Note: If you would like to read ahead, the next chapter is available on discord whilst at least the next three chapters after it are available on P^A^T^R^E^O^N / Boombox117
The discord channel is d^i^s^c^o^r^d^.^g^g^/^v^r^8^8^t^6^4^Y^e^7
14th of November, 1971 – Senate of Magical France
Jean Delacour POV
There was a nervous energy in the senate, a nervous energy that within its very seams bore stitches made out of fear, doom and gloom. Jean resisted the urge to grimace.
For the first time in a long time, he felt similar stirrings of deep concern.
France…as ready as it was, was not prepared for a protracted war against the likes of two Dark Lords. Neither were the rest of the Western Alliance.
They were isolated in Europe, surrounded by a wall of zealous monsters that struck deep fear in the minds of their Alliance. Especially once it became known what exactly the Ravenites had done to the nobility. Jean grimaced.
He held no love for many of the German or Austrian nobility but it was pure evil about what happened to their families, so much so that for once since France's political reformation, there was a unanimous agreement amongst them that seemed unbreakable.
This was a war of a survival and there could be no discourse.
With Italy having fallen, China setting to follow despite their valiant efforts to bleed the Ravenites, and the ICW falling back to Alexandria and towards the Southern and Eastern coastlines of the Mediterranean defeated and demoralised, it was only a matter of time before they'd set their gazes on the Western Alliance.
Jean shook his head as the session opened and he sat back, silently watching the arguments fly. They might be in unanimous agreement about needing to do and pay whatever it took to secure their country and their allies but that didn't mean there was a complete lack of discourse.
Arguments flew about forcing conscription on the masses once again – an idea that Jean thought completely foolish since that would only destabilise France even further – and heated arguments and accusations were let loose when the topic of seeking out further protection from the Grand Alliance.
Jean tuned out the bickering of his fellows, his mind fixed on the Grand Alliance. With the death of Li Lei, the Grand Alliance held a concentration of Archmages.
Dembe Habe, Fiji Seki, Credence Aurilius and of course the Sayres.
And yet the silence from the Grand Alliance on the topic of the war was utterly deafening. Jean's expression tightened. The only news that came from them on the topic of the war was only to reiterate their commitments to their alliances to Slovenia, Croatia and the Aryan League along with empty comments for all involved to find 'a peaceful solution to discourse instead of using the crutch of violence'.
It was laughable.
And as long as the Ravenites veered clear from those who had independence and defence agreements with the Grand Alliance, specifically Illos, Jean feared that they would never get militarily involved if they turned their gaze towards the West of Europe. Oh, they'd support them, as they have done with the admittedly powerful ward schemes that were active across France and the rest of the countries in the Western Alliance, but militarily?
Illos had deepened its economic and cultural ties across the magical world, France included, but one thing they absolutely did not do was show a hint of interest to nations who backed the ICW during the Crisis of the late 50s.
They were as silent now as they were back then when European Ministry after Ministry fell and he doubted that would change unless it directly affected them or their allies.
If only he could see Atticus, Jean thought darkly.
His departure to this supposed expedition to Atlantis was ill-timed, incredibly so. Jean shook his head before he leaned back in his chair, his eyes trailing towards Lord Rosier who watched intently with keen eyes. The French Rosiers still had deep ties to their English kin, as did a number of other French Houses, and it was these ties that gave them a hope, a humiliating hope but one they needed.
Avalon could press Illos to intervene should the Ravenites peer their gaze West. Minister Prince was dedicated to France's independence and with the blood ties the French nobility had with England, that dedication would only be pushed harder.
Jean refocused and listened as Lord Guyenne spoke of the latest atrocity committed in Calabria, his face falling into a dire expression. The Italian Ministry had capitulated only eight days after the Battle of Monte Barrio but that didn't mean resistance was gone.
Knowing what fate the nobility and much of the wealthy Houses was waiting for them now that the Ravenites had a more or less free hand in the nation, dozens of resistance cells had sprung up in Italy, cells that were causing the Ravenites huge amount of issues.
Italy was an ancient land, one that still bore many ancient and storied family lines.
Proud histories that would shame storied ancestors if they surrendered.
Unfortunately, it made the Ravenites more brutal, burning down an entire magical village of Pentedattilo, a village that once bore a population of three hundred.
The senate silenced into a hush as Minister Galtier stood up.
Antonine Galtier was a burly tall man with a head full of long black curls that seems to bounce with each motion of the head. He bore pale green eyes that seemed to shimmer with animalistic ferocity when he was displeased and one could not be remiss in thinking that he was not alike those ancient Gaulic warrior mages the Romans seemed to despise in the early chronicles of their Empire.
An image that Galtier had channelled and built upon as he won the French Minister of Magic position with a landslide after an emergency election took place in the wake of the Ravenite invasion of Italy.
The public demanded assurances and what better assurance than a tough looking man who had also been part of the Resistance in the woods and fields of France in the Grindelwald war?
It also helped that he was from a relatively unimportant and inoffensive family that both the nobility, the wealthy Houses and the common people could get behind with.
"Have we learnt anything we didn't already know?" Galtier posed to the senate as he veered his head around imperiously, his stare lingering on several belligerent and near hysterical Senators. Galtier had not once spoken when the session began, electing to listen instead. Until now.
"Did we already not know the kind of monsters that lead the Ravenites? The strength they possess or the savage danger they posed to France?" Galtier asked with a riveting and deep voice, his posture tall and straight as he stood before the senate like Napoleon himself.
Murmurs rang around the Senate, murmurs that rang with uncertain agreement.
"We did." Galtier agreed with a nod, his voice even, his presence unbothered by the quiet agreement to his words. "So why must we discuss their atrocities within these chambers when we know the kind of evil we are faced with?"
Galtier shook his head "My heart swells with sympathy for our Italian friends and the French people are with them but their detailed struggles against evil serves no purpose and only seeks to foment unrest within this hallowed chambers."
"Minister." The Senator of Beauvais rose from his seat. "Are you saying that we should not discuss events that affect us?" the Senator posed to the Minister.
"Have I stated such a thing?" the Minister asked harshly, continuing before the Senator could interrupt "How does discussing Pentedattilo serve to protect France and its allies? What can we do for those who have, unfortunately and sadly, died in an act of evil?"
The Senator for Beauvais had little to say to that and took his seat as Galtier pinned the man down with a hard glare. Galtier continued "Let us return to what matters. Such as continuing to build up our forces and discuss new ways to ensure our country remains free from the Ravenites." Galtier's gaze swept across the chambers.
The session after that became more subdued but nevertheless far more productive than it had been earlier.
After the session was over, Jean found himself sitting with the Minister and several other Senators and Lords. "I have spoken with the Minister of Avalon and with the President of MACUSA." Galtier began candidly, his eyes boring into each and every one of them. "The President has agreed to a joint Unspeakables team dedicated to magical defence, from ward schemes to developing counters to Atlantean magicks."
Galtier waved his hand in an almost curt way and a glass jug and glass flew towards him, his attentions once more towards the rest of them.
"The British are keen to continue to support our Alliance with intel and finances but will offer no more than that. At least for now."
"No offers of volunteers?" Matthieu Blaugrad asked with narrowed eyes.
Galtier smiled grimly "They avoided that topic as much as they were able to but in the end they all but said that without coordination with Illos, they could not make such offers."
Lord Marche scoffed "More like without their express permission."
Murmurs of agreement rang around the room.
Avalon was intrinsically tied to Illos, no matter what was claimed by their leaders. They were as independent as Corsica was.
"And the Americans?" Jean questioned. The Americans were still isolationists but they were opening more now with the atrocities the Ravenites were committing.
Unfortunately, they were still without an Archmage amongst their population though they did have the next best thing. Atticus Sayre's sister and his Provydetsi family.
Should MACUSA join in the war, chances were the bonds of blood could be enough to force Illos to war.
"The Americans share an equal concern with us that the Raven and Cullaica have Grindelwald's hoard of Atlantean magicks."
"Not surprising." The Senator for Burgundy muttered darkly before he spied across the room. "That was a horrible shock that none of us could have prepared for."
Murmurs of morose agreement rang around the room.
"Do they have any idea who the Raven actually is?" Jean questioned.
No pictures with a clear image of the man's face existed and now that his right hand used one of Grindelwald's infamous spells, fears that it was actually him was rising amongst the public.
The more ridiculous rumours claimed Cullaica was Albus Dumbledore in disguise!
"They don't." the Minister confirmed, a twitch of annoyance creeping in his face before he grabbed the full glass of water before waving his hand to dismiss the jug.
"They do have memories of him fighting in the Vault from some of the refugees that made it to the States." The Minister told them. "The images are not clear but we can see enough that his face was far too different and too young to be that of Grindelwald."
"It would be prudent to disclose that to the press." Lord Marche suggested.
"I will speak with Claude" Matthieu Blaugrad offered. Claude De Barre was the Director of the French Daily media company, a company that owned the two of the four most popular papers and the most watched M-TV channel.
Galtier nodded to Matthieu before he turned his gaze towards Jean. It was speculative. "Any news from our friends up on high?" Galtier questioned sharply.
Jean shook his head "My old comrades wouldn't budge" he said with a touch of bitterness before he sighed. "They do maintain that Atticus Sayre has gone onto an expedition. One even swore an oath that they knew nothing different."
Galtier's eyes widened with surprise. "Truly?" he asked with a heavy frown.
"Surely they would have asked him to return by now?" Matthieu reasoned.
"Unless they literally cannot." The Senator of Burgundy suggested. "We don't even know where Atlantis was supposedly found, only that is found. Could be that the place preventing any easy access or exit." The Senator shrugged lightly.
"We all have heard the myths and stories surrounding Atlantis, many of which were often only stories that scare even adults with how treacherous it has become. It would surprise me if there was measure of truth in old children's tales."
Jean mulled over those words. "Perhaps" Jean conceded. He did remember the first expedition and Atticus' protégé, the young man Gaius Hardy that Atticus had often brought with him in meetings of State, had been gone for many years.
"So we must rely on the Queen for support." Galtier stated, his eyes intently on Jean.
"Should what we fear come to pass"
Jean grimaced before he nodded. "How successful we will be, I don't know. I unfortunately do not know her as well as I know King Atticus."
Galtier seemed to consider that before he turned to Matthieu "I want Claude to praise the Queen of Illos and Avalon to the high hilts. Run everything we know about her, her acts against the Vampires that plagued France during the war, her formidability as an orphan and so on."
Jean's eyes rose to his hairline.
Matthieu chuckled as he shook his head before he eyed Galtier calculatingly "Devious."
Galtier smiled thinly "The Sayres love to look like unparalleled paragons of virtue. The trade deals they hook on communities and Ministries are an example of that – even if we know better." Trade deals that often led mass migration of many peoples across the Magical World to Illos, often the very best and the very worst of those nations though always sharing the same gratitude and eventual devotion to Illos.
"It is a rare weakness that I believe we can exploit." Galtier thinned his lips.
"I do not like the indignity of it however for France…"
"For France." They all chorused soberly.
Soon enough, Jean was back home with Matthieu in tow and made headway towards the living room. Antoinette was there watching the M-TV with a book in her lap.
After Francois…After Francois died, he had pleaded with Antoinette to remain in the Delacour Manor with little Jean, even offering to take up one of his family homes so that she could have the ancestral Manor to herself and little Jean.
She agreed to stay and also wanted him to remain, to help her raise Jean into becoming a man now that Francois was unable to. He was only happy to agree and to this day, he was grateful to have had the opportunity to raise his grandson into a fine young man.
"Grandpapa." Antoinette exclaimed a little surprised.
Matthieu smiled as Antoinette rose to greet her Head of House and her grandfather.
"Antoinette" Matthieu said warmly as they hugged and kissed.
Jean left them to catch up and went towards the cellar to pick out a few bottles of wine. After an hour, Jean and Matthieu were the only ones remaining.
"Marrying my Francois to Antoinette remains one of my finest decisions." Jean said after he drank of his wine. Francois did not love Antoinette, an issue that had strained their marriage a lot – to the point that she even blamed herself for his death, a blame he harshly dissuaded her from – but she was a perfect mother and a perfect daughter.
Matthieu chuckled before he smiled.
"She is my favourite grandchild for a reason" Matthieu shook his head. "How my son Lucas managed to sire such a child, I do not know."
Jean fought a grimace and elected to drink of his wine once more, staying silent on the familiar disapproval that rung from Matthieu about his heir.
In truth, he did not think Lucas was anywhere near as incompetent as Matthieu often despaired. It was just that Lucas was not Christopher, a crime Lucas knew very well he was charged with.
Christopher's ghost would always follow Lucas in the eyes of Matthieu, and Lucas', no matter how unfair or how unreasonable it was.
"Have you had any luck with the Algerians?" Jean asked seriously, changing the subject. Matthieu's expression darkened.
"No, the damn Béni-oui-oui consider this a European problem" Matthieu scoffed.
"As always, the damn fools are too blind to see what's right in front of their faces."
"I hope you didn't call them that." Jean grumbled as he took a sip of his drink. The Algerians had a long memory and they hadn't forgotten the French Ministry's interference into Algerian affairs during the French muggle occupation of the lands.
"Of course not." Matthieu dismissed with a dismissive wave of the hand before he sighed wearily, his form slumping into the chair, the soft fires of the hearth crackling as both of them fell silent.
Matthieu broke the silence several minutes later. "How they cannot see that they and their neighbours are on the target list, I do not know."
"It is likely they know but seek to appease instead." Jean stated quietly.
"Bah!" Matthieu exclaimed, a bout of anger showing on his face "Do they not know that these kinds of people cannot be reasoned with? They're fanatics following insane men! Did you know that the Chinese sent the ICW memories of their interrogations of some of the prisoners they captured?"
"I didn't." Jean admitted, eying the man. Matthieu had been Minister for a while in the sixties, just a single term, and as such managed to develop a number of key relationships with people, powerful people. Including those in the ICW.
Matthieu shook his head. "They genuinely believe in the Raven's ideology. Utterly."
The depths of the Raven's insanity had only become recently known after they slaughtered and extinguished many of the noble families of Europe.
His ideology was one of chaos, one that claimed that magical world was infected with poisonous order that sought to snuff out the beauty of magic out of its people.
That magic was chaos incarnate, the physical vessel of what the universe represented, and that it was being butchered by the order imposed by those who profited from the labours of the common people.
It was laughable, incredibly hypocritical considering that it was the nobility that the Ravenites had allied with to take control of most of Europe. The same people who they approved of when they subjugated the common people enmasse before betraying their loyalty with horrifying acts.
It was a lie, a blatant lie but no one didn't know what the Raven was truly after.
Was it power? World domination? Poodles?
"Problematic." Jean said with a grimace before drinking of his wine once more.
"Zealots are always a problem" even once their leaders were gone. It took years to hunt down the last of the Grindelwald zealots, some of the last of them given up by a 'remorseful' and wealthy 'former' Grindelwald follower.
Matthieu's grumbled noises had the bell of approval before he shook his head. "It is what it is." Matthieu said tiredly before he looked at Jean.
"We survived Grindelwald. We will survive this." He said and that was the last they spoke of it that night, instead deciding to discuss the new symphony by France's most successful composer in centuries.
-Break-
17th of November, 1971 – Aziza
Emily POV
They were all sat down across each other, around a wide and large oval table. The Grand Alliance met with each other at least once every quarter, mostly to discuss trade or status on collaborative efforts but this time, it was to discuss the war and their response.
It was also why she was here today instead of simply Chief Representative Doyle.
Legba, the Chief Minister of Aziza, Dembe Habe who accompanied the Azizan leader, Hayate Seiwa Genio, the Acting Lord Protector of Ame-No-Ukihashi accompanied by Shinji Hirahito and of course herself and Paul Doyle.
Her eyes swept across the room, taking in the architecture of the spacious meeting room. It had distinctive Benin qualities though there were plenty of Ugandan influences. She had the pleasure of visiting a few notable families during her travels with Atticus across Africa and she could see some traces similar to that of those homes.
"Welcome." Legba said with a boisterous tone. Emily turned her attentions to the man. Legba was a large man, not quite rotund like Slughorn but certainly well past his physical prime despite being only eighty years of age.
He looked affable, the creases around his lips and eyes gave him an appearance that made him always look friendly and it made him a popular figure to the Azizan public.
Of course, that was only half the story behind the man. He was a cunning man who was careful with his words yet masterful with getting away with saying much yet nothing at all.
"It has been some time we have all met up like this, it is good to see you old friends." Legba said with a warm smile as he opened up his arms in a warm gesture.
"It is good to see you too, Chief Minister. The hospitality of your people never fails to impress." Hayate Seiwa Genio said with a light bow of the head.
Hayate, the sixty four year old grandson of Iyasu, for the past six months had filled for the venerable man whose health had taken a slight turn. She'd met the man a few times during her visits to Ame-No-Ukihashi – Hayate was often in the company of Ieyasu – but she had not interacted with the man much.
She did know, of course, that the man was as shrewd as Ieyasu was and talented magically too. Ieyasu skipped over his own son in favour of his grandson, a slight controversy when it happened but Katashi's own support for his son had removed much of that controversy anyway.
"I quite agree with the Lord Protector. I am pleased to say that seeing the Praying Statues is quite the experience." Emily said with a faint smile.
Legba chuckled heartedly. "Yes, yes, it is a fabulous sight, isn't it? It has become an instant hit with our people. Especially with the younger generation who see it as a romantic place." Legba said with a smile before that slowly filtered away and in its place a more serious expression took hold.
"Now" Legba began, his tone instantly shifting. "To business." Legba glanced across the room as he wriggled his fingers and parchment began to fly in and with another gesture, the parchment duplicated towards every single person.
Emily took hold of the paper and began skim reading it.
"The ICW collapse in Italy has sent the organisation into crisis."
"They quite like being in that state, don't they?" Dembe said with a roll of his eyes, a faint mocking smile on his face. Legba looked at Habe with a slightly exasperated look before he turned his gaze back onto them.
"They sent us a missive requesting a meeting in Alexandria. Post haste." Legba said seriously, and Emily caught Hayate sharing a look with Hirahito.
"They also sent us a missive." Hirahito said calmly before bringing out a parchment himself, duplicating it too before sending them to each and everyone one of them.
"Now I feel left out." Emily said thinly as she shared a look with Doyle before looking towards the Japanese delegation "I'm surprised they reached out to you."
Hayate nodded slightly "So were we." The Japanese largely stayed out of international politics, mostly carrying out strict trading agreement with the rest of the magical world, most of it with the Asian part of the world.
"We will have to meet with them." Legba said seriously and Emily inclined her head.
"Of course" she said smoothly before her eyes sharpened. "They can only ask for one thing however." Legba nodded soberly.
"We know." Legba said before glancing at Habe who sat a little straighter. Legba turned back towards the rest of them, particularly looking at Emily.
"And we remain committed to the Grand Alliance and the laws that bind it." Legba assured needlessly. Neither Aziza and Ame-no-ukihashi could act militarily in a major way without the agreement of Illos and it was bound by magic itself.
They were junior partners in this Grand Alliance, one that bound them tightly to Illos – and Illos to them though in a lesser scale – and that would not change.
"However" Dembe Habe interjected "The crimes of the Ravenites is offensive to magic itself." Dembe Habe said critically. "They cannot be allowed to act so freely as they have done."
Emily sighed explicitly before she met Habe's gaze. "I am aware of their crimes, believe me, but we cannot actively interfere."
Hayate spoke up next "My government agrees." He looked to Habe and it was somewhat sympathetic "Our people do not wish to wage war for a people that it holds no ties to, magic or otherwise. Even if against an enemy that commits shameful acts." Dembe Habe looked displeased with that though Legba's expression was unreadable.
She wasn't surprised with that statement, and she wouldn't have been either had she not already known that this was going to be the Japanese position on this matter.
The scars of the dismissal of the Japanese Emperor ran deep, especially considering the taint their society had carried for their loyalty. They turned inward,
Hayate turned to Emily.
"You said cannot actively interfere." Hayate asked inquisitively.
Emily smiled lightly at Hayate before speaking "We are assisting the resistance in a number of nations, with gold, supplies and food." Emily turned her attentions towards Habe "And to the nations that border the Ravenites who are using that support to hire mages from South America." Problematic mages imprisoned for life during the upheavals over a decade ago were being offered this opportunity.
Under heavy and immensely tight oaths on their life and magic of course.
"Mages from South America." Legba repeated shrewdly. "How fortuitous."
Emily smiled slightly before lightly shrugging "South America is an era of peace but there are always those who seek glory and what greater glory is there than winning a war?" Emily rhetorically posed to the group though it was pointed largely at Habe.
Habe narrowed his eyes, knowing that Emily directed it largely at him. She liked Dembe Habe, he was a powerful archmage with a unique set of skills that she found refreshing and indicative to the wonders of magic but she also knew that Dembe was an ambitious man, eager to prove himself to be a worthy Archmage to carry the mantle of his forbearers.
Unfortunately, he wasn't too interested in the more peaceful renown Archmages of his clan. Eventually, Dembe would join the ICW with a fairly decently sized contingent of Azizan Sorcerers and face the Raven himself.
A conflict he would lose.
Emily didn't want that loss for Sassa but Dembe would make his choice.
"Such a measure is something Ame-No-Ukihashi can support." Hayate said after a few moments.
"Aziza can too." Legba agreed as well.
"Though we will largely direct our funds towards the ICW." Emily nodded to that. She didn't really care about where they'd waste their money.
The meeting went on a little while longer, mostly to discuss the overtures the Spanish Ministry made to any more improvements they were willing to sell to the Western Alliance, particularly the Iberian Ministries, and they ended up agreeing to fund another collaboration to look into smaller versions of the ward schemes that protected Aziza and Ame-no-ukihashi – far inferior version of the Guardian Array – and soon enough she was back on her way towards Illos.
It wasn't long before she was settled back into her office, reading through the OI reports regarding the success of their retrieval missions. Both kinds.
The doors to her office opened, the quick light steps echoed throughout the room and Emily looked up from her reports a little surprised, the surprise wearing off as she realised who it was. Hypatia looked haggard and shocked, her face so pale that it looked like there was not a drop of blood running in her face.
"Hypatia." Emily welcomed in, belatedly, her eyes calculatingly sweeping across the woman's face. She did not expect the woman today and everything about the Seer was instantly concerning. "What is wrong?" she asked sharply as she stood up.
"It's changed." Hypatia said breathlessly as she came to a stop only for her to start pacing again, back and forth, low mutterings barely understandable even to her ears.
"I don't understand how it could change so much" Hypatia said with a hysterical laugh, one that bordered on mania. She jerked her head to the side as if to ponder something "But not terrible" she muttered to herself as she came to a stop.
"No, no, far from terrible."
"Hypatia." Emily's voice was sharp and stern, and it crackled like a whip which made Hypatia jump in surprise, her baleful eyes incomprehensibly staring at Emily.
"Hypatia." Emily said again, this time gentler but still sternly "Tell. Me. What. Has. Happened." She said slowly and understandingly filtered through Hypatia's eyes.
"Oh, yes, yes." Hypatia muttered before she cleared her through, glimmers of delight showing in her soulful eyes. "Everything has changed, everything, Your Grace."
Emily narrowed her eyes as Hypatia continued. "From the war, to Illos, everything."
"Start from the very beginning." Emily ordered and Hypatia did as she bid.
Emily's surprise grew and grew as Hypatia told her about what would likely happen as soon as Atticus returned, a likelihood that seemed to be across several timelines.
Both her and Atticus would join the war against the Ravenites, leading the Illosian Guards against the Ravenites in full, drastically ending the war far sooner than they had planned for years, decades.
It seemed as if something happened to Atticus in the Celestis system and it worried Emily deeply. She did not believe Atticus had lied to her about the plans, she'd even seen the memories of the timeline and what should happen and yet all of that would change.
"Thank you Hypatia. You may go." Emily said distractedly as Hypatia finished her tale. She had much to think on and for the time in a long time, she was unsure of it all meant. A frustration welled up inside of her, one borne of concern for her husband
Hypatia blinked. "Oh." Hypatia turned to leave before hesitating and glanced at Emily. "What do you want me to do?"
Emily broke out of her thoughts and looked at Hypatia, realising that was a good question. "Does anything change right now?" Hypatia shook her head.
"So Atticus' return is the point of divergence." Emily reasoned and Hypatia confirmed it. Emily considered it all for a long moment. So little has changed on what she could or must do. Right now, she still had a working blueprint as to what will happen without any interference.
"Do nothing. Continue as if nothing has changed." Emily told Hypatia. "Make sure your students do not veer away either" she warned lightly and Hypatia bowed her head in confirmation before leaving, leaving Emily to her thoughts.
She glanced towards the window, her eyes gazing upward, her expression released from the calm and measured look she always bore.
"What happened, my love" she said quietly to herself in the privacy of her lone self.
Atticus was still set to return in October next year, that hadn't changed but after he'd come back? Whatever happened, maybe to him, had changed things that she had not seen before, not since the Monks themselves yet this bore far graver tidings.
"Elsie"
*POP*
"My Queen." The elf bowed deeply from the hip.
"Inform the Observatory that I want to send a tight beam to Illos."
"As you command, my Queen." *POP*
Emily returned her gaze towards the window. Hopefully she'd get an answer from him. Hypatia said that he was alright, looking as healthy as he left but she wanted to hear it from him – and about what had happened to cause all of this.
After a long while passed, Emily closed her eyes momentarily before opening them again, her default expression once more falling into place before she twisted on her heels and made towards the doors, towards Parelius.
There was little to be done at this moment in time and there was still much to be done.
-Break-
"We have much to discuss."
Atticus met his Older-Self's gaze, his eyes scouring every inch of information from the Older-Self's expression. Atticus, after several moments passed, broke off his gaze and turned them towards the starless sky, his mind overclocking now that he was allowing himself some time to think everything over again and again.
There was no give in his Older-Self's expression, the grim but patient look on his face was unreadable beyond much else. For the first time in over three decades, Atticus was well and truly blind going into a dangerous situation…and no doubt exactly what his Older-Self wants.
Any version of himself would never want to yield any advantage, and if this was in fact a version, or his future self, he expected that only to have increased with time.
Whatever caused his Older-Self to reach out into Space and Time – the call he'd been feeling to this place could only have been an act of his Older-Self and he was already beginning to formulate an idea as to how that was possible – it meant that he had need of him, a need to change things at a point where it could matter.
He saw only two reasons why he, even centuries, perhaps millennia, in the future would reach out into the past. Regardless if it was to help or not to help his present and future. And the fact that he still had choice in the matter when it is clear that his Older-Self had abilities to influence him beyond merely calling him here suggests that his Older-Self needs his cooperation to deal with whatever he is dealing with.
And the one thing he could think of, the one thing that he hoped was true, that would necessitate this risk, this desperation, could only be related to their defeat at the hands of an enemy that was far beyond technological or numerical superiority.
But the answer he needed to come up with, beyond whatever his Older-Self had to tell him or the usefulness of going back however far he was going, was whether or not this was his future-self or not.
Because that would change everything.
Given that he'd sensed the near uniformity of determination across the timelines he'd Seen after this consciousness' sojourn through Space and Time, he had to come up with the expectation, the relief, that this was not in fact his future-self.
Otherwise that would mean that this was a closed loop, something that had to happen. Experiencing different timelines was one thing, but reaching out into the past in order to directly speak to your past-self?
He was not at all sure if Time and causality was flexible enough to be able to cope with such a breach in paradox. As Atticus began to think on it further, the angrier he was becoming as the ramifications were becoming clearer as his mind began to process how tied his hands would become even if he was told absolutely nothing by this Older-Self.
There was the possibility that Time would steer him towards this path, every choice he'd make, every path that he'd see, would be stained, tainted by this act of sabotage if this was truly his future-self. And the worst thing about it, he couldn't blame his Older-Self for it since he'd be just as tied as he was to this loop.
Then there was also the simple fact that if his Older-Self was capable of this, blinding Atticus' Sight throughout his Older-Self's past must be something that had to be considered as a very real possibility. At the very least his visions and experiences of himself right after this trip must be considered a doubt.
If…what he believed was true.
About this being his Older-Self. Which was by no means concrete. For all he knew, this could simply be a manifestation engineered by them and he'd come out of it determined after having come to grip the level of threat they posed to him.
…Or it could have been merely false timelines designed to keep him unknowing of the trap they'd successfully lured him into where they'd end up ripping apart his consciousness. Or worse, lead him astray much like he'd done to the Symbols.
Atticus' mind came to a crawl, having already reached an end to his ruminations. He knew too little, he had little control, now, and all he could do was see this out.
And wasn't that a strange feeling after decades of being in control of everything?
His mind refocused and his gaze were firmly set on the starless sky. It was kind of surreal, even for him who was acclimatised to the weird and wonderful, to the strange and awful. He figured that this was, in fact, a real static capture of a moment centuries perhaps millennia from now if this was truly his Older-Self.
Atticus turned back towards his Older-Self with a stern gaze on his face.
But first…
He had to know
"Are you my future-self or an alternate version?" Atticus asked, his voice even and calm under the weight of his iron yet accepting composure, his eyes staring directly at this Older image of himself.
His Older-Self did not respond immediately, instead choosing to meet Atticus' gaze without even a single facial muscle moving. It was clear that his Older-Self understood why he was asking, why this was the first question he'd ask. Perhaps he already knew.
Finally, after almost a minute, his Older-Self spoke. "If you're wondering if this is a paradoxical loop, then no." His Older-Self paused for a second, as if he was considering the implication of his words before he continued.
"I am an alternate self, now."
Relief did not come to Atticus. His Older-Self's words had the ring of truth, spoken exactly as he'd speak when he'd answer honestly yet it brought him no solace. And if this was his Older-Self, he'd know it too.
After a few more moments passed, Atticus only silently nodded before he spoke.
"Talk." Atticus only said as he met his own eyes, however older and foreign they seemed. He'd never really know, he'd decided, about this Older-Self and if he was truly an alternative-self. That was of course if this was indeed any version of Atticus.
But he was making peace about that and he had little patience for whatever this was, himself or otherwise, especially if it was otherwise. This might be his last moments if it was them and he knew that he'd done what he could for his people and he had faith in Emily, and in Gaius, Parelius, Hypatia and Alice to see it through.
His Older-Self looked at Atticus with an indiscernible look before he spoke up "No questions? Even about me?"
Obviously he had questions but that hardly mattered right now.
"Either you're me, a version of me, or you're something else entirely." Atticus stated to his Older-Self. Letting him know that he didn't trust this Older-Self didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. His Older-Self should be expecting it if it was truly his Older-Self anyway. Atticus continued "Does it really matter what you are?"
It does, of course, but he was helpless at this moment in time.
His Older-Self smiled at Atticus. It was an amiable, one that he'd made plenty of times whenever he was meeting politicians or nobles.
"It doesn't, not really." His Older-Self agreed before he eyed him with a curious glaze "But if I was not you, you would already be dead in this pocket of consciousness. And no," his Older-Self had the temerity to roll his eyes at Atticus.
"That is not exactly what the Precursors would say."
They disappeared in a flux of light, and moments later, after he'd adjusted to the sudden bright light, he saw that they standing in space, on space, in orbit above Celestis and his gaze was toward the planet. Pinpricks of light were arranged in the shape of snowflakes under the darkness of night and several towering spires that touched the very edges of the stratosphere were easily seen.
And then there were the broken shell like structures made Mithril that seem to warp around the planet like the arms of a loving mother, the reflections of the sun surprisingly dull despite the glare that should be reflecting off of the surface. He realised then that the sun was feeding the Mithril structures with energy, energy that likely was being converted within the structures of the Mithril arms.
"Pocket of Consciousness?" Atticus asked distractedly as he took the opportunity to look around, towards the starless surroundings. He could see now a slight sheen.
Atticus smiled inwardly as he realised what it was. It had only been a mad thought of his, to fuel a Mithril Seed so much that it could eventually grow to encompass the entire Solar System.
Once he'd done the math, he'd grimaced – he did not pout at that point, no he didn't – about how much energy it would take to convert into liquid magic, Mithril.
Over nine stars of M-Class stars would have to be consumed whole to create this defence. He'd almost wanted to believe right out of the bat that he'd actually do it…
And once that thought floated away, a grimmer one took hold. It was only meant to be a last line of defence against the Precursors.
"Your separation of mind within Living Time is far from simply a self-contained act." His Older-Self explained. Atticus turned towards him as he continued.
"The universe is entwined with consciousness in a way that electrons orbit nuclei. It is fundamental, intrinsic, and Living Time is as much a product, a part, of consciousness as reality is. When you wade through Living Time, you are also exposed to the realm of Consciousness at a fundamental level, a transcendent plane of existence, more so as your ability has grown. Enough that you're able to manifest yourself physically into the said plane."
And all of this, Atticus noted, was what he had, potentially, to look forward to?
Experiencing futures and pasts with his consciousness in a way that was almost limitless in depth? Even being able to pull a different consciousness through Space and Time, however the same they were, into a pocket of Consciousness that was as real as reality?
In truth, he'd considered much about Consciousness, in both in scale and permeation through reality but nothing like this. The comprehension magic was guiding him towards was still far from him being able to understand how this was possible.
"Let me just get this out of the way." His Older-Self said, drawing Atticus' attentions once more. His Older-Self simply looked at him though it felt like he was an amoeba under the microscope of a monstrously giant being, the sternness in his gaze was scorching.
"We got our revenge on our father through making sure he was well and truly neutered." His Older-Self stated matter-of-factly, his voice as calm and steady like atoms in near absolute zero conditions.
"We clawed our way out of the socio-economic destitution we were born in by being brilliant and charming eventually earning ourselves a scholarship to a place and wealthy students we loathed with every fibre of our being. We had plans to found our own robotics company through Seed money obtained via blackmail or favours but we died from cancer before we got far and instead found ourselves reincarnated in this universe, a Harry Potter universe that should have been nothing but fiction."
His Older-Self paused for but a moment and gave him a knowing look under that stern gaze "But that won't convince you, nothing would. Not entirely."
"No." Atticus stated after a moment as he met his Older-Self's stare impassively.
He was inclined to believe in truth it was in fact his Older-Self but ultimately there would always be doubt. After all, they were here, now, were they not?
His eyes darted towards his surroundings, towards this space.
If his consciousness was pulled into this pocket of consciousness, then that also stood to reason that his very essence could be an open book. After all, he could barely feel his magic here yet he felt it in droves from his Older-Self who ran this show.
His Older-Self nodded calmly "And that doesn't matter."
His Older-Self's expression changed once more, and it was imperious and grave.
"What does matter however, is that you heed at least this one warning above all others. Do not rely solely on your ability to traverse Living Time." His Older-Self warned gravely.
"As you have doubtlessly worked out in some small way." His Older-Self noted.
Atticus stared at his Older-Self for a long second because he spoke up. "Why."
"There is a race of beings who have unrivalled control over Living Time." His Older-Self explained, the space around beginning to warp, the dark vacuum around them shifting away like fine sands through a filter.
The being before him was gaunt, its skin reminded him that of a shark, streamlined and smooth, as if a water drop could retain itself shape even if it rested hours on the blue skin. Its build was slight, thin, and equally its two arms and legs looked fragile just as its four long thin fingers on each hand did.
Its black eyes were wide and large, reminiscent of lemurs in terms of proportion, and it was likely its depth of perception along with its sight was orders of magnitude greater than that of humans. Its face was narrow, its head hairless, and it had no nostrils and only a narrow thin lipped mouth surrounded with flipper like tentacles.
This was not a race built for power, no. But then, neither was humanity.
"This" His Older-Self began, his bearded face darkening as he stared at the being, his eyes ablaze with furious hatred and it took Atticus aback with the depth of emotion his Older-Self let show. "Is the Xalanyn. An ancient race as old as the Forerunners. Perhaps older." His Older-Self turned towards Atticus who met his gaze, a gaze that lost its bottomless pools of hate and instead now showed a cold abyss devoid of emotion. "And our greatest enemy."
Atticus narrowed his eyes towards his Older-Self.
"Greater than even the Precursors?" Atticus asked, unwilling to control the dubious note in his voice. Or even the Flood? His Older-Self smiled grimly.
"Can one ever truly consider a fundamental aspect of reality an enemy?" His Older-Self posed to Atticus with dark undertones.
'Fundamental Aspect of reality…'
"They simply are." His Older-Self ominously warned him "They are not a problem you will face, not even in my immediate future."
His Older-Self continued "And you should be grateful of that Truth."
Atticus decided to shelf his curiosity about what his Older-Self knew about the one thing that he honestly feared above all others.
"So these Xalanyn" Atticus began, returning to the subject at hand. Questions about intrinsic beings like the Precursors shelved away to be asked later.
"Are they magical?" He thought they likely were if they were supposedly the great threat his Older-Self was making them out to be but the possibility existed that they weren't. The Forerunners were able to access the Domain and capable of feeling Living Time and they weren't magical. Neither were the Ancient Humans.
"Yes although not in the way our kind and other Earth-born species are." His Older-Self stated. "Their powers centred onto one singular facet of magic."
"And they wield it to perfection."
The space around them warped once more. This time, Atticus could not stop his surprise from showing as his eyes widened at the site of hundreds of ships, massive ships, locked in battle. There were two distinctive kinds of fleets that Atticus could make out despite the variety of the ship both fleets possessed.
One bore mulberry hues of hull colour surrounded by golden shields whilst the other fleet bore familiar grey, white and blue colours and shields.
Yet what disturbed him the most was that the ships he knew were likely that of his people were losing.
"They surprised us." His Older-Self spoke solemnly as he began to walk on space, his arms behind his back, the robes beneath his armour flowing despite the absence of everything in this memory.
Atticus followed silently.
"We long ignored events of the galaxy in favour of seclusion." His Older-Self began as the ships began to play in real-time. Massive lances of energy bellowed out of the bellies of ships, electric arcs of green and silver of colour struck ships that rippled shields, missiles that looked like silver rain drops through hulls like piranhas through decaying flesh.
"As our cousins waged a war of survival, we turned a blind eye to them." His Older-Self looked at him with a side glance. "We destroyed remnants of Forerunner technology, the weapons in particular, wherever we found them, including their last refuge beyond the galaxy, but once any threat to our people was neutralised, we did not lift a finger to assist them." His Older-Self shook his head before his gaze was directed towards one of the larger ships that was on the precipice of destruction.
'So the weapons still exist but they do succeed in destroying the weapons of the Forerunners…'. Good, he thought grimly. He still remembered the pain that he'd experienced decades ago from that event.
Magic had been torn asunder with those weapons and life within the galaxy was always in danger of extinction and sterility with their existence.
He drew back towards his Older-Self "You abandoned the mundanes?" Atticus questioned sharply. Atticus had no desire to involve himself or his people in the affairs of their cousins but to abandon them in their plight, in their hour of need?
It was callous, wrong.
And completely surprising. He knew that they were coming, eventually, so for him to abandon a potential ally that was also kin was greatly surprising…troubling.
"It was our greatest mistake. My mistake." His Older-Self said as the capital ship was destroyed by one of those green arcs of destructive energy.
The battle once more froze.
His Older-Self turned to him "Our people have a predisposition to seclusion, to avoiding others unlike them. This tendency, one brought on by the Legacy of the Statute of Secrecy and Exodus, only grows with time." His Older-Self smiled tiredly.
"And I, after decades of manipulation and monstrous crimes, let it go." His Older-Self stared away at the frozen battle. "Emily had then too tired of our involvement."
"I saw no more reason to involve myself in the development of our people beyond nudges towards certain scientific or magical research and development. Our involvement in the politics of the Federation crawls to near nothing" His Older-Self took a moment to glance at Atticus.
"Just as we had always hoped." His Older-Self stated before looking back at the battle, a wry yet almost mournful look on his face was apparent.
Atticus always had the kernel of hope, that he would have the chance to breathe. Something he'd not allowed himself, had not been allowed, for so long.
It did not surprise him that after they'd settle Celestis that he'd let go almost completely once everything was stable. But to this extent?
To the point that he'd facilitate the conditions so much that his people would turn their back on the mundanes completely? That…that was unrecognisable.
"Our people grow wonderfully, Atticus. In time, the values we treasure only become staples of how a Celestial should conduct itself. Personal growth, growth of our civilization's pool of knowledge and much, much more. Yet…"
"This also fostered a belief of what our role in the universe should be. We saw ourselves as quiet paragons who made strides in seclusion from all other life in the galaxy, or in the universe. Once the full breadth of this galaxy's history became known to our people, this had only grown in severity. The Forerunner's folly, the Ancient Humans' irresponsibility, and in the end, it was agreed that our people were not to fall in to the same pitfalls as those civilisations had fallen into."
His Older-Self's expression crinkled with tangs of self-abasement.
"Fate likes its ironies."
Atticus long noted his Older-Self wasn't giving too much detail about the future.
Especially about what allowed his complacency to be let run astray.
"Did you even try to convince our people?" Atticus questioned.
"I did." His Older-Self said with a soulful incline of the head. "It wasn't enough to convince the whole of the Federation to make an exception."
"And you chose not to act anyway. Personally." Atticus stated instead of asked, his frustration kept out of his voice but it still welled inside of him.
"Yes." His Older-Self stated as he met Atticus' judgemental eyes. "To have acted would have caused immense damage to the political stability of the Federation."
Ah…
So he did turn over more of his executive powers to the Councils by that stage.
It was an idea that he had considered, distantly. One that he'd happily do if it meant their techno-magical civilisation would mature even more. But even so…
"You must have Seen this war." Atticus accused. "You chose to not act decades, perhaps centuries ahead of time."
His Older-Self was unfazed under the accusation. "I did not see the war until decades after I'd given up key parts of my authority but I did not move to regain it." he answered simply yet it was weary. Atticus didn't like what he was hearing at all.
"What about the Mantle of Responsibility?" Atticus asked with a heavy frown, shifting his tactic slightly.
"You must have disclosed this, our people must have known this."
"Over time, it was dismissed." His Older-Self stated. "It was called 'Arrogance of Emipres', this notion that it is our duty to tend to all life in the galaxy, a notion hardened by evidence of older and now extinct civilisations. Fostering life into eventual sentience, yes, this was something that was universally agreed something we could do in time but more than that?" His Older-Self slightly shook his head.
Atticus remained silent for a moment. Arrogance of Empires…
From a certain viewpoint he could understand why his people would come to that conclusion. "And that ties into our inactions to the mundanes." Atticus stated instead of asked. His Older-Self turned to him.
"Yes." He simply stated. His Older-Self continued "Our cousins lost. They were technologically outclassed, numerically outnumbered and faced against an enemy that was unrelenting and without mercy. Earth was destroyed and the remnants of this branch of humanity were hunted mercilessly throughout that sector of space once the leaders of the Covenant blamed them for the loss of their Great Journey."
His Older-Self stated without any inflection in his voice.
His Older-Self said all of that with utter calmness, without any emotion, as he spoke of the extinction of the other branch of humankind and their shared cradle.
It was discombobulating.
"The Covenant." Atticus zeroed in on. The zealots who deified the Forerunners. Considering how close they were to Sol, he wasn't surprised that it was them would wage war on the mundane branch of humanity.
"The Covenant." His Older-Self said with an incline of the head.
"They possess a vast hoard of Forerunner technology they can barely understand or use yet what they have was enough to destroy a vastly inferior humanity. They were a threat, however minimal, even to us once you consider the size of their empire and their fleets." His Older-Self's expression shifted and it turned dark.
"Yet it was not their numbers or their technology that would threaten everything we have worked for but rather their obsession with the Forerunners which led to the release of the Xalanyn." His Older-Self turned towards frozen battle once more.
"By the time we realised that something was amiss when the Covenant were practically destroyed, it was too late and our colonies at the edges of this star cluster were attacked."
Atticus shook his head before he looked harshly at his Older-Self. "You must be able to See hundreds of years into the future."
"And it mattered not." His Older-Self easily answered, his voice firm. "I am not omniscient, we will never be omniscient. Even at my strongest, I can only actively See within ten light years around Celestis. They built up their strength tens of thousands of light years from Celestis in a sector that we did not monitor through technology so we never knew about it."
He was beginning to understand. Atticus' gaze was piercing as he looked at his Older-Self face. "And the attack…the only way something like that could be missed by me, us, and the Far-Seers…"
His Older-Self didn't turn towards Atticus but his bearded face did crinkle. "Yes, if they were able to manipulate the very strings of Living Time."
"They unravelled Time from the structures of the universe itself around us and made it play to their tune, made us see what we would have seen without their release. Even I, had not noticed the manipulation until moments before the first colonies were attacked."
"How? How could they manipulate Living Time like this?" Atticus asked. He knew it was possible, to blind people. He'd done to the Symbols and the Monks had done it too centuries ago. But the scale…the sheer scale and the ability it would take…
It was monumental.
"We still don't know." His Older-Self admitted before he turned around to face Atticus. "Their biology gives them something we have been unable to zero in on." His Older-Self stated. "We have theories, good theories but they are unsubstantiated and ultimately they do not matter." His Older-Self's gaze turned harder, colder.
"What does matter is that you change your future from this point onwards knowing all of this" His Older-Self said with a piercing gaze. "Begin to change the future. Exodus cannot be as damaging as we have planned it to be. It leaves a scar that would haunt generations to come. Our people's lifespans compound it even further."
His Older-Self paused for a moment, a strange hesitation crept up in his body language but it seemed to flicker away in less than half a second "And re-evaluate the necessity to rid Earth of all magic. It might offer an opportunity to ensure bonds are kept with our cousins."
Atticus' eyes hardened though internally his mind was going a mile a minute. He could see where he was going with this. But eventually the mundanes would develop faster-than-light capabilities and inevitably settle other worlds. To develop such a monitoring system planet-by-planet is going to be a massive undertaking.
In truth…it would also be a massive weight off of his shoulders. The temptation to consider this a boon from Magic herself was great yet he knew that it would only be indulging his conscience. Atticus met his Older-Self's gaze once more who seemed satisfied with his quietness. He had a suspicion that his Older-Self regretted the act.
Perhaps that was why his Older-Self reached out this far instead of reaching closer to his own time instead of here and now before they left Earth.
That his Older-Self's timeline would be untouched must've contributed to the decision. Yes…Atticus would think about it.
His Older-Self's expression turned hard once more. "I cannot tell you where the majority of their kind are imprisoned, nor can I even tell you what event led to their eventual release, only that you must not turn a blind eye to the Human-Covenant war, whatever you decide to do with Earth. Our isolation made us blind to the events of the galaxy and it has costed us greatly."
Atticus met the piercing gaze of his older self for a long while before he spoke. "Answer me truthfully this one question." Atticus said as he met his Older-Self's gaze unblinkingly. His Older-Self didn't react for a long few seconds before he nodded regally.
"I have not lied to you once nor will I lie to you" 'But you will keep things from me'.
"Have you been manipulating my future?" Atticus asked harshly as he searched every micro-inch of his Older-Self's expression. The look of confusion on his Older-Self was not what he expected. It looked genuine.
"No." His Older-Self stated with the bell of truth in his voice "I have not manipulated your future." His Older-Self looked slightly amused "We do not develop the ability to manipulate Living Time around people in the physical past."
He already knew that his chosen path would be altered slightly yet before this sojourn, he'd never seen any timelines that matched what he'd change once he was back on Earth. Either he'd learn something in the interim from his Older-Self that would change his choice to alter his path, or there was something off.
In any case, for now, he accepted the statement of his Older-Self.
Atticus glanced at the frozen battle before turning back to his Older-Self.
"How many years are we in the future?"
"Seven hundred and fifty years."
Atticus eyed the man and his Older-Self smiled.
"The ritual holds." His Older-Self smiled ruefully "It does more than hold up." He met Atticus' gaze "This is a choice. You understand."
Atticus mulled it over for a second before he nodded. Looking in his twenties as he did whilst almost being half a century old was getting a little tiresome. Especially once…Atticus inwardly dismissed those thoughts. Yes, it was doubtless that he'd make the choice to appear older like he felt sooner or later. And 'More than hold up…' He had an idea about what he meant by that…
"Has Celestis truly been everything we hoped it'd be? Other than these problems?" He could see up until the beginnings of the settlement but not much further than that.
"More." Atticus could hear the smile in his Older-Self's voice. And the sadness.
"There are hiccups along the way. Hiccups that have had consequences." Atticus glanced at his Older-Self who was smiling ruefully as he stared at the world below "But generally speaking, it's been quite the journey."
Atticus let that settle in.
"Yet not good enough." Atticus said as he turned to face the frozen battle again.
"No, it wasn't."
They were engulfed by a flash again and they were once more back in orbit of Celestis though at a different point. He could see now a gigantic station hanging just beyond the exosphere. It had eight arms that looked like a combination of docking arms and weapons array.
"Why should I act drastically?" Atticus finally said as he latched onto his Older-Self's eyes. Atticus gestured in a wide arc with his arm, never breaking eye contact.
"The war with the Xalanyn seems to be going poorly, yes, but it is not hopeless." Atticus challenged. His Older-Self's expression was impassive as he spoke. They both knew that by simply pulling him into this pocket of consciousness, by telling him about the Xalanyn in the first place, the future was irrevocably changed.
And from the way his Older-Self seemed to age nearly a decade, it was clear that his Older-Self understood what Atticus wanted to know.
"The war is hopeless." His Older-Self stated matter-of-factly. "In the first three weeks, we lost eight systems out of twelve and in the past nine decades, we have been pressed all the way back to Celestis. Our lone system." His Older-Self shook his head before he looked up and towards the shell that protected the system.
"As we speak, the Xalanyn have more than a dozen fleets camped outside the shell. For now, they are unable to penetrate it but it is only a matter of time." His Older-Self's expression turned tight when he turned towards Atticus.
"We missed one of the weapons, one that belonged to an older generation."
Atticus froze for a millisecond.
Atticus knew then and there why he'd do this. "You must be able to destroy it!"
"There is a chance." His Older-Self said with an incline of the head before he smiled ruefully "But it is not much of one. We are blind, we are outnumbered and more importantly we are weary."
"Weary?" Atticus this time let his anger show.
"You're talking about our extinction!"
"And we have been fighting for nine decades." His Older-Self calmly stated though his expression was stern. "You do not know war Atticus. Not one like this one has been. Our best armies have been reduced to near nothing by an enemy that has counters to our magic and possesses technology equal to our own. It is a small mercy they cannot see the future but with their ability in manipulating Living Time and the threads connecting individuals, entire regions of space, it makes little difference."
His expression softened slightly "But…we will not die out. We have learnt the lessons of the Forerunners and the Ancient Humans."
Atticus realised what his Older-Self meant. "You've got an ark somewhere."
His Older-Self only smiled and didn't answer.
Probably wouldn't ever answer, Atticus thought to himself. No matter how hard he pressed. Still, it was comforting that all was not lost, even in this alternate timeline.
Even by a complacent version of himself that Atticus could hardly believe was him.
Would three quarters of a millennium truly turn him into…this?
"My plans failed." Older-Self explained, drawing Atticus' attentions, and he looked pained as he looked at Atticus. "I failed. But you have the opportunity to right many wrongs that have come from our mistakes."
'Mistakes largely borne out of complacency' Atticus thought to himself silently. Atticus gazed upon his Older-Self with a long look. He still looked regal, composed, in control yet there was a taint on him now that Atticus disdained heavily.
Mostly because he understood. Oh, he understood it well. His Older-Self let it all go, just as he hoped to do one day. Yet, it was that very desire of his that has contributed to this near hopeless future.
And Atticus feared, knew, it was also the decisions he'd taken, decisions that weighed so heavily on him that led him to this path.
Atticus turned his gaze around, towards Celestis. He could see buildings upon buildings yet nature was not destroyed. The valleys and the rivers were somehow even more vibrant than they were when he'd first seen them.
No…
He would not allow it all to come to an end like this…he would not see Celestis destroyed because of his hubris, because he was too worn down by the weight he'd put on himself. Atticus turned back towards his Older-Self, his posture rising in furious determination.
To think his people were losing, would lose to a race of beings that should have been inferior in comparison to the Magical Races. Because of choices he'd made, because of the choices his people made. That ember of fury within grew to an inferno.
He would not allow them to just slink away into the night.
"Tell me about the theories you have about the Xalanyn and their ability to do what they can to Living Time" Atticus' voice was sharp and demanding, his emerald embers in his violet eyes aglow like flames swaying in the rowdy winds of change.
His Older-Self smiled though it was far from joyful and so for the next few hours his Older-Self talked and talked about the Xalanyn and what they knew.
Which wasn't much at all despite nearly being at war with them for a century.
Their biology was alien, too alien, and had an inherent ability to shield themselves against nearly all forms of magic…including destructive ones like the Unforgivables. Information had been painstakingly gathered out of their prisoners but most of it had been useless for his Older-Self.
But the most surprising thing he'd heard was that there was evidence that Atticus could scarcely believe. "You mean to say we share genetic information with them?" Atticus asked with a light frown, his mind already coming up with ideas of how that could be possible.
His Older-Self inclined his head affirmatively. "Yes…we do. The most important part of our DNA." Atticus' eyes widened slightly before he frowned once more.
"They share the neurophysical energy genetic markers." Atticus stated before he continued quickly, realising the implication.
"They are also creations of the Precursors."
"They are." His Older-Self confirmed. "That is something we are most sure about."
Atticus' expression tightened as his gaze bored into his Older-Self.
"And you're sure that they have no involvement in all of this?" Atticus asked sharply, his unrelentingly searching out his Older-Self's expression.
"No." His Older-Self shook his head. "On the contrary, I'm quite certain that they are involved in some way or another." His Older-Self spied at Atticus.
"I never said that they weren't, only that one could not consider a fundamental aspect of reality an enemy. I have felt traces of their touch through Living Time throughout the centuries, not unlike what you have felt throughout the structures of Living Time for the past few decades."
Atticus let that settle in for a moment. He felt the vibration, the stir in Living Time, that sweeping cycle that raged beneath the calm waters of Living Time.
And he'd felt the spark that he and Emily had brought to life that disrupted the frequency of that vibration, however infinitesimal it was.
A spark that seemed to have died out before it could even grow into an inferno.
"I do not believe the Xalanyn themselves know that they are being helped."
Atticus looked at his Older-Self "You believe that they have been chosen?"
'For harvest?'
His Older-Self smiled and it was one of cruel satisfaction. Perhaps it would not come to pass for millennia, perhaps even longer, but eventually…
Atticus looked away from his Older-Self and back towards Celestis, towards the lands that were beginning to feel the first morning rays of the sun.
Long moments passed before Atticus spoke.
"I know you have kept much from me. Much that can assist me." Atticus said with a side glance. The status of the Shaping Sickness, Emily's surprising agreement to roll back their involvement in shaping society, whether or not Forerunners still existed, and the true depth behind the hubris to not monitor the galaxy to avoid the very instances that led to his Older-Self's timeline into this mess.
His Older-Self didn't react to his words and Atticus turned back to the planet.
Unfortunately, he was more sure that this was himself than a manifestation of something and he honestly hated his Older-Self for what he'd shown and told him.
The veil was ripped off and all of his hopes of reducing his influence in the coming Magical civilisation was shattered to pieces.
"But you have done your duty to Us." Atticus stated without any inflection in his voice. He knew that there were countless of timelines that were unaffected by this act of his Older-Self, time after all, could not be wiped clean in such a way.
Not in this part of the Multiverse at least.
But this act also created countless of timelines that would have a chance now to do things better, versions of himself that would apply what they learnt today and do better.
"Thank you." Atticus said as he turned around, his arms behind his back as he met the same but older, wearier violet eyes with emerald flecks.
"Take me back."
His Older-Self didn't speak for a long moment before he inclined his head, glimmer of gratefulness showing in his eyes and the world around him began to distort, shift, before he was engulfed into a bright light and moments afterwards, Atticus' eyes snapped open, the sight of clear blue sky greeted him and the hum of his magic in his veins, in his core was a delightful comfort.
Atticus released a deep breath before he cast his gaze downwards.
Virgin lands untouched by civilisation greeted him and Atticus, after a few moments of recollecting himself, closed his eyes.
Reality around him began to fade away, his consciousness once more unbound from Time and threads of timelines, of possibilities sailed by his field of perception, a breathless shudder vibrated through this dimension of consciousness.
What he'd Seen before, was no more. Dozens upon dozens of likely timelines, were now different, no more did they follow the timelines he'd Seen before.
He watched himself through himself into expanding the number of Mithril Seeds he'd implant, now well over six dozen, and watched as the scale of work within Celestis tripled with every viable world and moon marked for terra-alchemy.
Celestis was not the only major change in the years to come.
Plans made years ago, decades ago, were upended and the Ravenite threat ended decades before they originally planned. Europe, China and North Africa were given aid, the scars of the war was deep but nowhere near as long lasting as it once could have been.
He watched as the Grand Alliance grow much sooner in size in the wake of the ashes of the ICW, his and Emily's defeat of Cullaica and the Raven brought them immense goodwill on the magical world stage beyond the levels he'd originally Seen, and the Magical world followed Illos' lead more and more as the years flew by and the new millennium arose. New country-ships were made sooner and union of communities happened to inhabit these country-ships as the mundane world around them changed.
Eventually Exposure still happened and Exodus was still the eventuality though more did it willingly as a consequence of his new drive to diplomatically win over every community and concession were given to those who still resisted but eventually everyone agreed without the necessity of force.
As the newly christened Federation of Magical Peoples departed Earth enmasse in country-ships, one last act of Magic was invoked onto their mundane cousins.
Illos still settled Celestis, their new homeworld, though there were far more country-ships that settled across the solar systems as more worlds were crafted for habitation.
That spark, that spark that he'd felt him and Emily beginning to rouse into existence was now stronger than ever, and the ripple across the faceless and infinite surface of Time was deeper, stronger, and it was marvellous.
Atticus drew out of Living Time, a breathless sigh escaped him as a fierce grip of pride seized his heart, a reinvigoration he had not felt for many, many years.
He rose from his lotus position and rounded his gaze towards the stars, towards the area of space where he knew Earth was.
He had many questions, such as how it was possible that everything changed so drastically – perhaps there was some kind of Living Time disconnect between the physical and the metaphysical realms, one that allowed him to see his immediate determination but not the sight of all the differences that were wrought, he wasn't sure – but for now, he was far more resolved than he remembered ever being.
Atticus' magic roiled off of him, thick cords of violet and green energy swirled around him with bone crushing density.
He had much to do, much to learn, much to accomplish.
In truth, it did not matter if what he'd experience was real or not. If it was an older version of himself or not.
He only knew he could not rest even in times of peace centuries long nor could he allow complacency and hubris seep into the minds of his people.
The Covenant, the Xalanyn, the Precursors.
Enemies that he'd have to prepare his people for and doubtlessly many more others in the dark forest of this galaxy and beyond.
"So be it." Atticus voiced out, his eyes burning with an inferno of resolve that could burn out the very stars under its intensity.
-Break-
Undetermined Distant Future…
The soft distant hum of the ship invaded his ears as his consciousness returned back into present. His eyes snapped open and the sight of the shimmering curtains of slipspace was welcome knowing that he came out of it at the right moment.
He let his control of his magic slip, just enough for it to touch the threads and streams of Living Time, and he could feel the consequences of his action already reverberate. Living Time was connected beyond simply the present and the future, beyond simply this timeline and those that branch away from this present.
He let a feeling of satisfaction creep into his centre, uncaring that he twisted the Truth to that version of himself. Finally, he managed to succeed in achieving both of his purposes. That version of himself, in that moment in time, was just before the point where it all started to collapse.
Seeing a weak, older version accepting his failures would rouse him out of the mind set he was unknowingly falling into and retain that hunger, that desire, that had served them well prior to his ascension to Lord and King of Illos.
"It is done." Atticus stated authoritatively and with heavy gravitas as he turned towards the other companion in the room. He met her dark blue eyes, ancient eyes, as she walked over to him, her long black silky black hair swaying with every clinking step she took.
Atticus rose from his position and turned towards her.
Emily inclined her head slightly, the deep well of magic that was comparable to his, reached out into the plane layered onto reality. "They feel it."
She tilted her head slightly away from him, her eyes flickering as she continued to reach out and beyond the membrane of Consciousness. She pulled away and turned towards him, a hateful gleam in her eyes. "We have our chance."
Atticus nodded silently before he raised his hands slightly and within a flash they were back onto the bridge, a cavernous oval deck that was well over four hundred metres wide at its longest manned by a thirty-two man bridge crew.
The noise within the bridge died out completely once they arrived.
"Take us out of slipspace." Atticus commanded.
They dropped out of slipspace and immediately, the oppressive power wafted into the ship, a kind of power that could inspire the sanest men into insanity.
The neurophysical field of energy, magic, in this system was warped and undulated, as if it was space warping around a black hole, bending and twisting at the will of beings of immense power.
Atticus and Emily unleashed the chains of their magic, volumes of their magic streamed out, so much so that they were akin to stars in the way and rate they were expelling magic, and it did the job, the unwanted oppressive power pushed away by their might alone.
"Your Graces." One of the crew spoke out, visible relief on his face before he recomposed himself though there was a glint of worry in his expression.
"I have a fix on their location." The view screen changed and a gas giant filled most of the view yet unmistakably, they were also there in their monstrous sizes, sizes that saw them taller than the moons they were nearby.
The hues of his magic began to darken at the sight of them, violet turned dark red and green turned poisonous, as they often did when he thought or saw them.
Emily fared little better as her magic darkened into abyssal black and was moment of shearing away at their ship. "Leave this system and return to the fleet. Do not come back." Atticus saw the pained expressions of the crew, his crew, his people, but he also saw their acceptance and their resolve.
Atticus took himself and Emily away in an orange blue flash of light, right above one of the frozen moons of the gas giant, and they both flared their magic like miniature stars sparked into existence. The flow of neurophysical energy in the system trembled, shook, under the weight of their collective power, disrupting and shattering the total command the Beings had on it in this system.
Their gigantic insectoid heads, heads that were size of moons, turned towards him and Emily, their huge beady black compound eyes latching onto him and Emily.
They were cold eyes, uncaring and emotionless, bereft of any markers that made them out to be anything other than Horrors made manifest.
All of the twenty three Beings' arms were aglow with magic that ripped the space around it like wet paper, each of the Beings' four arms were miniature black holes that were so powerful that the Moons around them were being affected by their pull.
Atticus raised his hand and a portal to a dimension opened before spitting out a gleaming blue silver sword that rippled with power a hundred fold more than either he or Emily could ever generate on their own and Atticus let a fraction of its power stream into him as he took hold of it.
Emily brought out her own trident of equal power though darker and more ominous than his was. They crafted their weapons out of the wrecks of their civilisation, borne out of pain and hatred and grief, all of their spite and singlemindedness poured into the singular purpose of their weapons.
Her magic grew wild, like a star a microsecond before it was to supernova, violent jagged tendrils surrounded her form. His own was little better.
Atticus' grip onto his sword tightened, crackles of white lightning that could scorch entire planets surrounded him, ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice.
Emily raised her trident, black energy with streaks of dark blue danced around the weapon, the depths of magic growing to unimaginable proportions and within a single moment, she disappeared and re-emerged above one of the Beings, a massive lance of energy akin to the plasma jets and gamma rays ejected out of the poles of black holes lashed into the Being.
The Being's pained cries reverberated into the plane of Consciousness and the field of magic trembled by the depth of its pain and Atticus felt hateful satisfaction before he too joined the battle, a battle that was meaningless for they had already lost the war.
