing about the wizard's feet before settling to a comfortable level. Talon pushed the water breathing device into his nostrils before he stepped forth completely into the water, the cold seeping into his skin almost immediately.
It'd been quite some time since Talon had been in water...in fact, not since he ran with the White Owl pirates. Not since Raht burned down the ship and framed the brothers for murder. The water was frigid, to the point where he was tempted to turn back and never step foot near the Grotto again. But it was necessary. He wouldn't flake, he'd promised that. To himself and to the others. And even if he hadn't, he felt like he owed it to them. No more breaking down. He had to stand up for something, didn't he?
Or at least, he had to try.
James entered behind Talon. "Anything you want to say before we continue?"
Yeah, Talon thought. What's this Rupert Fleming guy look like?
"You asked whether or not I'd keep using Necromancy before, right? Well, uh...I didn't give an answer—"
"You did." James interjected. "You...still think the same, right? You won't use it?"
"Well, I mean…" Talon began, pausing. "I...I don't want to use Necromancy because I don't want to die, but...I guess, is there a way around it? Can I still fight without using Necromancy?"
James shrugged. "Honestly?" he started, as the rest of the team filed into the water, "No. I don't think you can get around it, but...I commend you for trying. Talon, if you have to use it, then, well, use it. If it were me, I might be more selfish than you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
James didn't respond.
Talon frowned, but shook his head and continued forwards. He opened his mouth to shout underneath the water before pausing, wondering how well his voice would be heard underwater and if yelling for a man, or dog—or whatever race the person they were looking for was—was really all that intuitive. His teammates could hear him alright, it seemed, but how would others perceive his voice? Why was it that people they talked to never had any pictures of anyone else? The explorers just sent the wizards back and forth from person to person, but the team had no idea what the person they were being sent to looked like and the person they were being sent to had no idea what they looked like.
It's not like they had displays above their heads that showed their name, rank, title and level. That'd be ridiculous. So ultimately, the wizards were reduced to asking around while Hooper Fleming just sat in wait.
It seemed a little odd that the explorers had been under siege by the Crustaceans—as Eron had said earlier and James clarified on the way to the Grotto—and yet none of the explorers apparently "awaiting their arrival" had been attacked again. Maybe they could defend themselves, but not well enough?
"Traveler!"
Talon whirled on his heel—or at least, he tried to, instead doing some sort of a half-spin, semi-flip, filling his vision with bubbles before he righted himself—to face the direction of the voice. Some sort of humanoid graciously wore a diver's helmet, and waved unceremoniously at Talon. The Necromancer narrowed his eyes in confusion.
"Wizard! Over here!"
"How the hell do these people always know us before we even arrive?" Talon mused aloud as he began to swim towards the figure until he was promptly intercepted by an oversized and unreasonably disproportionate claw.
He retreated awkwardly, flailing and kicking wildly until he had put a reasonable amount of distance between himself and the Crustacean who floated in view. Talon hissed sharply, a nasal squeak caused by the breathing device in his mouth.
A flash of golden light, and Talon's axe was in his hands, in time enough to block an overhead chop from the Crustacean. Marking objects had its uses, thankfully. The claw glanced off of the axe, grazing the front of Talon's surprisingly-not-yet-waterlogged-armor, narrowly missing his groin and creating a line of bubbles trailing from the Necromancer's head to his crotch.
"Sh—" Talon began, flailing to dodge another attack, a thrust aimed at his side. "—Shiiiiiiiiiit..!" He reeled back for a wide swing, gritting his teeth, using his might to combat the water current. Unfortunately, Talon's slow movements hindered his defense as the Crustacean shifted in his peripherals. A bloodstained mace complete with rusted spikes flew towards his face, and he was helpless to prevent it from caving his head in. As he braced himself for impact, the coral-laden, rusting weapon was promptly bisected by a sharp blade of ice arriving from an unknown direction. The makeshift ice sword was such that it seemingly managed to slice through even the water itself, and shave off a small piece of Talon's armor before it vanished, almost as quickly as it had arrived.
James—?
Talon used the opportunity to continue his swing, his triple-bladed, golden axe slamming into the Crustacean's hard shell. Unfortunately, the axe had merely created a small crack in the side of the Crustacean warrior before them. The small conflict had drawn the attention of other Crustaceans, who began to swarm the two wizards.
"Damn. I didn't think they'd be this tough."
"The words 'giant crab' didn't resonate with you?" James retorted, although his voice was flat and only carried a slight questioning tone.
"Well, when I was at sea, crabs were pretty easy to kill, but granted, I was always stuck doing menial indoor labor. Hunter was the one who killed the crabs." Talon began, "But I guess that's different now..!" He shuffled against the seafloor to gain some distance.
These crabs functioned like they were humanoids on land, and even underwater, they had a speed one would not expect from a creature their size. Talon was agile himself, but had difficulty just dodging their attacks, what with the water and his already medium-weight armor. He paused. If he got hit anywhere in the face, his water-breathing mechanism would be destroyed and there would be a chance of death. If those ridiculously large claws got ahold of him, he would either be snapped in half or bifurcated in a glorious display of violence. And yet...even despite all the ways in which Talon could visualize defeat at the hands of the Crustaceans, they seemed stupid. Unfocused and one-track minded.
"Are you sure I can't use Necromancy?" Talon asked in exasperation, narrowly dodging another wide swing.
"You shouldn't," James corrected, firing an icicle into the face of a Crustacean, catching the oversized creature off guard and sending it spinning off into a nearby swath of reef. "Didn't you ask me the same thing earlier?"
"I needed a second opinion!" Talon tried. He was just going in circles now.
"It's not a second opinion if you ask me twice." James responded blankly.
"Well, you—fuck you!" was Talon's angry response. A dull thud resounded through the water as the Necromancer delivered his own blow to the rough barnacle-laden exterior of one of the Crustaceans nearby. The creatures had tough outsides, and it made Talon wonder just how to kill them efficiently.
The head seemed like the best way, didn't it? Unprotected thin heads with bulbous, bug-like eyes.
Underwater, Talon felt like a helpless worm, desperately wishing he was on land. His follow-up swing was sluggish, inching towards the head of his opponent at a pace Talon viewed as agonizing. Fortunately, however, the hit connected with the crab, caving in its face and sending it careening—however fast careening is underwater—towards the seafloor.
"How many of these things are there?" Talon inquired, his tone incredulous.
"Too many," was James' simple response.
"Where the hell is everyone else?"
"Tangled up in battles of their own, it looks like," James answered, casting a long glance to the left. "Yeah, Hunter and the Team Immortal are fighting. Also, it looks like Astra and Mirror are as well, but those six are a ways away. And Leif is helping Eron swim?"
"We don't have time for this!" Talon snarled. "We're even slower under here!" He added with a small whine.
"What, did you think physics wouldn't apply to us?" James snorted, first cracking a small smile, and then chuckling slightly.
That was the first time Talon had heard him laugh. Or, at the very least, the only time he could recall.
"Well, we're magical…" Talon trailed off, understanding how dimwitted he was beginning to sound. "Nevermind. I realize now that they've applied to me my entire life."
"Hah!" James exclaimed aloud, a sort of laugh-snort as he extended his hand, creating a sort of ice web as a means of trapping all of the enemies in his line of sight in one place as he and Talon continued their back-and-forth. The web was thin, but durable, similar to many of James' constructs.
The Thaumaturge enjoyed toying with freezing water, as it allowed him to keep the filaments that held the ice aloft thin and fragile so he could easily expound upon the design mid-fight and whatever he created could be used to judge an opponent's skill before James made another move. If the enemy was held in the web at the least, chances were they weren't of much consequence. Besides, he wasn't meant for any heavy offense of sorts, seeing as he'd applied to train as a Spymaster for Wizard City.
"Physics," Talon continued, riding the success of his accidental joke. "My only true enemy. If only the Titans hadn't made us with limitations!"
"Oh? What would you do then?" James inquired, paying more attention to the hypothetical implications of Talon's joke than the joke itself.
"What, if the Titans hadn't made us with limitations?" The axe caved in another Crustacean's skull and Talon flailed wildly to dodge an unexpected attack from an oncoming opponent.
The ice web cracked. "Mhm." James grunted in affirmation, extending the frost from the webs to encompass the Crustaceans themselves, the very water around their bodies solidifying. Slowly, he built upon the cage he was creating, adding further layers of ice, frost creeping upwards along the tough shells of the crabs, inching towards their arms, their necks, their faces, their eyes.
The way James wielded his ice was hauntingly beautiful, and Talon was almost mesmerized. Or at least he would have been if not for the two heavily armored Crustaceans surrounding him.
"I think…" Talon began, in response to his comrade's question.
What would he have done?
Whatever he wanted? Followed Astra when she went away? Searched for Valkyrie when she left him, too? Followed his father into the battlefield? Saved his mother from her plight? Talon was weak, and there was plenty he couldn't do. There was so much he wanted to rectify, so much he needed to rectify, and yet, instead, he was given another chance. A reset button, so to speak. He was forgiven, and mercy was likely the only reason he'd managed to survive thus far.
It was sickening.
Why couldn't he just be stronger? Maybe then things would change. Maybe then he'd understand why his parents had to die, and why Thalomir was inside him. Maybe then he'd be able to rid himself of...everything...everything that had ever caused him pain, and then he'd be able to return home. Home, where he lived with his father, Valdus Bloodbane, and his mother, Sierra. Home, where he and Hunter would play with wooden swords and pretend to throw fireballs back and forth, in the days when magic didn't tug at the back of their minds and they were just kids. Home, where he would ride the train with Astra, feel the warmth of her hand in his, feel the rise and fall of her chest as she lay next to him, asleep. For Talon, home was everything.
And where was home now?
"I don't know," Talon concluded. "I don't know if that'd be a good idea."
James shrugged, shattering the ice that held his opponents, watching as frozen shards, some with bits of Crustacean in them, floated away with the current. "That's alright. It's not an important question. Is that all of them?"
Talon gave a nod. Definitely less of a threat than he'd initially assessed, it seemed, as the two wizards cleared through the swarm easily. "Before we talk to the guy who flagged me over, when do you leave?"
James shrugged again. "I think I'll head out after we talk to this guy. The sooner Ambrose knows, the sooner we can actually get to work."
"Right. Well, uh, it's good having you around." Talon mumbled.
The other man's eyes were devoid of expression, devoid of light; stony gray orbs. "Remember, Talon, don't rely too much on other people." James responded, his words far from the answer Talon wanted to hear. The Necromancer froze, his eyes narrowing in anger as James continued. "You need to know who you are for yourself. Don't let other people define you."
Talon opened his mouth to respond, but frowned instead. Was that some sort of insult? Saying that Talon wasn't independent enough to do—well, what, exactly? What was James trying to say?
"What do you mean?" He inquired, his voice betraying his slight ire. "Is that an insult? Are you saying I'm not independent?"
James shook his head in dismissal. "No, I'm trying to say that your compliment was appreciated, but don't use me as a crutch. I shouldn't be the person you look to when you make a decision."
James turned around, beginning to swim towards the figure who flagged Talon over. "I may be good to have around now, but I won't always vouch for you, and I won't always be there. Don't make the same mistake I did."
Talon tilted his head to the side. "Mistake..?"
James shrugged. "Don't worry, I think you'll be fine. Come on."
The Necromancer raised a confused eyebrow, but nonetheless pushed James' words to the back of his conscious and followed the young yet unnaturally wise Thaumaturge forwards through the water.
"Are you Talon?" The figure in the diving suit asked, voice frantic.
Talon frowned in confusion. "Are you Rhubarb Fleming?"
"Who?" The person in a diving suit asked. As Talon searched for a face, he noticed facial features that denoted the person as a human female.
"I meant Rupert Fleming." Talon corrected, slightly embarrassed. "I'm not very good at pronouncing names. Or remembering them, maybe." He gave a sheepish laugh.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Fleming's over there. Or he should be." The woman explained, pointing a gloved hand left, in the direction of even murkier depths, likely crawling with crabs.
Gross.
"What the fu—are you telling me we went through several giant crabs just to find out that you're not the guy we want?" Talon whined with a distressed sigh.
"Come on," James said, grabbing the Necromancer's arm and leading him leftwards.
"Wait!" The woman cried out suddenly. "Talon! Wait, I have a message for you—a message from someone important, I think."
Talon paused for a moment, and James' grip on him loosened ever-so-slightly.
"Do you want to know what it is?" The Thaumaturge asked, slowly.
Talon faltered. He did. He truly was curious, partially because...well, who would know who he was here in the ruins of an ancient city? If the message was important, could it be from Ambrose? And if it was, why wasn't anyone else flagged over?
'Unless helping them aligns with our war efforts, we'll have to put them on the side.'
Gritting his teeth, he shook his head. "I do, but, y'know. War first. Let me at least try to fix what I started."
A small smile spread across James' face, and he patted Talon's back in appreciation. "That certainly wasn't the response I'd expected," he said. "You're learning."
Talon snorted. "You know, sometimes, I don't understand whether you're insulting me or praising me," he answered with a small smile. If anyone was on his side, it was James. At the very least, Talon could appreciate having help, especially when he was beset by people who wanted to tear his throat out at every mistake. And though their disappointment was understandable…
Ah, whatever. He had one thing to do, and that was to fix his fuck-ups and not cry about it.
"Are you Rupert Fleming?" James asked, as they neared the new person-no, another dog-that they were directed to moments earlier.
"Are you the wizards sent to me?" Fleming responded instead.
"I'll take that as a 'yes'," James answered. "What's the problem here?"
Now that Talon observed the dog-man up close, in person, he appeared to be trapped in some sort of crude cage that couldn't be readily observed from a distance. The bars of the cage weren't complete, but rather rusted, jagged, bent pieces of iron that jutted upwards towards the Grotto's ceiling, and came to a peak far too soon, not quite connecting just above Fleming's helmet.
The Necromancer made a disgusted face.
"Oh, what a godsend!" Fleming exclaimed. He seemed excited, almost too excited, for someone trapped in an underwater cage with Crustaceans milling about. And those things were hard to crack.
"You can smile in this situation?" Talon interjected incredulously.
"Oh, yes, of course!" Fleming exclaimed. "We were captured by the Crustaceans but the whole situation proved more educational than we'd realized!"
"How?" Talon answered, scrunching his face. "You think being jailed is fun?" His mind wandered to six years of intense training under Shina, a crushing feeling of isolation, silence, cold, cold, cold and then Astra's fingers wrapped around his throat, and he remembered the pain.
"Easy," James stepped forwards, in front of the Necromancer. "Go on." He nodded to Fleming.
"Well, none of us were much for fisticuffs, so they caged us. But it gave us a chance to observe their culture firsthand, and well, they're quite amazing!"
"But?" Talon interrupted again, "You want us to find something for you?"
"Well, when you put it that way…" Fleming trailed off, looking off into the distance.
Talon sighed, and turned towards James, lowering his voice slightly. "What does helping these people with their expedition do for us in the war? I said if they lined up with what we're doing, but they're trying to gather information about a species for god knows what!"
"No," James corrected. "Maybe these people have seen Morganthe. Maybe the Crustaceans have seen Morganthe. If we investigate something else, like what she's been up to or what she was doing here instead of searching for where she's hiding, because we all know we can't kill her, and well, our current state is sub-optimal-"
"Get to it," Talon exclaimed.
"If we familiarize ourselves with the terrain and the people, maybe we can come out of it more informed than we think. Maybe these creatures are examples of her influence...and we don't know how far that influence extends. Do you see what I mean?"
"I think I understand," Talon said, nodding in response. "Alright. I'll trust your judgement for this one. Turning back towards Fleming, the Necromancer gave an exaggerated exasperated sigh, shrugging his shoulders once, twice, and hanging his head before inhaling deeply.
James frowned in confusion.
"Oooookay," Talon said finally, cracking his neck. "What do you want us to do?"
"Can you collect some samples from the Crustaceans? Maybe a few pieces of seaweed, or, well, anything that looks remotely valuable! Yes, that's it. If it looks like it shouldn't belong, get it for me!"
It took all of Talon's willpower not to unleash a frustrated roar. He was tired of being an errand boy. He started all of this, right? So why couldn't he just kill Morganthe and be done with it? Why did everything have to be so complicated?
"I hate Diviners…" was the low growl that resonated within the halls of the Chancel. The sweeping, sunlit chamber was severely lacking in residents, most unusual for an area where the Umbra Queen herself was believed to be active. Morganthe was never the type to vacate a world before gathering her things most precious, and of course, she could not possibly have relocated, as she had left behind several valuables.
A near-armless Thaumaturge staggered into the doorway; stumbling carelessly over the threshold; her armored feet lagging seconds behind her legs; her breath ragged; her hair hanging messily over her glowing white eyes accompanied by an undeniably crude glare; a glare that betrayed simultaneous instability and yearning.
A small, inscrutable piece of armor flaked from her shoulder which she clutched at with a vice-like grip; dried blood cracked and fluttered from her fingers as she squeezed her wound tightly to keep her consciousness intact and her mind sharp. There was much to be done, including healing, but first, she had to speak with her queen.
"My lady," Valkyrie mumbled lazily at first, blinking slowly and digging her nails into the crust of blood that had formed over the hole that had been burned into her shoulder. Small pops filled the hall as Valkyrie licked her cracked lips; her fingers broke through the layer of hardened, filthy, dead, useless blood, reaching new, fresh, warm, alive, red, alive, crimson, alive, alive, alive blood. Her nails brushed muscle, sinew, tendon, severed nerve, flesh, I am the root, I am the root, I am the root.
"My lady," she repeated, hoarsely, though louder this time. Her vision blurred, and she dug her fingers deeper into her shoulder hole.
I am alive, and I am the root. I am alive, and I am the root.
The Thaumaturge's mantra shocked her conscious mind, keeping her grounded. It hurt, but she needed to focus. After all, if she didn't, if she couldn't, if she wasn't the root, then how could she report to her queen? How could she kill Talon? How could she—!alive?
Valkyrie's head darted to the right, then the left. "Umbra Queen!" She barked. "Show yourself, Queen Morganthe!" Affectionate titles again. Demanding tone, though. Offensive, even. Didn't matter. She needed advice, help, support, from her mentor.
The spider-woman was nowhere in sight, and the disciple began to worry. What was wrong? Morganthe was not the kind to be killed so easily, so what had gone wrong? She could not have fled, could she? It would be nonsensical to flee and leave Valkyrie behind.
"Help me!" The woman shrieked.
Valkyrie was powerful, but she was not enough to keep Talon's forces and a potential armada of Ravenwood's finest at bay. Her fingers pulled at muscle and sinew, separating them, ripping them, clawing them, rearranging them. She gritted her teeth in a futile attempt to remove herself in the pain, ground her teeth together so powerfully that her gums began to bleed and creak underneath her power.
—/;;-•—Frothing at the mouth and shaking uncontrollably, the Thaumaturge took another step forward. She knew it would irritate her lady if she demanded her presence in such an uncouth manner, but she was becoming increasingly desperate. And her arm stung. No, it burned. It destroyed her from the inside out. "Morganthe!" Valkyrie snarled, her voice crazed. "Bitch! Come out! Come out!"
No response, the girl's distress echoing briefly throughout the Chancel. Silence answered back, swallowing Valkyrie's voice whole.
She broke through the muscle, scraped her bone and her vision swam. Her mind drifted to Talon, to when she was a volunteer at Briskbreeze. Focus. Focus. She remembered her younger brother, and her time as a Thaumaturge in Ravenwoodddd((/
Focus.
She remembered when she fell off the edge of the world and she remembered when she died.
"No!" She cried out in anguish, clawing at her wound now. Why couldn't she focus? Why? Why was she alone? Why was she thinking? Why was she alive? Why?
Frost leapt up her mangled limb at an alarming rate, partially solidified tendrils of ice slithering, freezing, growing, unifying on her arm. Her grip tightened as she began to cry, and her now-frozen arm shattered, crushed ice slipping through her fingers and spilling onto the floor. Valkyrie unleashed an anguished, bloodcurdling howl, curling into herself and crying as she fumbled for where her arm used to be. She didn't mean to, it was an accident, she was so angry, so helpless, please, help.
Her vision was incredibly murky, rendering her nearly blind; her hair hung over her head in ragged clumps; her breaths inconsistent and accompanied by horrendous wheezes; her pupil less eyes squeezed shut, the three star shaped birthmarks at the corners of both eyes covered in tears.
The%re was no focu[/s anym]ore—
but there was a name.
He was responsible for all of this, wasn't he? Even that lightning whore Sabrina warned her he was a problem, but she didn't listen, did she..? He didn't return her love, he lied to her constantly, and he tried to kill her on several occasions. She should've known...he didn't save her when she was in her time of crisis, but she still yearned for him. He didn't follow her like he said he would so long ago, but still she yearned for him. He strangled the life from her in her vulnerable state and suffered no repercussions.
How could Talon manage to emerge unscathed? Didn't he say he loved her? Didn't he say he would join her? Didn't he say he'd come alone, that he didn't want to be alone, that everything was so alone, alone, alone? Why was she so alonEEEE/?
Why ¿ did it hur?t so muuuuuuchithurtsithurtsithurts—
WhyithurtsonlyTalonwhyithurtsw~hyyhwwhyHEDIDTHISTOMEWHYWHYWHYHISFAULTHISFAULTHI;SFAULTdyingdyingdyingWhErEiSmYaRm
Unhinged, the Thaumaturge lay on the floor of the Sun Chancel, twitching periodically, eyes wide and unblinking, gaze fixed on something only she could see. She waved absentmindedly at where her right arm used to be, muttering curses, names and incoherent thoughts.
killhim;iwillkillhim\iwillkillhiiiiiiim""iwillkillthim&iwillkillthem•iwillkilltheeemmmmall
The woman rolled slowly, leveling her hand with the ground, her face adopting a pained expression, and pushed herself upwards unsteadily. She quivered with tremendous effort, but eventually managed to arrive at a kneeling position. Valkyrie swayed to the left first, barely managing to catch herself before she pitched back to the ground. She had to stand.
standstand youuuuu must stand what will you do how will you kill him how will you kill him to stand you have to stand he must kill kill stand stand stand valkyrie stand
Otherwise, how would she be able to cleanse herself of unwarranted pests?
PEST PEST PEST PEST PESTS THEY ARE ALL PESTS KILL THEM ALL MORGANTHE MORGANTHE PESTS
The abandoned disciple leaned forward onto her left hand, sliding her right leg forward first and planting it on the ground as best she could, her foot lagging behind. A quiet cry of pain as her weight was shifted to the planted leg. She had to stand. Valkyrie pushed upwards with her leg, again swaying left and right. She dragged her left leg to support herself, wobbling but for the most part, maintaining an upright position.
She did it.
A feeling of excitement washed over her for the briefest of moments before it was replaced with a fiery resentment.
Talon was next.
Leif let out a loud yelp, drawing the attention of his teammates and interrupting Rupert Fleming mid-way through the expositional.
The yelp was even enough to attract the attention of several Crustaceans, who turned towards the group of wizards, only to be engaged by a scouting wizard attempting to pass by unnoticed, and then another Crustacean swimming over to a group as if giant crabs could have their own social network and hierarchies.
"Um, sorry about that," Leif mumbled sheepishly, looking down at the coral plants nearby. "Please continue…" he added weakly.
The Theurgist's contradictory draconian roommate leaned over. "You alright?" He whispered, the water-breathing device giving his usually gruff voice a rather nasally tone. While breathing was made a little difficult with the device, speech was hardly impeded, allowing the wizards to hear and communicate with one another as easily as they'd do on land.
"Yeah," Leif answered hastily. "Well, sorta."
"What'dya mean?" Eron inquired in his practically signature informal style. "Did somethin' hurt y' or somethin'?"
"No, no…" Leif began. "I just saw something, y'know? Like a vision."
Eron shrugged "I got dreams, if that's what'cher tryin' t' say."
The Theurgist paused to pretend as if he was listening to Fleming blather on, and leaned back to whisper to Eron. "No, not like that. It's like the future or something. I don't know, it was like straight out of books." A long pause. "I...I saw my sister."
"I didn't know y'had a sister!" Eron exclaimed almost excitedly. His voice dropped an octave and he nudged his friend. "She cute?"
"What?" Leif exclaimed in a hushed voice. "No..! You...you're a prick!" He frowned, feeling upset. Why would Eron think that? How could he? That was just...insensitive. Right? He wasn't considering Leif's feelings...as her brother.
Right, as her brother.
"I'm jus' jokin'," Eron chuckled. "Don'get so uptight. I don't like girls," he said with a grin.
Leif pouted for a moment. "Fine. Do you want me to keep going?" He cast a sideways glance towards Talon, and was about to turn his attention back to Eron, when—
"Alright, we're heading out," the dark skinned leader interrupted. "Stay sharp, everyone." The Necromancer had a commanding voice, for once in quite a while.
Unfortunately, Leif also noticed that it was a...rather well-constructed façade, surprising for Talon because of his apparent emotional fragility, Talon doing his best to mask his fear of something.
The young Theurgist averted his eyes, focusing on whatever was nearby that was different. He didn't want to call himself "special", but his affinity for Theurgy came from his ability to uncover the truth about nearly any living organism, or at least, what they were saying, provided he was paying attention and staring intently at said person for longer than fifteen seconds.
Despite that, half the time Leif used his ability, he was certain he wasn't using it, because it was just staring, and then suddenly, he just...knew. And while the ability may have had a practical use on and off the battlefield, Leif never felt comfortable with it, hence why he did his best to stop himself and avoid excessive eye contact.
"Yeah, yeah," Eron answered, his voice dragging Leif from his thoughts and back into their previous conversation. "Tell me about'cher dream, or vision, or whatever y'call it."
Leif nodded. "Okay, uh...well, I saw my sister, right? But she was dying, I think. That was the weird part."
Eron folded his arms across his chest, turning his head away from the smaller man to observe his surroundings, albeit briefly, and take note of where the rest of the team was headed. "Why is her dyin' weird? Ain't that the part people'd say 'this ain't real' or maybe somethin' like 'don't die, Jane!'"
Leif donned a confused look for a moment before dismissing it and continuing. "Well, no, it's only weird because I don't know how she died. I was only contacted when she died, but not told how or really where. But, y'know…" he trailed off. "...Well, in the vision, she didn't have an arm, and she was twitching and saying something. I couldn't hear, though."
"I didn' know she was dead…" Eron mumbled embarrassed. "Sorry."
Leif's gaze was distant, but he shrugged. "...It's been a while. She taught me to appreciate life. I guess I can take that and do something with it or lay down and die."
A long silence. Water bubbles generated by the group of wizards swimming permeated the silence, as well as the occasional chatter between Talon, James and Team Immortal.
"She looked different, too." Leif suddenly said.
"How d'ya mean?" Eron asked.
"That girl, I think Hunter said she was called 'Valkyrie'...well, back when we saved Talon from her, or maybe when we stopped him from joining her—whatever—" he inhaled. "—Point is, my sister looked kind of like that. ...At least, she did in this vision, okay?"
"Well, is'at your sister's name?"
"What, 'Valkyrie'? No! No way. Well, it was what they called her around Ravenwood—they sometimes called her 'The Kali'—because she was good at dueling, but that's not her actual name. Besides, that can't be my sister. That wouldn't make any sense, they don't look alike."
'At least, I don't think so,' Leif wanted to add.
"I guess so," Eron answered simply. "I ain't really sure how some stuff works, though. I mean, I didn' think y'could mix magic 'nd science like they do in th' dog world, whatever it's called, but look at that girl, Snaketongue. Maybe anythin's possible?" He added.
Leif shook his head. "That can't be...Amethyst can't be like that."
And yet it wasn't as if Leif hadn't had visions before. Professor Moolinda Wu had provided Theurgy students with the perspective that visions were natural as students were exposed to the intricacies of life itself, and that due to all life being attached via a cyclical, infinite and everlasting flow, exploring it further would yield intense and often euphoric experiences.
Granted, around a third of the time the visions a student experienced would be harrowing and violent due to the flow of death wrapping around the flow of life, but a majority of Leif's visions since becoming connected with the lifeflow were...regular.
Happy.
He'd had one where he was retired. The wars to come and the wars that had been were won, and he was content. He'd had a vision where he and his sister were merely dancing. On stage, yes, but with no audience. Just themselves. More recently, he had a vision in which many of his teammates held their arms out for him as he joined them at a table. Everything was bathed in light and while some could say the vision may have been a visual metaphor for heaven, Leif found it satisfactory. He wasn't afraid of death, and obviously if someone were to refute his acceptance of such a dream, then they truly would not understand Leif at all.
But what was the vision he had just seen? It was disconcerting. Nonsensical. Violent. Was he experiencing these because of a brush with the deathflow?
He shivered, perhaps because of the water's prevailing temperature, or perhaps because his visions bothered him more than he thought.
The Theurgist paused, musing to himself. Well, maybe the vision was a sign of hope; maybe this was what Talon needed. They knew Valkyrie was wounded, likely from her skirmish with William, Vincent and Talon that William proceeded to explain in great yet hasty and potentially exaggerated detail. And if she was wounded, well, maybe she wasn't as great of a threat. Though Talon might know better than anyone, but Leif...didn't think he should be the one to pass judgement on the situation.
Not that Talon was bad, of course! Just that he was not in his right mind. Not adjusted? Needed time to decompress? Whatever. It couldn't be denied that the Necromancer made a selfish decision and it'd take time for his actions to be forgiven by the team. And even if Leif said he forgave Talon, he was still a little...angry.
But regardless, such a revelation would be useful for all the team, or so he hoped. It wasn't as if everyone would immediately believe him. Hell, in their own panic, they might accuse him of being a traitor. And the only one who might believe him was Talon, because Talon knew Valkyrie. However, there was always the chance that Talon wouldn't believe him, either.
No. He'd talk to Talon. He could see the confrontation unfolding in his mind, and he visualized what he would say to the Necromancer about and the older man's responses, though eventually Leif began to imagine himself ultimately berating Talon for his delusions of strength and weakness and all notion of Valkyrie vanished from his mind.
"Hey, Talon," Leif saw himself as he spoke, stridin—swimming—over to the Necromancer until they were side by side. The Theurgist maneuvered so that his back was to the others and he and Talon were slightly to the side of the group. If anyone heard...well, Leif would speak in hushed tones. No point in letting anyone else get the wrong idea.
"Hey there," Talon would respond absentmindedly. "Um...Leif," he added hastily, as if he'd just remembered the Theurgist's name.
"I have something to tell you," Leif would say.
"You could've just started with whatever it was you're going to tell me," Talon might respond, glancing at the younger man.
"Erm...right," would be Leif's awkward reply. "I had a vision about that girl you tried to join. She was hurt in the v—"
"Girl? Valkyrie?" Talon asked, his voice perplexed and almost fearful, as Leif had imagined it would be based on how Talon talked about her.
"Yeah, yeah," Leif would then confirm. "She was hurt in the vision. I think when she was here last, William hurt her enough to keep her incapacitated. Her arm—" Leif envisioned Talon interrupting a second time.
"Is she dead?"
Because it never was enough, was it? Even when Talon knew something was gone, it would still haunt him. It wasn't hard to tell that something he had lost followed him and clung to him like a parasite, sapping him of any and all strength.
"What—no, I don't...I don't think so. She looked like she was bleeding out when the vision ended, though."
The Necromancer could inhale sharply, or frown, but no matter how Leif imagined it, his answer was the same. "If she isn't dead…"
Leif would hold his hands up in defense. "No, no, no, it's okay, Talon, she only has one arm. She's down for now, so maybe that means we have some time to search for Morganthe, maybe pick up some leads—"
"Leif, you need to understand me when I tell you that she always returns."
"—what?"
"If she isn't dead, then…" visibly, Talon shuddered, fidgeting uncomfortably. "If she isn't dead, then she'll be after you next."
The fear that Leif imagined for Talon seemed very real.
A pause. The scenario continued to play out in Leif's head as Talon bent his head and his brow furrowed further. His legs trembled, Leif could feel it.
"What about you?"
"She's already coming for me," Talon might babble almost absent-mindedly. "She's saying she's 'Val' now...trying to get to me…" he'd trail off, no longer talking to Leif. Or at the very least, forgetting Leif was in his presence.
"What're you talking about?" Leif would whisper slowly.
"She's already here, looking for me."
"...How can you know for sure? What if it's someone else who knows you?"
Talon would shake his head fiercely. "Can't be. I don't know anyone else who cares enough.."
Leif averted his gaze. "I...I'm sorry...but, um…"
"I know," would be Talon's murmur. "You were—no, I was supposed to respond differently, wasn't I?"
"Yeah," Leif already knew what he'd say in reality. "But, I understand why you're afraid. I'd probably be afraid, if I were in your situation. But…"
"You sure say 'but' a lot," the Nexromancer's subsequent interjection would result in him chuckling slightly.
"I'm not in your situation," Leif would continue, undeterred. "And so, I think it's okay to be scared, but you can't run anymore." The younger man's voice would be strong, but physically, he shook as if he was experiencing Talon's pain.
The Theurgist saw himself pause, then place a hand on Talon's shoulder. "I can tell that you're trying, Talon, but it's not enough. We'll die if you keep trying—you have to be stronger."
"But it's not that easy, is it—?" Talon might say, because it was never that easy and he always had something to say. "You can't tell me I'm weak and expect me to be strong just like that, I mean—I mean, I have to try first, don't I?"
Leif would shake his head. "You've done enough trying. Um…" he'd pause for a moment before exhaling and stabbing Talon in the chest with his finger. "You trying almost got us killed, and—and you trying started a war..!" He imagined his voice angry but coupled with his shape and the fact that he might shake uncontrollably, Leif probably would look timid and the complete opposite of intimidating.
"—Are you okay?" would be Talon's question, reaching out towards Leif, wanting to talk about something other than himself for a moment—
"No!" Leif would then exclaim, slapping away Talon's hand. "Don't run from this!"
The Necromancer'd recoil, maybe more surprised at the usually soft, empathetic Theurgist's outburst than he'd be at anything else Leif would had said. "I'm not running," Talon would try to stammer. His eyes, fearful, could search their surroundings, likely so he could evade the next barrage of accusations and get the attention of a teammate to draw attention away from himself.
"I'm through being nice to you!" Leif wanted to respond, rather angrily. "You can't keep telling yourself it's okay to run whenever something goes wrong! We need your help, can't you see that? You have to lead us..!"
"How do you—I can't—"
"You have to!" Leif imagined yelling, finally. He'd ignore the "woah" from William and Astra's "are you alright?" and Eron's likely "Leif, what the hell?" and would push forwards, stabbing a finger into Talon's chest, usually kind and timid eyes ablaze. "You need to be stronger. You need to be better. And the first step towards that is taking advantage of this. We have time. We can heal. We can find more out about Morganthe without having to worry about a crazy ex-girlfriend of yours impaling us all on giant spikes of ice. So, I'm giving you a choice! You either take it and work with us, heal with us and grow with us, or you leave it and go against us again."
"How could you say that?" Talon would begin hastily. "That's not a choice I can make—you can't possibly expect me to…" he'd trail off, averting his eyes. Leif knew what the man would to say, that it wasn't his fault, that he couldn't possibly make that decision, or maybe even that he didn't mean to join Valkyrie and that he didn't mean it because he never meant it and that made it okay.
"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you," The seventeen year old would have said. "I don't like to fight, but I won't beg anymore. I just—you...you need to understand."
Talon opened his mouth to speak, but the words that came from his mouth were not what Leif imagined. "Hey, Leif. Hey, hey, hey. Leif, are y'there?"
"Leif, stop spacin' on me," Eron's voice sliced through the Theurgist's fantasy scenario, and he grabbed the smaller man's arm.. "Let's walk n' talk. Or uh, swim n' talk." The draconian gestured towards the group as they split apart, moving away from Fleming to different areas in the vast ocean, weapons primed, mana boiling.
"Uh, yeah. Right," Leif muttered in responded, shaking his head dismissively.
"So, how d'ya know it's your sister?" Eron inquired, stroking his chin as he stared at a trio of Crustaceans before him, chattering amongst one another through a mixture of garbled common tongue, clacks of their pincers, blinking of the eyes, or in some cases, a singular eye, and a language that sounded like broken glass.
"What?" Leif asked, slightly dazed. The Theurgist brought a hand to the bridge of his nose.
"Your vision," Eron stated plainly. "Y'said the girl was Valkyrie butcha also said she was yer sister. Don'they look different?"
"Well, yeah," Leif responded, shrugging. "But there's something there. There was, I mean. I just felt like I knew her. She reminded me of my sister."
Eron shrugged again, unable to offer any further commentary.
The younger man stopped, frozen in place, eyes glued to the sand. Silence coiled around him, thick and suffocating. He trembled ever so slightly, just floating, hovering in the water as if he'd been left vegetative. The draconian moved to reach out for his comrade, but then...
"No," Leif spoke, dismissively, though no one was arguing against him. "I'm just overthinking it. Maybe they're just the same height, or they have the same hair length or something. What matters is that my sister died fighting against people like Valkyrie. So they can't be the same."
Eron was silent, staring at his friend, eyes tight and probing, though his expression was, by all appearances, blank. The draconian turned away as Leif continued to mumble to himself, lost in his gripping desire to understand what he had just witnessed.
"Right." The Theurgist's voice grew farther, softer, quieter, even though Eron had barely taken a step away. "I'm right. I'm right, aren't I? I'm right...that can't be Amethyst. She's dead. She's dead. I'm right. Yeah. Yeah, okay."
MW: And that's it. A far shorter chapter than the previous ones, only because working on the story has been coming along slowly and I have so many ideas I want out. For now, though, this is all I have. I will do my best to get the next chapter out soon, but until then, I hope you enjoy; I love you guys and am so very grateful for the amount of attention and love this little pet project of mine has been receiving in the years since its conception. Feedback is always appreciated as are ideas! Huge thanks to my de-facto editors, James Firecrafter, DeathlySophia, and Bulbous Brecken.
Post-Chapter Q&A:
Q: Is Talon going to be forgiven?
A: Well, yeah, eventually. War tears people apart but it also brings people together whether they're aware of it or not and whether they like it or not. Talon is still the team's leader, and currently, he views that as something that defines him. Without being a "leader", he believes he lacks an identity and his own idiosyncracy, which is why he latches onto it so tightly. But yes, he will be forgiven and his teammates will come to trust in him. It takes time, though. Sometimes it'll happen quickly and with other characters they'll hold grudges.
Q: When will James leave?
A: He'll likely be gone either off-screen this chapter or he'll leave in the middle of the next chapter.
Q: Is Valkyrie Leif's sister?
A: Is she?
Q: Does Leif think Valkyrie is his sister?
A: I dunno. He notes that she resembles his sister in some way, but then quickly rescinds that claim and denies the very idea of it. But then...he also doesn't seem very sure of himself.
Q: Why are all the characters so wishy-washy about their opinions?
A: Because that's human, and if they weren't so overly analytical or so back and forth with their opinions and their moods in such a tense situation, especially as their pasts come back to haunt them, I'd be surprised. At the present moment, they're not used to their situation, and the few characters who appear as if they are maybe truly aren't. They don't trust one another. They don't even trust themselves. They can't trust their team leader and a majority of the time, everyone is out for themselves or to feel superior. They'll grow into stronger people and as such their beliefs, ideals and strengths will grow with them, but that also takes time and right now, they're weak.
Q: What happened to Valkyrie?
A: If you remember, a chapter or two ago, she appeared in Talon's room to try and coerce him into joining her (and also potential sex), but eventually she had enough of his whining and decided to choke him, upon which James and William appeared and she took most of them down singlehandedly until Will blew a hole in her shoulder. She can't heal herself, and she ended up staggering to where Morganthe was originally based, but upon seeing her mentor gone, she snapped and destroyed her arm in a fit of agony. She attempted to keep her mind "rooted" to earth by literally saying that she was "the root", but ultimately failed and her pain and rage mixed until the only thing she could focus on was Talon, who she harbors a deep resentment for.
Q: What's the deal with Talon and James?
A: James is acting as a sort of coach for Talon and keeping his thoughts intact until later into the Celestia arc. For now, Talon sees James as his sole tether to the world and a person who is rooting for him in a group of people who more or less hate him. Since he doesn't know how to mend his relationship with his brother, Talon is projecting his familial love onto James. Since he isn't sure how he feels or what to do about Astra, Talon is also projecting his romantic love onto James, and James is acting as sort of a surrogate or a conduit, channeling those feelings and directing them right back at Talon. He's being nice to a guy who feels like he's nothing.
Alright folks, that's all for now, and I'll see you in the next chapter, which will be called "Bubble". Peace!
