Dream Fragment - To Heaven Chained (IV)
For months, she walked among the treasures of the reliquary. She traced them with her fingertips, brushed against them with the edges of her soul. She whispered to them with her heart, and she listened to their tales. She came to understand them, slowly. The sister-blades that refused to remain parted. The dress that dreamed of the sky. The false mage-light, revealing only what was meant to be hidden. Time and again, she came to understand an artifact only to immediately dismiss them – they were beautiful, inside and out, works of timeless art that had earned their place in that chamber. But none of them would help her understand the Tower.
And then there was the last. That simple, golden crown. The one and only artifact that rebuked her soul. She reached out to it, whispering questions, and received only an unintelligible storm in response. There was power there, although she didn't understand it well enough to wield it. But... that was fine. She'd simply devote time to studying it. If none of the other relics were the answer, then her best bet was the crown.
So, one night she'd spend in the Tower, scanning over the runes with fresh eyes and looking for something she missed. The next, she'd spend in the reliquary, poking at the crown and listening to its mangled responses. Or, no; perhaps it wasn't the responses that were mangled at all? Perhaps it was simply that she couldn't receive them properly. But... her nature worked only for herself. She couldn't give the crown to someone else and let them listen to it, not the way she could.
...Well. If she couldn't understand it as she was, then she'd just have to change how she listened.
Quietly, unnoticed, the crown shimmered.
One Year Later
"O' King Wicker of Ciel, present your judgment of this soul that stands before us all." The noble bowed his head, and all the people gathered before them did the same. She watched from the corners of her eyes as her intended bowed, exposing his neck to her father.
Her father, who simply nodded. "I have borne witness to his nature. I look upon him now, and I see a man of worth." From his cloak, he produced a silver circlet, and crowned her fian... her husband. "Let all see the evidence of my judgment!"
He stepped back, allowing the prince-in-waiting to raise his head with a proud smile. The master of ceremonies, then, spread his arms wide in a grand gesture. "Then let us witness! Here, in the shadow of the Tower. Here, where Omen and Aradia gave us shelter and hope, let us see the birth of new hope for us all. From this moment forward, let you be not two apart but one together!"
Her husband came closer, and his kiss was... gentler, and more pleasant, than she'd somehow expected.
In the end... she found she rather enjoyed being married.
"What have you divined, Athame?"
She hummed, walking the twisting lines of the top floor. "That discovery in the Watchtower proved fruitful. I've identified these sigils here, and here: 'familiar' blood, and power. I think you were right, father. This chamber is the secret to whatever grand working they performed to fuel the city."
"Is that all? I know you've devoted time to your husband, but... Athame, we cannot know how long the city will last. This is important."
She huffed. "Then why did you arrange for my marriage in the first place, father?"
"Athame -"
She held up a hand. "No, regardless, there is something else. The patterns. With the context of the other circle, I can see the pattern here. We always knew the center of the circle was important, but now I see that it is divided in two. Whatever working is done here, it is not for one person alone." She shook her head. "I'm still uncertain how to activate it. I am... I believe the crown plays a role, but I have limited time to study it now."
Her father stared at her, and for a long moment she thought he'd forbid her from seeing her husband until she'd solved this riddle. Her mind spun into arguments and appeals she might make, and -
"Then I will grant you leave to remove it from the reliquary. With your nature, you are more than capable of studying it discreetly. Keep it secret... but you must solve this. However: as you and your husband are beginning to take up more of your royal duties, I find myself with more time, as well. I'd like you to make your notes on this room and keep them updated as you learn more. Only you and I have access, here, so they will be secure enough. I do not compare to you... but more eyes can see where fewer are blinded."
She was filled with such relief that she didn't hesitate to nod in agreement. "Of course, father. Thank you. I won't fail you."
"I know you won't."
She kept it with her, from then on. Concealed under her cloak, or held in her lap when she was alone, or even (once) worn instead of her Cielan circlet. Each day, its unintelligible screams grew a bit calmer. A bit quieter. Eventually, she would understand.
In the meantime, she puzzled over the circle once more. With new knowledge, she pored over each half of the circle separately instead of as a single instance – and some pieces began to click together. She opened the quickly-expanding tome of her notes, and began to write once more.
Power from blood is not an unknown concept, but rarely used. Without proper preparations, without a strong foundation, it simply isn't worth it. Yet... what if the Tower is itself the foundation? With Omen's nature, he could have bypassed many of the issues involved. No material cost could stymie him, of course... I'd thought the design ended at the walls, but if it extended through the entire Tower – if this is Omen and Aradia's 'greatest work,' then what if it built upon all they had already done? Omen and Aradia were wed, of course, and by the time the Tower was concluded they'd had children... perhaps, the blood becomes 'familiar' after...
One Year Later
She produced a flickering blue light at the tip of a finger and traced it through the air. From her husband's arms, her little Veve made happy noises and reached out to try to catch the 'firefly,' and she could only smile. Her eyes flicked up to meet her husband's, and he gave her the same patient look he had.
"More secret work?" When she nodded, he sighed. "And I suppose I'm to watch the Princess."
"You've been watching the princess for over a year now, Gard."
He coughed out a surprised laugh, and she smirked at the affronted look their daughter gave him at having her game interrupted. "That watching and this watching are very different, princess Athame!"
"This princess and that princess are very different, as well. Now, be a good husband and take care of our daughter while I work." She tapped her daughter on the nose. "And you be good for your father, Veve. He's experienced in handling unruly princesses, you know."
He gave her an aggrieved expression.
She was still laughing when she closed the door.
She sat next to the circle, turning the crown over in her hands as she turned the sigils in her mind. The reflected light from the golden metal cast little spots across the designs upon the floor.
Idly, she brushed her soul across the relic in her hands... and then froze.
..͟.͟ ̶i̛r̷on̷ / ̕st̨eel ͘/̛ ̶s͏il̨ve͘r͠ / ̨go͟ld̡ / ̀co̴p̕p͢er ̨.͘..̨
Because she could finally hear the response. No, responses. Of course she couldn't comprehend it earlier; there was simply too much.
...̨ f́li̡ǹt̴ ͏/̨ ͝gra̡n͠i̷te ̡/̢ m̧a͞r̸b̀l̛é / s̢la̵t̶ę ̷.̀.͟.͢
It had never been becoming clearer, she'd just been filtering it. Becoming used to the noise. The cacophony of potential. Of possibility. Everything around her could be so many things. If the crown is the wheel upon which this circle spins, then...!
She was gone in moments, only barely remembering to conceal the crown again.
"So, armed with the crown the circle should remove the inefficiencies involved in blood empowerment, so long as the conditions are fulfilled." She paced in great sweeping lines, unconsciously following the design she'd pored over for so many years.
"I see... so that was Omen and Aradia's last sacrifice, then." Her father sighed. "... Athame. Now comes the greatest challenge of all. If we are to use this to renew the city..."
She nodded. "Of course. I'll find a way to do it safely. I'm sure... it won't be as much energy, but I can find a method that doesn't require the death of the participants." With her back turned, she never saw her father's expression.
"I am sure you can, Athame, out of all that live." He stared down into the center of the circle, then shook his head. "Athame. Now that we know with certainty, I'd like you to keep the crown safe in the reliquary once more. If it were to be lost, or taken..."
She paled. "... Yes. That... I'm not sure the circle could ever be used again. You're right, father. This is... too important to leave to chance."
He nodded. "I agree."
She'd always enjoyed bathing. If she allowed her nature to sink into the water, she could keep her body afloat without moving, allowing her to simply... be. She could feel the fluidity of the water, the way it gently rippled against the edges of the tub as it held her aloft by her will alone. Since she'd first discovered her nature, it had been one of her favorite methods of relaxation.
But, when the magelights on the wall flickered and dimmed, she was pulled out of that state. With a twist of her nature, she opened the drains and allowed the water to empty even as she stood, pushing the water from her skin with another flex of her soul as she pulled her robe on. The lights... failed to brighten again, and she felt a pit begin to grow in her chest. As she exited, she nearly ran face first into Gard. "Athame, is everything all right? The guards came to take Veve somewhere safe, acting like we were under attack..."
Somewhere safe? That doesn't make sense. Even if the 'heart' is failing, there shouldn't be-
Her veins turned to ice.
'Familiar' blood.
She pushed him aside, ignoring his cries of alarm. "Stay here! Do not leave!"
She had never before ascended the stairs of the Tower with such speed. Nor had she cursed the speed of the runes as they lifted her up into the chamber she prayed was empty.
It was not.
Her father stood there, within the circle. In his arms, her daughter made a happy noise and reached out to her with both arms, and in the air before them floated a simple golden crown.
She took a step forward, feeling as though her stomach suddenly weighed more than all the stones of the Tower. "Father-! Stop!"
Her father the king shook his head. "In all of Ciel, there are only three whose blood is familiar to Omen and Aradia, Athame. You are needed, for the future, and you would never do what must be."
"Please! Father, I will -" She felt her father's magic pulse, just once, and she forced herself to move forward.
The circle glowed a bright gold.
"I am so sorry, my granddaughter."
She lunged, past the edge of the circle, past the floating crown, and pushed with all she had. Her father stumbled, barely catching his feet underneath him as he shuffled backwards before looking up to stare at her.
Thank the gods, she thought.
The light consumed her.
It hurt, to be pulled in so many directions. To be stretched, across the whole of Ciel.
The pain was distant, though. Almost as if it was happening to another person. And, truly, it was strange.
The Tower ritual should never have worked with only a single participant. No other had remained inside the circle, save her.
Why, then, did it grind on even now?
Why did it pull at her so? Why did it stab so deeply, dragging the very depths of her out into the world?
Why could she feel another soul brush up against her own?
She reached out into the golden infinity that surrounded her, hoping for... something. She couldn't even put words to her hope.
Her fingertips brushed cold metal and she tugged it to her chest reflexively. There it settled, a familiar cacophonous ring, now fallen so quiet.
As she brushed against it, it said only one word.
A̷̧t͝ḩ̛am͞e ̢/͡ ̧͢͜At̵h̶am̢e͠ ͟/̡̛͏ Ą́t͢h͠a̛͠ḿe ̀͟/̀ ̶A͟͝t̵̴͡h̛̀a̛m̕͟e͘͏ /͞͏̛ ̷͡Ą̛t͏̧͟ham͡e̛
Of course. The 'Athame' that was now was completely different from the 'Athame' of even moments ago.
How many people could she have been? How many 'Athames' had never existed?
How many 'Athames' had she been, that were now gone?
The Tower tore another piece of her away, and she cried out.
In her hands, the crown twisted once, and she tore apart.
I don't want to die, thought Athame. / I'm dying, thought Athame.
The Tower pulled,
And Athame Athame remained.
The crown twisted, and she tore.
The Tower pulled,
And Athame Athame remained.
The crown twisted, and she tore.
The light faded, and she slumped, clutching tightly to the crown. Her soul flickered, silver and broken, across her body.
Her soul flickered, white and broken, across her body.
Her soul flickered, golden and broken, across her body.
Athame stood.
Her father the King of Ciel stared at her, mouth agape. "Athame...? How did you...?"
Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the crown. Slowly, carefully, she raised it above her head to set it upon her brow.
With the tiniest touch of her soul, the golden metal melted perfectly into a silver replica of the crown upon the king's head. Her eyes turned to where her daughter sat in the arms of her father the king.
She reached out with her reached out with her soul.
She plucked her daughter from the pillar of dust as it crumpled to the floor. It's so simple, now that I can hear.
Veve made confused sounds, and AthameAthame reached up and playfully traced a magelight in the air.
My beautiful daughter. You will never be a sacrifice.
Within the storm of Athame's many souls,
she never felt the newest one that grew within.