Opening A/N:

DON: Thank you all for your support in the last chapter.

NOX: We truly appreciate it. Enjoy the next chapter.

Chapter 2: Another Path

Zophar's sleep gave him no rest. The pain from his visit to the thirteenth tier did not leave and his dreams were filled with nothing but the screams of his people.

"Help us!"

"Hurts…it hurts!"

"I just want to rest…just rest…"

"KILL ME!"

"Why won't you help us?!"

"I am trying!" Zophar pleaded, his voice drowned in the torrent of screams, "I went to Eliphas for help! He refused!"

"Please! You have to find a way! Find a way!"

"Find a way!"

Zophar awoke, gasping, chest heaving with pain, though it didn't hurt to breathe this time. Above him, two familiar faces stared down at him. To his left was a youthful man with glittering, mischievous eyes and a handsome face. To his right loomed a taller, more solemn-looking individual with blue-white pupiless eyes and deep cracks running through the center of his otherwise smooth face.

"Arafel…" Zophar panted, looking to his friend on the left. "Nephis…" he continued, addressing his friend on the right. The three of them had grown up together in the first tier, all of them aspiring to ascend to higher tiers like their mutual exemplar, Eliphas. Zophar had completely failed, remaining stuck in the first tier, while Arafel and Nephis had both managed the transformation into the second rank…with mixed results. Arafel managed to ascend with no damage to his body, but in doing so, had burned out his spirit, rendering it incapable of taking in new astral energy for future ascensions. Nephis ascended while keeping his spirit healthy, but his body had nearly broken in half. Any attempts at further ascension would certainly kill him. In their earlier days, their friendship had been knit together by their mutual dreams. Now, they were forged together in suffering.

"I told you he'd survive," Arafel laughed, clapping Nephis on a clear shoulder plate holding up the other Astral's toga-like robes.

"Just barely," Nephis sighed, regarding Zophar with his solid eyes. "Do you have any idea how close you came to shattering?"

"Some idea," Zophar groaned, looking down at his heavily bandaged body. "Thank you both, for helping me. I…should get back to work."

Nephis pressed a firm hand down on Zophar, preventing the rank one Astral from lifting his feeble body from the bed.

"You are not going anywhere," the somber Astral growled.

"I'm doing better," Zophar protested, "really."

"No you're not!" Arafel sputtered, "We didn't heal you. That's not how Astral bodies work! We just…held you together until you could absorb enough astral energy to barely, and I truly mean BARELY, glue your shattered bits in place! The cracks are still there! You strain yourself even a little bit, and you'll fall apart for sure!"

"That bad, huh?" Zophar panted, falling back onto his bed. "Now I definitely won't be able to rank up. Nice to hear that…nothing's changed."

"This is not a joke, Zophar" Nephis sternly replied. "Before, you could safely make trips to the second tier, maybe even the third and fourth. After the stunt you pulled, you're basically stuck here for the rest of your life."

"Not too big of a problem," Zophar replied with a heavy sigh, "considering my people are here and nobody from the higher tiers, with the exception of you two, are willing to help them."

"So we really are screwed then," said Arafel, face contorting with rage. "Curse those higher tier elitists and their arrogance. They're so self absorbed in their own accomplishments that they're all too happy to forget about us and let us rot away."

"Ascension is a personal matter," Nephis coldly recited, fingering the crack along his nose. "In this world, you are either born lucky with the innate talent to ascend, or are doomed to disintegrate after your first mistake." He paused, taking a moment to stroke the ugly cracks on his face. "Or at least…that's what the higher tiers would have us believe."

"You really think the thirteenth tier is hiding some secret in their archive?" Arafel questioned.

"We won't know until they let us look," Nephis replied.

"Which they won't do," Zophar sighed. "We're running out of options. We tried appealing to the other leaders. They ignored us. We went to the common people of the higher tiers. They rejected us. Eliphas was our last Hope. I thought that our brotherly relationship would at least summon an ounce of sympathy from him, but instead I almost destroyed myself for nothing."

Zophar closed his eyes, reflecting on his last statement. The sting of being rejected by his own brother was far more hurtful than any physical pain he endured on his journey.

"On the bright side, at least we don't have to waste any more time groveling at the feet of other Astrals," Arafel scoffed.

"Indeed," Nephis agreed. "The path of the sycophant is a fruitless endeavor. It's like I've been telling you, Zophar. We need to consider other options."

"No," Zophar weakly, but firmly replied.

"Nephis and I have been discussing it," Arafel cut in. "If we are careful-"

"NO!" Zophar snapped, abruptly sitting up on his bed. He immediately regretted his outburst as pain raced across his back and chest, causing him to flop back into his bed.

"Then what are you suggesting?" Nephis replied. "Try harder to ascend? That's not going to work. Beg? We've done that. Trade with the higher tiers? There's nothing we can offer them that they'd want. Pray to the Numeron Dragon for a miracle? Good luck. So what, Zophar? What?"

Zophar closed his eyes, trying to think.

"I don't know, Nephis," he admitted after a while. "Ever since becoming this tier's ruler, I've been spending every waking moment of my life trying to figure out a solution. But without the books kept in the thirteenth archive…"

"We need to find a way in," Arafel mused. "If only just visiting the higher tiers didn't damage us, we might consider…appropriating the forbidden texts…"

"That will never work," Zophar growled. "And even if we could steal them, we must not. That would only make our situation worse."

"We're damned if we do and damned if we don't," Nephis countered. "How long are we supposed to live under their rules? We outnumber the higher tiers. Who's to say we stand no chance?"

Zophar closed his eyes, gritting his teeth in pain.

"I need time to think," he eventually replied.

There was silence from Zophar's friends before Nephis eventually spoke.

"Very well, you have certainly earned rest, friend. Just remember, we've already been waiting. Some of us can't afford to wait much longer."

"I'd say, 'get well soon,'" Arafel sighed, "but at this point, the only thing I can truly say is, 'don't get worse.' I'll keep thinking of solutions too, friend."

They rose to leave, heading to the door. Before they could reach the handle, however, a knock interrupted them. Arafel and Nephis immediately tensed.

"Do you think they-?" Arafel whispered before Nephis made a "shushing" motion with his finger. Carefully, he approached the door before cracking it open slightly. Immediately, a short, rank one Astral woman carrying a huge stack of metal cylindrical canisters forced her way in, bumping aside Nephis and Arafel.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Nephis growled, glaring at the woman.

"I could ask you the same thing," the woman replied, setting her stack of cylinders down on a nearby table, hands fumbling to prevent the canisters from rolling onto the floor.

"We were checking up on a friend who is currently in need of rest," Arafel protested. "So unless you've come to fluff up his pillows, I think it would be better for you to leave."

"Believe me, I do not wish to be here. I'm already way too behind on my regular workflow" the woman grumbled, opening a canister before dumping the semi-translucent contents, a stack of what looked like flexible rolled tablets, onto the table, "but I have orders all the way from the thirteenth tier. I am to give Prince Zophar an immediate psychological examination in order to assess his fitness to rule."

"Zophar's mind is fine," Nephis growled.

"The higher-ups seem to think otherwise," the woman replied, frantically shuffling through her tablets. "And honestly, I cannot blame them. Who ever heard of a rank one visiting the thirteenth tier, even if he is a prince?"

"He is still a prince, regardless of what the higher-ups want," Nephis coldly replied, moving closer to the shorter woman. "He does not have to subject himself to your scrutiny, especially when he needs time to heal."

"Nephis, enough," Zophar weakly commanded. "It is alright. I can answer a few questions. Like you said, there is nothing wrong with my mind."

"Zophar…" Nephis sighed before eventually relenting. "Very well. I will see you again when you've been given more time to recover. Come, Arafel. We're leaving."

Arafel stole one last glance at the short woman hastily trying to organize different documents on the small table, a look of concern on his face. Zophar smiled reassuringly at his friend, prompting the rank two Astral to follow Nephis out the door.

Zophar tilted his head, examining the woman who was muttering to herself, hands and fingers trembling as she shuffled through her mountains of tabletwork.

"I think I recognize you" Zophar mused aloud. "You're Jenaas, the Archivist, correct?"

"That is correct," Jenaas replied, fitfully tucking back a lock of her frazzled hair, only to have it fall back over a spectacle-like device she was wearing over her eyes.

"Why did they send you to perform a psychological examination?" Zophar asked. "Where is Sihiatil? Is she busy with someone else?"

"Shattered," Jenaas quickly replied.

"Shattered!?" Zophar exclaimed.

"While you were away on your road trip," Jenaas snapped. "Thought she could help the afflicted better as a Rank 2, so she tried to ascend. She failed."

"No…" Zophar groaned, falling back onto his pillow. "She was strong. She was happy."

"Or she hid her stress well," Jenaas coldly replied. "Dealing with all that…disease…the screaming…I'm surprised she held up as long as she did. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an examination to conduct."

Zophar grit his teeth, tears trickling down the sides of his head. It happened again. It had already happened so many times. He should have grown used to it by now, but he had not. He could not. And, most importantly, he would not let himself grow used to it.

He opened his eyes, focusing on the woman in front of him as she fumbled with a tablet.

"Please begin by stating your name and rank," Jenaas began, voice clipped.

"Zophar, rank one prince of the first tier," Zophar calmly replied, examining her hands. Yes, the signs were there for her too. They were small, but already she had cracks on her fingers and wrists. Her lips too. Even when he was answering her questions, her mouth was always moving, the woman seemingly unable to stop her muttering.

"And do you remember what you were doing before you became bed-ridden?" Janaas continued, fingers fumbling as she took hasty notes.

"I was going to see my brother, Eliphas, regarding a matter that concerned the first tier," Zophar replied, eyes still locked on the scribe's hands. Yes, he could see it now. They were small, but there were cracks on her fingers and wrists.

Jenaas continued the examination, questions quickly becoming more and more of an interrogation. Why did you seek to visit the thirteenth tier? Why did you not turn back when your body became damaged? Do you not understand the nature and importance of ranking up? All the while, Zophar observed Jenaas, her body, her posture, her muttering. All of it showed signs of the disease that had taken hold of so many others, and it would only grow worse the more time passed, the more work she was forced to endure.

His eyes darted over to the mountain of canisters on the table. The first tier was the largest in terms of population. A larger population meant more tabletwork. This strained the faculties of the few rank one scribes available. A greater strain meant more shattering. More shattering, naturally, meant more tabletwork. Of course, no Astral scribes from the higher tiers offered their assistance. They had more important work, higher tier work, to do. That left the remaining tier one scribes to deal with…what else, more tabletwork.

Someone needed to lighten the load.

"Been a busy day for you?" Zophar questioned.

"What do you think?" Jenaas grumbled as she nervously scrawled more notes. Her fidgeting fingers slipped, dropping her stylus to the floor. With a gasp, she made a move to retrieve her tool, but Zophar reacted first, grabbing the writing tool as it rolled towards his bed.

"This is a very nice pen," Zophar remarked, briefly examining the stylus before offering it to Jenaas, who stared with wide-eyes, hands trembling, "Was it made in the first tier?"

"The second," Jenaas mumbled, snatching the tool away.

"I suspected that," Zophar replied, heaving himself so that he was sitting upright. "I have my own pen, but it's not built as nice."

He reached into a nearby drawer next to his bed to show off his personal stylus, elegant for the first tier, but markedly inferior to Jenaas's glittering tool.

"Do you get a lot of pens like that from the second tier?" Zophar continued, forcing himself to stay upright.

"I end up traveling there quite frequently," Jenaas replied, carefully securing the pen in her trembling hands. "Reports and such. Also the tabletwork is too mundane for them to bother with. Also errands and service calls to every corner of the first and second tiers…"

"You also work in the archives," Zophar continued. "Do you get to see inside a lot of higher-tier collections?"

"I fetch a lot of things, yes" Jenaas muttered. "But only the second and first tier archives. Tier three is too much for me. I have to work through liaisons when accessing those records."

"Still, it must be nice to have access to some of those records," Zophar continued. "I'm denied unless I manage to get through more tabletwork than it's worth. Do you get to read anything?"

"Do I look like I have time?" Jenaas snapped. "I'm far too busy for that. Or this silly conversation!"

"Hmmm, that makes sense," Zophar mused, twirling the pen in his fingers. "I have wasted your time. Let me make it up to you."

He threw off the covers and lifted himself from the bed, suppressing a groan of pain as it lanced through the cracks running up and down his body.

"What are you doing!?" Jenaas yelped, nearly dropping her tablets as Zophar forced himself into the chair next to his table. After taking a moment to breathe, he opened one of the archivist's canister's before setting his pen to the tablet.

"I figure," he continued, eyes scanning the form, "that you could use a bit of a breather."

"Get your hands off that!" Jenaas shouted, eyes growing wider, "You shouldn't be doing that! You'll disorganize everything, and I've spent Numeron knows how long making sure it's all filed correctly! STOP!"

"I am the prince of the first tier," Zophar calmly replied, carefully filling out segments of the form. "I think I have the authority."

"Yes…but…but…you're not a scribe!" Jenaas stammered. "What if you get something wrong!? If that happens, I'll get the blame!"

"In which case, I will assure the higher-ups that you were merely obeying the orders of your prince, and take full responsibility as your leader" Zophar assured her.

"They think you're insane!" Jenaas whispered urgently. "This will only prove it to them, and for the record, I am beginning to agree with them!"

"Check this," Zophar calmly instructed, handing Jenaas the first completed form before immediately proceeding to the next. "Anything wrong?

"...no…" Jenaas replied after a moment.

"Good," Zophar replied. "I must admit, I was beginning to question my fitness for princedom. I was wondering what I would do if I were ever released from my position. Glad to know I at least have the mind for bureaucracy. Will you check this please?"

He handed her the next form before proceeding to the next. His fingers and body ached, but his mind, at least, was still focused. He poured through the forms, thoughts of the books in the archives helping him to push through. They were the key, the way to find the answer he and his friends had been searching for. He could not access them, but he was talking to someone who could, at the very least, access something from the second tier archive. But she wouldn't give him her help unless he gave something first.

Zophar continued handing Jenaas form after form to review, giving the frazzled scribe no time to protest. Eventually, she settled in with him, pulling up a chair so she could begin doing some of the tabletwork herself. Quietly, the two began developing a system, Zophar filling out the majority of the form before handing them off to Jenaas to review and complete the more complex minutia. Time passed in this way, the pile of canisters with incomplete tabletwork shrinking while the completed pile grew larger. Soon, they were on the last canister.

Zophar gasped midway through filling out a form, his hand going to his pained chest. His head fell forward, about to crash into the surface of the table, but before it could, a hand with cracked fingers shot out, cupping his face.

"That'll do for today," Jenaas murmured, voice softer and less tremulous.

"I still…haven't finished…" Zophar groaned.

"You cut my workload in half, and you demonstrated quite clearly to me that your mind remains very sound," Jenaas replied, carefully setting Zophar's head on the back of his chair before rising from her own chair to retrieve a pillow and use it to cushion his back. "I will return to my superiors with a favorable report. I suggest you take the time to care for your body."

Without another word, she scooped up the remaining tablets and carefully placed them in their canister before retrieving the other containers and exiting the room, this time carrying herself with a more relaxed posture. Feeling his exhaustion overwhelm him, Zophar closed his eyes and passed out on the chair.

Zophar awoke next morning to a knock at his door.

"Coming," he managed to get out. Blearily, he tried to lift himself from the chair, only for a wave of exhaustion to send him falling back onto the soft cushion Jenaas had given him the night before.

"Come in," Zophar panted, not wanting to keep the solicitor waiting.

The door creaked open and Jenaas came in, a bundle of canisters nestled under the crook of one arm and a shining book glowing against the crook of the other.

"Have you…not moved since I left you?" the scribe asked, eyes widening.

"I was…comfortable," Zophar reassured her with a crooked smile. "How did it go with your superiors?"

"I'm to give you a follow-up examination," Jenaas muttered, adjusting her arm to set the pile of canisters on the table. "But first, I…wanted to thank you for yesterday. I've never really been able to catch up on my workload before and yesterday looked like it was going to be an even worse day for it. Instead, I ended up with some…freetime. I can't remember the last time I've had that. Anyway, I remembered what you said to me and decided to check out a book from the second tier. I've had my eye on this one…and I thought you might enjoy it as well."

She set the book on the counter. Eyes wide, Zophar reached for the book with a trembling hand before opening the cover and glancing at the first page.

"I…hope you like it," Jenaas replied, almost apologetically. "I don't actually know what your tastes are. But it's from the second tier! Ought to be much better than what you're used to."

"Thank you," Zophar murmured, voice catching in his throat. "Thank you. This was…very kind of you."

Jenaas beamed for a moment, blue-white face glowing with a slightly brighter light. Her eyes slowly drifted to the mountain of canisters on the table, before a darker blue blush crept over her cheeks.

"If…if it is alright with you," she stammered, "I was wondering, if it is not too much to ask, could we maybe?"

She indicated the canisters on the table.

Zophar smiled before picking up his stylus.

"I think I would like that very much," he replied.

"So, you said you wanted to talk with us," said Nephis, folding his arms. "Have you finally come to a decision?"

"I have," Zophar replied. "Gentlemen, I have found the answer to our problem."

"You have?" Arafel questioned.

"Yes," Zophar replied. "It took a little work and time, but it shows promise."

"I hope you haven't been going on any more 'long walks' behind our backs," Arafel scolded, folding his arms.

"Please, I've been exceedingly careful," Zophar reassured him. "Barely used enough energy to lift a pen."

"So what is this 'solution' you've come up with?" Nephis questioned.

Carefully, Zophar opened a drawer next to his bed before pulling out the latest book Jenaas had let him borrow.

"Is that-?" Arafel gasped.

Nephis grabbed the book from Zophar before rifling through its tablets.

"This is a book of children's stories," he said, eyes narrowing.

"From the third tier," Zophar replied.

"You went to the third tier!?" Arafel gaped. "I told you your body can't handle it! How are you still alive!?"

"I didn't move from my house," Zophar replied. "I had a friend get it for me."

"A friend?" Nephis replied. "What friend? Did you actually find someone who pitied you enough?"

"No, not pity," Zophar replied. "See, that's the problem. We've been going about this the wrong way, begging for aid, expecting to get something for nothing. No Astral is ever going to accept that kind of arrangement. And so, I decided to trade."

"Trade?" Nephis questioned. "What could you possibly trade? We have nothing the higher tiers want."

"Nothing of material value," Zophar replied. "But there are things we can give. The person who gave me this book first gave it to a courier from the second tier to deliver to Jenaas, the archivist of this tier."

"Why on earth would they give a first tier scribe one of their texts?" Nephis questioned.

"Unless…" Arafel mused, face developing a mischievous grin, "...the courier was supposed to deliver it to some higherup…only for a…mistake…to be made?"

"Not even that," Zophar laughed. "That's the beauty of this! I didn't have to do anything illegal to get this! I just needed to work my way up!"

"You're not making any sense," Nephis replied, an edge of concern in his voice.

"I've been helping Jenaas with her tabletwork," Zophar explained. "It cuts down her workload and it's a great way to demonstrate my psychological fitness."

"Good way to demonstrate your sense of total masochism, more like," Arafel murmured.

"It also gives Jenaas more freetime," Zophar continued. "Time she spends in the archives, including the second tier archive. We've been sharing books from the second tier, and I asked her if she could grab a book from the third tier. She told me the trip would be too much for her, but that she would see what she could do. She ended up helping that same courier I mentioned before with some of her errands, and as thank-you, that courier approached their superior with a request for having completed their job so efficiently."

"And therefore what, Zophar?" Nephis scoffed. "You performed a whole lot of tedious tabletwork for someone and got a fancy children's book out of it? What about the higher tiers? What about when you ask for something other than a collection of fairy tales? Do you really think being nice to your archivist is somehow going to stretch all the way up to the thirteenth tier?"

"No," Zophar calmly replied. "There's no way I can accomplish that on my own. Which is why I will need your help."

He regarded Nephis and Arafel.

"You're serious?" Arafel asked. "You haven't completely lost your mind?"

"I have the results from my psychological tests to prove it," Zophar replied with a smile.

"Zophar," Nephis sighed, "This will never work. Sure, you could help that archivist. She was in a desperate situation. The higher tiers are not."

"And even if they were, why should we help them?" Arafel complained. "What have they ever done for us?"

"Have you considered that, perhaps, that's exactly what they say about us?" Zophar replied. "Why help a beggar when all they'll ever do is beg and give nothing back? Someone has to start. If they won't, then we can."

"And if the high tiers give us nothing in return?" Arafel growled.

"Then we'll, at least, have made some friends, as I have," Zophar replied.

"Nephis?" Arafel groaned, looking to the other Rank 2 Astral, who was quietly rubbing at the crack in his chin. The next several minutes were spent in complete silence waiting for the third Astral to make up his mind, the only sound being the scratching of Nephis fingernails on his face.

"Friends create connections…and connections expand influence," he mused to himself. "There is…some merit…to the plan."

"You're actually considering it!" Arafel exclaimed. "But you just said it wouldn't work!"

"And I still doubt we can attain the forbidden texts legally," Nephis clarified. "But there are other things we can achieve this way. It's certainly worth giving it a try."

Arafel looked back and forth from Nephis to Zophar.

"I'm outvoted, aren't I?" Arafel sighed after a while.

"You don't have to participate, if you don't want to," Zophar soothed.

"And what other choice do I have?" Arafel replied. "Either I go along with a fool's errand or I watch until everyone around me has either turned to dust or left me behind."

"Then we have an agreement," Nephis concluded. "We shall put Zophar's plan into action. Zophar will continue forming connections in the first tier. Meanwhile, Arafel and I will work with the people we know in the second. Things will get more complicated as we work our way up through the higher tiers, but ultimately, if we play our tablets right, we should be able to create a network of allies we can rely on."

"It's a better path," Zophar affirmed. "You will all see. We just have to be persistent."

Ending A/N: And so we begin a new adventure to attain the great plot device.

Thank you all for your continued support. For those reading this here on Fanfic Net, I would strongly encourage you to check out the version on Archive of Our Own, as that story has supplementary art to go with the chapters.

DON: For those of you who end up seeing the art on AO3, recognize anybody? One of them is pretty much blatantly obvious, but I am curious to hear what you all think of the other two. Also, to clarify, Jenaas is my own original creation and NOT based on any characters from "Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom" Donut Steel!

NOX: *cough* we both know she totally is *cough*. Nephis on the other hand, happens to be MY original creation, and you might recognize him if you read the original version of Ice Queen Cometh, and you might see him again in the Remake.

With all that out of the way, thanks again for reading. And now, for the comment/review engagement:

Question 1: Why did you just read an entire chapter about PAPERWORK!? What is WRONG with you? Don't you know paperwork is BORING!?

Question 2: Okay, but seriously, who are Arafel, Nephis, and Jenaas? (One is obvious, the other two are harder, but there are clues, especially if you study the artwork).

Question 3: Most important question of all. What did you all think of the chapter? Did you like it? Did you not like it? Whatever your opinion is, feel free to let us know with a comment!

Look forward to seeing you all in the next chapter.

Until Next time, this is DON and NOX, signing out!