Chapter 525: The Whims of Fate

Chapter 525: The Whims of Fate ‘No.’

I processed a dozen responses to Fate’s simple statement.

Then a dozen likely answers to each response. And my counter to each of

Fate’s answers.

All leading to a single, inevitable conclusion: Fate had no empathy. No sense of honor. No responsibility other than to the natural order. No emotional lynchpin to which I could appeal.

The weight of my own expectations, established in the extended moments as

I fought for release from the final keystone, crushed down on my shoulders. I had fully accepted that Fate would simply uphold its end of the bargain, like a plant growing when watered and provided sunshine. I had badly miscalculated.

But what backup plan could there have been? If Fate won’t withhold the full force of the aetheric realm, then everything is lost.

The shared tension of Sylvie, Regis, Tessia, and Ji-ae’s interconnected consciousnesses, all present in the conversation alongside me, was like a vibrating steam piston about to rip its casing apart. ‘Arthur, the Relictombs.’

Sylvie’s voice sounded the alarm in my head, and I realized I had almost lost track of the zone currently spooling out of the Relictombs in a kaleidoscope of soil, golden grass, atmospheric aether, shattered time, and rainbow light. A feline beast with noxious green, leathery hide imploded, splashing the distant ground with red as I failed to concentrate. Two ascenders screamed as they fell through the chaotic tumble, but I caught them in a reforming pool of plum-colored liquid before they, too, could be dashed against the roots of the mountain.

Focus.

Epheotus and the Relictombs were priority. If I couldn’t convince Fate, I would move on to the next option. And if that failed, then the next. Fate was the mouth of aether, but it wasn’t aether itself. Despite its namesake, it didn’t control everything that happened. And I wasn’t without my own influence. If I could hold back the pressure of the aetheric realm long enough to complete this vision, then the path of least resistance for Fate would be to continue with my plan.

Because that, in the end, was what Fate was doing: taking the easiest, most straightforward path. ‘The pressure is coming in waves now.’ A sequence of calculations came with

Ji-ae’s thoughts.

I didn’t immediately understand the math, but along with the calculations came understanding, slower to unfold in my mind.

Based on this displacement, if I can push back at just the right moments, we can keep the surface between the physical realm and the aetheric void from rupturing, I thought back, suddenly hopeful. Maybe the fact that the opposing force from the aetheric river is now coming in waves instead of constantly escalating means this pattern will hold.

I turned away from Fate. Pleading would only waste the energy I needed for the rest of my task.

Below me, a now four-hundred-foot tall Relictombs portal spat out zone after zone based on a complex interweaving of connected space and the djinn’s rules about navigating ascenders to power-appropriate zones. Through an even more complex weaving of spatial manipulation, Aroa’s Requiem, God

Step, and Destruction, these zones were maneuvered and fit together like jigsaw pieces that both ascended upwards into the sky and burrowed deep down into the bones of the mountains.

Above, Epheotus was passing rapidly over the threshold into real space, where it reformed into three ribbons of ground that rested on condensed aether, keeping them from crashing down on Alacrya and Dicathen.

Time moved around me in a constant dance of pause and step, pause and step. Sylvie’s eyes were clenched shut, her face pale and sweaty. She’d drifted a few feet away and lost ten feet in altitude as her focus locked entirely into the task of withholding the passage of time.

Tessia was worse off. A single thread of my spiderwebbed consciousness kept up a constant connection with her. Myre’s will warmed my core, a distant sensation, and through it I fed Tessia healing aether, offsetting the continuous damage being done to her system.

Regis had faded into the background of my thoughts, one of many threads of consciousness. His entire focus remained on the Destruction godrune, pouring the violet flames out into shifting space, without which everything else would fail. ‘The next wave is approaching,’ Ji-ae informed me, though her calculations were also running through my own head.

Keeping count along with my breaths, I drew in as much aether as I could manage, holding it within my diminished core, my tortured body, and even the relic armor. Then, just as the wave of increased pressure from inside the aetheric realm struck, I slammed all the aether I could into the cracks between the two realms, countering it.

The portal brightened, becoming an oily, shining purple sun that threatened to consume the mountains, and the three rings of Epheotus trembled as reality itself threatened to come undone at the seams.

If Ji-ae’s calculations were accurate, I only had nineteen seconds until the next wave. Doing some quick calculations of my own, I tasted bile in the back of my throat. Ten waves just to complete the first ring. Forty-three waves to the completion of the entire structure. ‘You need more aether,’ the voices in my head agreed, although it was difficult to tell if it was Tessia, Ji-ae, Sylvie, Regis, or some combination of all of them. “I’m not ready to give up yet,” I thought, trying to peel away a quadrant of my webbed thoughts toward the problem.

The web stretched and stretched until it was on the edge of tearing apart.

King’s Gambit burned on my back and inside the gray matter of my brain, and the crown on my brow cast god rays down through my vision. Aether flooded through an entirely new network of sensory neurons, activated and empowered by the godrune. But there were no free threads to take up the problem. I was at the edge of King’s Gambit’s abilities. I couldn’t stretch it any farther.

The aether. My insight into the godrune—or the aspect of aether that it represented—had already expanded significantly in these few moments.

Aether is…consciousness manifest as pure reality. The beginning and end of space, time, and life. The spark of thought contained within the semi-aware consciousness. And so King’s Gambit is…what?

I saw not only the threads themselves, each its own unique and individual thought, but also the space between the threads. And in doing so, I saw that, really, there were no branches, or threads, or even the spiderweb construct.

These were just metaphors for the altered nature of my thoughts, as each idea was far more complex than a simple branch or thread. They were each their own aetheric consciousnesses, each a complex multi-dimensional structure in which to house the unfolding of simultaneous considerations.

I had to look at it from a different perspective.

And so…

King’s Gambit unfolded again. Threads weaving into a spiderweb, the web unfolding into a galaxy of consciousness. A sort of tessellation.

My mind expanded into uncountable, unquantifiable interlocked planes in which to house every possible conscious idea I was capable of manifesting.

This was it. The truth behind understanding.

And in it, I saw…my own limitations.

I passed through the first phase of Myre’s will into a second, forging a vivum tether between me, Tessia, Sylvie, and Regis, binding us together with visible waves of amethyst-stained white light.

I wrapped my core in aether and effortlessly shattered its second layer, but I didn’t allow the captured aether to escape. I pushed it through the tether, embodying my companions with healing and strength as I folded them each into my tessellated consciousness, their thoughts fitting in perfectly with the countless individual ideas and thoughts making up my mental structure. ‘Hey, whoa, not sure I like this. It feels like I’m being digested.’ ‘It feels like we’re all…one person.’ ‘We are, in a way, I think. Five beings, a single consciousness. How are you doing this, Arthur?’ ‘You even need to ask? His thoughts are our thoughts, his mind our mind. King’s

Gambit, the withdrawal of self in favor of absolute reason. I’m pretty freaking attached to my self though, you know?’ ‘It’s okay. My mind is your mind too now, see? You can make room for both. Be yourself, but be part of this…shared being, too. I can show you how. Or…I don’t have to. It’s already there.’ ‘Is this how you’ve always felt with Arthur, Regis?’ ‘Not really. This is more…fluid. And crowded.’ ‘What we are experiencing is the confluence of consciousness. It is a similar, though far more specific and bounded, technique that allowed the djinn to house a consciousness beyond the shell of its physical form.’

Aether wrapped us in a bubble of space and time, and we shot up into the sky together. A gusting wind was ripping through the rift with a low, hurricane roar wrapped in an aurora of mana and aether.

Epheotus was nearly all through, and the original strip of land was approaching from the west. Spatium and Destruction cut the first strip away from the others, and Aroa’s Requiem knit closed the edges of the wound.

The oncoming edge of land hit the newly severed end with a noise like a collapsing mountainside, and the aetheric bridge on which the now-complete ring rested shook violently. Space wove together, and aether worked the mana like bread dough to seal the ring.

We paused—inasmuch as such a thing was necessary with King’s Gambit active—and collected aether before slamming it back into the wound and down into the portal to fend off the next wave. With each wave, the aether under our control diminished, and the current of unusable aether flowing into our world increased. Then, our focus returned to Epheotus and the

Relictombs.

The leading edge of the second ring was approaching in the distance, and the spire was climbing higher and higher beneath me. Our timing needed to be exact. ‘Thirty-two more waves before the completion of all three rings and the Spire.’ ‘Am I the only one who can’t tell where we end and everything else begins?

Having my mind stretched out through all the aetheric pathways like this is a level of awareness I’ve never wanted to have. I just watched an old man take a dump in the woods beside his cratered house.’ ‘Reel in your awareness. Focus on Destruction. Ease the weight off Arthur.’ ‘Yes, we need to lighten the load where we can. Ji-ae, you said Arthur needs more aether. We need to release some of the pressure, like we did in that last zone. But the same technique won’t work here, will it? Our position inside the

Relictombs was isolated, with direct access to the mana. From here, the mana working to manipulate and stir up the river can’t just be subdued.’

Our aetheric bubble flew over the edge of Epheotus’s first ring, then we were f lashing at speed across the landscape. Rolling hills, rivers, small villages, and a forest of ragged trees gave way to plains as we reached the center of the ring, and the large town that had been placed there.

Directly above the still-growing Relictombs, the dragon village of Everburn looked as if a tornado had blown through. We were already in the center of the village before the dragons even noticed our approach. Mana and aether flared, shields were raised, weapons drawn. Cries rang out throughout the village. A half dozen transformed dragons whirled in the sky. “Be at ease,” a firm voice sounded throughout the village as a silver-eyed, pink-haired dragon stepped into the central courtyard. She walked quickly but surely toward me, then floated up into the air to be on our level, stopping just outside the barrier containing us. Dozens of others watched from around the village. “Highlord Arthur. Is it over?” She gestured to the sky, blue stained with the vibrant aetheric aurora where the second ring didn’t occlude it. “We seem to have…left our plane behind.” “Very nearly,” we said perfunctorily. “But we need something from you.”

She peered at us nervously, shifting so that the small, pearlescent scales beneath her eyes glinted. “The transition has been difficult for our village, as you can see. I don’t know how much we have to give.”

We paused to push back against the next wave from the aetheric river. As it surged, we watched the fountain, which marked the hole from which aetheric f lames continuously leaked. The fountain from which the village took its name, everburning.

It blazed, shooting up a beam of violet flame like a geyser, but the fountain held and the rift didn’t widen. As we’d hoped, the aetheric river wasn’t putting enough pressure on this remote tear to be dangerous, but the small rift itself was still intact. “We only need this.”

The line of her focus followed ours, and her brows cut into a deep frown. “Our…fountain?” “Exactly.” We raised a hand, and the bright purple motes of Aroa’s Requiem swirled along our arm and out into the air, blowing like pollen all throughout the village. They spilled over buildings with fallen roofs and leaning walls, sealing cracks, lifting collapsed structures, and rebuilding everything they touched. “Thank you.”

Preah of Clan Intharah gaped at me, mouth open, and then was suddenly being carried away as Epheotus began to spin, carrying the village with it. The spatium bubble held us firmly in place, and we in turn held onto the fountain as the ground rippled around it like a boulder in the sea. This ring of Epheotus kept rotating until we were floating over a patch of barren land: the same desert where Wren Kain had trained us so long ago.

The ring stopped moving. The Everburn Fountain looked out of place in the expanse of ravines and stone rubble. A pulse of aether blasted the fountain’s structure apart, breaking the circle of runes that helped to keep the small rift stable and give it structure. As aether poured through, we drew it in, then let out a breath of pure physical relief as our aether core was quickly filled—too quickly, and holding too little.

Much of our purified aether was still out there, its form held in a constant shape by my godrunes, reworking Epheotus and the Relictombs—which, despite our distance, we were still actively forming. The effort of focus was now barely noticeable due to the expansion of our consciousness. But a reservoir was still needed to react and engage in the effort of pushing back against the waves, and to keep up the tether between each of us.

We were in a perfect rhythm now. No words, simply an exchange of intent and information. Five minds working as one. New calculations were weaving into our understanding from Ji-ae constantly, while Sylvie’s strategic slowing of time happened as naturally as our own breaths. Destruction, through Regis, interlaced through our godrunes in a necessarily perfect harmony, while Tess not only acted as the conduit through which Ji-ae worked, but also a guide and shield for Sylvie and Regis. Tessia’s unique insight into sharing a mind allowed her to keep the others grounded within the depths of King’s Gambit, retaining their own motivations and focus.

With God Step, we found the connective point at the heart of the Everburn rift.

Space expanded around it, widening the hole so that it appeared to swallow the rocky desert. Our bubble of space shot back to avoid being pulled in. In seconds, the shattered fountain had become a mile-wide rift. Aether issued from it like a beacon, up through the center of the second ring still forming above us and down to encompass all of the Relictombs Spire.

Once the Spire was complete, the large portal from which it spilled would have to be closed, but the operational aspects of every Relictombs zone would require a direct link to the aether realm. This rift would perform that function for as long as the aetheric realm existed. ‘Incoming wave.’

Hovering in the gloom between the first and second rings, which crossed over one another at exactly this point, I gathered my aether and shoved back against the wave of pressure from the aetheric realm. The newly widened

Everburn rift brightened, trembling as the force of the aetheric river hit it harder now that it was so much larger. ‘The second ring is nearing completion.’

Like the first, the second ring was cut off from the remaining landmass still emerging from the collapsing pocket of space where Epheotus had existed for millennia. The other end approached swiftly across the ocean and Alacrya’s western shore. The two ends met directly above us, and a combination of aether, mana, and godrunes sealed the crack, forming the band of stone, soil, mountains, and forests into a single continuous ring around the world.

The beam of aether continued uninterrupted through the second ring and into the third, which was still forming as the last of Epheotus came through. ‘Sixteen waves remaining.’ ‘The Spire is approaching the bottom of the first ring.’ ‘I call dibs on the penthouse when all this is over. If we survive it.’

Our spatium sphere dipped down into the Everbun rift below us, but we did not travel into the aetheric realm. Space shifted and warped, forming a tunnel, so that we passed through the first ring and came out below it.

The landscape of the Basilisk Fang Mountains had changed dramatically. The base of the Spire, once Taegrin Caelum, had expanded considerably, requiring a nearly four-mile-wide surface to contain the first two zones of the

Relictombs and support the miles-tall Spire that rose out of the mountains.

The rock and stone of the mountains themselves became the required matter necessary to contain the zones, which formed floor after floor of the Spire. It has already climbed nearly the whole eighty miles to the bottommost ring, and had burrowed deep into the crust of the world. The mountain range was now a slowly widening ring around a wide expanse of flat stone as the mountains themselves were swallowed.

The portal from which the Relictombs was still being drawn was now a mile and a half tall and floating in the air above the valley formed by the mountain’s removal. A string of jungle-like vegetation was swirling around the already constructed portion of the Spire toward the surface, where stone grew into walls and the terrain laid itself out, rebuilt under the careful application of spatium and Aroa’s Requiem.

All the painstakingly saved aetheric knowledge of the djinn, rehoused in physical space where it would be forever safe from the slow collapse of the aetheric realm.

Fate was waiting for us.

The silhouette of tightly wound golden threads hovered above the growing spire, surrounded in a halo of bright golden rays that spread out to every corner of our world. My mind was open again, and I could see all the threads: those connecting me to my companions, to the people huddled miles below in the base of the Spire, and out across our world. We were mirrors of each other. And yet, as many of the threads spread off in every direction, it seemed like even more bound the two of us together. “You can’t stop what is coming,” it said, the voice seeming to vibrate from every thread at once. “Like an animal digging deeper into its burrow to escape a flood, you only doom yourself.”

The piece of us that was still me wanted to scoff, but the bitter amusement was buried within the tessellated construct of our collective consciousness. “If events were really set in stone, then you wouldn’t need to convince me to stop. That means what we’re doing is working.” “We can save this world. We’re already so close. All you have to do is nothing.”

We shook our head. “But the fire can’t stop itself from spreading any more than the river can decide to keep to its banks.”

Golden light shimmered across the wound-string shape. “This flood began the moment you entered this world, Arthur Leywin. Grey. It is and has been inevitable. Everything you have done—every choice, every insight—was always going to lead you here.” “You act as if you haven’t already learned this lesson. You’re fallible. You’ve already proved it, and I’ve already shown you what I’m working toward. And now, I’m so close. You fail at your own purpose in safeguarding the natural order by now insisting, falsely, that this is already set, as if it's already happened.”

Something like a laugh echoed from Fate, but it was harsh in its amusement, a sensation of discordance carried in the form of a chuckle.

We looked around us, staring into the fabric of reality, into time and space and life itself. We had already seen this moment. Our own limitations. We knew no words could sway Fate itself. That was where we’d failed before. One could not negotiate with Fate. There was no convincing the rain to stop falling, even though people were dying in the flood.

And yet, Fate was more than just an unfeeling, natural phenomenon. There was, contained within it, a collection of consciousnesses that defined it. If aether could pull away from the dragons because of Indrath’s genocide, then it could influence Fate as well.

But this was not something we could instill into Fate ourselves. In seeing our own limits, we became aware of what had to happen, but the very nature of our relationship with aether ensured we couldn’t manipulate it in the only way that would work. By absorbing and purifying it, we changed its nature and our relationship with it. It wasn’t the growth of our insight and power that established the necessary conditions.

It was the life we had lived.

And the people we had lost.

As if he had been waiting for our call, the spectral apparition of Aldir was beside us, hovering just beyond the spatium sphere. All three of his eyes were open and focused on Fate. He did not turn toward us or acknowledge our presence in any way. He might have been nothing but a shape imagined within chaos, like finding a face in the grain of cut lumber. Except, he drifted forward with purpose, his ghostly purple form passing unchallenged through the tangle of golden threads as he approached Fate.

Fate watched with what we took to be curiosity as the aetheric figure melted into itself. Becoming a part of the whole. Adding a life’s experience to the collective.

A life’s experience. Aldir had bridged the gap between Epheotus and this world.

He had offered both guidance and punishment, taking on the roles of general and assassin. Perhaps no one in Dicathan, Alacrya, or Epheotus had been as true to his purpose—service to Kezess—and yet, no one had been punished more severely for their efforts. Use of the Worldeater Technique—the knowledge of which had been his life’s work—had broken him. And now, the memory of that act is imprinted within Fate.

Everything seemed to fall silent. Even the rush of wind from Epheotus and the grinding of stone from the Relictombs grew hushed and contemplative.

To our other side, another shape took form, a ghost in the aether. Tall, with deep crow’s feet around her eyes, the shade of Cynthia Goodsky drifted forward into Fate.

We considered what we knew of her mysterious life: a spy and agent in service to Alacrya, who saw in Dicathen a kinder and more humane culture.

Like Alaric, she’d been conditioned to the cruelty of Agrona’s regime, but when she saw that there was an alternative to the world she knew, she made a choice to protect, shelter, and teach instead of destroy.

The next figure to appear was the first to regard us. Long hair, blonde in life but pinkish purple now, bobbed in a breeze of its own as Angela Rose gave that warm, princess smile that could turn anyone’s cheeks bright red with a look. Deep under the effects of King’s Gambit, my heart ached.

She winked, then drifted into Fate.

Alduin and Merial Eralith appeared next. They both gazed proudly at Tessia, tears like pink diamonds gleaming in their eyes. A tightly held fist in Tessia’s spirit released, just a bit. “Mom…Dad.”

Together, they drifted into Fate, taking with them the knowledge of their mistakes, but also that passion to protect their daughter that led them to make those mistakes.

Then Adam was there, and Blaine and Priscilla Glayder. Jared Redner,

Doradrea Oreguard, and Theodore Maxwell. Alea Triscan and Olfred Warender.

The young warriors, Cedry and Jona. Lauden Denoir and Caera’s protector,

Taegan, and Sulla Drusus. The young Alacryan Sentry, Baldur Vassere. The even younger Enola Frost, who we hadn’t even realized was lost.

Specter after specter manifested from the aether: everyone whose life we had impacted, and who had affected us. The aether, drawn here by the force of the aetheric river, the presence of Fate, and the call of our bond to them in this time of need, carried a spark of who they’d been as they joined with Fate, one after the next. ‘They’re imparting their humanity to Fate…’ ‘Gifting it the empathy and protectiveness that it lacks.’ ‘Speaking from experience, mixing up a bunch of opposing personalities and giving it consciousness can have unstable results.’

And then…Grandma Rinia was there. She appeared facing us, every ancient line of her face carved in violet lines. Of all the aetheric specters, she felt the most real, the most herself. Maybe because, by the end, she had given so much of herself to peer into the future that she was already a part of the aether, of Fate.

She was the first apparition to speak. “Arthur. Oh, Arthur, you beautiful boy.

You’ve done well. So well. And yet…” She regarded my blood-stained body, and

I felt her sight pass through me to my core, so much of it already sacrificed to channel its power. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I wanted so much to do more for you—to provide a clearer path.” She hung her head, and when she looked up, her eyes were galaxies. “Hold onto each other.”

Then she had drifted backwards into Fate.

A pulse ran along the infinite number of threads that extended out from Fate, and we felt it like a knife in our heart. With our senses still extended out through the entirety of the aetheric pathways, we sensed the pulse hit everyone else, everyone in the entire world. We felt hands clutch chests as lungs sucked desperately for air and eyes filled with tears.

The Relictombs had continued to climb, wrapping around the space taken up by fate and leaving a sort of open balcony carved through the Spire. It had pierced the first ring, following the beam of aether as it grew up around the

Everburn rift.

A hand rested on our shoulder, buzzing with energy. We knew the touch immediately. Its strength flowed through us. The blanket across our emotions wasn’t enough to keep moisture from building in the corner of our eyes. His voice, distant as it echoed forward through time, rang in our ears. “Keeping my family safe is my priority, but I also want my family to live happily.

That’s why we’re doing this. Dicathen may not have been your only home,

Arthur, but it’s the only home that we know, and if that means dying so that

Ellie can live in a better future, then so be it.”

Our heart ached as we remembered his last words to us, all the more so because he’d been right. That version of Arthur Leywin had been terrified of not being strong enough, and he’d failed to understand that he wasn’t the only one who wanted to protect his family, nor who deserved the chance to do so.

The death of Reynolds Leywin hadn’t proved us right; it had shown us just how wrong we were. ‘And that is what Fate can’t understand. Right and wrong are all muddled up with just a handful of minds fighting for influence inside my head. Now imagine a million—a billion!—all fighting. I think it's the truest form of human nature—or djinnity, or elfdome, or whatever.’ ‘You’re right. Which is why Fate needs help to understand how to be a caretaker.

A protector. A…parent.’ ‘Clear voices through the muddle.’

Dad feigned a quick thrust at us, which we parried with an invisible sword. His laughter echoed from every direction as he gave me a quick salute and hopped backwards. Into Fate. “Thanks, Dad.”

We waited, hoping to hear Dad’s voice again, but Fate just hung there, as if suspended from the endless connections to everyone else in the world.

Above, the last of Epheotus entered the sky over Alacrya. The two ends of the third ring fused together. The Relictombs rose through it, piercing and supporting all three rings. On the other side of the world, the Spire did the same, rising out of the Grand Mountains where the Wall had been. The

Everburn Fountain had been reforged by Aroa’s Requiem and housed in the very first chamber of the Relictombs I’d woken in. The constant flow of aether from it fueled the zones as well as the bridge supporting the three rings of

Epheotus, now fixed firmly in place around our world.

I braced for the next wave of aetheric pressure, but it didn’t come.

The threads of Fate shifted around the featureless head, giving it something almost like a smile. “You have succeeded.” A pause. “We are…prepared to be patient. So long as the pressure is released in the end. Remember, the aetheric realm cannot be bound forever. Teach this world, Arthur Leywin. Prepare them. For what comes next.”

Fate faded, though a web of golden threads were left behind, filling the opening in the Spire. The sky above the rings faded from red and purple to blue. The wind eased. The noise of constantly reshaping stone faded.

The spatium sphere dipped down, so we were floating in front of the huge portal. It was fraying at the edges as if coming apart. With God Step, I plucked at the point of connection at the portal’s center. It gave a static crackle and f izzled out like so much smoke. ‘It’s done.’ ‘That’s it? World saved? Relictombs, Epheotus, and all?’ ‘Epheotus’s fall still did a lot of damage, and there are incredibly powerful beasts running amok across both continents.’ ‘Sounds like a great way for the new neighbors to make some good will with

Dicathen and Alacrya. Better send a request for a pantheon extermination squad.’

We settled into the valley that now surrounded the base of the Relictombs

Spire. People were flooding out of it, confused and frightened, their gazes all drawn upward along the Spire, so tall the top couldn’t be seen, and the three rings crossing at its peak, which were just blue shadows from so far away.

There was a chaos of cries for help, pleas to the Vritra, and muddled babbling that lost all meaning.

My gaze, still disembodied and slightly outside of myself, followed theirs.

Unlike the people huddled here, however, my eyes could see outward through every aetheric pathway. I could see both the smooth pathways etched into the bedrock around the Spire’s base and the entire width and breadth of the Spire itself, climbing into the sky from both the Basilisk Fang Mountains and the

Grand Mountains.

I could see the entire world, an orb floating in darkness, now surrounded by three rings of land that contained all that remained of Epheotus. The three rings crossed over one another where the Spire pierced them, each one casting darkness and shadow on the ring below.

I could hear the cheers of asuras in Indrath Castle and Featherwalk Eerie. The cries of dwarves buried deep in Vildorial and humans huddled beneath a phoenix-fire barrier in Xyrus. The quiet prayers of terrified Alacryans in

Cargidan and Rosaere.

But here, as we approached the Spire entrance, all went silent at our approach.

We passed through the crowds of people wordlessly, through the new village that surrounded the expansive base of the Spire. A towering entrance, made from the primary ascension portal that had previously rested in the second level of the Relictombs, gleamed in welcome.

Inside, we found more people, all equally lost and uncertain. The silence that followed us was almost oppressive.

We continued on to the very center of the level, where a certain crystalline housing now rested, drawn up from the lower levels. Surrounded by a courtyard and three spiraling stairs leading both up and down, the last piece of the Relictombs remained in disrepair.

There was no need to explain my intent; Tessia and Ji-ae were a part of us.

Tess squeezed my hand, momentarily completing the spellform design that linked across her skin and mine, then pressed the hand to the crystalline structure. Aroa’s Requiem issued bright motes across first my skin, then hers, then the djinn remnant housing.

The spellforms washed away. The crystal lit and the haloing rings of stone, so similar to the newly formed rings of Epheotus, began to spin. Aetheric connections grew back together, rerouting into the Everburn Fountain chamber high, high above, and empowering Ji-ae. “You can return to your previous purpose,” I said, speaking aloud since our minds were no longer connected. “You’ll find your peers relocated just as our schematics indicated.” “I know, of course,” she answered, a smile in her voice, which emanated from the air. “Now, please, forgive me. I have some serious recalibration to do.”

Chuckling, I turned away, easing loose of God Step, then Realmheart.

Destruction has already faded as Regis suppressed it, his wispy form floating half comatose in my core. Then Aroa’s Requiem faded, and finally, Myre’s will.

The sudden darkening of my connection to Sylvie and Tessia made me feel, for just an instant, desperately lonely.

Together, the three of us strode back the way we had come. People were daring to call out now, some even approaching, asking what was going on, begging us for help. Their words were an echoing chorus in my ears, and I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Sylvie said something, but I didn’t know what, as most of my mind was turned inward to examine itself.

King’s Gambit. It was still active, my mind—now a tessellation of uncountable thoughts—was scattered and incoherent. I couldn’t think because of the noise of my own competing thought processes.

I didn’t know if I could even release it, afraid that I was King’s Gambit, that it had become the greater part of me. What would happen if I stopped channeling it now? “You’re so much more than just this godrune, Arthur,” Sylvie said from beside me. She was focused on the crowd, one hand raised in acknowledgement to a blurred face in the crowd, but she was struggling just as much as me; her f ingers trembled slightly, and her eyes were hooded and ringed with shadow.

I didn’t know how she’d recognized my thoughts, since my mind was shuttered to protect her and Regis.

She looked at me and raised a brow in wry amusement. “Please. As if I need to be able to read your thoughts to know what you’re thinking.”

Tessia grabbed my hand and pulled us to a stop, turning me to face her. She pressed a hand to my chest, above my core, and frowned. “I honestly don’t know how you’re still standing, but even you have limits, Arthur. I already lost you once because you pushed yourself too far. Let it go. While you still can.”

I think it’s too late for that, I thought, though outwardly I was smiling and holding her hand to my chest with my own.

Deep inside me, beneath her touch, cracks ran like bright little bolts of lightning across the surface of my aether core, echoing the shattered mana core beneath.

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