1 One Wizard

08.01.2022

Ravalor did not dream. No wizard did.

When he slept there was only the mind of the five he was. Sometimes they were quiet, sometimes not so much – but they were always there. Each part finding rest in reaching out to the others, sharing their own existence. Processing, compressing and saving their memories, so when one part of him may die, he would be remembered.

A lost part could be rebuilt, as long as any other part was still existing. Seamless continuation from the point of death based on the memories kept safe within the rest of him. At least in theory.

In practice, however, it didn’t seem to be as clear cut as that theory suggested.

There was something missing. Of course, he couldn’t really know that – his scattered memories ended the very moment he had cut himself off from his Wizard, down in that cave, still a Scion to Zenozarax, and still dazed after his first encounter with the Mindcrawler.

But he knew there was more. A lot more that had happened that he just didn’t remember. He had been alive after that for days – the Wizard had felt it clearly enough – and in the moment when his death finally had come – he had almost known.

It was a shadow, an impression of memories that he had almost grasped before they had vanished into the void. And it hadn’t been the first time. The same shadow lingered over the last death of the Soldier in the Battle of Funnix. Other wizards would tell him that it was impossible, but he didn’t believe that.

Something had happened to the Soldier to make him more than he should have been. And his last memories were lost within the realm of his own existence as well.

He had come so close to see them, to truly reach into the void – but then the Stargazer had broken down. And this terrible sense of restless emptiness, taunting him with these ungraspable impressions, had become unbearably worse.

He hadn’t left this place since.

The one they called the Hermit wasn’t really sleeping. Not anymore. But he wasn’t really awake either. He didn’t want to be.

Distantly he thought he heard low, small voices in hushed whispers. Speaking about something that was dead. Or was it?

Curious.

But mainly he heard his own thoughts.

Today the feeling of dread seemed unsettlingly strong. A feeling vague enough to be called premonition, but not clear enough to become prophecy – lords knew he was deaf to those. But it was something.

No matter how hard he tried, lost in his own mind, he was unable to tell why he felt it this strongly right now. It was a day like any other. Nothing had changed. He hadn’t. Maybe something else had.

Curious.

Suddenly, something touched him. A hard and unexpected push against his leg and immediately he was wide awake, flinching back, eyes open, a breathless gasp, his hands shot up, glowing with magic – in response, a high pitch scream rang in the tunnel and consequently his ears.

And he blinked. A hard breath in his lungs. And he stared into the wide-open eyes of two kids, their frightened faces like little ashen moons illuminated by the magic of his hands and the light they carried.

Dwarven children. Two boys. The stick they had poked him with was still in one’s hand. Thank the lords he hadn’t just blown them to atoms. Sure, their disappearance would have been only one of many in these endless tunnels, but he would prefer not to be responsible for their death personally.

Ravalor let out a deep sigh, lowering his hands and his head dropped back against the wall.

A–Are you the Hermit?

Are you lost? He mumbled, ignoring the question as he closed his eyes again. By the lords he was still tired – he had thought too much, slept too little.

No. He heard the unconfident answer of one of the boys. Are you?

No. He answered. I was sleeping.

Why are you sleeping here?

I was tired.

There had been a time when he had returned to the tower when he felt tired, but there he had been unable to rest. Not much later, drawn into the ancient structures by a strange feeling, he had carved out a little shelter within the tunnels that had grown into his home over the centuries. But now, more often than not, he just slept where he was while wandering deep through the ancient tunnels. Sometimes not even remembering when he had fallen asleep. When he just sat down somewhere and fell unconscious by exhaustion after being kept awake by his restless mind for too long. But it really didn’t matter. Any sense of normalcy in any human’s eyes had died in the dark of these tunnels ages ago.

You shouldn’t be down here, He said, finally opening his eyes again and looking at the boys. Every word came almost automatically, like a mere reflex. How often had he had this talk with this or that young Aeven inexplicably finding him down here again and again – and getting lost in the process? Well, at least a dozen times. This wasn’t Aeven – but the words of reproach stayed the same. All in a fruitless attempt to deter these kids from wandering around down here on their own.

We have a map!

That’s great. I doubt it’s complete. If you get lost down here you will die.

They looked grimly back at him. He met their expression accordingly. By the lords, were all children this stubborn? Based on his own observations and limited sample size the answer was definitely yes.

We won’t. We’re dwarves. This is our home.

It is not, and last I heard, despite all rumours, dwarves still can’t digest stones. You’re from Brema, that’s your home, go back there. He groaned, his throat felt sore from speaking now after some months of silence. He did not care what impression these kids would take away from this encounter, he just needed them to leave.

How do you know? The impressed excitement over his perceived magical insight only strengthened the accent that clearly gave their hometown away.

I just do. Now go! he said sharply, and promptly the two boys jumped up and without another word, hurried away. He guessed his tone had been a lot sharper than he had intended.

He closed his eyes again as the tunnel fell back into absolute darkness. Tempted to just slip into a bit more sleep. But something kept scratching at the back of his mind.

For a moment he just sat there with a slight frown on his face. Thinking. Feeling. Trying to put a finger on this strange sensation again.

The hard stone beneath him was cold. Almost comforting in its familiarity.

But – this feeling of dread was curious. While it also had become almost normal, it had never been this strong and he felt more and more nervous by the second.

The Hermit shuddered, then he stood up, mindlessly brushing some of the dust off his black robe. He figured it barely did any good. It was dark again, there was no natural light down here, and while he saw well enough, he could still only guess the sorry state his robe must be in by now. Without thinking about it he opened a portal and momentarily arrived back in his cave, deep within the tunnels where the walls were rough and no man was supposed to walk. Unfortunately, that promise hadn’t held up against the truth of reality and the curious nature of certain humans.

A soft light lit up the moment it detected his presence, gently floating near the wall and immediately a whole population of critters scurried away from the light. A particularly thick tunnel rat had started nesting in his bed, obviously not only using the old fabric but very familiar scraps of paper for its nesting endeavours. And that was his own fault, he should have put them away when he had left. With a disgruntled murmur, he took the thin blanket, now containing a very angry and hissing mother rat and put it aside in a corner away from his bed. He may wasn’t using it much, but it was still his bed!

Clinically he observed his little cave and the mess his absence had caused over the mess he himself had left behind some weeks ago. He would consider himself rather cleanly, and in the beginning, there had been order to this chaos. But by now there was just too much of everything and no matter where he put this or that thing it never became less cluttered. Not every part of him believed that excuse though. The Kingmaker was the most critical whenever he searched for and brought the Hermit some information or tool, just adding to the mess. And he had to admit, it had been a while since he had even tried to bring any order into it.

There hung some clothes he had washed the dust off some weeks ago. The line was fixed right into the ancient walls. The shelves and sideboard were chiselled right into the rough stone by himself over the centuries.

There was clutter too. Countless books, tools, instruments, some ancient, some broken, none of them unimportant. Maps of the tunnel, of earth, of places far beyond where he had sent the Kingmaker on this or that quest, notes and scribbles of magic and mysteries, the lords’ weapons and artefacts, and his attempt to understand them. He never had put any faith in prophecy, but he sometimes felt his mind drawn to certain ideas and mysteries – feeling like the right thing to do. To prevent the doom he felt looming. There was a purpose to what he was doing here. A reason. There had to be one.

Of course, Mezchinhar had given him a purpose too. Begrudgingly so, after he had vehemently refused to leave these tunnels, he had become Treva’s silent watcher. Not as a Custodian by any means, he hadn’t reached the rank for that yet and neither the planet or the city belonged to him – it was more like a death watch he supposed. To look after a city that was prophesied to fall, to witness its demise – should it ever happen. But more importantly, way more important than the city, he was one of the wizards to watch the one who carried the Hammer Izarax. Admittedly he wasn’t doing that very well most of the time. Then again, in all fairness, the hammer itself did a far greater job in watching out for its owner than he ever could.

Ravalor didn’t believe in destiny, but by now the Hammer and its owner were as much entangled in his existence as these tunnels were.

Briefly, he woke up a few of the holographic displays from their slumber, glancing at the information presented to him. The Prince of Treva wasn’t on earth right now but he was alive. The Northman was with him. Both facts were reassuring.

Given his given purpose, he should be there too. To keep an eye on him. The only reason he hadn’t yet gotten a stern talking to was the fact that the Warrior was close by (In fact he had gotten a stern talking to about that, as he now had two of his Parts in the same solar system and the circle never liked to see that). But technically he was fulfilling his purpose. Even though the Warrior’s true focus and mission was something else as well. Someone else.

The Hermit stepped towards the small area where a crude basin was placed. He turned on the water – there was no pipework down here, of course not, the small tap wasn’t connected to anything there. Just a little, static hole punched through space.

While the basin filled up with ice–cold river water, he looked up at a small mirror he had actually traded for from the world up top. It was old now, the metal had long turned dark, the reflection was cloudy. He could have gotten one from the tower. Oh, there were plenty of mirrors there, seemingly untouched by time. But that hadn’t felt right. He hadn’t stepped in that tower for so long, even though it belonged to him now. It was still there alright, not even too far from here. Still waiting for him to return. Like frozen in time it waited.

But he couldn’t stand it anymore. Couldn’t bear looking at the rooms and halls that were left just like they had been over two millennia ago. Where every piece and object was still drenched in nostalgia and memories – and that unsettling feeling of not remembering coexisting ill-fittingly with the wish to just forget all of it.

In the soft blue light his mirror image looked back at him like a corpse out of hollow eyes in a sharp, pale and dusty face. He shuddered as another wave of that terrible, dreadful feeling overcame him.

News came slow, but they came reliably. He saw nothing of the world but the rest of him watched out where the Hermit was willfully blind.

There was war in the empire. The peak of a conflict that had been brewing for centuries. And the one man that inexplicably yet reliably found him down here over and over again, the Prince of Treva, bound to the Hammer Izarax for a thousand years now, was leading earth’s armies into battle.

And Zenozarax, once defeated by Aeven and imprisoned in a frozen hell, had escaped from Charon.

He had heard of the turmoil above, knew of the wizards of which many had left earth as they too felt a looming threat again, leaving a possibly sinking ship at the first sign of bad weather.

But it paled to the turmoil within himself. With each day he expected to hear about Zenozarax. And with each day the dread became more pressing.

He had the faintest hope that cleaning his outside appearance would calm his troubled thoughts. Taking his focus away from the mess of his own mind he remembered the others. And there was comfort in that.

The Stargazer had woken up with him.

2 Five Parts

15.01.2022

A wizard’s Part never came into time without purpose. That purpose would decide the title they were given. Of course, as a wizard’s life was theoretically eternal, these titles could change over time. A Scholar might become an Engineer, while the Engineer may experience that calm slowness as Wizard in Mezchinhar while the Wizard went to explore their little part of the multiverse as a Scholar.

It was more good form, to identify their individual Parts and give a rough idea of their purpose than it was a binding rule.

Only the Warriors usually kept their title for as long as they existed.

The Stargazer had been the Engineer. Or at least, he had been supposed to be, that had been his purpose. But after losing himself in the void for the first time another Part of Ravalor had taken that title. And he had become the Stargazer.

It was an empty title. A title carrying no value, only judgement. Not a descriptor of any occupation, but a name given to those without. To a part without purpose.

The Stargazer woke up alone. But he found comfort in his own mind. Because he wasn’t truly alone.

The Engineer was on Galast, where he was supposed to be. They called him the Kingmaker there – and he had taken on that name because it put distance to the fact that he had taken the title of Engineer from the Stargazer.

A faint shiver crept over his skin as the memory of the howling wind and cold rain drenched his clothes. The heavy construct beneath his feet was slippery and restless, but yielding effortlessly to the Kingmaker’s will who manipulated the construct with firm confidence. He always liked that sense of confidence. The Kingmaker noticed him and ignored him. As usual.

The Scholar was on earth, of course, he was. The Wizard of Artlenburg, bound to the life of a Hermit since even before the Stargazer had first awoken. Another title given to him by humans. When it had been that he had started to think of the Scholar as the Hermit himself he could not tell – but after all, it was an unfortunately fitting title.

It was quiet and calm in the ancient tunnels. He remembered his ashen face looking back at him in the magic glow of the light floating gently in the air, bobbing up and down slowly, splitting into smaller parts and joining each other again. He was cleaning his face, for a moment occupied with the task and the memories of his other selves as much as the Stargazer was now – the looming sense of doom became almost easy to ignore.

The Warrior was on Luna. Sent there by his Grandmaster. He didn’t really want to be there and if the fuming Admiral before him had anything to say about it, he shouldn’t be either. The mere fact that humanity’s urgent request for help was answered with sending a mere footsoldier was perceived as an affront in and of itself.

The Warrior’s frown was hard and unwavering as he listened to the barrage of the admiral. It was inconsequential to him. Despite the Warrior not holding any rank of importance, this human held no authority over him.

But it was that lack of rank that was the reason he was here now, having been sent in his Grandmaster’s place to explain to the man that there was no help coming from Mezchinhar’s fleet yet. He wasn’t a diplomat, and his revelation of the fact had been accordingly tactful, hence the intense anger of the admiral.

There was only one wizard ship currently in this system – and it was still close to Plutoe. Still investigating what little remained of Charon. He’d return there soon enough. But he couldn’t do that too soon, the Grandmaster expected him to at least make an effort.

There was nothing productive coming from this and his stoic demeanour, all the while his mind wandered back to Charon, only fueled the admiral’s fury.

It evoked a sense of frustration within the Stargazer who wished he knew why they weren’t helping in the first place. The Warrior had accepted the fact, because whatever the reason, he didn’t need to know. But Ravalor understood the man’s anger.

For a millennia earth had prospered and grown under the seemingly benevolent attention of the wizards, grown into a sprawling galaxy-spanning empire. But now in their hour of need, with their closest allies still weeks away, the wizards were absent from the fight.

The Warrior’s stoic and calm acceptance should be comforting, being unshaken by the circle’s inaction, but it just made him bitter. Maybe even a bit angry.

 

And then there was the Wizard.

The Wizard had of course promptly noticed him awake and inquired into his well being which in turn filled him with a sense of calm. The Wizard rarely left him alone, and while he wasn’t with him now, he was close. Both were here in Mezchinhar. They weren’t supposed to — no two parts should stay together in the same place. But Mezchinhar was safe. Or at least, safe enough. Of course, he was still only granted the space allocated for only one Part of him. They were sharing this single, barely two by three metres large room which was the wizard’s quarters as well as his workspace.

The room was the only thing in Mezchinhar Ravalor could reasonably call his own, and even that wasn’t quite true. He was still a very young wizard, but already in the fourth-Ium since he had come into time he had been relocated 34 times. It was a part of the life in Mezchinhar as they tried to create space in a mercilessly finite environment, trying to accommodate too many wizards, all of whom wouldn’t trust another at arm’s length.

All those impressions came to the Stargazer at the same time and that too was the way it was supposed to be. The assurance that everything was alright, that he, Ravalor, each part of him, was alright.

Doing nothing but listening to the constant hum of the Iumzache, the Stargazer turned on his side, staying within the comfort the warmth of the blanket conveyed just a moment longer. It was a mere illusion his body indulged in for the pretence of being somewhat human, but it was comforting nonetheless. And it was not like he had anywhere to be. There was no hurry.

Not in Mezchinhar, and never for him.

The thought carried a dangerous hint of nihilism as the warmth around him faded more and more to make room for the cold void deep within him. There was something that was missing, always had been, from the moment he had come into time.

Ravalor’s own mistake.

Giving in to the temptation of trying to fix himself, to change himself, to find what was missing. To see into the void.

Even if it would have been only a little bit. But as it seemed there were things within their mind that couldn’t be fixed, things that were beyond their abilities to influence.

The emptiness within him had grown from the moment he opened his eyes, always reaching for something beyond his grasp – but for a while, he had functioned – for a while he had been the Engineer. Till one day he had broken down.

The cold emptiness within himself turned numb and suffocating. Turning from the ever-present pressure to almost weightless darkness. And it was his burden alone. His critical flaw. The rest of him knew of it, but they didn’t feel it. Knew the memory of it, but not what it really was like.

His body and mind froze. The rest of him grew distant till there was nothing left of them. He was alone. The world around him turned dark and distant till he didn’t feel his own body anymore as time around him died. And he stopped existing.

A gentle touch on his hand ripped him from the void, a bright light flashing through his mind pushing away the darkness. He gasped as his body first now remembered to breathe.

Then the calm voice of the Wizard.

“Stay here.”

The Stargazer turned towards him, filled by the relief of no longer being swallowed by the void.

I am.

He was. But it also meant that he now was reminded of the others too. And there was no hiding it, not from himself, that not all his opinions were as understanding as the Wizard was. Maybe it was because the Wizard felt the most responsible. The Warrior had no patience for him, even growing frustrated at times, the Kingmaker was the most dismissive of him, more often than not downright pretending he wasn’t even there, only the Hermit understood him better than any other – because they both were looking for something that was missing. More so than any other part of himself.

“I didn’t mean to take you away,” he said apologetically as the Wizard sat down beside him, slowly brushing his long hair from his face with gentle care. He had been talking to Exavidar on the Soulturners request but cut the conversation short once he noticed the Stargazer growing distant.

“Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t have left you alone, but you were so fast asleep for once. But it’s good you’re awake now. We have much to do.”

The Wizards’ words were warm, kind and a courtesy. They didn’t need to talk to understand each other, to know their thoughts and intentions, but the Wizard spoke to him because the Stargazer had asked it of him. Because it felt more right. He needed to be close to himself whenever he didn’t feel part of himself. He spoke aloud because it felt more real, he took the Wizard’s hand that had touched his own before, because he needed to be here. To stay.

The Wizard let him. Indulged him as the Stargazer mind reached out to him, finding comfort in the more collected and caring nature of the Wizard. The Stargazer’s fingers intertwined with that of the Wizard, the identical magical markings on their hands glowing softly as he was letting himself and his mind be embraced by the Wizard. And for a moment he was at ease, for a moment he was okay. Neither talking nor sharing this form of connection between one’s parts was unheard of in Mezchinhar – however, the talking was considered the more unusual of the two.

The whipping rain cut off abruptly as the Kingmaker stepped down within the arching shelter of the groves’ magical entrance, turning to look back at the construct. In the thunder and rain, the beast of steel and fire groaned in heaving breaths, a hulking colossus of steel.

The Kingmaker wiped the rain from his face, but it kept dripping from his beard nevertheless.

Just a quick maintenance check they had said and dropped this thing in his backyard. In the worst month of autumn on Galast. Oh, he knew what this was. Commonly they called these kinds of random out of nowhere tasks from the circle simply check-ins. A quick reminder of their presence, to make sure everyone was still in line and ready to jump if the circle would say so.

Subjectively though this felt like ill will if anything – but he wouldn’t complain, no. Well, he did, but not out loud.

Don’t be angry now. You’re almost done.

The soothing thought from the Wizard made him only scoff.

I’m not angry. I’m soaking wet and am not enjoying the lack of cooperation from my work partner.

As if to spite him and his struggle the construct gave a wheezing hiss, and the Kingmaker just so managed to not hiss a curse back in turn. He crossed his arms and watched it silently. Faintly he remembered the troubled thoughts of the Hermit and Stargazer, but he ignored both.

He waited for a while, staring into the weather till the rain was again reduced to a drizzle.

He definitely could use a hand.

Only moments later a glistening portal opened up beside him.

The Kingmaker gave the Warrior a satisfied nod of approval when he arrived.

Safety precautions stated that it was critically inadvisable for two Parts of one wizard to be present at the same place – which was good advice, surely, but Ravalor had grown quick to dismiss it. Statistically, most wizards possessed three parts, sometimes only two, sometimes four. He was five – and with that came a treacherous sense of assurance that there was always a backup of him somewhere, that the chance of more than half of him dying at the same time was slim to none. And so what did it matter if the Warrior was here now too, killing some time till it was reasonable for him to return to Charon’s remains without earning himself a reprimand from his Grandmaster.

Sure took that chance to get away.

The Warrior’s expression didn’t even twitch, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. Who could blame him, naturally the Kingmaker too thought of that senseless barrage the Warrior had just received as exhaustingly unproductive.

The rain had stopped but the wind and thunder still were deafening as they both stepped back out from the artificial shelter of the grove’s entrance.

He had a point.

The Kingmaker climbed up the first ledge, and the moment the soles of his boots came into contact with the construct again the magic within himself anchored him firmly on top of the smooth and wet metal. He offered the Warrior a hand and pulled him up while he dismissed the Warrior’s thought.

Maybe. But it’s their war. Not ours.

Not yet. I think there might actually be something more going on. We have to keep looking.

The Kingmaker smirked to himself as they reached the top of the construct again, the steep wind picked up the pace, howling between the thunder. If they were to actually speak words to each other they would have had to shout.

He’s gotten to you. 

The Warrior looked back at him, a slight frown on his face. And for a moment, after each connection had synchronised, each Part of him had an opinion about openly poking fun at the Warrior for having caught some of the Hermit’s paranoia. The Hermit himself was already on edge, ignoring them with forced stoicism, but a faint glimmer of nervous anger in his thoughts. The Stargazer was quiet, but couldn’t help but take the mocking personally. Only the Wizard urged him gently to be lenient while the Warrior thought of his comment as willfully ignorant.

There is something unnatural about this war. In retrospect, even about the unrest in the empire that has been growing for centuries. Something that just doesn’t feel quite right. The newest reports speak of possible sightings of chaos cultists in their ranks – if that is the case – this will become our problem too. Do not tell me you can believe even for a second that Zenozarax’ escape was just a coincidence. That this army just happened to accidentally free him on their path of destruction. Now they have arrived almost at Earth, their forces meeting them as we speak. You might want to ignore it, but under the gaze of the lords I bet my life on it, this battle won’t end at Mars. We have to be ready.

There was a grim silence after that.

It wasn’t like the Warrior told the rest of him anything he didn’t already know. Just that Ravalor wasn’t yet sure of the interpretation of those facts and these discussions between him were just a means to reach a consensus. Hopefully. It wasn’t impossible for a wizard to keep an internal conflict unresolved, like a more caring part disagreeing with a more practical-orientated one, however, it was rather uncommon. After all, they were one wizard, one mind maybe expressing different facets of who Ravalor was more strongly in one part than another, but still all part of the same person.

Here’s to hoping they blow that entire planet up. That would be one less worry on my mind, the Kingmaker thought with bitter jest and not free of bite.

Hm. The Warrior did not answer that and no Part of him really found it funny, with the Stargazer objecting to even thinking it, stating that they should help where they could. The Kingmaker ignored that and remembered promptly the irritation that caused the Stargazer. He also ignored that. Of course, he didn’t want Earth to be destroyed, but at the same time it was an anchor wedged deep into memories he rather not think about. Which was also the reason the Hermit vehemently refused to leave those blasted tunnels.

The Warrior did what he had come here to do, holding the space between two plates open so the Kingmaker could work inside without losing an arm when the construct underneath their feet decided to move. Only moments later he was halfway swallowed into the darkness of the construct, trusting the Warrior to keep him alive and in one piece.

He didn’t want to think about Zenozarax, he had managed to almost successfully ignore those memories in the last centuries, coaxed into a sense of peace by his once most trusted friend being held safe and eternally frozen on Charon. The guilt and regret he felt about it he could almost ignore as well. At least some Parts of him could.

Now that sense of peace and security had been successfully blown up alongside Charon. The official report stated that in a swift and unexpected attack following the initial skirmishes near Pluto, Charon, having drawn the attention of the enemy fleet due to the activities of the stationed Knights of Amuthon, had been completely destroyed, leaving nothing and no one alive. It also optimistically stated that it was unlikely that anyone could have fled before it happened. But that was the official report. And he didn’t believe it. Based on the fact they were still investigating Charon, he doubted he was the only one. Zenozarax wasn’t dead. He knew that almost with the same certainty he subconsciously would know a part of him being alive or dead.

And so Ravalor had taken it upon himself to find the chaos wizard, despite once more everyone telling him that it was a bad idea. But he needed to. That was the Warrior’s purpose now.

And it wasn’t just the Hermit who showed the stress this fact caused him the clearest. Every part of him felt it. But not all wanted to believe.

Usually, the Hermit would have scoffed at that incredible self-reflection, but as the Kingmaker noticed its absence he paused, hands deep into the circuitry, really paying attention to the Hermit’s memories.

There was something. Lords, there was something. 

The Hermit, after finding himself pacing nervously through his little cave unable to even sit for a moment, stared back into the mirror, his own tired eyes looking back at him but he didn’t even really look. It felt like every neural pathway in his body was tingling with this damn something!

There was something. Something very, very wrong.

Suddenly the earth trembled.

It was just for a moment, like a single wave aching through the tectonic plate. The Hermit subconsciously held his breath. But the tremor was followed by nothing but silence.

Curious. This feeling he had, now this. Was it a coincidence?

Somehow he didn’t believe that.

He turned, staring out into the darkness where the light of his cave vanished into the black void of the ancient tunnels. Dark, cold and calling for him.

Without thinking about it he grabbed his cloak, throwing it around his shoulder while he was already in full stride – and vanished into the darkness. He didn’t even bother with a light – the nervousness taking his body was almost tearing him apart. His fingers were twitching.

He saw well enough in the absolute darkness, and he felt any light only would obscure from the vague sense he felt drawn to. He didn’t know what it was, but he felt it alright. Just feelings. By the lords what would he give for just one single certainty, not just these lords forsaken feelings and impressions.

Maybe this was it, this day would be the day he finally broke down, taken by paranoia built over centuries, millennia even. But he felt clear-headed – unfortunately so.

He didn’t know how long he walked, almost ran, sometimes even ported forward as far as he dared without losing this sense of direction he felt drawn to, but he knew he was taking too long. Because he had no time. His mind hurt.

How did he know that? Why did this feeling become familiar? A sense of power coming from before him now he had never felt before and still – his steps were not uncertain. He went forward as if he knew exactly where he was going. Something inside of him did.

The air turned heavy and he minded his steps as he passed the slight slippery stones of the tunnel as he crossed the river Elba above him. And only for a brief moment, he had almost stopped, he didn’t and just briefly looked back over his shoulder. There had been a low dripping of condensate on the stone floor, barely audible over his steps.

His confusion only grew.

And he remembered the urgent concern from the others, the Wizard alert. They felt distant.

What’s wrong?

The Wizard had halted in his work, the large display before him idling patiently waiting for his input, the small summoning circle to his side pulsing slowly, the small piece of magic before him waiting for the next part to be added, but all that was forgotten. He met the Stargazer’s eyes. His equal looked tense, more so than ever. For a moment there was only the faint, gentle and everlasting hum of the Iumzache at the height of its pulse from deep within Mezchinhar’s centre.

The Wizard himself was nervous. He couldn’t feel what the Hermit felt, but he got enough of an impression from his memories to be unsettled by it. And he didn’t know which possibility was worse, that the Hermit now too had broken down, or that there actually was something wrong.

The Hermit’s answer came late, which wasn’t always something suspicious, right now, however, it gave credence to the second option.

I don’t know. I just don’t know!

“What if it’s Zenozarax?”

The wizard hadn’t noticed how his attention had drifted away, lost in the Hermit’s memories, but as he heard the Stargazer’s voice he was violently snapped back into the reality of Mezchinhar, staring at the Stargazer as if he had just slapped him across the face. It couldn’t be, he wouldn’t do that. Not with the war already going on, it would be madness to make a move now, when the entire human force was already mobilised around the heart of the empire that was watched so closely by so many wizards.

“Maybe he would. We all are looking at Mars now, but maybe we are looking in the wrong direction,” the Stargazer said tensely, answering his thoughts. And for a moment he spoke more with the Hermits’ voice than his own. After all this time, what we did to him… I can’t even imagine how angry he must be.

“It’s not him,” he finally said decisively, trying to display a sense of certainty neither of him felt right now. He saw it in the Stargazer’s face, felt it in the thoughts of the Hermit and Warrior. Only the Kingmaker wanted to believe him.

If it is, the Stargazer said, a frown on his face hiding the unease the very idea caused, Yoctotyr needs to know, right now. Everyone there would be in danger.

Of course, he was right. Even if it wasn’t true, he needed to do something in case it was.

The Wizard stood up. Come.

The Kingmaker squatted before the opening of the construct, looking up at the Warrior.

Both for a moment just remembering the others.

It could be. The Warrior confirmed the Stargazer’s musings, and if the situation wouldn’t be so potentially terrible the Kingmaker would have joked that this might have been the first time those two actually were of the same opinion.

The memories of the Hermit came slower and slower, turning to balking impressions, and the Kingmaker frowned.

Something was wrong there.

He looked up to the Warrior. You want to go?

Hm. Hesitation not out of fear but caution. If the Hermit was running straight into his death now, the Warrior rather not follow blindly. To lose one would be bad, two would be terrible. Not as incapacitating as losing over half of himself would be, but the moment he would loose two, that would become a very real possibility. It was true that he had become used to the implied danger of being with another part of himself, but reckless he had never been.

A few moments passed. A few moments too many in which the ruptured memories no longer reached them. For the first seconds, neither of them considered what it could mean, then it turned into an uncomfortable sensation in their subconsciousness – and finally the terrible realisation.

The Hermit was gone.

3 An Old Memory

22.01.2022

The Hermit felt a nauseating sense of tension the moment he reached what should have been an impassable path in the tunnels. As long as he could remember this passage and all beyond had been collapsed. One of the few dark spots of his vast mental map of the ancient tunnels. More than once he had asked to be allowed to clear these collapsed parts, if anything for a sense of completion, but he had been denied. This one was right below Treva, and Yoctotyr, the Custodian of Earth, had feared further structural instability should they temper with the collapsed structure causing damages to the city above.

But now the massive boulders were moved, shifted far enough apart to create a passage, just large enough for a man to pass through. Like it’s always been like that. The unfamiliar passage leading into darkness was staring back at him as he stood there, wasting valuable time, but taken by the most unsettling feeling.

He didn’t want to go there.

No human had done this, to clear this path humans and wizards alike would have to use either heavy machinery and time or a huge amount of magic. Neither would have gone unnoticed by him. And even then it wouldn’t have created a passage like this. This must have been chaos magic, the only known force to manipulate matter like this, to just adjust boulders having to weigh tons into forming a small stable passage as if it’s been like this since they fell.

The Hermit felt it in the air too. Now that he finally knew – finally had accepted what it was – he could feel the chaos in the air – and he also felt that he had lost any connection to the rest of him. He had felt this before. The distortion was absolute.

He should consider himself monumentally unlucky to have run into this thrice now – maybe even four times if he believed his own theories about Funnix. After the Battle of Funnix the fear of the First Circle had been the spread of this terrible spell. But as it turned out, as far as Ravalor knew, encountering it had been surprisingly rare since then.

However, even with the limited data they had, there had only ever been three different kinds of effect observed with these disruption barriers. The Hermit raised his hands and let a bright spark explode before him, one with the left, one with the right. He gave both hands a little shake and dropped them again. So no local magic disruption nor a physical barrier like first observed at the battle of Funnix. But his connection to Mezchinhar and the rest of himself was completely cut off.

Danger was so clearly right in front of him, a place he didn’t know what it was but of great and terrible importance – he should go back, call for help, but he had no time for it, he felt it. He was terrified of dying again like this – to vanish into the void, leaving another mystery for him to never know about. But he had no choice. He had no time! At least he knew the rest of him were already taking action and would hurry once they realised what was happening.

And so he entered the passage.

The stone around him ached slightly while he passed the small path, but it stayed stable. Only when his arms brushed against the stone a few small pebbles and dust fell to the ground.

The air was stiff as he entered a part of the tunnels that had been sealed off from any fresh air for at least two thousand years. But even more so, it smelled sharp. Like ozone tingling in the air before thunder would strike. And now he was walking straight towards it.

He could hear it before he saw it. A faint crackling in the air.

Then light in front of him. He did not dare to stop.

Till the very moment he involuntarily froze in his steps.

Standing in the archway leading into a gigantic hall.

And the world was slowed to a crawl in his perception.

The massive amount of magic and chaos sizzled in the air was fusing with the tense static of the bound between dimensions being stretched unimaginably thin.

It was a rift space! He had read about them, learned all that was to learn and how dangerous they were – he had thought it to be a random interest he had stumbled over – but now that felt untrue. Ridiculous even. Like it should have been obvious to him.

The bright light emitting from the centre of the hall was erratic and blinding, coming from a massive portal that was not yet opened but soon ready to. It was an ugly and old thing – built only for purpose and function. Lines and cables ran from it into the hall like parasitic vines corrupting the ancient space around it.

And before it, hunched over the consoles that undoubtedly controlled the portal, the figure of a man – a wizard – with his back towards him, but Ravalor already knew who it was.

Zenozarax.

He had not thought he would be able to speak, and yet his voice was firm and clear in the chaos around him.

The other wizard turned around, abruptly, taken by surprise, and the manic grin that had been on his face fell, leaving nothing but agast shock to see him. It was just a brief moment before his face softened into a gentle smile that was unsettlingly more than it was calming. Zenozarax’ gaze was seemingly looking straight through him as he took off the multi lensed goggles that manually filtered out the intense unnatural light from the rift space without having to tamper with their own perception and hung them on his belt. His motions were slow, almost dreamlike. And for a moment he had to wonder if the other wizard really saw him.

Ravalor...

For a moment they weren’t here. Not exactly. For that moment, there was no war, no portal, nothing. Then something in Zenozarax’ face shifted, twitched, it was as if he finally realised that it was indeed Ravalor standing here before him. That he was real, and right here.

You’re still here. Zenozarax indeed concluded, he whispered with a light frown on his face and his words were barely audible over the chaos. He wasn’t really speaking to him, sounding almost wonderingly as he continued. I think I knew that... But you should have left this cursed place... The light frown drew deeper, for a moment he was even turning away as if he had already forgotten about Ravalor again.

But whatever the reason for this odd behavior, they didn’t have time for it.

Zenozarax–

I loved this earth once, Zenozarax said seemingly unprompted, looking at the sparkling portal. But I can’t feel that anymore. ... Can you? A brief pause, his shoulders dropped a little.

I–’’ Ravalor fell silent before finding an answer. He had liked this planet. It was a home for him. The tower had been. And yet he hadn’t thought about Earth with anything but bitterness for centuries, feeling trapped by its pull, unable to leave. Maybe Zenozarax knew that, and he didn’t seem to expect him to answer anyway. Maybe it didn’t matter.

For a while, I was thinking I should never have come here. Maybe then we wouldn’t have found the cursed hammer… and nothing of this would have turned out this way. But I don’t think that’s how that works. Time doesn’t care about one wizard. One planet. And the hammer would have found its companion, one way or another. They always do... Zenozarax’ hand lingered on his hip, where a cold magical glow engulfed his fingers.

Ravalor understood very well that the wizard before him was far from stable. He knew Zenozarax, better than any other wizard in his life (or so he had thought once). He knew his emotions, the ecstatic moments of joy, the bursting waves of passion, the fits of anger, even the deep spells of melancholy. This wasn’t any of that. This felt dangerous.

His own consciousness had been stricken with the guilt of knowing Zenozarax being held on Charon. Trapped in solitude and silence, poked and prodded, observed and watched. An experience made torturing by design, to act as bait, to draw any other part of him out should they still exist. A cruel fate. But it had been that or death.

And he had feared his state of mind as he heard of his escape. Worrying how centuries left to solitude and his own anger would have sharpened the hatred already present in his old friend.

Now that fear turned out to be the truth of reality.

Zenozarax, what are you doing? he asked carefully, making a slow step forward. He sensed the danger emitting from the portal like a vortex of doom. And he felt like he had seen it before. Felt all of this before.

He took another step and suddenly, Zenozarax’s eyes focused back on him, suddenly he was fully there again, raising his hand and within a split second Ravalor managed to react just quick enough before the blast of magic could have hit him and instead it exploded against his ward. The magical shield sizzled and broke down, Ravalor’s hands were gleaming with magic, a hard frown on his face that betrayed the shock of Zenozarax actually having attacked him.

But he understood that this had been merely a warning shot. The Hermit knew he couldn’t fight him, not alone and under these circumstances. He stood no chance, and if Zenozarax would want to kill him, he could with ease. The Warrior would have fought him nevertheless, but the Hermit could not.

Go, Zenozarax said, his voice low and threatening. Leave this universe now because there won’t be anything left of it once I’m done with it.

Why?

A grin twitched on Zenozarax’ face. But there was nothing happy about it. It was an infuriated grimace distorting his features. Why? Now it was Zenozarax making a step forward and Ravalor backed off in turn. After you let me rot in that frozen hell, you ask me why?! Another blast shattered against his ward, it barely held. For the first time in his life he had to ward off magic of a wizard impossibly more powerful than himself, and he knew he couldn’t stand against it.

They would have killed you! Ravalor pressed through his teeth, the chaos was making his thoughts spin; he could barely think straight.

They should have! Zenozarax’ words followed another blast that was warded off, overloading the shield and it broke again in a shower of light, Ravalor gasped but was blasted with a second shot before he could react. The burst of magic threw him backwards and his back hit against the wall. The pain the attack caused to flare up in his artificial nerves paled in comparison to that in his heart. Before he could have fallen to his knees, a bright spark of light and darkness appeared right before him and he was grabbed hard at his collar, pulled back up and slammed back against the wall.

His head was dizzy from the magical blast, energy sizzled on his body, his eyes were flickering as he tried to piece himself back into working order. And in his clearing vision, he stared straight into Zenozarax’ eyes.

Zenozarax’ grip around the top of his robe was hard, pressing against his throat. Raging anger had drawn his face into a horrible mask of hate.

And for a terrible moment, a fear flashed through his mind, the clear and inevitable fact that Zenozarax was about to kill him. It felt so horribly familiar that he felt sick to his stomach.

Zenozarax... Don’t– He swallowed hard, – you don’t have to– and his voice failed him.

The anger in the other’s face turned desperate, almost confused for a moment, frustrated as his grip trembled. And beneath the anger in his eyes was immeasurable pain.

I don’t want to kill you, Ravalor. I couldn’t bear doing so, not again. Don’t make me, don’t try to stop me now. Zenozarax’ voice was bitter, begging him, pleading, his grip hardened, and Ravalor swallowed painfully. To hear it confirmed what he had always feared, and the desperate reluctance of Zenozarax now to kill just a mere part of him, all proof of memories he had so desperately tried to remember – but he had no time to think about that. The portal behind Zenozarax seemed to become louder to him, brighter and more threatening. Ravalor understood that he was trying to summon something from the other side, from hell, clawing to come into time. He felt it to be powerful and horrible.

Stop you doing what? Zenozarax, what are you doing? he again asked carefully, and his words would have been gentle if he wouldn’t feel the desperate haste of time running out.

I’ll burn this whole universe to the ground and every cursed wizard within it, Zenozarax answered with an unsteady tremble in his voice, the grasp against his throat got harder for a moment. So leave! Or you will be one of them! Then Ravalor was violently thrown aside, a hard magical blast threw him back and he crashed onto the ground. Feverishly he scrambled to get up again, fighting against the aching of his own body.

Why?! Why do all these people have to die?

It’s not about them, Ravalor! It’s never been about them, you know that!

But they are still part of it! You want your revenge and I understand that – but, you have to stop! This will achieve nothing! his own voice broke, his throat was hurting. He couldn’t remember the last time he had to even come close to raising his voice.

To his surprise, Zenozarax seemed to pause, only for a moment – and yet it felt fleeting, like the calm before the storm. You’re probably right. There is a certain futility in this. Just the same old fight. Zenozarax admitted, his words turning downright thoughtful. I had a chance, back there. To end it and change everything. Free all of us. Zenozarax looked at him regretfully. There was no hate or anger in that moment. Not towards him. Just regret. The air crackled around them and Zenozarax turned towards the light as if he just was reminded of what he was doing.

I will take this infested universe away from them. This blasted earth that is so dear to them because of that lords forsaken hammer! It has to burn. Then he looked back at him, his face hardened as the energy sizzling around them became louder. Whatever emotion and regret there had been before was all gone. His expression became cold, merciless, and unrecognisable to Ravalor.

Go, Ravalor! Zenozarax now almost shouted against the swirling chaos in the air, the manic gleam had returned to his eyes. Run and don’t turn back! Save yourself! And save your pity, they won’t care about that!

For one breath Ravalor met Zenozarax’ gaze, for another breath he let the regret and grief tear him apart knowing he could not reason with Zenozarax, that Zenozarax needed to be stopped, and that he had to be the one to make it so. Then he saw Zenozarax raise his hand again and Ravalor turned on his heels. And he ran.

The wirlling of the portal grew distant, the echo of his steps louder in the ancient tunnels, his ragged breath in his lungs, he almost stumbled in his haste, his heart was hammering in his chest before he focused his mind and every artificial function of his body slowed to a crawl till his heartbeat stopped outright. All his focus and energy turned to only what needed to be done now as from a thousand and one options rushing through his mind, weighted and calculated so quickly it made him feel feverish, he realised only one would be even possible in this short amount of time.

He passed the small passage made in the rubble, his cloak clung to a sharp rock but he just tore himself free, tearing the smooth fabric.

And he ran more.

Until finally, he wasn’t alone anymore.

I need help!

And he needed to act right now.

Still running, he feverishly reached out to the Northman whom he knew was partaking at the battle at Mars.

There was barely any time left.

The Wizard and Stargazer had reached the main node of Mezhestvo via the designated portpoints as he was the first to see the distorted memories of the Hermit coming back to him and he felt an ice-cold sense of panic wash over him, a mere moment later he saw the aghast shock in the Stargazers face too.

What reached them was nothing but a shattered and fragmented set of images and thoughts, but they spoke of the Hermit’s panic and desperation too clearly, his urgent cry for help. And above all that – the knowledge that it truly was Zenozarax. It had been mere minutes and yet the extent and weight of this revelation sent a nauseating sense of reunification shock through his mind. Almost it left him paralyzed and just barely he managed to tear himself out of that haze by ignoring all the implications.

Quickly he grabbed the petrified Stargazer, the wide sprawling hall lay in bright inviting light as they rushed down the portpoint. More than one wizard on their leisurely stroll through the main node was shooting them a concerned look. They always did that when the Wizard appeared with the Stargazer, but today more so than ever as he was making a scene by his mere haste. More food for the whispers behind his back he was sure, but right now, the Wizard simply couldn’t care less about that.

The Warrior abruptly rose up the very same moment the Kingmaker froze. He felt that same cold wave rush over him the Wizard experienced, but as he looked up, the Warrior had already opened a portal and disappeared, not allowing himself another moment of hesitation in fear that he had already waited too long.

The Hermit almost fell over a rough piece of cut stone that for over two thousand years he had known to avoid, but right at this moment, he didn’t. The chaos in the air had grown, and while he had escaped the complete disruption at its centre, undoubtedly deliberately caused by Zenozarax himself to not be disrupted at his dreadful plan, it was growing and he still felt his connection to the others being spread thin. He barely saw them. Nor could he really focus on them.

Then he reached the small cavern he had made his home and his heart ached in relief when he saw the Warrior appearing right in that moment through a portal.

They were one wizard, and yet they had always been as far apart as two parts could be. They rarely saw eye to eye, and while the Warrior never openly mocked him, not as the Kingmaker would, the Hermit knew that the Warrior’s more calm and efficient outlook clashed with his chosen way of life more often than not. The Hermit understood the frustration because they were the same, there was a part of him too that hated that he had been stuck here. That couldn’t stand staying in these tunnels, waiting for something, unable to leave for reasons that were not more than a feeling or an impression. But he had to.

And now he finally thought he knew why. That what happened now was a direct consequence of that why. Just that this knowledge wasn’t very comforting.

The Warrior asked him what he needed him to do. And so he told him. Nothing more than the cold efficiency in the stoic face – what needed to be done was clear to both of them.

For a second he thought about two dwarven boys, probably not yet back home. Wandering through the darkness of the tunnels, unaware of the horror blooming not far from them. In his imagination they were unburdened, maybe even laughing – unaware that in a few minutes they and everything they knew and loved would die. It was a brief moment in which the intense pain in his heart threatened to tear his resolve to pieces – but then he took a deep breath, letting that same stoic calm he saw in the Warrior’s face embrace his mind. There was no other way.

There was something terrible on the other side of that portal about to be set free. A terrifying entity of utter destruction that would rip through this universe till there was nothing left of it.

It needed to be stopped.

The Wizard and Stargazer reached the front of the security node and the respective pathfinder designated to manage incoming requests and forward information looked at him with slightly raised brows.

The Wizard allowed himself just one breath to try to sort his thoughts out in fear his words would be a mere scrambled mess should he speak now.

“It’s Zenozarax, he almost forgot to connect to the input panel to transmit the chaos wizard’s clear identification code, so the other wizard would even know what he was talking about or whom. Despite giving the pathfinder all he knew via the connection way faster than he could speak he still quickly continued, He’s on earth, Trigamena cluster– Through the connection, he transmitted the whole identification address of that specific planet, galaxy, cluster and universe and didn’t stop talking. –he’s trying to open a rift space portal, summoning something– a curse, construct –!” he said feverishly, trying to add urgency to the matter by actually saying it while he tried to wrap his shattered memories and impressions into words.

The look on the pathfinder’s face barely changed, only adding a slight frown as he evaluated the information Ravalor had just given him, estimating the severity of the threat. His hands were connected to the work panel and softly shone as he read the information Ravalor had just given him. He was taken seriously, but no more than any other wizard. It was impossible to say what that wizard was doing with the information or to whom he was sending them.

“Right now!” he added urgently. “The Grandmaster and Custodian have to be made aware – please, they need to–”

The Wizard fell silent, he felt his heart beat hard in his chest as he heard the Stargazer’s voice behind him.

“No…”

And remembered the very reason for it too. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, letting the regret wash over himself. He knew what he was about to do, what he had set in motion. The destruction of Earth was imminent. But it was the only way. It had to be done to save the rest of that universe.

Then he quickly said, “That earth will be destroyed momentarily, you need to tell them right now! They have no time left! The rift-space will explode!”

Finally, the other wizard seemed to acknowledge the severity of the threat and got up. “Wait here!” and he disappeared through another portal.

The Wizard turned around just to meet the horrified eyes of the Stargazer.

“They can’t do that.”

And the Wizard felt the sting of pain as the Stargazer so blatantly dissociated himself from whom he was. As he couldn’t accept what he was about to do, using a they that did not refer to any of his own parts.

“He has to be stopped, there is no time left,” the Wizard repeated what echoed in the Hermit’s memories, the Warrior’s now too.

Neither of them paid the other wizards around them any attention. The patrolling warriors gave them suspicious looks, the wizards just glancing at them judgmentally. But Ravalor didn’t notice any of that.

Both the Wizard and the Stargazer fell somberly silent as the Warrior emerged from the disruptive chaos that had torn through their connection, allowing them to see him clearly again, to see what he saw, and know what he knew.

And they knew it before they saw it.

The Hermit fell silent in their mind. And mere moments later the memory of earth exploding into an uncontrollable vortex of light and colours just as the Warrior had seen it.

And then, unexpectedly, the Warrior vanished from their consciousness as well. His last memories reached them, a portal being opened, to lead him through the vortex. And then – nothing.

Within the span of seconds two parts of him had disappeared. The horrifying silence where they should be made it hard for the Wizard to even think straight.

He didn’t know what was happening, barely what had happened, and not where the Warrior was, but he was still alive. He knew that as clearly as he knew that the Hermit was dead.

Despite his own confusion he somehow managed to step closer to the Stargazer, taking him by his shoulders. He was shaken, an utterly lost sense of grief in his eyes.

“It’s going to be okay.” He heard himself say. And nothing that was left of him really believed it.

4 Fracture

29.01.2022

I’ll find him.

The Kingmaker rose up.

No!

The urgent plea from the Wizard fell on deaf ears. He had to know. Going where he had already lost two parts of himself was a horrible idea, but he couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. Because the Warrior was still somewhere out there, he was alive, and he had to find him, help him, bring him back. It was of utmost importance before something worse could happen.

The portal he opened up glistened in all colours of light, bridging the point between two universes and his mind ached under the intense effort of even keeping it stable, holding one fixed point between two massive, ever moving forces. The portal whistled sharply as the cold air was being sucked through it and after breathing out deeply he stepped through.

Instantly he lost the ground under his feet, the sense of wet coldness of the brisk autumn day on Galast replaced by the dry coldness of space. Whatever rest of air had been in his lungs escaped his body as he was suddenly floating in space. For a brief moment he had to fight the reflex to breathe, but it passed quickly.

The Kingmaker felt the pleasant tickle of the sun’s radiation on his face as he looked quickly around.

He turned and for a moment he saw it, the vortex tearing itself into space, ripping reality around it apart in a show of fantastical light – and then, before the Kingmaker could have done anything close to formulate a plan of what to do next, in the absolute silence of space, the vortex collapsed, imploding into itself and leaving just a faint glimmer in the darkness before it too vanished and there was nothing left of earth.

Only darkness.

The vortex was gone – but even if it had held longer, he doubted he would have dared to go through it. Ravalor couldn’t lose three parts at once.

There were ships too, those that had followed the Prince of Treva back to earth and those stationed around earth before, far enough away to not be consumed by the implosion as well. He could only imagine the chaos on their decks now.

Earth was gone. And somewhere behind him was still an army fighting whose home had been vaporised to nothing and their last prince disappeared. Soldiers, officers, engineers – who all had promised their loved ones to return. Now in a twisted turn of fate – they would be the only ones surviving. Most wouldn’t even know it yet.

A few turned to face Mars and join the now desperate fight to prevent absolute annihilation, but the prince’s flagship stayed right where it was. Maybe waiting for Aeven to return against all odds. He locked onto it, opened another portal and appeared back onto the top hull of the warship. His boots gave a low click resonating through his body as they connected with the hull, the magic within him creating a low gravitational field that let him stand firmly again. With every move he already felt his still wet cloak was freezing solid where it faced nothing but the darkness of space.

The Kingmaker looked back to where every coordinate stored in his memories told him Earth was supposed to be. It’s absence caused a tight feeling in his core, but he ignored it. It had to be done – and now he had another task. Find the Warrior.

Maybe some of the ship had made some scans, readings, observations – anything he could use as a clue as to figure out where the Warrior had vanished to. He could be anywhere. That he couldn’t reach him was worrisome, but there were a plethora of factors that might cause this. At least short term – but it was already taking too long. By now, no matter how far away he was, whatever dimension or universe, they should have heard from him. Which told him that wherever the Warrior was now, he couldn’t establish a connection to Mezchinhar.

And that meant that the Warrior was in danger.

*

“It’s going to be okay,” the Wizard repeated almost to himself, his voice a mere whisper – but at least the Stargazer had calmed down. Not much, but enough for now. I can fix this… The Hermit could be rebuilt, the Warrior too if he had too, if he would die. But he saw the nervous twitching in the Stargazer’s hands, the tension in his clenched jaw before he spoke.

“Fix it? There were billions of people on that planet. They are dead. You can’t fix that!” Just like the Hermit, the Stargazer had spent too much time on that planet. And too much time in the Hermit’s memories too. It had become something familiar, something constant. He had spent over half his existence on that very planet. It had been his home.

And it was gone now. From one moment to the other, it was all gone. Taken by a force so massive, unpredictable and powerful it had simply erased it from the universe, leaving not even a single spec of dust to suspect it had ever been there in the first place. Only memories.

“I know,” the Wizard answered softly and very carefully. The Stargazer still spoke to him as if he was someone else. Of course the Wizard felt the regret too, but maybe not the grief as strongly as the Stargazer did. “But it had to be done. To save the rest of the universe.”

Instead of reassuring him, his words caused the Stargazer to tear away from him, anger in his eyes as he looked at him. “Don’t say that. Don’t justify it like that. It won’t make it okay.”

“I know,” he just repeated soberly. Briefly he glanced back, the pathfinder that had been supposed to get the Grandmaster to tell them of what was happening on earth had not yet returned. And the Wizard had a distinct feeling he knew very well why that was. He could imagine the turmoil his actions must have caused. Because there had been wizards on earth too.

And he had caused the death of their parts as well.

There would be consequences for that. But probably not for the billions of humans that had died with them. They didn’t matter.

They do. the Stargazer said quietly.

I know. The Wizard could only repeat once more, but his voice had become more quiet.

“Do you think he’s dead now?”

The Wizard glanced back at the Stargazer. He didn’t have to ask whom he was talking about, of course he knew. Sensed it in the grief he remembered. The grief he himself felt. He would not mourn the Hermit, nor the Warrior should he die now – because they would return to him eventually. They had to, to make him whole again.

“Maybe,” he answered quietly. But, if he hoped or feared it to be so, he could not tell. Because the possibility of Zenozarax’ death, if it had been actual death, caused painful grief in the Stargazer, bitter relife in the Kingmaker and in the middle there he was, the Wizard, unable to tell his feelings apart. Unwilling to take a side.

All that death for a maybe.

The Wizard had looked away but now the plain accusatory tone in the Stargazer’s voice made him look back. And for the first time he felt a sense of irritation directed at the Stargazer. Caused by his own guilt.

This wasn’t about his death, it was about saving that galaxy! – but even before he had said it, he saw that same irritation flare up in the Stargazer’s face.

And you let him make that decision? Every thought he had, every concern he raised, all of you always dismissed for centuries and now he’s the one deciding the fate of billions like that? He was scared and desperate! He just wanted all of it to be over! And you too, all of you – and so you just accept it? the Stargazer’s voice rose, a tremble of barely contained desperation in every word, clinging to the idea that there had to have been something else he could have done. And every word stung like a dagger in his heart, every word a desperate attempt to put as much distance between himself and what he had done. As if he wasn’t even part of it.

Don’t do this now. You’re dissociating. The Wizard felt a nervous self-conscious nagging in the back of his mind as he was becoming awkwardly aware how many wizards around them were watching him. Witnessing how broken he truly was – he would face the consequences of this later. As if they hadn’t mistrusted him already enough. I know it’s painful, and maybe you are right, but you know there was no time. You know that as much as I do. There was nothing we could have done.

Carefully he made a step forward but the Stargazer twitched back.

Yes he knew. But it wasn’t making it better.

He took a breath. There was whispering around them.

The Stargazer met his eyes.

Another breath.

And then suddenly,

without a warning,

the Warrior was back.

Like an avalanche the Warrior’s memories suddenly crashed into his mind, and for a moment there was nothing else. Years worth of memories suddenly drowning his every thought, memories of a dark world, of suffering, of death and destruction, pain, hopelessness and sacrifices. Memories of Obermoor and a makeshift army, of desperation and helplessness. Memories of a battle, of nuclear fire and burning villages.

The reunification shock made him stagger, his heart trying to be helpful in reacting appropriately with the artificial sense of stumbling unhealthily before he could prevent it from doing so.

He saw the Warrior again, and he wasn’t okay, he saw the ship he commanded barely saved from destruction and the intense stress he was in. Exhausted and worn out by the battle. And the crushing revelation that Zenozarax hadn’t been killed by the explosion, but now by the Prince of Treva and the Northman in a convoluted chain of events he couldn’t even fully understand this quickly.

And he saw what the Warrior had done, remembered what he was doing. What had to be done now at any cost to save the Prince.  

Stop telling yourself that, you keep doing that, but it’s not, it’s not alright just because it had to be done, stop it!

The Stargazer’s desperate thoughts were like a slap in the face and the Wizard dragged his focus back into the reality of Mezchinhar. His equal before him looked ashen, his hands shaking.

You have to calm down, the Wizard said, halfway raising his hand as non-threateningly as he could, maybe to even grab the Stargazer again. He saw the danger right in front of him, saw him breaking, and knew that he had to do something, anything now to stop it from happening again.

Listen to me. I’m right here, it’s alright, just stay with me. Look at me.

But the Stargazer didn’t even seem to hear him.

He remembered the Warrior’s orders to the crew, knew he was about to make a dimensional jump, which was insane given how exhausted the Warrior already was, but he couldn’t stop him from doing it now.

A world burned in his wake, but he wasn’t done yet.

We’re no better, you are not, look at what you’ve done!

You have to stop–

Shut up!

The Wizard froze as the Warriors thought shattered into his own mind like he had shouted, directed directly at the Stargazer. The irritation was clear and hostile. The Warrior had a purpose and goal and nothing would stop him from achieving it now. Not after all he had gone through to make it happen. He would take what he needed now, he wouldn’t let himself be stopped.

He met the Stargazer’s eyes. He looked numb, shattered, heart broken. He saw him swallow hard. His mind being torn apart by guilt. The Hermit had decided the fate of the people on earth, the Warrior that of the other earth, but these decisions were his too. It was his consciousness being weighed down by those decisions. His guilt.

The Wizard barely understood what was happening to him. Never before had the Stargazer disassociated this strongly, never before had they disagreed like this. This was wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“I’m sorry,” the Stargazer whispered, looking directly at him.

“Listen to me–” the Wizard tried again to reach him, but as he tried to take hold of him the Stargazer twitched back again, hitting his hand away, an almost fearful look on his face.

“I can’t – Not like this,” he said, a horrible numbness in his words. “I’m sorry.”

The Wizard saw the Stargazer’s eyes light up for just a moment.

“What are you doing?”

But it was the very moment he asked that question, when he had to ask that question, when another part of him fell silent in his mind. This time not by death, not by dimensional distortion – but choice.

It was a surreal moment as he looked at the Stargazer standing right in front of him, looking into his eyes, both of them part of the same, but suddenly blind for the other’s impressions. He was right there, if he would reach out he could touch him, but he never had felt this distant.

“Ravalor–” it was rare either of them referred to the other with their name, but right now he needed his confused equal to remember who he was, that what he was about to do would only bring him pain and suffering. “Stay here–”

But before he could have said anything more, the Stargazer had opened a whistling portal, for a moment stars gleamed before him, then the Stargazer vanished right before his eyes.

And for what felt like an eternity the Wizard just stood there, staring at the very point the Stargazer had vanished from.

His mind was in utter denial over what had just happened.

And yet the Stargazer was gone.

For a moment the memories of the Stargazer had been tearing into the Warrior’s consciousness, and he knew it would happen before it did, before the memories reached him. And suddenly the Stargazer was silent and all he could see were the last desperate moments of the Wizard trying to hold him back. But it was already too late because the memories only reached him after they had already happened.

He couldn’t allow him to leave, he needed to go, stop him, find him, bring him back, make him whole again.

But he had no time.

Commander!

Suddenly he felt a strong grip holding him, he had staggered in his stance without noticing, the world in front of his eyes was unfocused and too bright. Without having a chance to think twice about it he twitched away from the touch, hitting the hands away, almost stumbling again. He barely realised it had been NA10, his first officer, who now distantly asked if he was okay.

No he wasn’t. But he didn’t say that.

The Kingmaker was still where earth had been.

You’re exhausted, let me get Aeven for you–

The Kingmaker’s voice resonated in his memories but he just barely shook his head to himself.

No, you have to find the Stargazer, I can do this, bring him back, I need to finish this, I can’t–, I–.

The Warrior took a deep breath, he had no time for this.

Hold this orbit! He heard himself say sharply at which the concerned soldiers around him were snapped back into attention. I’ll get Aeven. Notify medbay to be ready.

His hands were shaking badly when he opened another portal, but he did not linger long enough for anyone to notice. Or so he hoped.

Only a second later he emerged on Earth. At least, the Earth of this distant universe. The hot sun mercilessly burned down on him. He blinked hard, his eyes adjusting unusually slowly to the bright sun after they had gotten used to the darkness of the cursed Earth he had just left. Here it was a beautiful day, the sky was blue and almost cloudless. A soft wind was rustling in the leaves. It was so peaceful it was almost grotesque.

His heart was pounding hard in his chest, his head was dizzy by exhaustion and the overwhelming terror of just having lost another part of him. And this time not to death. Not as easily fixable.

He felt his body move again almost without his own doing as he took the steps up the terrace.

Before him, basking in the sun he saw the young prince, who saw him in turn, and there was a surprised smile on Aeven’s face. Just for a moment. A moment where that genuine smile reminded him only of the death that awaited Aeven in that other reality.

There was no room for his personal feelings. A stoic calm enveloped his exhausted mind, it was comforting as it was familiar. He had a job to do. And no matter what was happening to him right now, he would see it through. It was the least he could do. He had come too far to fail.

He’d leave here with Aeven – one way or another.

The Stargazer had known that.

And what would need to be done after that, too.

“Ravalor!”

The Wizard flinched as he heard his name spoken and was startled as he was faced with three warriors in uniform looking at him as if they were about to just shoot him. Only now he noticed the pulsing light of the security alert undoubtedly triggered by the Stargazer’s unauthorised portal outside the portpoints.

“You need to come with us.”

All around them wizards had gathered, pretending to not watch with barely hidden curiosity. There were so many now that they struggled to keep the proper distance to each other, yet they stayed. Just to gawk.

How very human of them.

There was a bitter but familiar frustration in the Kingmaker’s thought he didn’t like.

The warriors gave him a sign to move and follow them.

The Wizard swallowed hard. Of course. Yes. He had expected as much. But he couldn’t think straight anymore, found no better answer than to simply nod and do as he was told now.

He kept his head held high as he was led through the main node. And dozens upon dozens of eyes and low mumbling followed him.

The Kingmaker felt a restless twitch in his fingers. His magic still anchored him firmly on top of the starship, but that was the extent to which he felt grounded now. Everything else felt like a daze.

Should I come? he asked the Wizard who was being escorted down a corridor.

No, help him as long as you can. 

He frowned, jaws clenched tight. The Wizard wanted him to help the Warrior. The Warrior wanted him to find the Stargazer. But how was he supposed to do that now? Even with the small glimpse of space the Kingmaker remembered seeing in the Stargazer’s portal, by now he could be anywhere. He would have made at least one other jump, because that’s what Ravalor would have done.

And for the first time in the Kingmaker’s existence, he didn’t know what to do as all that was left of him now couldn’t even agree on what that would be.

The Kingmaker remembered the Warrior who was standing in front of Aeven, offering him his hand.

Assured by lies and friendly pretences, the prince agreed to help by his own choice. Unaware it would be his last.

He gritted his teeth as he tried to take his mind away from that. It was too late now. It needed to be done. There was no other way.

The Warrior staggered through the portal, the unconscious body of Aeven in his arms and Teseni was right there to catch both of them.

“Commander? Is the prince alright? A pause. Are you?”

The Warrior didn’t even hear the Doctor as he rushed forward, laying Aeven down onto one of the beds.

Teseni!

Yes, yes! I got it. Here! The doctor handed him a fine syringe ending in a long needle – its content was glowing with the colour of magic. The Warrior took Aeven’ head, turning it ever so gently, placing the needle near his eye.

His hand was shaking.

He clenched his jaw like that would help to calm his hand, but the exhaustion was tearing at every atom of his being. If anything the shaking got worse and like this the chance to either take Aeven eye or even worse lobotomize him outright was greater than achieving anything good.

Curse it. He pulled back his hand and offered the syringe back to Teseni. You have to do it. Quickly now!

With a firm nod, not wasting time with questions, Teseni took the syringe back, placing it back near Aeven’ eye and with calm and steady hands pushed the needle into the soft tissue in the corner of his eye. The entire content of the syringe pushed now directly into Aeven’ brain where the magic immediately would spread out and form the supportive tissue and artificial receptors needed for what came next.

His hands were still shaking badly when he grabbed the almost gun shaped device that he had earlier used to plant the soulcrystal within Aeven body. It had been nonfunctional during the time the disruption field had been still working, but the moment it had gone down, Aeven’ consciousness had synchronised with the crystal’s counterpart, and now, temporarily, held onto all that was left of the Prince of Treva. Aeven had just died, and yet he was already taking too long. A human consciousness wasn’t meant to be stored in any inanimate object, every second wasted carrying the danger of deteriorating who Aeven’ was at its core.

He took the counterpart crystal from the device and his hand lit up while he placed his fingers over Aeven’ forehead. He had no time left to engage the facilities. Bracing his mind for the transfer he took a deep breath – then in one hard rush he let everything stored in the stone flow into this Aeven’ brain. It set his own mind aflame with a life worth of information incompatible with his own neural network and his vision flickered. Information rewriting neural pathways, forming new connections, adjusting, changing. A delicate second layer of information, a whole consciousness laying over an existing one and he felt his head spin by fear that his own exhausted state may lead to more harm than good in the end.

Then the magic died down and he gasped. The now empty stone fell to the ground as he staggered back, hitting the bed behind him with his legs for a moment he just dropped down. Just sitting for a few seconds. The world flickered before his eyes.

“Commander!”

“He’s going to be fine,” the Warrior whispered, almost in disbelief, staring at the still unconscious young man. His hands brushed the loose strands of hair out of his face, the beret fell onto the bed but he didn’t even notice. “He’s okay.” A cathartic numbness swallowed his mind as he stood up again and his knees almost gave in.

“I...need to—”

“Commander, you really don’t look alright. Maybe you should lay down too—”

“No... no if the Hammer is still— The Northman—” He took a deep breath, trying to clear his delirious mind. “Stay here. Tell CC to hold orbit.”

Teseni looked at him, clearly struggling to just order him to rest, but he didn’t. Maybe knowing that it was pointless.

Then the Warrior opened another portal.

And he returned to the shadowy echo of earth for the last time.

The Kingmaker had tensely followed the Warrior’s actions, watched him in worry as he sensed how distant the Warrior’s mind grew with every further strain of exhaustion. He realised that the Warrior wasn’t even acknowledging the fact anymore that the Stargazer was gone. That the Hermit was dead. That Zenozarax might be too.

The despicable feeling of being helpless had not gone yet. He wanted to take a deep breath but was momentarily reminded that he was still in the cold vacuum of space. As if the realisation of the discomfort of breathing in nothing was just the reminder he had needed he felt the freezing cold on his back where he didn’t face the sun, all the while he would surely have developed a sunburn by now if only he could.

Suddenly a bright light appeared.

No, not one, but a dozent, like stars appearing right before him, glowing in all colours of the rainbow as ship after ship jumped from one universe into another.

And his eyes grew wide.

Spearheading the arriving fleet was the Leviathan.

He had never seen the infamous flagship of their navy in person, and now the gigantic ship was just flying right before him, dwarfing even Earth’s own royal flagship. He sensed the broad channel communication wave pass him, ordering every ship in the vicinity coldly to stand down and remain calm, like an all powerful police force having just arrived to end a minor riot.

And seeing that massive show of force suddenly before him sent a nauseating sense of realisation through his mind.

They had been ready. They had waited, idly standing by while a war was fought, just waiting...

Like torpedoes over a dozent MTCSs ejected from the Leviathan, all shining new and more polished than the TSS Northforce had ever been, and while most of the fleet shot off to probably end the battle at Mars decisively, the Leviathan stayed right there before him.

Deep below the confusion, the pain and grief, he still felt a very small part of himself being in awe. The Leviathan was a ship every wizard only fleetingly interested in their ships and navy knew, and adored. A mighty vessel of war and order. A living relic from the time the Lords had been still watching over them.

But that awe was swallowed by the terrible premonition that Leviathan’s Wrath was now pointed directly at him.

And as he felt a laser lock onto him, pinging him, he knew he was dead right about it. He accepted the transmission.

“Ravalor.” The Kingmaker froze as the merciless cold voice spoke directly to him, and he knew from the transmission info that it was Fleetmaster Nemoneleus himself. “Report to the Leviathan immediately. Should you fail to comply with this order you will be apprehended by force if necessary.”

For a moment he felt his knees get weak, only being saved by the fact that he was still in zero gravity. He received the port beacon information of the Leviathan’s portpoint where he would undoubtedly be taken straight into custody.

That he hadn’t been yet arrested by force as threatened he chose to see as a good sign but he knew that everything but to comply now wouldn’t end well for him. He was about to open the portal – but then halted.

He remembered the Warrior speaking with the Northman. He was so distant now, the Kingmaker doubted the Warrior was even realising anymore what was happening to the rest of him. Saw him opening the portal back to the ship. The memories were weak, strained by exhaustion.

The Northman gave the Warrior that lords forsaken knife. Then they returned to the TSS Northforce.

There were some words of the Northman – but they were so distorted they were unrecognisable – the Warrior hadn’t even heard the words properly.

And then the Warrior’s memories turned black.

The Kingmaker felt his heartbeat pick up in strangling worry. He looked back at the Leviathan. With strained patients waiting for his arrival.

Then he opened a portal.

5 Picking up the pieces

05.02.2022

The Wizard sat at a table in a room where there was not much else. Just plain, matt walls, a door, the table and the chair he sat on. The stripes of light running along the edge of the ceiling were cold and clinical. Not a single aspect of this room was meant to convey comfort, and it was impressively successful at it.

His hands were locked in glowing, magic-disrupping cuffs. While they were not connected, allowing full range of motion, they would prevent him from theoretically porting away or causing any other form of magical disruption. They made his hands hurt as the active disruption radiated down his wrists and into his fingers. He held them firmly folded under the table, resting on his lap to keep both from twitching and giving away his restless nervousness. His fear too.

His eyes darted up to the wizard that had arrived moments ago and was now standing next to the door, looming over him like a gargoyle. Not saying a word. That hawkish beak of a face just watching him in utter silence. Seemingly waiting for something.

He remembered this wizard well, even though he had only met him once. That first time he hadn’t personally known him. But now those memories were impossible to forget.

And he felt like it was the very reason Yettadeimos, the Mindcrawler, was here now. To unsettle him, to break his resolve, to make him afraid of what would await him should he fail to answer whatever question awaited him now satisfactorily.

The Wizard had no intention to lie, nor any reason to do so, and so the blatant attempt of making him scared (successfully) was downright irritating. He was already stressed enough as it was, with the Hermit’s death, the Stargazer’s disappearance, the worry about the Warrior whose memories had just turned dark and the Kingmaker who now directly went against the Circle’s order – he was sure that would only make things worse. But he didn’t try to stop him, because he would have done the same. Just how it was supposed to be. Because they were the same.

He took a deep breath, meeting Yettadeimos’ cold glowing eyes again. Then, to maybe soothe his own fear, he said,

I admit, I had hoped to never see you again.

There was only the slightest shift in Yettadeimos’ face, his eyes just narrowing a little, the head tilting ever so slightly.

“You don’t remember me?” the Wizard concluded hesitatingly. It would be odd, but he couldn’t read the expression any other way.

“No.” Yettadeimos confirmed promptly, seemingly not even having to think about it. It raised a bitter feeling in the pit of his stomach. Then Yettadeimos asked, “When?”

The Wizard blinked, taken aback by the genuine sense of ignorance in the giant’s voice. Nevertheless, he answered grimly, “Not even a half-fourth ium ago.”

Yettadeimos nodded ever so slightly, it didn’t seem to jog his memories. “What had you done?”

“Nothing!” The Wizard rose halfway, his hands now on the table, the smooth magic of the disruptiv cuffs clicking against the metal, as he couldn’t believe the passionless and barely interested way Yettadeimos asked about one of the most terrifying memories he had as if he was talking about the weather. “You tried to find Zenozarax.”

“The one you warned about?”

The Wizard frowned puzzled. “You don’t remember him either?”

Yettadeimos just mildly raised his brows, it was the first real change in his face since he had arrived. “I am not the wizard you once met. I am Yettadeimos, but the one you have met is dead. I have no memories of that existence.”

The Wizard frowned, but stayed silent. And then it dawned on him – and at the same time he wondered why he hadn’t considered it before. It was so practical and purpose orientated that it should have been obvious to him. But he had never thought about this wizard objectively. The Mindcrawler was used to unveil plots and schemes against Mezchinhar, to find the chaos within their walls. Searching the minds of those suspected of malicious intent. But once he found it, once his mind connected to that of an actual chaos wizard – the chaos would be in him too. Of course he didn’t remember. They had killed him. Lords only knew how often.

Somehow that realisation made the wizard before him only more unsettling. An ever new blank slate with a purpose and no memories of what came before. And somewhere deep between his own fear and nervousness, he felt a sense of pity for that wizard.

And as Yettadeimos didn’t seem very interested in further conversation, the room fell quiet again.

The Kingmaker appeared through the portal straight to where he sensed the Warrior to be which turned out to be the Warrior’s cabin on the TSS Northforce.

His sudden arrival caused a surprised curse from the Northman who stood next to the bunk.

“Could you stop that,” the Northman growled at him, and the Kingmaker remembered that just moments ago the Warrior himself had startled the Northman just the same way. “Anyways, what’s wrong with him? He just dropped.”

The sudden shift in temperatur made his frozen cloak crack and a mist of ice fell from it with every move, turned to water by the time it hit the ground

The Kingmaker squatted down beside the bunk, gently touching the Warrior’s face as he answered quietly, Grief, exhaustion, reunification shock – pick one.

He took the Warrior’s hand and the magic between them tingled, the markings starting to glow as he embraced the Warrior’s exhausted mind, helping him to make sense of the scrambled mess of memories and thoughts. For a moment, the by sheer exhaustion delirious consciousness desperately clung to his, and briefly the Warrior was there, his eyelids fluttered, he wasn’t really looking at anything.

...he’s gone, the Warrior whispered quietly as if he had just been reminded of it. A shudder in his breath as he closed his eyes again. The Kingmaker gave his hand a gentle squeeze reminding him that he was there.

I’m sorry… The Warrior’s voice trailed off, becoming inaudible.

It’s alright. We’re going to fix this.

Can we?

What’s he talking about?

The Kingmaker heard the Northman’s voice and was almost startled by it. For a moment he had downright forgotten him to be there.

He kept the Warrior’s hand in his as his equal slipped back into unconsciousness. Leaving only two of the five parts he was actively present in his mind – and the sheer strain it caused made him nauseous.

“I just lost both the Scholar and the Stargazer,” he said gently, keeping his eyes on the Warrior. It was a tone of voice that was more unfamiliar to him as his mind desperately tried to compensate for the loss of two fifths of himself.

“And which one are you?”

“The Engineer. But not the one you’ve met before, that was the Stargazer...” he heard himself answer absentmindedly as he brushed some of the dirt from the Warriors face, inspecting the burns and scratches the battle had left him with.

“Hm. He’s going to be alright, right?”

Of course. Or at least he hoped so, because he needed the Warrior to be alright. There were still things that needed to be done. He needed to fix all this. To make it right again.

The Warrior had fully drifted into unconsciousness, taken by the rest he so desperately needed. But his hand lingered with the Warrior’s for a while longer, till the Northman said,

What are you grieving about? He said Aeven is here. On this ship, right? And you can get your parts back.

The Kingmaker stayed silent as he let go of the Warrior’s hand. Then he stood up, meeting the Northman’s eyes. And between the still lingering irritation he felt caused by this now self proclaimed god, the grief over what had happened, the unexpected relief that Aeven would be alright, and the stress he felt scratching in the back of his mind – he felt a clear reluctance to answer the Northman.

He had trusted this man, more than most mortals, and part of him still did. But the frustration of the last minutes – the last five years – the Warrior had experienced, tainted it with a bitter undertone.

Something changed in the Northmans face, a sign of disbelief. Don’t you tell me you’re heartbroken about Zenozarax?!

The Kingmaker looked back at the Warrior, and he felt that irritation now, too. But he didn’t answer. Not that that would stop the Northman.

I blew myself up to stop him and now you regret it? His tone was less accusatory than his words would suggest, they were, however, filled with utter bewilderment.

It had to be done, was all the answer the Kingmaker could manage to say. And it sent an awful twang of guilt through his heart as he remembered the pain in the Stargazers face.

Wow. I can’t believe it. You of all people who had been hellbend on hunting that wizard down–

A brief and extremely unexpected flash of irritated defiance flashed up in the Kingmaker’s face, shutting the Northman up before he could finish whatever he had wanted to say. It was an expression the Northman had never seen from him, definitely not directed at him. And the Kingmaker wished he could have stopped himself, so he turned away, trying to find his composure in the stoic calm that seemed so fleeting right now.

His voice was as calm and neutral as it could be when he answered, I knew him well once.

A fact he had never disclosed to the Northman. He had never needed to know. And the Northman stayed quiet for a moment, considering the implications of his words and the new context given to him.

But it’s over now? He is dead? the Northman asked, his gaze briefly on the Warrior, then the Kingmaker. He might have seen Zenozarax die before his eyes, but yet it was a question he had to ask. Because the Northman knew of the wizards’ nature well enough.

Maybe, the Kingmaker answered. And it was still a terrible answer. And maybe aware of that he added Till Charon I would have said yes. I don’t think he was whole when he was frozen. Otherwise he would have tried to save himself. But after that… – it’s hard to imagine that he wouldn’t have created a contingency plan given the sheer destruction he had planned.

And yet you are grieving.

A heavy moment of silence followed in which the Kingmaker looked at the Warrior. Then he said, Northman. Zenozarax was once my teacher, but more importantly my friend. Be assured that I know of his death’s inevitability. But also understand that the acceptance of death of one once so dear to my heart does still pain me. Within the matter of minutes I now might have lost a once dear friend, the Scholar and the Stargazer at the cost of an entire planet – my grief is not yours to judge.

The Northman stayed silent. He was not void of opinion, the Kingmaker clearly saw it in his face, but in a moment of quiet understanding he accepted Ravalor’s pain and the exhaustion he was going through. This wasn’t the time for discussion.

So instead he said, What now?

The Kingmaker looked back at him. There are things we have to take care of, he said slowly, Aeven is asleep but he should wake up soon enough. Till then the crew must be briefed. I– he fell silent, a sense of sorrowful exhaustion showed on his face. We need the soldiers to keep it together. They lost many of their friends.

There should be a funeral service of some sort. The Northman suggested calmly and the Kingmaker looked at him, nodding slowly.

I guess there should be. Then he added, Would you speak to them? A brief silence. Please.

The Northman just nodded once. He had never declined a favour Ravalor asked of him – and at least this one wouldn’t cost him his life.

The door opened and Grand Wizard Yoctoty stepped in.

The Wizard felt a misplaced wave of relief to see a familiar face. A familiar face that right now looked more than unhappy. He had never met this part of Yoctotyr before, he looked younger than the Custodian of Earth had. The hair was a bit longer, the beard shorter – both more dark silver than white. The frown in his face however was just the same.

“What have you done, Ravalor?” Yoctoty didn’t sit down. He stood before him, keeping a generous and safe distance between them. Yettadeimos was still where he had been standing the entire time, now looking down at both of them. Quiet, impassive and patient.

In stark contrast, there was no patience left in Yoctotyr’s tone. So the Wizard took a deep breath and explained as calmly and factual as he could,

“I noticed an abnormality in the caverns, and found Zenozarax beneath Treva. There was a riftspace and a dimensional portal. He was about to summon an entity to destroy that universe. There was no time left, I tried to warn you, but it was too late. I ordered the Northman to destroy the portal to stop the summon.”

“You knew what damage the destruction of an manipulated rift space with that kind of force would cause.” It wasn’t really a question, nevertheless the Wizard answered,

“I did.” He nodded. “The explosion, however, did not kill Zenozarax. The vortex it caused created a pocket dimension and a time anomaly – when my Warrior followed into the wormhole, he was trapped on the other side for almost five years. With the help of the Northman, the Prince of Treva defeated Zenozarax. He is dead now.”

His words were fantastic even to a wizard, but he saw that Yoctotyr wasn’t doubting them.

“I see.” the Grand Wizard said calmly, the irritation in his eyes however betrayed that impression. It wasn’t like the Wizard didn’t know why that was – after all, Yoctotyr had been on that planet too, either in the Dark Tower or in Obermoor. Grand Wizard Yoctotyr, Custodian of Earth, had lost a part of himself in the explosion of that earth as well. His earth. The one he had been watching over since they first had set foot on it over a half ium ago. Ravalor had taken more than a simple Part of him, he had taken that Part’s purpose too.

How did you know?

The Wizard shook his head. I don’t know, I didn’t know.

And where Yoctotyr may had believed him before was now doubt in his eyes. Then he asked,

And yet you told the pathfinder what Zenozarax was about to do. You seemed very certain of it. Did you speak to him?

The Wizard felt an ice cold fear shot through his body.

Yes. He said nevertheless. Every spark of self-preservation screamed at him to lie and to deny – but there was no point in doing so. They already knew enough to suspect. That was why the Mindcrawler was here.

And he let you go?

He swallowed hard. In an irrational moment of fear he wished Zenozarax would have actually killed him, leaving him at least a shred of plausible deniability. Almost his voice failed him.

Yes.

Hm. Yoctotyr looked down at him, and even though Yoctotyr’s frown was perfectly unmoving, downright professional in a sense – the Wizard saw the contempt behind the irritation. But he didn’t ask further.

Ravalor you are expected to appear in whole before the First Circle momentarily. Have your other Parts arrive here, then you’ll be escorted by Yettadeimos to the chambers. Yoctotyr didn’t expect him to answer as he was already turning to leave. Undoubtedly he would be present at the hearing.

I’m sorry, but that isn’t possible right now.

At his words, Yoctotyr stopped dead in his tracks, looking back at him. The Wizard however only saw the calm rise of Yettadeimos’ brows. He knew he had to comply now – but ... there were still things that had to be done.

And why is that, Ravalor?

One of me is dead. Another has left. The third is unconscious. And there are still things I have to take care of first. saying it out loud didn’t help making it feel any less surreal. The Wizard felt like he still hadn’t quite understood how things could have gone so badly this quickly.

Yoctotyr looked at him, a grim frown in his face. If you’re not here when you’re summoned, there will be consequences.

Just a fact.

He met Yettadeimos’ cold eyes again. A cold shudder crept down his spine and he took a deep breath.

I know.

The funeral service was a makeshift affair. The TSS Northforce was a combat ship and a wizard one at that, she offered no dedicated space for ceremonious gatherings, so the crew was assembled in the improvised mess hall.

Nobody had died on the ship and yet the number of soldiers standing before them now was a fraction of those that had left Obermoor mere hours ago.

Pain and grief was far hidden behind the smooth helmets as the Kingmaker spoke the names of those fallen. Their designation and more importantly the names they had chosen. He didn’t need a list for that. He saw who stood before him now and who didn’t. The Warrior had known them all and so did he.

None of them questioned the Kingmaker’s presence even for a moment, they knew he spoke with the Warrior’s voice now. They had been prepared for this.

If there were tears they were silent.

The Northman listened respectfully and quietly. The Kingmaker knew it wasn’t his idea of honouring the dead, but even before the vortex the Northman had been at enough of these quiet affairs to know the drill and what was expected of him.

When the Kingmaker stepped back the Northman took a deep breath before raising his voice just so that all could hear him well.

For over four years each of you knew this day would come. It was the purpose of your awakening to fight and win this battle, to make sacrifice for a world you never knew any different. You came into a world where chaos reigned supreme and yet you prevailed. he paused for his words to carry the weight of his tone.

The Kingmaker somberly watched him from the corner of his eyes. No matter his own irritation with the man, he sensed that the Northman had changed. He doubted he had thought long about what he would say after the Kingmaker had given him some cliff notes, but now the words came easy, like an old friend he might have almost forgotten about in the last thousands of years. A familiar role to play. He did not know them – and yet he sounded like he’d always been there with them. He had always been a good actor. And he wondered how much of who the Northman was now was just a role he played.

You came together as friends. As family. Those that fell today will not be forgotten, their names will stay in our hearts knowing that our victory today would not have been possible without them!

All of you lost brothers today, friends and loved ones. But even when the grief is strong now, you know it in your hearts that they made this sacrifice willingly. That they would be proud to see you stand here victorious.

Remember them with pride and love – and– the Northman smirked, his tone finally losing a bit of its seriousness. After that, each of you deserves the strongest drink we can find to honour their sacrifice properly. Hopefully it will be better than Teseni’s moonshine.

It had the desired effect, there were only a few quiet chuckles, still carrying the breathlessness of grief, but his words caused a slight wave of relaxation going through the crew again. That at least explained why the Northman had asked him if they ever had alcohol. The Kingmaker almost felt a sense of relief. If only he didn’t feel this tired. His mind was aching under the burden of trying to compensate for three parts of himself having fallen silent for now. And he couldn’t do it. It was too much.

He remembered the Wizard and the threat looming before him. But the Kingmaker wasn’t afraid. He was neck deep in it now – he couldn’t change that anymore. Least he could do was to leave things halfway in order and try to give the Warrior a chance to make it right.

Thank you, for what you have done. North! The Northman ended his little speech.

North. Came the mumbled answer from the soldiers and with that the makeshift funeral service was over.

There were no bodies to be either buried or spaced – they had left everything behind in a different universe, left within that burning nuclear wasteland. They had left behind a planet still in chaos, too. But there was nothing he could do about that now, so the Kingmaker tried not to think about it.

The soldier dispersed slightly, a low mumbling between them, while the Northman stepped close to him.

Thank you.

You’re welcome. The Northman shrugged slightly. I assume you’re dreadful with these kinds of things.

I never had to, the Kingmaker only admitted quietly, the quietness of the situation clearly having taken hold of his own thoughts. I never desired to be in charge… of anything frankly. I’m not one to lead people.

Maybe. But I’d say you didn’t do too terrible, all things considered.

What prais from a god.

Oh, you’re still pissed at me.

The Kingmaker didn’t answer. What seemed like vapid bickering in the current situation didn’t want to fit the mood. So the Northman followed his eyes, looking at the crew.

Are you going to tell them what happened to Aeven?

Not all. The Kingmaker barely shook his head. But I trust them. They will follow him.

Meaning?

I can’t yet predict the state of mind he will awake in. If there have been damages. Most likely he’ll need time for his mind to accept what happened. To heal. Until then, if I can convince the Circle, he will be the captain of this ship. He needs a reason and purpose for being here he can easily accept. And it is what he has been trained for.

And you can roll off some of that responsibility of leading people again, the Northman chuckled. His nonchalant levity didn’t mix well with the lingering regret the Kingmaker felt now more strongly. But of course the Northman would have had to have made peace with what happened a long time ago. For the Northman, earth as he had known it had been gone for thousands of years. Not for four and a half years. Or barely an hour.  

That too. He nodded weakly. There was never a captain on these ships, the highest ranking wizard on–board would be the Subcommander, with the possibility of either the Stargeneral or Fleetmaster taking control over the vessel if needed. Captain wasn’t a rank that existed within their fleet, but he didn’t think either the Northman or Aeven knew that.

Then he felt it. He had waited for it. The mighty force of a fleet jumping universes, ripping into this reality, making themselves known to him – a clear and unmistakable threat. He had made sure their own shields were down and momentarily he felt the scanning pulse pierce through the ship. The Northforce herself stayed quiet – he had made sure she would.

Soldiers! He raised his voice and the low chatter in the room immediately fell silent, being replaced by an awful tension. The fleet is here and we will be boarded momentarily. Don’t be alarmed. Stay calm, keep your hands down, and follow their orders.

What– the Northman began to ask but at that moment several bright flashes appeared in the mess hall and dozens of soldiers and a few warriors alike appeared between them, their weapons raised.

His own soldiers twitched back, but everybody adhered to his order. Nobody fell out of line as they were ordered to gather along the walls being closely watched by the warriors.

No resistance. He’s here.

The Kingmaker heard the firm voice of a warrior speak as the comotion settled.

Another bright portal appeared before him.

And then there he was, Fleetmaster Nemoneleus himself.

There was something horribly ironic about the fact that after all this time, now was the time he met the Fleetmaster, just when the Warrior was unconscious. But the Kingmaker guessed that might be for the better, as the ice cold stare of the Fleetmaster met his eyes – it might have broken the Warriors heart to see the Fleetmaster looking at him like this. The Kingmaker felt it too.

Why did you run?

I had to be here.

Nemoneleus looked at him with collected but dangerous gleaming eyes. Ready to judge him as an enemy to Mezchinhar. You know what you are accused of.

I can wager a guess. He almost bit his tongue and wished he had done so before he had answered because he knew now was a terrible time to make light of the situation. But he was growing so tired, the tension was strangeling and he just… – Nemoneleus continued, not even acknowledging he had said anything in the first place.

191 wizards’ existences were destroyed on that earth. The only thing that mattered. Not the billions of humans, animals, life itself that died there. And now with the Stargazer gone, the Kingmaker himself felt the sting of that thought as bad as he knew the Stargazer would. His mind was trying to fill the gap.

There was no time. I tried to warn them but it was already too late.

Nemoneleus didn’t look happy.

Your warrior. He’s here?

Yes. I will come with you, but he has to stay.

For a second there was almost something like grim amusement in Nemoneleus’ face. He wasn’t taken aback by the Kingmaker suddenly raising demands, it was more like a sense of pity for how futile that was. But as most wizards would, he gave him a chance to present him with an argument and information he might not know about.

Why would I allow that?

It is of utmost importance that he stays. He’s unconscious now but when he wakes up he is needed here. He just saved the Prince of Treva, just as the purpose you gave me dictates, but he needs to watch him now. I’ll explain it all to you, but you don’t want to lose the Prince, do you?

Instead of backing off, the Kingmaker made a small step forward, facing Nemoneleus directly and knowing he spoke less to the Fleetmaster than the First Circle themselves. Even this small step caused weapons to rise in his direction, but the Kingmaker was very aware of the invisible line between them he could not cross. Pushing just right to the edge of where the show of confidence would turn into a threat.

By now he was positively terrified of the possibility his attempt to sway the circle in his favour would fail, but his voice was firm and decisive. He knew not to show uncertainty, not in front of the Fleetmaster. And he also knew what note to strike – no emotional argument would get him anywhere, the only thing that mattered was purpose and duty. Maybe it was good after all that he was the one having this conversation now.

The Prince of Treva? He who carries the Hammer? He survived?

The Kingmaker felt an endless wave of relief as Nemoneleus actually took the bait. There had been an equally big chance of just getting stunned and dragged to Mezchinhar.

Yes. But he’s in a vulnerable state. I had to transfer his mind. I can’t leave him now. It’s my purpose to keep him safe. There was a brief moment of silence and the Kingmaker knew that Nemoneleus was speaking with the circle at this very moment, confirming his order.

“Very well,” Nemoneleus finally said. “You will come with me. Your warrior can stay, for now. I will assume command over this vessel and the fleet will escord it till this matter is resolved. If you attempt to flee, you will be fired upon. Acknowledge.” He wasn’t asked if he understood what was asked of him now, he was simply commanded to comply.

“Yes, Sir.” the Kingmaker said with a sober nod.

He had done everything he could.

Now the only thing left was to do as he was told.

He looked back at the Northman who had kept quiet. Not for a lack of things to say surely, the wizards’ native tongue did not elude him, but even he knew that they were in the presence of a wizard they didn’t want to irritate. Because he was ultimately a creation of wizard design too.

Make sure I awake before Aeven, the Kingmaker said, and after a brief pause he added, Keep him safe.

The Northman nodded.

Then the Kingmaker turned back to Nemoneleus who opened a portal. Then he was escorted off the TSS Northforce.

Ready to face the consequences for what he had done.

But he knew, nothing could be worse than the horrible silence of the part that abandoned himself willingly and the still lingering pain and grief that was the last memory of the Stargazer.

6 Epilogue: Stargazer

12.02.2022

Stay here...

There was the freezing cold.

There was the burning heat.

And there was the Stargazer, lost in space.

Drifting, away from everything and everyone. The universe was beautiful around him. Distant stars were flickering in the darkness, whispering tales as old as time itself. The closest, the star of this liveless system, was a bright light before him – he felt its heat, the radiation. A pleasant sensation that was giving a little comfort to his numb mind. The very comfort that was the root of the tale that had once created the title he had been given – he wasn’t the first to carry it, and he wouldn’t be the last. Once the title had referred to a part that lost their purpose – now only those, too unstable to have one, carried it.

But the experience of stargazing was still a sensation all wizards shared and a temptation to manage. The temptation to watch what only they could see, to lose themselves in the beautiful sight of the universes they were made to watch over. A show of light and wonder far beyond human comprehension, speaking to them in a language humans would never understand.

But the whisper of the stars was distant now. All that shimmering and glittering wonder around him couldn’t take away the lightless void within him.

He was alone. For the first time in a thousand years he was truly alone. He had been so afraid of it. Fearing what it would do to him should he ever lose all his other parts again. And yet, in his desperation and anger, the risk had seemed more bearable than staying.

But nothing had happened. The damage was already done. He was just alone now.

With no place to go.

Stay here...

He curled up, his knees pressed against his chest as his body turned away from the star and the freezing cold touched the skin of his face again. It was pleasant. In the vacuum of space, with his eternal heart powering his body which at the same time kept absorbing the star’s heat, his body temperature very slowly but steadily rose as he wasn’t able to bleed off the excess heat as efficiently as under an atmosphere. It didn’t really matter. It just made his thoughts slower. And that wasn’t that bad. Thinking seemed like a burden.

Maybe he would die out here. But once he was dead, they would know and he would be rebuilt. He would wake up in the cold of Mezchinhar again, the Wizard at his side.

There was no sound coming from his lips as a shuddering gasp forced itself up his throat at the idea to just return. But he gasped at nothing but the vacuum of space, and so he was silent.

He had been scared. Then there had been the void.

He had been desperate. Then the void.

Then frustrated. Then void.

Angry. Void.

He didn’t even know whom he was angry at anymore. Zenozarax, for forcing his hand? The circle, allowing all this to happen? The others, for doing what he had done? Or himself, the Part he was, for panicking…

Slowly his mind drifted into the void again, eternal darkness embraced him. Feelings of desperation and frustration tickled anew on his consciousness, feelings that the Hermit must have known too well. He had always understood him the best. But that was what his purpose had been. To gaze into the void. If only it would have worked.

Now with what happened, with the new clarity of what transpired within the tunnels, the memories lost to him seemed so close now. As he was lost in the darkness he felt like he could almost reach for them, almost see them. If only he would look right...

But there was only darkness.

Stay here...

He saw again when he felt the intense heat of the star on his face again. It’s blinding beauty just enough to tear him back into reality. The comforting warmth burning on his already heated skin made him shudder as he remembered the cold world the Warrior had been thrown into.

The horrible sight of its corrupted sun.

And between the frustration, helplessness and even anger, a sense of purpose grew.

I can’t stay...

Because he would die. Maybe when he would drift off – not only in his mind, but in this galaxy too, and a star would swallow him. Maybe a cloud of asteroids would tear him apart. No matter how unlikely, if he stayed here, he would stay forever, and so his death would be inevitable.

He knew he had to fix this.

But how exactly he could not tell.

He just knew he had to make things right, now that he made them worse than ever before for himself.

...I have to go.

The silence that answered him was deafening.

The magic in his fingers started to glow as he embraced the last warm rays of starlight and he braced himself for the cold to come.

Then a portal sprung up into existence around him, bridging a point between two universes with a radiant sparkle of colourful light.

When the portal closed it left only a faint glimmer behind.

And the Stargazer had returned to darkness.