Ar'Kendrithyst

The sky was full of lands composed of myriads of mixed elements and stars brighter than they had any right to be, while the horizon in every direction was a crimson glow of towers, fading down to violet, shadowed depths. A comfortable wind blew through the quiet city. Not too hot, not too cold. Erick’s white [Conjure Armor] was fine to wear for extended periods of time, especially with his new clothes.

But a bit of thirst got to him.

Fallopolis continued to talk, “… And then there’s the weirdwood. It’s an Arbor that grows in the third layer but sends roots everywhere to feed off of dead shadows and adventurers. What usually happens, is that the adventurers think they’ve found a simple duskwood grove, and they’re all like ‘Oh! Duskwood heartwood! That’s good for such-and-such enchantment or so-and-so potions’. And so they try to attack it and if they’ve run into the main tree, they die, but if they run into the side growths, they might live.” She added, “It’s rather similar to your Yggdrasil, but it’s not a true World Tree.” She continued, “And then there’s—

“A World Tree?” Erick asked, interrupting Fallopolis.

It barely fazed him that she knew what had only happened two hours ago, but her casual naming of the ‘world tree’ phenomenon sparked Erick’s interest; he couldn’t not interrupt her.

She didn’t seem to mind. “Of course! People try to make them all the time and they almost always fail, because World Trees are Arbors of a larger sort, but the Script doesn’t like them because they are extreme defensive structures, the lot of them. Back in the Old Cosmology, they truly did protect entire worlds.” She added, “I doubt your Yggdrasil will ever be what it could have been. The Script constricts the top and nurtures the weak. If you’d’ve made this tree in the Old Cosmology, you would have truly created something to behold. A defensive treasure worthy of founding a multi-plane civilization.”

“You’ve spoken like this a few times, now.” Erick said, “No one needs that much power. The Script could do with a lot less power, in my opinion.”

“Ha!” Fallopolis said, “I am glad we have come to this part in our discussion, because every single Shade agrees that most people could do with a lot less power, for the Script is an unfair equalizer. Mages study for decades to make their part of the world a bit better with a bit of magic, but then some unlearned asshole comes along with two points, buys [Strike] and [Invisible], and beheads the mage, turning their part of the world back to anarchy. The same phenomenon happened in the Old Cosmology, too, of course, but back then, a mage could protect themselves, and assassins had to really know their trade to get you. Anyone could overcome old power, in fact. But it wasn’t as simple as ‘spend two points’.”

“I think you misunderstand. Even mages don’t need that much power. No one does.”

“Now that’s insane! Of course people need power, for the truly natural world is a dangerous place, and I’m not talking about this curated experience of Script and monsters. I’m talking real magic; unfettered.” She asked, “Would you get rid of magic itself?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well good. Then you’re not a total lost cause.” She asked, “Where would you set the bar of acceptable spells, then?”

“I’d keep [Cleanse] and [Greater Treat Wounds]. Maybe [Telekinesis], too. I could do without all the rest, if it meant no more monsters, or ancients, or archmages of any kind.”

For the first time, Fallopolis went speechless. “… I was not expecting…” And then she said, “But you love magic? Creating the higher tiers, working Particles? Ophiel. [Exalted Rain]. All the rest.”

“I do.” Erick smiled at the illusion-filled sky, saying, “But I also love talking with neighbors and helping people and having dinner with friends. I do not love fighting for my life because some ancient mage decided to create a monster and loose it upon the world some thousand years ago, or even just last week.”

Fallopolis glanced at him, then looked forward, not breaking her stride. Erick had spied a frown, but not much of one. For a long moment, the only sounds were the sounds of wind, blowing through Ar’Kendrithyst, and the gentle hum of the Ophiel trailing behind Erick. The ones on his shoulders were completely silent.

Erick broke the silence, offering, “I have a canteen of water. Would you like one, too?”

“… Sure.”

Erick directed the lightform Ophiel, currently holding his bag, to reach in and copy his canteen. Another Ophiel did the same action, effectively letting Erick briefly pass the global cooldown of the Script. With a reach of his own light, he grabbed both bottles out of the dense air around the bag. With a gentle extension of solid light, he handed one of the round canteens to Fallopolis.

She eyed the canteen, and took it. With a flick, the cap came off and fell into the violet depths below.

Erick drank from his own bottle—

The attack came suddenly, but Erick had been ready this time, for his vision had not been blocked by the canteen, at all. Even still, it was only his lightform self and his lightform Ophiel that allowed him to see well beyond the normal spectrum, and see the [Invisible] creatures as they detached from the crimson kendrithyst, from the surrounding five crystal towers.

With no color to describe them and with the barest shift in their surrounding heat, Erick registered the threat, and waited to see if they actually attacked. They had two arms, two legs; maybe more. They were certainly multi-jointed, with skin flaps between every part of their blanket-like bodies. With such a figure, they easily took to the air, like flying squirrels. They flew toward Erick, and the Ophiels trailing behind him.

Erick shot out four [Shooting Star]s from four Ophiel.

The first monster came toward Erick, like an unfolding blanket, but it met a speedy ball of light that ripped it apart, sending a shower of suddenly-visible gore into the air. The death of their member did not seem to deter any of the other thirty-ish [Invisible] killer blankets. Some attacked Ophiels, but Handy Auras caught those offenders and ripped them apart, sending more gore into the depths below.

Laughing, playing balls of light, killed most of the tiny pack hunters. Few made it close enough to be ripped to shreds. Every single light orb avoided Fallopolis by a wide margin, but the [Invisible] blankets did not; those that got near the Shade were torn to shreds by telekinetic forces of a different sort.

Erick just watched the destruction, as he sipped from his canteen. Ahhh, that felt good. Nice water. It even tasted better than usual. Since it was duplicated inside a [Prismatic Ward], was it also magically imbued, like the metal in Erick’s wrought-quality metal experiment?

The encounter took about four seconds. There was a brief pause in the forward march as the monsters completed their suicidal attack, but Fallopolis continued to stride ahead as she saw Erick had it under control, and Erick soon resumed his own quick pace, beside the Shade.

When it was over, he had another Ophiel spread out a [Cleansing Aura], wiping away the little bit of red gore than had managed to spray across all of them. Erick noticed the gore that had gotten on Fallopolis, this time, before it turned to thick air.

Every [Shooting Star] gave a chuckle and a laugh as they faded out; their killing spree done and over.

Fallopolis shook the canteen, sloshing water, saying, “This is good water.”

Also ignoring what had just happened, Erick asked, “Does it have any special qualities? I just found out the other day that [Prismatic Ward] is more special than I gave it credit for.”

“Yes.” Fallopolis said, “A very minor mana potion effect. Too small to notice, too limited to matter.”

“Interesting.” Erick asked, “Are we really going to walk through the Swamp to get to the Palace?”

Fallopolis shrugged as she walked. “Up to you.” She gestured with her staff, saying, “The Swamp is there. Or, we could go left, and walk along the wall. The Swamp is marginally safer than the wall walk, for the walls of Kendrithyst are home to many areas of no return.” She gestured right. “We could also descend to the central layer and hit the highlights of the city, as well as find fewer monsters. It’s generally safer where Shades routinely move, but all of them will likely be taking the high roads, to see the planes above. In such an odd case as tonight, it might actually be less monster-filled to also travel the high roads, but we might meet other Shades.

“In either case, we might not hit any more monsters at all. Like all battles, Kendrithyst is mostly blank space, punctuated by moments of terror and triumph, or defeat.” She looked to Erick, and with a gleam in her white eyes, said, “We could also attempt to sneak into a few choice locations and steal everything that isn’t cemented down. A trip to the Library, perhaps, for some tomes of True Magic? A swing by the Jungle, to net one of Hollowsaur’s level 90 beasts? That’s a lot of levels for you! Oh! Or the Armory! That place is locked up tighter than a virgin’s arsehole, but the rewards are well worth the conquering.”

“If all those are options, then why are we on a direct line to intercept the center of the Swamp?”

“My greatest hope, is that you will meet the Witch, and when she proves herself incapable of participating in Polite Society, she will try to kill you and then either you kill her, or Melemizargo kills her. Either way works for me.” Fallopolis added, “Your rings will protect you from a great many curses, so you’re the best bet I have for murdering Perri.”

Erick said, “I want to avoid the Swamp and the Witch. Let’s go west and take the Center Lane.”

The Center Lane was not a proper feature of the Dead City, like the Swamp, or Abyssal Lake, but it was a general north-south aisle that could be drawn on a map from the north, to the Armory in the center of the city. It avoided most of the larger dangers, skirting both the Jungle in the west and the Swamp in the east.

“The Witch will be at the Feast, and she always aims to kill whoever she fixates on. Kill her now or be her victim later; your choice.” Fallopolis said, “But very well. We will take the Center Lane.” She asked, “Upper, Middle, or Dark?”

“Upper.”

Fallopolis promptly turned right, crossing in front of Erick, who suddenly stopped to let her pass.

Erick followed, and resumed a proper walking distance from the Shade.

“What were those flying things, anyway?”

“Skyskins.” Fallopolis asked, “What was that orb spell?”

“[Shooting Star].”

“You know…” She spoke with a joyful edge to her voice, saying, “You could make countless [Shooting Star]s with your [Greater Lightwalk], all in an instant, if you became a Shade and pledged yourself to Melemizargo. As a Wizard in tune with his power, he can break your connection to the Script and reforge your soul to allow you to experience true magical might.”

A question Erick had been wondering about for a while suddenly bubbled up. “What are Wizards, exactly?”

Fallopolis smiled wide, gaining a pep to her shadow-laced steps. “Why you are, of course! But you’ve barely done anything with your own power, so you probably shouldn’t poke around in your soul in an attempt to breakyourselffrom the Script.”

“… That doesn’t explain anything.” But it did cause a lot more questions.

“Wizards defy explanation.”

“Can you try?”

Fallopolis breathed deep. She said, “I will try, but it won’t do you any good.” She added, “Not because I don’t want to explain, but in trying to describe the ineffable, my description would fall short. Language is a problem, in this case, for it fails in the enormity of the truth. Ideas like ‘Creator’ or ‘Destroyer’ or ‘Paradoxical’ fail to describe the wholeness that is a ‘Wizard’. In the Old Cosmology, Wizards birthed whole planes of existence with a snap of their fingers. They destroyed swathes of Reality with a wave of their hands. They recreated souls lost to the destructive efforts of other Wizards.”

“Okay… But where does the power of a Wizard come from? Darkness?”

Fallopolis said, “Darkness is just the visual expression of Wizardry. Creation, Destruction, Paradox, all wrapped in one, and purposefully unknowable to mortal eyes; even a Shade’s. I searched this whole world for an answer to that very same question, along with a dozen others. I eventually sought help from the gods. They were little more helpful than asking the same questions to children, and yet, I continued to put out fires and raise the quality of life everywhere I went, all in the pursuit of asking my questions of the highest beings in the land. For my efforts, they gave me parables and truths I could not use. I have given you those answers, just now, in a slightly condensed version, and without the knowledge that I gained when I came looking for better answers from Melemizargo’s flock.”

Erick looked to Fallopolis with a bit more care. Words tumbled out, “You’re a wizard?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” She had said the words without anger, but there was a measure of steel in her voice. And then she softened. “You can ask Melemizargo about Wizardry if he shows up this year. We think he will, and if he does, he will likely want to speak to you.”

Erick felt he had touched a line in the sand. He asked no more of Wizardry.

Fallopolis fell into a silence.

They walked for twenty minutes, before another monster appeared. Both Erick and Fallopolis heard this one coming long before it appeared. Slithering sounds and raspy chitters wrapped up the side of a kendrithyst tower, echoing in the otherwise silent sky. Fallopolis stepped through the air, directly toward the sound, moving thirty meters in five steps.

A dark centipede as large as a subway train appeared, a hundred thousand legs on each side. It wove around three kendrithyst towers like it was the world’s most agile wyrm, but with none of the usual craziness of those dying dragons. Erick could instantly tell that this was an intelligent monster, of some larger brainpower than most. Erick knew this because the centipede saw Fallopolis walking at it, and it tried to run, tried to turn around and rush back into the violet depths below.

Fallopolis snapped a hand forward. A good hundred meters of the centipede’s body stilled, but its legs ripped large furrows in the kendrithyst towers as it struggled and failed to get away. Fallopolis flicked her whole hand. The centipede exploded. Gore rained. Erick activated [Cleansing Aura], turning that falling gore into thick air that washed across him and his gathered Ophiel.

The Shade was outside of the effect, for now. Gore rained on her, but she didn’t care, as a line of white dots —several grand rads— flowed from where the centipede’s upper third had been, into Fallopolis’s chest, like drops of radiant water. She breathed deep. She turned back to Erick.

“Got any good food in that bag?” She asked.

“I do. Do you want dessert, a beef and cheese sandwich, or a salad?” He asked, “Do you want a [Cleanse], first?”

“Sandwich, salad, [Cleanse]; yes.” She asked, “Hot sandwich?”

“I can make it hot.”

“Hot, then.”

Erick obliged with the [Cleanse], first, casting the spell at Fallopolis, erasing the bits of black shell and red insides that had fallen onto her. With a few other casts and a wait in a [Hot Ward], the Shade got her food. Erick copied a chocolate cupcake for himself.

Fallopolis seemed to approve of the sandwich, if her ravenous consumption of it was any indication of how she truly felt. But she took her time with the salad. She had spotted the creamy dressing upon it, and decided to eat that one second.

She did this, of course, as they were practically racing through the sky, double-stepping it further west.

When she bit into the first bit of salad, using [Telekinesis] to eat, she stopped in her tracks. Erick stopped with her.

With a quiet voice, she said, “This dressing. What is it?”

“Ranch dressing.” Erick elaborated, “Veird has the sour cream and buttermilk and such, but I recreated the black pepper, garlic, dill, and chives, and made better sour cream than what was available outside of Spur. When I first made Ranch, I thought that sour cream was a personal invention, too, but you guys just used limes, and your sour cream was neither prevalent nor available in Spur. My only actual change was to use lemons, which I did invent.”

Fallopolis began eating and walking again, as Erick spoke. When he finished, she had already finished the salad, and said, “That was pretty good. Both of them.”

“Thanks.” He offered, “Want a cupcake? Sour cream went into these, as well, to lend the cake a moister, tangier flavor. I had thought I had invented this technique, too, but a lady I recently met informed me that I had not.”

“… I want a cupcake.”

“Chocolate or vanilla buttercream? I recreated both of those flavors, too.”

“One of each.”

- - - -

They walked in silence toward the west, their footsteps shining dark and bright.

There were occasional monsters. Birds made of iridescent swords. Bugs too large to be normal. Another Kendrithyst Mimic, which was only level 75, maybe; Erick wasn’t quite sure, but the experience he gained was enough to put an actual, noticeable difference in his Status.

Fallopolis displayed her power in killing both large and small monsters, as Erick did the same. Erick had no idea what the Shade was truly thinking with this walk, and this civility, and this easy atmosphere of monster eradication, but it was easy to match her visible power against various hungry or territorial foes. Erick and Fallopolis fell into an easy ordering. She killed one monster, or group of monsters, Erick took the next. Back and forth it went, though sometimes the monsters fled before they fully committed to their attack. Those ones survived. Whoever's turn it was, took the next encounter.

It was hard for Erick to gauge how much either of them were truly holding back, for Erick had never truly tested himself in person, where he had to worry about his spells hitting himself, and Fallopolis was a Shade. Erick stuck to [Shooting Star] and the power of several Ophiel each wielding a Handy Aura, but he never used more than four global cooldowns out of his available eleven.

Fallopolis held vast telekinetic strength, but how much power did she actually have behind those invisible grips, and ripping thoughts? She only seemed to care about the grand rads inside a few of the monsters they met, but otherwise, she showed no signs of fatigue, or worry.

Erick was doing fine, too. Good thing he was a Scion of Focus.

Which bade him to again break the companionable silence, “Why do people choose Scion of Willpower?”

Without looking back, Fallopolis said, “Kirginatharp’s stranglehold on the proper teaching of magic is a problem with many facets. The predilection for Scion of Willpower is one of them. Kirginatharp is not a gifted mage, so when he made his spells, and since he is the Second of Rozeta, he had to fall in line with the workings of the Script or be ousted as Second.”

Erick wore a confused expression. “You’re going to have to break that down.”

Fallopolis easily elaborated, “In the beginning of the Script, there was another who could have become Second to Rozeta. Kirginatharp’s brother, Idyrvamikor. It is a tale never told in arcanaeum or most published books, for Kirginatharp controls both of those avenues to power.”

“If you’re trying to convince me that the Headmaster is a great evil, then you would have to try a lot harder than that. It was Melemizargo who cursed Dragon Essence into existence, was it not? Even if this story with Idyrvarmincor —or whatever. Even if true, all of the Headmaster’s cannibalistic tendencies are laid at the Dark Dragon’s claws.”

“The curse of Dragon Essence is a lie propagated by Kirginatharp.” Fallopolis said, “Idyrvamikor created the Dragon Curse, all on his own, for he was as much a Wizard as his grandfather.”

Erick listened, frowning, as the Shade’s voice filled the silence of the Dead City.

“Idyrvamikor was a right evil bastard, so it’s probably just as good that Kirginatharp won and his brother’s life is relegated to the Void.” She said, “But to condense a great history of hope and betrayal down to its core components: As the Script was being laid, and the process of rightful God of Magic succession was being usurped from My Dark God, the presumptive Seconds went to war. Kirginatharp, and his brother, Idyrvamikor.

“It is unknown who struck first, but it happened. The result was Archipelago Nergal, as half of that continent and most of that Underworld was consigned to the waves. Kirginatharp rose as the victor, but Idyrvamikor used the power of his death to cast the Dragon Curse.

“But even discarding the Dragon Curse, Kirginatharp’s victory was not a clean victory.

“This was over 1400 years ago, at the beginning of the Script, when no one was sure how anything was supposed to work. Idyrvamikor planned for the long run, and thus did not create any spells for that fight. Kirginatharp seized reckless power, tripping several failsafes in the Script meant to keep mages weak, and thus his spell costs ballooned. He won, but at the cost of his future advancement. He became a Scion of Willpower, because it was necessary in order to cast the magics he had created.

“For, as I already said: He was no great mage.

“He has never been a great mage. He gets by, with his stranglehold on learning, and his Elites succeeding as little as they do, spreading his power and bringing back treasures to him to further enable more power. It is in this way that his poison spreads in the minds and magics of those who attempt to learn from him.

“Scion of Willpower is purely inferior to Scion of Focus, for all that is necessary for Scion of Focus to truly shine, is that you learn to make your spells better. But they teach harmful techniques in every arcanaeum, which come from Kirginatharp himself, so people must choose Willpower, or else they lack the mana to cast the ‘proper spells’ that they have been taught to cast.” Fallopolis finished with, “And that, is why Scion of Willpower is more popular than Scion of Focus. For the political reasons of a megalomaniac who, if he broke his power and started again, even a little? Well. He would almost instantly be ousted by the hundreds of other dragons waiting to kill him and take his place as Second to Rozeta.”

It was too fantastical to be real. Erick said, “A conspiracy that large is too large to succeed.”

“And now the topic moves on to Draconic Society, the Mind Mage Cabal, and the Forgotten Campaigns of Veird.”

Erick frowned. He didn’t know anything about ‘Draconic Society’, and this was the first time he had heard those words with such emphasis, but he had already heard of ‘Forgotten Campaigns’, way back when he stood in front of gods and they argued over Particle Magic. It was only now, that he combined the idea of a Forgotten Campaign with the fact that the gods could not directly exercise their power upon Veird, and he realized that they would need intermediaries. He said, “I can already guess at all that, so there’s no need to elaborate.”

“Oh?” She smiled at him. “What’s your guess at ‘all that’, then?”

“Large-scale [Mind Wipe]s, or whatever the spell is called. They probably keep the dragons hidden, too, for obviously the Mind Mages would know who the dragons were.” Erick added, “Likely selectively deleting various memories.”

“Ah! Then you do know.” Fallopolis asked, “But did you know about the killings?”

The realities of Veird and magic were trying, sometimes, and this was no exception. Erick reluctantly said, “No, but I can guess.”

“No need to guess!” Fallopolis said, “Let me tell you of the hidden purges of both memory and physicality, all across the globe, led by the wrought. For while the dragons are a part of it, they stay out of it all for if they meet, then they kill each other.

“But the wrought! They have no such troubles. When a Forgotten Campaign is called, they spill out from their geodes in the Underworld, filling the world, culling everything that the Relevant Entities mark as a problem. And I’ve lived through one.” She looked forward, and almost spoke again, but she stopped. She paused in thought, and then she said, “I do not want to speak of this, but I will force some of the past to the surface.” With a dismissive hand, she declared, “My memory is spotty because of what they managed to do to me before I got away. All I know is that they attacked, I defended, I found salvation in Darkness, and I am still looking for answers as to why the gods decided to erase my Wizard mother from the world, and then sundered her soul.”

A wind blew. A monster died somewhere out of sight, down below, attacked by something else unable to be seen from where Erick and Fallopolis walked the crimson, purple sky.

The conversation had turned heavy.

Too weighty. Erick was too close to seeing Fallopolis as a person. It was much easier to see her as a monster.

Erick wasn’t naive, though he had certainly been called that now and again. He knew that people could be monsters, and that worse crimes had been committed by sapients, simply because they were in full control of their own actions, and they chose to do evil. He knew some people were better off dead. Unrepentant murderers. Rapists. Slavers. And in his darker moments, others made the list. Certain CEOs, politicians, bankers, pharmaceutical producers that gouged the public with insulin prices, polluters…

The unrepentant? The purposefully harmful? Those who didn’t want to be better? Those who reveled in their power and loved to harm?

Well they were better off dead.

And Erick hated himself for that dark, reductive thought. He hated that Fallopolis was likely using this aspect of him to ingratiate herself, to prove that not all Shades were as evil as they appeared to be. That she was one of the ‘good Shades’...

Erick changed the subject, “What are your favorite parts of Kendrithyst?”

She smiled wide, then said, “There’s the Planetarium. That’s where I killed the Astronomer. Then there’s Abyssal Lake. I’ve killed a hundred False-Shades down there. Then there’s the Crack, of course. I keep that place open and active and under my power, to let me try to dissuade untested adventurers from joining the dead of this grand city.” After a moment of thinking, she said, “The Spire is pretty to look at, but not much more than that. I only appreciate it because I’ve prosecuted more than three hundred and seventeen convictions against False-Shades, and then carried out those convictions to the satisfaction of all involved.”

She was definitely ingratiating herself to him.

Erick asked, “Which Shades need to die?”

“All of them.” Fallopolis swung her arm wide, across the lights and shadows of the city, declaring, “Every single Shade needs to die. They’re all monsters. But Melemizargo wouldn’t approve. So until the day that I’m allowed total power and personal appointment of every Shade, when I wouldn’t need all the rest of these self-indulgent Shades to avoid death at the hands of the Geodes and the misguided idiots who call themselves our ‘gods’, then I will have to suffer living with these monsters.”

Erick had no idea how to respond to that.

So he didn’t.

- - - -

Erick heard something in the air besides the breeze rushing through the crystal city, or a monster dying somewhere down below. It was a pounding sort of sound. Distant, but not too distant. Water, perhaps?

… It might be a lot of smaller monsters.

“Is that the North River?”

Fallopolis said, “Yes. We’re getting close.”

Erick stopped, then looked left, to the south, saying, “Time to turn south, then.”

They were too close to the river. Killzone had warned Erick about that. ‘Don’t go to any river’ he had said. They were all occupied by Shades. ‘Soon as you hear water, run the other way.’

Fallopolis smirked, then stopped walking. A brightness filled her darkness, as though she were the figurehead for another, or she had been hiding who she was this entire time.

… Shit.

Fallopolis fully turned to Erick, and her eyes became radiance incarnate, while her skin turned black as the void. Erick’s heart beat hard. He expected a breakdown in civility sooner or later, but nothing had happened! She just turned on all her power, and faced him! What the fuck?

Erick immediately activated [Lodestar], and assumed his [Greater Lightwalk] lightform self.

The air around him became an orb of inviolable light, tainted with ruby-red, violet edges, as his own body turned to insubstantial glows. He was theoretically safe from almost everything inside his [Lodestar], but he wouldn’t know until his power was truly tested.

Fallopolis laughed like a greedy dragon as she regarded Erick’s light-orb self. She called out, “It’s too late to run, and besides, aren’t you here to make the world a better place? I’m not your enemy, but one of them is coming, fast enough. He was outside, watching the sky, and now he is here.” She adopted a dangerous pose, one leg behind the other and with her staff floating just beyond her open grip. She pronounced, “Prepare to greet Dorofiend, the Shade of Dead Waters, seldom seen and utterly insane. No one has ever managed to kill him. May you fight well and cleanse the North River of his undead taint. Watch out for that second form!”

Her words finished, Fallopolis faded; a ghostly image of a dark Shade, half-shadows, half-mist, disintegrating on the wind. Erick’s relief was tiny; If the attack wasn’t coming from her, then that was fine. Erick steeled himself, and waited for the hammer to drop. His heart no longer beat, for it was gone, turned to light, just like his eyes. But he still lived, and he still saw the world around him. With a thought, Ophiels flitted around, spreading out—

A piercing, human leg kicked through an Ophiel, turning the [Familiar] into broken bits of white glows, leaving behind a human-sized foot that had broken off in the exchange. A second leg, ten meters from the first, attempted to strike Erick’s bag. The bag, and its surrounding [Prismatic Ward], went flying away, clipping through Erick’s lightform body as it flew. That was fine; the Ophiel guarding it remained intact since he was no more than light at that moment, too. Erick had that one turn to a [Lodestar] as well and stay out of the fight. He could likely secure food and water from other sources for the next 10 days if he needed, but he would rather not.

Oh. He had turned on [Hunter’s Instincts]. 20 seconds must have passed. That’s why his thoughts were more fluid, and why he bothered to give a wonder toward his food-bag.

But there was a fight going on. So Erick refocused.

An Ophiel grabbed the next leg with a hundred telekinetic hands as the fleshy body-part attempted to kick through the [Familiar]’s feathered core. Erick got his first real look at the offender, in that moment, before the red-skin-colored limb yanked away, turning [Invisible] again—

How was it turning [Invisible]? This was a good question. Erick’s sight was already adjusted for multiple wavelengths, so it must be a non-standard sort of stealth magics. Erick widened his perceptions, looking for oddities. With his full-view of the sky, he saw it. There was an odd blind-spot covering a good 50 meter space, between two crystal towers. With a quick decision, he had two Ophiel also turn on [Hunter’s Instincts], while another two summoned [Shooting Star]s.

Erick’s giggling balls of light disappeared into the blank space, as three more limbs appeared, whipping out with all the force of a high level warrior, almost too fast to see. But Erick saw. The attacks came from two dragonkin-taloned hands, and one cloven-hoof foot. The limbs beyond those appendages were thirty meters long, perhaps. The hands and feet parts were tiny. The arms and legs were long.

The [Strike]s, for that’s what they had to be, struck at Erick, but hit the light-saturated edge of his [Lodestar] like icicles jammed into concrete; completely ineffective, and more successful at breaking themselves than the target. Bones broke. Blood sprayed.

A howl reached Erick’s ears, but cut off, like someone pressing a mute button.

The northern sky flickered, briefly. But it was enough. In that moment, Erick saw that his [Shooting Star]s were lazing around a floating thing, unsure where to go. The thing in the air, the Shade, was a collection of humanoid body parts. A monster made of meat, with face made of bodies, with hollow eye sockets, lips made of flayed flesh, and teeth made of a hundred hands and feet circling a hole into darkness, where a tongue made of a thousand tongues lapped at the air. Its ears were made of curled arms and legs. Its neck was composed of torsos, leading to a millipede body made of whatever was left from the sculpting of a human-shaped visage, five meters across.

Upon the forehead of that visage was a person. The only one looking out from the ‘face’. Their arms were the eyebrows of the body, and their eyes were brightest white, staring at Erick, with a tiny, normal-sized mouth, open in a temporary scream.

Briefly, a stench filled the air. Rot and sewage. If Erick had been in his body, he might have puked. As he was currently made of light, the scent of that brief moment was little more than confirmation of the horror before him.

And then a second passed, and the Shade returned to invisibility, taking every sign of its existence with it, save for the body parts already separated from the whole. Those broken hands and otherwise, fell to the depths below.

Erick flexed his lightform self, aiming a self-made [Force Bolt] at the place where the Shade might have been. His sphere of light snapped, like a crack of lightning shouting to the heavens. A Bolt of brilliance, easily a foot across, raced forward.

It bounced. The Bolt sailed off into the sky, arcing into the distance.

Three more arms snaked out from invisible space, wreathed in black clouds, [Strike]ing Erick’s defensive sphere of [Lodestar] and [Greater Lightwalk] with few results except for arms breaking off at the elbow, five meters past the hands. The invisible Shade roared in agony again, briefly appearing, as it zipped around Erick, launching from one tower in the north, aiming for a tower to the south, to attack from a different direction.

An Ophiel cast, fully expending itself.

Molecular wires shredded through every part of the nearby sky; a frozen hurricane of severance. Arms carved from bodies. Legs flayed from torsos. The screams of a hundred throats wailed into the dark and the light, as the Shade stood revealed, suspended on a turbulence of hardened air. He struggled. He only managed to force himself deeper into the bloody net, every movement carving his grotesque body into more pieces. A wire broke occasionally, but there were over seven thousand of them up there, twisted into a frozen maelstrom of cutting.

Dorofiend struggled. He turned to shado—

Erick opened an Ophiel up, and inundated the sky and the ground with light, from way down below, to way up above. A [Domain of Light] came into being, a sphere kilometers wide, wrapping the Shade in brilliance, denying all shadow, imposing Erick’s will upon the world, as a lightform Ophiel flexed forward, practically blipping as he moved so fast, yet not cutting himself upon any of the remaining wires. He did set them alight, though, like thin christmas lights.

And then the Ophiel turned on another aura. Lightning coalesced, like a halo, around the space where Dorofiend lay dying.

Erick instantly knew he messed up, for the Shade had already reflected his magic before, but something had changed, and Erick saw he made the right call, if only on accident. The halo of lightning did not reflect. It became something stronger. A splendor. A mandala. A million perfectly flowing beams of light that touched upon the suspended gore for a kilometer around, ripping apart every single piece from the inside out, Chaining from the flesh of one dead and soul-mutilated adventurer, to another, to Dorofiend himself.

Erick let [Fulmination Aura] run for ten seconds.

This was longer than necessary. He had received the blue box for Dorofiend’s death after only three seconds of coruscating lightning.

Special Quest Complete!

Dorofiend, True Shade of Melemizargo, has been killed!

100% participation, FULL EXPERIENCE

+ 67,989,163,763,861,200,000 exp

Erick took a minute to read the box. He took a good five minutes to attempt to relax.

And then he looked to the box again. It was different than all the rest he had ever gotten. It was different than the one Jane had gotten when she killed her own Shade, all those months ago. Dorofiend must have been something more special, then? Perhaps.

Whatever the case, Erick was level 85 now, so that was something. He had 29 points. That was too many, but he would need to keep 10 in his pocket, just in case he had to complete the [Gate] quest and get out of Ar’Kendrithyst in a hurry… But maybe that would be blocked, anyway. [Gate] was Spatial Magic, after all. No. Erick couldn’t get out of this Feast with a portal. He would only be allowed to leave if he killed every single Shade in the city, or if they let him leave. It wouldn’t be so bad to kill them all, though. Maybe he should start right now. [Domain of Light] proved to be a good Shade-killer. Erick smiled to himself. Maybe the rest of Anhelia’s spells would work well inside this space, too. And like Fallopolis said, they all deserved to die. So why not tonight?

This was why he came here, right?

… He was still running [Hunter’s Instincts].

Reluctantly, he turned the skill off.

Time seemed to speed up, or rather, return to the normal. Erick sighed. He put five points into Willpower and five into Focus. And then he had a look around. He would have gasped, if he had lungs.

A divot of light carved out a piece of the planar illusions overhead, but that wasn’t anything special.

It was the city itself which had changed into something else. The nearby towers were crimson and purple, with no shadows at all. For kilometers in every direction, Erick only had to look, and he saw Ar’Kendrithyst as it might have been, before the shadows came. Towers made of light. Crisscrossing skyroads. Tiny garden areas, where plants could grow, and benches for people to sit upon, and see the world around them. Tiny shopping places. Grocers, perhaps. Mirrors and hairbrushes. Fountains that contained no water, but would have been beautiful if they had.

The shadows of Ar’Kendrithyst, of Dead Kendrithyst, had hidden more than he had thought possible.

With them gone, there were houses in the stone. Plumbing. Kitchens. Bedrooms and beds that were obviously beds, but they were also like bathtubs; large basins. Wrought were liquid metal after all. He had never seen Silverite or any others sleeping, but he could easily imagine them sleeping in a bathtub-like space. It wasn’t a bathtub, though, because those were by the already-seen plumbing.

Doors with names carved over the sills. Windows to let in the breezes. Other, stranger rooms, with areas and items unknowable—

Something pressed in from the south.

Erick had no idea how he had known that something was ‘pressing in’ on his [Domain of Light], but it was.

The light cracked. A spiderweb of darkness flashed across the southern hemisphere. And then the [Domain of Light] flexed, separating light into pieces, and keeping them separate; an impossible action, according to the Script. How could this inviolable space be breaking! Who could do this! How was this possible!

Like a dream fading, Light broke, and Shadow pushed away the pieces. The open households all around him turned into shadow-filled crystal, once again. Tiny courtyards became dark corners, where even more darkness bred, and spread.

Almost all of the molecular lines of [Hermetic Shredder] cracked; breaking. Only a few remained; a hundred, at most. Erick left them there. Maybe whatever was coming would kill itself on them. It was a foolish hope, but it would be nice to see.

Erick felt a pressure crush against his own, still-active [Lodestar], but otherwise do nothing. The pressure came again, but this time as a tap-tap-tapping, like a child tapping on the glass of a fish tank, testing to see if Erick would respond. He did not, save to mimic a sigh.

“You survived!” Fallopolis appeared in the breaking light, not ten meters away, like a blot of indelible ink that could not help but stain everything it touched. As Erick’s [Domain of Light] broke, completely, she said, “You thrived. I knew you could do it.” With a wave of her hand, molecular wires snapped, a dozen at a time. “Nasty trick you have there.” She switched to using her crystal staff and cleared wires like an old grandma clearing cobwebs, until none were left. “I can barely see them.” She mocked waving her staff through the air three more times, though she clearly knew she had gotten them all.

Erick frowned. “Nice [Dispel]. I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Besides the fact that the Script doesn’t tell you the whole truth; that weren’t no [Dispel].” Fallopolis smiled wide. “I tried my best [Dispel], and that didn’t work. So it was time to test my Domain against yours; that did work. I do admit I had to draw upon my God to break through your spell, though, and that’s good news all around. Shows just how far you’ve come, but also how far you’ve yet to go if you want to kill every Shade.” She asked, “So! Who do you want to kill next? Did Killzone give you a list? Or would you like some advice from me? I really would like to kill the Witch if at all possible. You’re very capable of doing it. Besides, wouldn’t you like to get revenge for your Teressa woman?”

Erick reorganized his Ophiel, conjuring another to fill in the gaps left by Dorofiend. He’d have to wait twenty seconds to summon another, but if Fallopolis was back to talking, that was fine. He said, “I won’t purposefully go after any Shades tonight, Fallopolis. But I also won’t back down from a fight.”

“Oh! Perfect! Let’s head to the Jungle, next. We’ll have to descend to the Middle Layer, but that’s okay, isn’t it? Or…” She gestured to the west. “There’s the captives at Dorofiend’s Mire. Want to go set them free, or end their suffering?”

“… Let’s loot the Mire.”

She smirked, her eyes crinkling in the corners as her entire self seemed to flush with delight.

“Also,” Erick asked, “I was informed that casual violence was not permitted.” With the least amount of displeasure that he could manage, he asked, “So what the fuck was that? With Dorofiend?”

“That—” came a voice from the side.

Erick turned.

An incani man with tiny black horns and deep black leathers stood upon the shadows in the air, leaning against a kendrithyst tower, smirking. Erick knew his blood would have been boiling, if he was still wearing his fleshy self. As it was, he almost reached out with a lightform scythe and reaped Bulgan’s head.

Bulgan continued, “—was just Dorofiend finally getting what he deserved. Man was too soul-scoured to live. Besides. He attacked you first.”

Erick spoke, “I challenge you to a duel, Bulgan.”

“I decline!”

Erick blanked.

Bulgan laughed. “What? Did you think to challenge a god just by asking. Did you think it was going to be that easy? Fuck you, piggy.”

Erick almost went apoplectic in anger, but another Shade appeared on a brilliant white spider, directly behind Erick. She had ‘phased-in’, or something. It wasn’t a dark blip of [Greater Shadowalk]’s pseudo-[Teleport] option. It wasn’t [Greater Lightwalk]’s blipping feature, either. At least Fallopolis had the decency to walk to him, but now that he had seen Tania do whatever she had done to just appear, he realized that Bulgan had done the same thing. They had both just appeared, using some unknownmagicalFUCKERY.

Just like they had done to destroy his undispellable [Domain of Light]!

ARGHH!

He did not need to turn. He could see Tania Webwalker and her ten-meter wide, white shadow spider, just fine. So he did not. He would not give her the satisfaction of seeing his face.

“Stop taunting the Fire of the Age, dear,” Tania said to Bulgan, adding, “But do ensure that he doesn’t break anyone who doesn’t deserve to be broken. He’s our guest of honor.” Her voice turned harder, as she directed her gaze toward Fallopolis. “You’re treading a thin line. Don’t cut yourself on it like Dorofiend managed to.”

Fallopolis bowed to Tania, saying, “Of course, Headpriestess Tania.”

Bulgan vanished first, like the piece of shit he was, running away into invisible power before Erick could nail him to the sky for his transgressions against all the good in the world.

Erick caught Tania, though, by whipping around to face her, asking, “Why are you blipping around? I thought this was a religious thing? Walking to the Feast.”

Tania smiled, as she said, “We did walk here.” Her voice took on an edge, but Erick did not feel it was wholly directed at him, as she said, “Take care what shadows you tread. Fallopolis would use you until you perish, and feel nothing for the loss, but you are not nearly good enough to take on all what she would have you do. Leave the Witch alone.”

She vanished without another word.

And Erick centered himself with some deep thoughts.

Shades could die, easy enough. The Script enabled this, and even encouraged it. But Erick wasn’t strong enough to kill them all, and especially not strong enough to challenge the stronger ones. He had been lucky to speak up about their heading toward the Swamp when he had. The Witch was certainly out of his power, and guarded by others, for some reason. Erick didn’t think Shades did that for other Shades.

Anyway.

Fallopolis was similarly out of his league. Tania and Bulgan, too.

He had no idea why he chose to challenge Bulgan right then, but thank the gods he was still in his lightform self, and all his normal biological nuances simply weren’t there; he probably would have either pissed himself, or given over to his suicidal rage. It was an even chance for either. Whatever would have happened, he likely would have been crying in rage the whole time, or possibly broken the second he flinched in a way that would have indicated an attack.

As it was, he was still floating there, in his lightform, in his [Lodestar], appearing to be the peak of propriety and composure.

Fallopolis, however, was grinning like a child with a new toy.

Erick said, “I wish to get to the Feast, but a few detours are fine. Would you mind leading the way to the people trapped by Dorofiend?”

“Are you going to continue to wear that spell?”

“Are you going to warn me of every upcoming Shade or deadly trap?”

“I have no idea who will be coming our way. Or how. Especially now that you’ve killed one of us.” She added, “But I successfully warned you this time, didn’t I? And you succeeded! Joy all around!” She teased, “So how about a little bit of trust?”

“I’d love to, but how can I?”

“Simple! You retract your spells. I retract mine.”

After a moment of deliberation, where he considered betrayal and other dark thoughts, Erick chose, perhaps stupidly, to trust. Not in Fallopolis, of course, but in the fact that she had a history of pointing people at Shades, hoping to cause the downfall of her own kind. Personally, Erick thought that she was just strengthening her own position by doing this, for whatever reason. Killzone had his own theories, though he shared none of his personal ones. Perhaps, Fallopolis was a ‘culler of the flock’, or whatever the Priests of Melemizargo called her official position. The Shades certainly seemed like they would have an assassin or diplomat position, purely for killing their own people in an attempt to strengthen the whole.

With Dorofiend’s death, they could put someone saner in charge of the North River Tower. Erick’s murder of the Shade of Dead Waters certainly seemed like the clearing of dead weight…

Possibly.

But anyway…

Erick finally pulled his [Lodestar] aura to skin-tight, since that was something he could easily do, then he turned his [Greater Lightwalk] into something smaller, returning to his flesh and bone body. He stood upon the crimson light all around him, feeling a bit more secure since he was wearing his [Lodestar] like a skinsuit. He said, “I obviously can’t trust you, but I can work with you, since that seems to be what you desire.”

Fallopolis smiled. “It is.”

Then she, too retracted her own shadows.

Erick hadn’t noticed her shadows until she pulled them back. As hovering imprints of half-darkness faded inward, her body seemed to flicker, as she, too, resumed her mortal coil; skin turning from grey, to pink; reflecting the actual light of the crimson towers all around, instead of being a shadow.

And then Erick’s skin rippled. Every hair that could possibly stand up, stood.

Fallopolis’s voice took on a cadence, “Wrapped in Domains, gathered in tight, the two of us might make quite a sight—”

Erick countered, "Your pressure is gone, a working undone. Wouldn’t you like to see another sun?”

“I quite would my dear, my darling lil Fire; But I’d settle for turning this city to pyre.”

“Not on this night. I will not entrust, my life or my plight, because you disgust.”

“We’ve got—”

“We’ve not.”

Words built. Domains flickered. Shadows reached for Light, and Light denied their entry. Erick countered her words with his own; half-thought out, but full of intent. Conviction, utter and pure, closed out the altercation.

Fallopolis gasped for breath, once, twice, almost sinking in the air, but she gathered herself fast enough. She settled. Erick had no such problems. He just watched her play out her drama, or whatever it was she was doing, after she failed to do whatever it was she tried to do.

Like. Obviously it was a curse and Erick managed a counter-curse. Or at least that’s what it felt like. But Erick had no idea where that idea came from, nor how he managed to deny Fallopolis's working. He spoke with his own voice, but also something deeper.

With a small, serious voice, Erick asked, “What did you try to do to me?”

She smirked. Blood trickled from her lips. “A Blessing, actually.”

“Don’t try that again.”

Fallopolis stood up straighter. “I will not.” She added, “Not without your permission.”

Moments passed.

Erick offered a metaphorical olive branch. “Would you care for a [Cleanse]?”

“I would.”

Erick obliged.

A breeze of thick air flowed away from Fallopolis.