1 Return to Darkness

Under the black fire of the corrupted sun the world shivered and ached, dying but yet still twitching as the Stargazer watched over the distant battlefield.

The land looked different now than he remembered. He had returned to the ledge where his Warrior had met the Northman again, overlooking the plains of Kivinan.

But where the fires had still burned high last he had seen it was now nothing but darkness. The sharp scent of burned life and coal was gone. Instead in the cold darkness there was a swampy and mouldy scent of decay.

With the vortex gone, the timeflux had settled, time had become more stable and more normal. He knew that because he had found the Northman here, and not days or years in the future of this world. But it still seemed too quick. As if too much time had passed and it made his head ache, wondering if it still was the timeflux or if he had lost more time than he thought.

How much valuable time had he wasted aimlessly lost in space, drifting in and out of the void? His sense of time told him only a few days had passed – but he knew that couldn’t be true. He saw it right before him to be false.

The land before him had already enough time to be long extinguished, leaving nothing but the destruction and cold.

But the darkness wasn’t absolute.

In his memories the world had seemed impossible dark, an all consuming force of nightmares stalking around the dome of light that had been Obermoor. The reality was less of a nightmare and more of a grim and sober reality. And with that it was somehow even worse.

It had been summer when they had left Obermoor. Another dark and cold one, but still not as inhospitable as the winters had been. He sensed that the temperature was much lower now. The world was near freezing, but he didn’t really feel it yet as his own body still was heated up from the star he had just left.

The Stargazer looked back up at the dark sun above him. The world below was weakly illuminated by the dark fire in the red sky, it was just enough to keep this earth barely alive.

The Warrior had watched the world around him die and then left it to its own devices. Everyone between here and Treva sure was dead – and if not, they soon would be, as the land was now poisoned to the ground. Like a glow only he could see the radioactivity lingered in the distance, he could sense it in the air he breathed. It was in the ground, the water, the air.

The Stargazer wrinkled up his nose at the thought. Be as it may, beyond the battlefield there was still an entire planet’s population. Maybe only a fraction had survived this long, but they were still here. They still needed saving.

He had to assume that at least a few weeks had already passed. Maybe months.

As he saw no sign to the contrary, he doubted that Mezchinhar saw it necessary to fix this situation, or that any wizard would arrive here anytime soon. This was what generally would be classified as a lost cause. While Mezchinhar surely would have the means to help, there were countless more worlds out there that prospered and thrived without this kind of problem to deal with. Worlds that weren’t dying. There were countless of those too.

Maybe the others had requested that they help. He had to believe in it, because it was what he would do. It was why he was here. But then again, the Warrior had always been so horribly pragmatic. And he surely would be busy now if the plan with Aeven had worked out. The Wizard too would have little time, now after the loss of the Hermit. The Kingmaker maybe – but who was he kidding, that part of him wasn’t one to take on this kind of task unless he was forced into it.

But all that would assume that they were even allowed to. After what he had done, he knew there would be dire consequences to his normal routine and life. The only comfort was knowing that the rest of him was at least still alive.

Either way, there was no help coming for this planet, and so right now he was the only one that would help. And he needed to fix this. Somehow.

He stared into the dark sun standing high above him, peaking through heavy dark clouds.

By the lords how horribly out of his depth he was. How would one even start to dispel such a staggeringly massive curse? How was he, alone, without help, supposed to do that?

There came no answer.

A horrible shudder crept down his spine as he was once more painfully reminded of the absolute silence in his mind. Despite how unsettled he had been by his own actions, by the Hermit’s and Warrior’s actions – he felt a certain newfound respect for the Warrior.

He, the Stargazer, had only once been disconnected from all his other parts. It had caused the first time he had lost himself in the void and consequently he didn’t remember much of it. Now he was perfectly aware of the separation – and it was horrible. Consuming his thoughts, always there in the back of his mind – and he felt like an addict on withdrawal as the urge to just reconnect to the others became just more poignant the longer he was away from them.

But he wouldn’t go back.

With a light frown on his face he turned his eyes westwards, away from the battlefield. In the east towering clouds of darkness rose up into the red sky.

He could be standing right at this spot for an eternity and it wouldn’t help anybody, so he better got a move on if he were to achieve anything here. The Stargazer didn’t know how yet – but at least he knew of a place accessible to him that might help him to find that out.

With a quick flick of his hand, a portal opened before him and he squinted his eyes as the brightness was almost surprising to him. Then he stepped through –

and momentarily arrived in Obermoor.

He felt his heart sink.

The Stargazer had appeared in the marshes, right where he knew from memory the gate would be – but the moment he arrived he realised and remembered that he wouldn’t need it.

Obermoor’s dome was gone. The Warrior had torn it down when Aeven, returning from space, had crashed right into Obermoor. With their magical cover blown, they had left Obermoor on board of the Northforce just an hour later, and he had not bothered to fix the dome after he had gotten what he needed. How very wizard-y of the Warrior.

Now what had been the last bastion of hope for the Warrior, lay dark and abandoned before him. Structures and buildings were halfway lodged into the mountainsides where the sudden dimensional shift had violently displaced tonnes and tonnes of earth and stone.

Slowly he passed through the now only imaginary border into Obermoor. His eyes were nervously scanning the shadows between the assembly halls and dead unicorns on the fields. It had been a safe place before, but now, with the time passed since he had been gone, there was no telling who – or what – might have made Obermoor it’s home in the meantime.

Where he had seen the clouds starting to tower in the distance of Kivinan, they were now a solid black mass above him, slightly rumbling and completely blocking out what little light the dark sun still provided. He was surprised to see how particularly sturdy weeds had already started to grow between every little crack in the concrete below his feet. For centuries, maybe even milenia, Obermoor had been almost frozen in time but now nature took all of it back with all the force it still could muster – even in the darkness. This earth wasn’t dead yet. There was still a chance.

A firm draft upset his hair, and he heard the structures around him creaking as it hissed through the unicorns and buildings. He sensed the air pressure was very low now, rain was near, and so he hastened his steps.

Because he hadn’t entered Obermoor through the gate, the fortress had not yet noticed his presence and lay in utter darkness. Only for a moment he hesitated when he saw undeniable scratches on the main doors. Someone had tried to force entrance.

Once he came close enough to the doors of the main tower, Obermoor was startled awake. At once the entire fortress lit up in a blinding light and the doors opened. For a moment it was a wonderful sense of relief as he was engulfed in the bright and welcoming light.

Then, absolutely horrified by realisation, he looked back, the light was blinding in the darkness and surely able to be seen for miles and miles. He rushed to the access panel beside the door and connected again with the base – and at once every light outside shut down again. He let out a low sigh, glancing back into the dark.

He stood there, quietly. Eyes glued to the pitch black hilltops framing the valley, irrationally expecting a hostile force just plunging down on him out of nowhere.

But the world around him kept quiet with just the wind whistling through Obermoor. The first few drops of rain hit the ground.

Then he entered the tower.

Obermoors consciousness awoke again as he stepped inside, once more taken from its slumber by his presence, and just as it had 5 years ago it greeted him like it had never been abandoned. But it remembered him.

“Welcome back, Ravalor.”

He nodded absentmindedly, acknowledging the greeting before he asked Has anyone been in here since I left?

No.

The voice turned quiet, for a moment it seemed to hang in the air after the doors had closed behind him again. There was only more silence.

He had wanted to go straight to the library, to find any information he had previously disregarded due to the limitations of the disruption field. But now that he stood here, he felt a horrible wave of exhaustion creeping up his spine. He hadn’t really slept since he had left Mezchinhar – just shifted in and out of consciousness and into the void. There was no rest in that. And although he knew, now that he was alone, disconnected from the others, real sleep would come hard if at all, he should at least give it a try. There was no sense in forcing his mind to find a solution with this lingering exhaustion clogging his every thought.

The light inside was as bright as ever. Just that one single lamp was still broken, just as it had been 5 years ago.

His steps echoed in the hall as he crossed it.

There was dirt on the floor, but he couldn’t remember if it had been there before. A few doors to the hallways stood open, but they might have left it like that. Obermoor had assured him nobody had entered – and yet he searched for clues to the contrary. Better safe than sorry.

With a sense of misplaced nostalgia he entered into the livingquarters to his left. He was about to use the stairs down when he halted, turning to the portdoors. For the last 5 years he had gotten used to actually walk wherever he needed to go, because neither his mobile nor the built-in portals in Obermoor had been working.

Without thinking about it he gave the panel next to the door a soft touch and it immediately lit up – but the portal archway stayed dark.

He sighed, almost shaking his head to himself. Of course it still didn’t work. The magic disruption was gone, but the unnatural element that was used in the construction of these static portals was still not here.

As all the things that hadn’t been copied over from the original universe, it was simply missing, because izthra was a material only native to Mezchinhar. Now only the structure of the portal was here but not the crucial part of the magic within that would allow it to connect two spaces in time.

And so he walked. Taking once more the stairs down to the communal centre node on the third level. First as he reached it he realized that he could have used a portal of his own magic. The memories of the Warrior were still new to him – but he already noticed how much they warped his expectations of this world.

The entrance hall before had been left mostly untouched but down here the signs of human life and a very abrupt abandonment of the base were displayed plainly to him.

The communal node wasn’t in disarray, far from it. They had been soldiers and he had demanded a level of professional and respectful cleanliness in the shared living spaces from them. And yet their previous presence was undeniable.

A made up card came left in the middle of a turn on one of the tables. Glasses stood on the tables, their contents had evaporated to leave nothing but a fine layer of sludge at their bottom. A slight scent of mould by more than one plate left unfinished (probably mashed mushrooms, or even fancier; Mushroom steak). One chair was toppled over, speaking of a soldier jumping up when the alarm of the dissipating dome had blared through the building.

Almost absentmindedly he picked up the chair and shoved it under the table again. His eyes spotted the little scribble a soldier had made on the side of some technical notes and he suspected it must have been Isaac. That one always had a certain draw to the artistic – and it had been something of a running joke among the soldiers to ask Isaac to draw them too because, of course, they all looked the same. He felt a faint twitch in the corners of his mouth, a sense of affection for the soldiers he had never met in person but who’s memories were strong within him. He wondered if Isaac was still alive – he had been supposed to be with the first strike team, but the Warrior had switched him with Deke briefly before the attack. It had probably saved his life.

He turned away, leaving the note untouched and continued to his own quarters. The Warrior’s quarters.

The silence was downright unsettling. He was surprised how used he had gotten to the chatter and the constant noise of people living around him over the years.

Now back here its absence felt wrong and threatening as he expected to hear any noise knowing it was someone or something that shouldn’t be here.

But there was nothing.

He entered the Warrior’s quarters. No bigger than any of the others but filled to the brim with stuff. The Stargazer smiled gently as he closed the door behind him. This wasn’t the Warrior. It was the Hermit. For almost five years the Warrior had been alone, but somewhere inside of him he had known the Hermit to be the only one truly missing. And the Warrior had seemingly compensated for that loss accordingly.

The Warrior was usually so propper, so orderly. Always. But even he couldn’t fight his own mind. Notes and books lay everywhere, knick knacks and devices from the workshop and ship all over them. There were clear attempts of order here, but over time way too many things had found their way into the Warrior’s room.

He had made himself his own little Hermit cave.

He stopped before the large set of maps pinned onto the wall. It was several sheets of thin, almost transparent paper, about two metres in length and as close in height. It was drawn by hand. Layer upon layer detailing hundreds of paths and caverns within the ancient tunnel.

The Warrior had drawn these based on the memories of the Hermit. For hours he had stared at them in the nights sleep eluded him, trying to see if there was a viable way of attack from below. It had worked once – but it was exactly the reason he eventually had decided against it. Even if Zenozarax would fall for the same trick twice, and even if they made it through, with the lack of magic they would have been easily overwhelmed by the waiting forces.

Slowly he turned the pages up, peeling up layer after layer of tunnels going deeper and deeper where the tunnels became thinner but the caverns grew larger and larger and whole empires of forgotten history revealed themselves.

He let the pages rest, they fluttered back down, displaying only the very top layer of the tunnels, and turned to the simple bed on the other side of the room.

In the mess around the perfectly folded and smooth sheets looked absolutely out of place. The Warrior had slept little during his time here. And the Stargazer knew it was a fate he’d share now.

Without any of his other parts, his mind’s attempt to process, compress and save his memories and entire self to the others was futile. No matter how much he slept, the lingering sense of exhaustion in the back of his mind he already felt would not go away.

Nevertheless, he sat down on the bed. His eyes lingered for a moment longer in the room and the memories connected to it. The journals about magic and mechanics that helped him get the TSS Northforce off the ground in the first place. The map of the tunnels, where that hidden entrance to the great citadel of Treva was marked with an unspectacular black dot.

His eyes stopped at a folded piece of fabric squished between a volume of The Mavenian Arts of Thermodynamics, journaled by Grand Wizard Jodanox of Gedanavan, and the Handbook of Biological needs as observed by Lord Wizard Heshiva. He leaned over and put the Handbook aside before grabbing the fabric and unfolded it.

It was the cloak the Warrior had worn when he had come here. It had been washed, but it still bore the damages of the straining path to Obermoor. It was torn at several places, and some stains had not gone out from washing it. The Warrior had not worn it since.

Now the Stargazer pulled it over his shoulders.

For a moment, back there, he had hated that part of himself.

But he also missed him horribly.

And so he lay down, just on top of the made bed, perfectly flat on his back, staring at the ceiling as he folded his hands on his stomach.

Then he closed his eyes.

And somewhere within his troubled thoughts, after hours had passed, he finally did sleep.

At least for a little while.

*

Something moved in the darkness. Where nothing and nobody was, something more rose from the obscurity like a colossus rising from a sea of pitch black and thick lava.

What he knew, what he was, what he had seen – the void that existed within him, and the winding path of time before him – all twisting into his unconscious mind.

Then a loud bang ripped him from his sleep.

And a bright flash before his eyes blinded him before he could have even opened his eyes. Suddenly he was on his feet, but stumbled, hecticly looking around, but he barely could see. Because he saw something else that wasn’t the world around him!

He heard something, footsteps drumming outside the room, but they didn’t sound human, they were heavy and hulking. Then a hard bang on the door – the metal bending inwards. And yet he barely took notice of that.

He knew what to do! He knew! His mind was spinning as he could see the dark sun as clear as when he had stood outside on that ledge, standing high above the corrupted skyline of Treva. He saw the spire, the pyramids. And the light!

Another hard bang on the door. His heart was pounding in his chest as his body and mind actively tried to tell him to flee.

There was a chance. An insane chance. But a possibility! He could see it! But he didn’t quite understand. Frowning hard as he tried to decipher what time tried to tell him.

The door was smashed out of its holding, and the very moment the Stargazer was faced with a gruelling demon charging straight into his room, more out of reflex he managed to raise his hands to open a portal – but his mind failed him – the lines on his arms glowed, and the bright stripe of light twisted around itself and violently exploded into a harmless glitter before him as he lost control when another wave of images almost blinded him and overloaded his every thought.

The demon’s charge barely missed him as he dodged aside. He stumbled again, his panicking mind finally drawn more into the here and now as he rushed out of the door, the demon right on his heels.

To his left another demon spotted him as he dashed through the chaos in the communal area. Upset tables and chairs on the ground, shattered glass, he almost slipped as he stepped onto a few sheets of paper on the ground. He heard the demons behind him but didn’t turn around. Almost falling several times in his disorientated panic he rushed up the stairs again and as he arrived back in the entrance hall he didn’t even stop when he was faced with just more demons.

A violent flash of his own magic enveloped his body and exploded as they charged him, and for a moment they were expelled back, more than one of them crumbling to dust before his spell broke – and he almost collapsed.

The dark sun, he saw a bright light, it was beautiful and absolute, he saw nothing else.

Staggering out of the entrance hall into the darkness outside he tried to open a portal again. He knew there was something he could do, that all this could be fixed, he just needed to get out of here!

The bright strip of light appeared before him, and he had more control over it now, but before it opened he was tackled from behind, a horrible flash of fear sparking in his senses and he immediately fired another blast to the attacker – but he was slow, way too slow, his body lacking the effortless ease the Warrior handelt his magic and movement. He knew and remembered how – but the Stargazer had never been in a situation like this before.

A sharp pain tore through him, as claws a sharp as razor blade ripped through his left arm before the blast from his right blew the demon apart.

His vision darkened again and he felt helpless frustration and desperation, as his own mind fought him, preventing him from keeping himself safe. It needed to stop, he needed to get away!

He heard a hard noise – more than the groans of the demons and the crushing of their appendixes stomping on the ground. On the concrete ground a quick rythmic, hard metallic clicking like hoofs.

A brutal hit struck him down, his mind blooming into darkness and disorientation. Then suddenly a bright flash, a blinding star in front of his hazy eyes as his body hit the floor. It blended into the bright light he saw in his mind again.

Between the flickering images before his eyes he saw heavily armoured boots appear before him. He tried to move, push himself up–

But then with another flash – a curse overloading his consciousness – his mind went completely dark.

2 The Knight

He heard steps. The clanging of armour. Metal on a metal floor.

A puzzling realisation hit him.

He wasn’t dead. He knew he should have died but the fact that he remembered that meant that he couldn’t have. He wasn’t back in Mezchinhar–

“Are you awake yet?”

A stranger’s voice, but somewhat familiar. He had heard it before.

Ravalor opened his eyes.

The familiar voice belonged to a familiar face. Narrow and dirty, a light frown above vigilant and sharp eyes that had lost their kindness.

Grandmaster Pelagius.

That fact and the fact of where he was now in addition to the memories of the Warrior computed immediately. He twitched back, horribly startled, and without even thinking about it his hands shot up as he looked in the man’s eyes, a split second of realisation in them, but no fear, before a magic blast exploded from the Stargazer’s hands and shot the knight backwards. The spark from his left hand shot a blinding pain through his consciousness and he immediately flinched back from it, grabbing his left arm.

The Stargazer breathed hard, his healthy hand grasped hard around the still gaping wound on his left arm as he stared at the sizzling pile of armour – it kept unmoving. Scrambling to get up he first now noticed that he was back in his room, the broken door gaping open. Quickly he rushed over to the dead man.

The blast of magic had been strong enough to tear demons apart, whatever was within that armour couldn’t be more than a scorched pile of flesh. Carefully he touched the armour, pulling it up at the shoulder to see the knight’s face. The magic had burned through his veins, scorched his skin. He wasn’t breathing, his heart not beating. He was dead.

But he should have been already.

He remembered how the Warrior had annihilated the death knights to atoms – he knew Pelagius, as Grandmaster to Zenozarax’ army of death, had been at its centre charge. There was no way he could have survived it. That was a fact.

But he was here, right before him. That was also a fact.

A horrible idea formed as he let go of the dead body. If he were to accept that Pelagius had survived, somehow, would it have been possible that the curse had been lifted from him when Zenozarax died? Curses rarely work like that (unless they were specifically life-linked) as evidenced by the still corrupted sun. But still, if there had been the slightest chance...

Had he just killed an innocent man who had, now that he really acknowledged the fact that he had been lying comfortably in his own bed, in all likelihood saved him?

The guilt of that thought was unbearable as he couldn’t deny that he just had done what he always would accuse the Warrior – hell the whole army –  of doing. Shoot first, ask questions later, or never.

Hesitatingly he inspected the now properly dead death knight again, maybe looking for any proof to justify his action retrospectively. His armour was torn and ruined, covered in holes and slashes, cobbled back together by makeshift straps of leather and bent back into shape with hands that never worked metal before. But it was still true enough to the stories he had heard about the Grandmaster of Zenozarax’ army. An armour that had struck fear into the hearts of man.

It, as well as the clothes he wore beneath, were all tainted by radiation. The Stargazer was surprised how he had been even able to get here, let alone stand and fight anymore, while being exposed to such levels of radiation all day long. He would have died sooner rather than later anyways, that much was clear.

His eyes were drawn to the knight’s right hand. A magical device was fused into his skin, spreading over his palm and back of his hand. Carefully he reached for the knight’s sword that was still seethed and fixed to his belt.

The guilt grew stronger. Pelagius hadn’t even drawn his weapon. The Stargazer had to remind himself that this man had been dangerous. That they both were here in this situation proved that well enough.

The sword lay light in his hand, perfectly well balanced. A masterwork of wizard engineering and packed full with magic and curse. The device on Pelagius’ hand was undoubtedly meant to control the magic within the sword.

At least now he knew what had ultimately knocked him unconscious. This was a dangerous device and he felt a little bit more comfortable with what he just had done. After all, he might have saved him, but he definitely had also attacked him before that.

For a moment longer his eyes lingered on the magical sword in his hand. He did not dare to connect to it but he could see the entire blade would light up if he did. The weapon was sleek and downright beautiful – a lot of attention to detail had gotten into the guard and the fine gemstones embedded directly into the blade’s spine. Fine runes connected them up to the hilt that was wrapped in dark, now worn out leather ending in a rounded triangular pommel with another larger dark red gleaming stone.

Nothing of that would have been necessary, nothing of it made the sword more effective. It was just aesthetically pleasing – and Ravalor saw Zenozarax’ fine and masterfull handiwork in every line of the blade. The Kingmaker would have liked it. He had once forged a sword not too unlike this – and he had indulged in some of that pointless decoration too. That had caused an amusing discussion between the Kingmaker and the Warrior, the latter really hadn’t seen the point. But it had been rather pleasant to look at.

The Stargazer felt a sense of affection for both of them – and it felt like a betrayal of his own conviction. As if his memories themselves tried to lull him back to Mezchinhar.

Carefully he put the sword on the ground before him and let himself fall back, sitting down. Staring at the corpse before him.

Obermoor’s tower around him was quiet again, so he allowed himself a moment to think. To reflect on the mess he had just emerged out of almost unharmed.

Unshaken by the gruesome display he finally really examined his left arm. It still functioned to some extent, at least his fingers were still moving. But he wouldn’t have his full magical potential until he found a way to fix it. Where the demon claws had torn into his arm were two large gashes, spanning almost the entire length of his forearm and at least three centimetres deep, if not more. There had been minimal bleeding, some of the dark almost black blood had dripped down his elbow, but it had stopped on it’s own moments after the injury had occurred. Where the fine veins of Izthra beneath his skin had been torn they gleamed ever so slightly, trying to find their connection again.

He stood up and walked over to his closet. There hadn’t been much in it before he left, and now it was even less. But he found a spare plain black shirt and took it.

Laying it on the table of his room he let the magic in his right arm concentrate in the tip of his finger, the magical heat sizzling in a small point, and with a slow careful move he neatly cut the shirt into a long strap of fabric. The smell of burned fabric filled the air and first now he realised how it pushed away the disgusting scent of rot the demons had left behind.

As he wrapped the long stripe firmly around his arm, squeezing the gashes back together so hopefully his body would take care of the rest, he thought back to that cursed prophecy. He hated calling it that. But he couldn’t deny that it was what it was.

It seemed fitting that his first almost clear premonition that could be called prophecy had almost killed him.

Something in his mind had finally managed to tune into the elusive current of time, and he had seen something so clear it seemed almost like memories. The dark spire of Treva. The pyramids. The dark sun. All pieces in Zenozarax’ plan to harness the power of the stellar alignment. They were all still there. They were tools at his disposal.

Things had fallen into place, his arrival, maybe this attack on him now too, that had strengthened the possibility of a particular future enough for him to see it. A possibility in time that could become true if it’s actors found a way to make it so. He was now part of that play – and had to figure out what actions he was supposed to take, what part to play, to make that vision reality.

With Zenozarax already on his mind it was hard to not find a bitter sense of amusement in the fact that ironically Ravalor now of all wizards had been blessed with a vision. Zenozarax would have been out of his mind jealous. Probably strangely proud too after that. At least once upon a time.

The Stargazer tied the fabric shut, having to bite down on one end to tighten the knot firm enough so that it wouldn’t become loose again.

He hadn’t eaten or drank in a long time, and his awareness of his own bodily functions told him clearly that he had no ressources left to fix this injury. He’d need some material to do so. Favourably he would go for a good glass of mana. But he was fairly certain what little had been left in Obermoor had been carried onto the Northforce like everything else that could have been of use – and he wasn’t sure an extensive and most likely fruitless search of the tower would be worth the time.

As it was, his physical condition was still manageable and it would be a while before he’d come down to chewing on bolts. He’d come up with something till then.

With the certainty that he was alone he let out a heavy sigh.

And in turn he received a rattling gasp as answer from right behind him.

Once more he was startled so badly he almost jumped as he swirled around, just this time he managed to keep his magic to himself.

In utter and absolute disbelief he stared at the man on the ground as another painful cough escaped the dead man’s lungs.

And finally it all made sense – but not really.

You’re undead… the Stargazer whispered more to himself, making a step back. It wasn’t so much the fact that the titular death knight was undead that unsettled him, after all the Warrior had fought alongside necromancers often enough. It was the fact that, undead or not, after having been blown up by nuclear fire and now shredded on the molecular level by Ravalor’s magic – nothing of the magic keeping Pelagius alive should still be working. At all.

And it was worse. As the death knight pushed himself off the ground, raising his head, the Stargazer saw with shock that the signs of the violence he had inflicted upon him had almost completely vanished from his skin. Just his eyes were still bloodshot. Necromancy was capable of a lot, but healing destroyed matter wasn’t it.

Don’t! Wait– The knight raised his own hands in a halting manner as he noticed Ravalor raised his hands again ready to attack – or at least defend himself. Please.

And the Stargazer’s hand’s wavered.

The expression on the man’s face was hard, but there was more behind his eyes, something that mirrored that one word. Please…

Keep your hands down and don’t move! the Stargazer said and he was surprised how steady the Warrior’s tone sounded in his voice.

A humourless chuckle was the first answer he received as the knight opened his arms wide. Or what? You going to kill me again? Please, be my guest. Just do it right this time, will you? The death knight stood now again not too far from his weapon, and the Stargazer’s eyes twitched to the sword on the ground. But he didn’t see Pelagius do the same. Instead his words got his attention back again, an almost bitter amusement in them. I’ve been blown up, shred to pieces, stabbed – twice –, burned, and half eaten alive – now also… whatever you just did. And yet here I am. His tone turned from amused to angry and Ravalor tensed up when Pelagius made a step forward. Nevertheless he asked,

How?

Pelagius chuckled humorlessly, the deep frown not vanishing from his face. What do I know of your cursed magic? I should ask you that. You’re a wizard, too, aren’t you?

I am, he said, his voice stoic and firm, his hands steady. But he felt like a pretender while doing so as he worried he wouldn’t be able to try to kill the other again should he have to. But as long as they were talking he wouldn’t have to have that revelation. How did you find me?

The light, Pelagius answered, still very much unimpressed by the threat of another death. I’ve been following the horde for a while now. We could see the glow all the way from Lehe. A few broke loose from the mass, drawn to it and I followed them.

The horde? You mean the demons? How many of them are left?

I couldn’t say. Those I followed counted maybe a few hundred, but here are more spread far across the land. Pelagius shrugged and walked up to the desk, willfully turning his back to Ravalor. They are wandering, sometimes parts split up, sometimes others join. They are not even taking anything anymore, just destroying. He sat down, leaning back as he crossed his arms, watching Ravalor.

Where do they go?

Nowhere. They come and go from Treva outwards and back again, from shore to shore. But they never wander too far south.

Hm. Of course the magic Zenozarax had enacted over the land hadn’t magically vanished once he had been defeated. Everything inside Treva’s great spire had been taken offline by the explosion of the channeling device – most likely including the summoning chamber. Now every demon and undead outside was left without guidance, kept alive and moving by magic without purpose, remembering maybe a shadow of what it had been doing before.

The Stargazer lowered his hands. So far Pelagius hadn’t shown any signs of hostility and for now he was willing to grant him an ounce of good faith. But it raised one very important question.

What do you want?

The question wasn’t answered. Pelagius merely looked at him, a light frown on his face, a deep breath. And the Stargazer wondered if he was trying to make him nervous. He could wait a long time for that. The Stargazer may was at his core the least confident of all of Ravalor’s parts, but silence had never unsettled him. And fine, if he wanted to be like that, he saw no reason to indulge in power plays.

He raised his healthy hand again, and he saw a slight tension in the death knight when the magical marking lit up. A bright strip of light appeared – the first mark of a portal – but that finally drew a reaction from Pelagius.

Don’t! Pelagius reached out the moment he jumped up, the device on his hand lit up, a sharp hiss cut through the air as his sword snapped back into his hand and – really not having expected this explosiv of an reaction – the Stargazer suddenly found himself at the tip of said sword, it’s sharp edge glowing with dark magic. Stay! Pelagius growled, his face drawn into a grimace.

The Stargazer raised an eyebrow. So, you do want something after all.

No. Pelagius’ breath was hard, his hand clenched tight around the hilt of his sword, almost trembling. Yes.

What is it then?

Take me with you.

You don’t even know where I’m going.

Doesn’t matter. The knight’s voice staggered. If he had wanted to convince the Stargazer that he was calm before he now failed spectacularly. Just take me with you.

Why would I do that? The Stargazer knew he was pushing it, he saw how unstable the man was, but he also didn’t quite understand yet what his goal was. He was still cursed, seemingly very undead, and whatever it was he wanted he would only achieve at his site.

Maybe the Stargazer had been a bit too lost in his own musings when he asked that question because the sudden force of anger took him by surprise.

Stop asking! Just let me come with you! Pelagius downright shouted at him, he was too close now and the Stargazer knew that the Warrior would long have blown this man to atoms – again.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do that.

There was something extremely odd about all this. This wasn’t Ser Pelagius as he knew him, but it was also not Grandmaster Pelagius as he had expected him.

I won’t let you come with me, if you don’t tell me what for, he said calmly, and for a moment the cursed man’s eyes glaring back at him were filled with absolute hatred. What is your goal?

With a shout of frustration Pelagius bounced back, finally lowering the sword but seemingly about to just throw it with full force against the next best wall. He didn’t do that, but he paced, restless, glaring at Ravalor, his still young features distorted by burning anger.

I have no goal, Pelagius growled, his breath heaving. I have nowhere to go. I had an army, a lord, and orders. But now? There’s nothing left here and no place for me to be. I’ve been riding through the dark for weeks with no more than death and demon as my company and they thirst for my life as much as every living soul still out there. I’m alone. A brief pause, another heavy breath, the anger making room for desperation. And I don’t want to be...

The Stargazer stared back at the knight, and he felt a wave of unsettling horror take over him as he understood that the knife’s curse had not left this man a mindless puppet – that he was still very much there, but helpless to the will of that curse. That he still felt, thought and wished. That he was still human after all, but trapped within the anger in his own mind and the will of another. Just that that will was silent now – as Zenozarax was gone, and Pelagius left behind.

He could not blame the man for what the curse had made him do. Because he knew Ser Pelagius had been a good man. One of the best.

But the curse was still there. And dangerous.

And yet.

As his own mind ached to be whole again, to find his other parts again, to not be alone anymore, he felt it too. Lost in this desolate and cursed wasteland they both longed for something they couldn’t have. The man before him wasn’t good, not anymore – but neither was he. As much as he believed Pelagius innocent of what he had done, as much he wanted to believe that he himself was innocent of the things he had done.

Alright, you can come with me. For now, the Stargazer finally said, and for a moment there was sheer disbelief in the knight’s face, then relief.

Thank you.

The Stargazer nodded weakly.

Then Pelagius asked, What’s your name?

Stargazer.

Pelagius frowned. No, I mean your wizard name. Not your title.

The Stargazer hesitated, genuinely surprised that Pelagius was aware of wizard’s names and titles to begin with, going so far as to recognize the uncommon “Stargazer” as one of them. Then he said, Ravalor. And because that felt wrong, because he wasn’t whole, he wasn’t Ravalor, he added Ravalor the Stargazer.

Oh. Pelagius said plainly, his brows slightly raised. His sword hung like forgotten in his hand, the tip touching the metal floor. It’s you.

You know of me?

He spoke of you.

3 Star Crossed

Three months. It felt impossible but Obermoor was very adamant that it had been already over three months since the Warrior had left.

Three months, while his own sense of time told him he had left Mezchinhar only a few days ago. Three months, no time frame any wizard would bother to think twice about – but the people on this planet did not have that luxury.

He had wasted those three months in the void. And it caused the first glimmer of a deep rooted fear within him.

What are you looking for?

But before he could lose himself in worries, they were momentarily overshadowed by an undeniable sense of déjà vu as Pelagius watched him go through the files in the library. It wasn’t the abstract human kind, it wasn’t his brain messing up storing a memory, thinking it remembered doing something in the past already. Instead it was the very real echo of a situation not too unsimilar to the Warrior and Aeven right in this same spot not too long ago. Just that Pelagius was lacking the curious tension in his voice as well as the pretended ignorance over what had happened. Actually, he looked more like a man who was acutely aware that the world around him had burned down but had long accepted that there was nothing he could do about it.

The Stargazer first connected again to the console with his left hand out of habit, but switched to his right as he sensed the disrupted connection due to his injury.

I’m going to fix the sun, he declared, surprised how confident he sounded despite the knowledge that he still didn’t know how. But at least he knew that he could, or at least, that it was a possibility in the passage of time, if only he found the right path.

Okay. Pelagius sounded perfectly unimpressed. And how are you going to do that?

He met Pelagius’ eyes and he would have sworn the knight knew very well that he had no clue.

Do you know if Zenozarax kept records of what he did in the tower? Or elsewhere? he asked instead of answering. He assumed it must be so, Zenozarax was still a wizard and as long as the chaos hadn’t completely corroded his brain he wasn’t immune to the very common obsession of wizards to write things down, be it observations, plans, theories, or just plain journals.

He wrote a lot, Pelagius confirmed. But what, I can not say. He always wrote with characters I have never seen before. Like these. Pelagius flipped through a few pages of one of the books on the centre table. Left there since Aeven’s arrival.

Of course. With his mind still searching for ideas in Obermoor’s library the Stargazer pondered over what best to do now – and how. There were too many unknowns so the first thing he needed was a clear plan forward.

Do you need me to do something? Pelagius’ question tore him from his thoughts again. Right. If his previous interaction with Aeven had taught him anything, then it was that he was better off in giving the man something to do. Pelagius wasn’t Aeven but he figured feeling useless was a shared undesirable experience for most humans. ...and wizards.

Maybe. I think I have to go to Treva. I need to find out what it is I’m dealing with. What it is he did exactly. With a light concentrated frown he looked back down at the panel before him, before Pelagius’ answer made him look up again.

That’s going to be rough.

Why?

The horde is returning. The whole city will be swarming with them soon. Besides that, the undead and soldiers have never left, roaming the streets, halls and houses. If we go to Treva, we will have to fight our way through. Pelagius took one of the chairs and turned it around, facing Ravalor as he sat down, crossing his arms.

What’s with the spire itself? Is it safe?

Pelagius shook his head slightly. Doubtful. Last time I was there the demons hung like oversized spiders all over it. Even if we port right inside, as soon as the fighting starts, the others will be drawn to it.

So we don’t fight.

There was an option he supposed, taking advantage of Pelagius’ seemingly true immortal state. Just porting him in and give it time. He would die. A lot probably. But he could clear the tower. Surely.

The Stargazer sighed in spirit. Sure, it was an option, a reasonable one all things considered, but he wasn’t very comfortable with it. Feeling not particularly charitable towards the more pragmatic parts of himself he imagined them (maybe unfairly so) to do it and not even bat an eye. But the idea to throw this very much conscious and living human being, curse or not, into harm’s way just to die over and over again till he had simply worn out whatever demonic presence was still left in the spire as if he was just a tool to cleanse it – felt wrong and cruel.

He met Pelagius’ eyes for a moment, and he felt like the knight knew exactly what he was thinking about. There was an expectation of tension within his face.

Do you know where the summoning chamber is? From where Zenozarax would have controlled all these demons? the Stargazer asked.

I do, Pelagius answered with careful reservation in his tone.

Good, then we’ll try to sneak in without raising attention. No fighting, once we reach the summoning chamber, and if it’s still functional – which was a big if, given the massive explosion he had caused inside the tower – I might be able to take control over the demons.

Okay, Pelagius said with a nod, visibly relieved, leaving only the unnatural confidence of a man who knew whether or not the plan would succeed he wouldn’t die – even if he did. Will you port us?

Part of the way. But I’m not familiar with the spire itself nor do I have a map to place the portal. And if the city itself is swarming with undead as you say, I rather not port us into the open. We’ll use the tunnels to enter the citadel. If they were still intact.

With the still new memories of the Warrior on his mind he suddenly started to really dislike that word. If. Once more there were too many possibilities and little to no solid certainties.

Pelagius nodded.

Can I bring the unicorn?

The– faintly he did remember the sound of hoofs when first he had encountered Pelagius. You have a unicorn, he concluded, not sure if he was stating a fact or asking a question.

Technically it’s not mine. But I was the only one using it after all this started so I took it when I returned to Treva after the fight. Pelagius shrugged. Not like there was anyone left who could have kept me from it.

The Stargazer met Pelagius’ eyes for a while longer, and when he answered he dragged the word a bit, not sure he meant it, Sure.

*

The tunnels weren’t as quiet as he remembered them to be. There was an aching in the stone, as if the weight of time finally had taken its toll on the ancient structure, even though they were younger in this reality. And distantly he heard noises in the darkness. Skittering of creatures always on the rim of darkness where his light could not reach. And maybe, deeper within, something worse than that. He thought he heard a shout, a scream maybe, but it was so quiet it might as well have been a draft of wind whistling into one of the shrouded entrances uptop.

Never before had the ancient tunnels felt this hostile to him.

Almost warily the Stargazer glanced at the unicorn. The metal hoofs were clicking on the ancient stone floor.

Both Pelagius and the unicorn were walking behind him. He felt Pelagius’ eyes drilled into his back, and it made him reasonably tense, but actually the unicorn was almost more unsettling.

It wasn’t like the unicorns left in Obermoor, the old ones – nor like the most recent designs active in their army. It was however eerily similar to Zenozarax’ final design. Ravalor had known it, his goal, the design he wanted to finalise once all knacks and functions were ironed out and the unicorns were the best they could be. The official Unicorns had never reached that stage – because before that could have happened, Zenozarax had disappeared, and other wizards had taken over the final stages of the design and build. They were functional, purpose orientated, still much sleeker than those that came before but – they were not what Zenozarax had had in mind.

This one showed the signs of the battle and the weeks far beyond any proper maintenance and care – but it was still wonderful. The Stargazer let the crippling nostalgia wash over him as he took his eyes back forward.

He no longer managed to not think about Zenozarax. How could he? Not with both the undead knight and the unicorn right on his heels. Both of them were a constant reminder. As was this world. And the memories plaguing his mind. The destruction of Earth. The battle over Kivinan.

The Northman’s words confirming Zenozarax’ death.

Everything concluding in that on inevitability.

His heart ached as he remembered the Warrior being even too stressed, too consumed by what he had to do, as to really process the words.

But the Stargazer was far beyond the focus of duty now as that he could ignore it any longer.

The worst part of it all, even with all the death and destruction, he still did not, nor could he, believe that Zenozarax was truly dead. Something inside of him told him it wasn’t so, the same way it had been after Charon. But if that was paradoxical wishful thinking or something more he could not tell. It was once more just a feeling.

Maybe if he could believe that Zenozarax was dead, all the forced sacrifice would have been excusable… but no. No it wasn’t.

He wasn’t unreasonable.

He understood that not everyone could be saved, that sometimes hard choices had to be made. He understood that letting Zenozarax continue could have destroyed the entire galaxy, if not the universe in due time. It wasn’t only the decision itself that unsettled him. It was the rashness with which he had decided upon the fate of billions. As the fear of the Scholar had met the cold practicality of the Warrior in full agreement.

He could pretend it hadn’t been him – but that wasn’t true. They were part of him and they were one. Not the same, but parts of a whole. He had been scared too, maybe even more than the Scholar. He saw the practical logic behind it as well, but not as clear-cut as the Warrior. And he knew they hadn’t wanted to do it either – and yet he had.

This had not been his decision to make. He shouldn’t be the one to decide upon the fate of an entire planet. Should anyone? Probably not…

And yet, maybe, if it had been only that, he would have stayed. But then there was the cold pragmatism of ignoring an entire world in suffering. The willingness to sacrifice one to save the other. The Warrior had done, and was willing to do what had to be done. But the Stargazer could no longer hear these words without feeling them to be an excuse. And it scared him because he knew that same pragmatism was within him too. Pushed to his limits, it was who he was. He just hadn’t known it before.

But what he felt now, what had driven him here, all that grief and guilt, even the anger, it was also who he was. Because he did care. And still he felt unable to reconcile these two parts of himself.

He wasn’t unreasonable.

But he was frustrated that even with the clarity the written past granted, he still did not know what else he could have done in that short amount of time. What the Warrior could have done without risking all of it.

He sighed. Stopping in his steps as he paid attention to his surroundings again. The memories of the Hermit were still strong within him – the tunnels were familiar, he didn’t have to think much about where he was going. He just knew.

However, the last years and the unrest above so close to Treva and the massive construction that had been undertaken above ground had left their marks even down here.

We’re almost there, he said quietly as they passed a collapsed tunnel. Then suddenly he stopped again, staring into the darkness before them. There was a faint scent of burned wood.

What? Pelagius asked, trying to see what the Stargazer was looking at.

The Stargazer listened more intensely, his brows drawn into a tense frown. Distant sounds of movement. I don’t think we’re alone anymore. He whispered very quietly.

Pelagius’ hand reached for his sword in alert.

At first, when he focused his eyes onto the darkness, expanding his sight way beyond the visual light spectrum there was nothing, before appearing from behind the massive pillars there was a disturbance of temperature, undetectable to the human eye.

Show yourselves! There was a good chance that whatever lurked in the shadows wasn’t friendly, but on the faint chance that it might be survivors, driven underground to flee from the terror above, he added We mean you no harm.

That’s a bad idea, Pelagius growled but the Stargazer ignored him.

Figures appeared from the shadows while he heard more footsteps rushing away into the distance.

Humans. The sounds echoed through the vast tunnels, there were about 30, he heard 20 running away, they carried heavy, there was a card, the rest he saw now before him were coming closer, carefully. To hold off the intruders, to give the rest a chance to flee.

The Stargazer felt his heart sink as he looked at gaunt faces, pale as ash and thin to the bones. Beneath several patched layers of mendet clothes where exposed skin was shown he saw rashes and boils, open wounds that were not healing and crusted with pus. They were dying and it was impossible to even believe they were still alive.

But all his sympathies were overtaken by the fact that each of them pointed a gun at them. A familiar design too, not native to this earth or time. But these people didn’t look like soldiers of Zenozarax’ army. Draped in rags and what was left of whatever clothes they had as chaos had ravaged their homes – the scavenged weapons in their hands were the only protection they had. And each of them was pointing directly at them.

The Stargazer heard Pelagius say firmly, Put those guns down. But rose his hand to him without turning. A sign, and a warning, to let him handle this.

He openly raised his hands – an action signalling a threat to any other wizard, but usually not to humans – but they flinched back, more than one gun trembling in their hands.

He understood. They saw the light, the unicorn, they knew what he was, because they had met another wizard before, knowing what destruction lay just beneath his fingertips.

I mean you no harm, he repeated carefully, lowering his hands again. Who are you?

He looked at the man right before them.

You... A brief moment, there was a look of barely contained terror in the man’s eyes. He was trembling. His eyes had twitched to Pelagius, widening,–

Maybe he would have answered. Maybe they could have defused the situation.

But that did not happen.

The Stargazer still looked at the man, noticed a twitch of the gun, when suddenly a dark flash exploded before him.

It was a fraction of a second in which the Stargazer just stared, as blood splattered across the tunnels, wet, warm drops on his face, the dark light evaporating, and a good part of the people before him were just gone. What little was left of them clattered to the ground. A severed hand still grasped around the gun the man had held.

And still he reacted quicker than anyone else, as he turned, raising his hand, the moment he already saw Pelagius raising his sword again, ready to strike down the rest of the people,

Pelagius stop! It was the same moment shots were fired.

Pelagius didn’t stop, the sword lit up, then another flash, blinding in the tunnel– a jolt going through the Stargazer’s own body, his hand still sparked with magic as Pelagius fell to the ground.

The unicorn wered – nervously prancing, its horn glowing brightly, and a mere moment away from attacking – only maybe still deciding on whom exactly.

Stand down! he shouted, the unicorn was taking a nervous step backward, a hissing ache coming from its body. It sounded like a complaint.

First then he noticed the stinging sensation in his body. He blinked almost in disbelief. He felt the dark blood tickle around the entry wound on his stomach. But why didn’t he want to accept it? Why had he been so sure they wouldn’t shoot him that he hadn’t even considered a ward?

He looked up – directly into the face of the person who had shot him. There was nothing but freight and hatred in it.

“Stop! You have to stop – I’m here to help, I’m going to fix this, I’m–” Another couple of shots – these ones evaporated against his ward, and yet tore painfully though his heart, his fingers twitching. “Please,” he begged. “I’m here to help.”

No more shots were fired as the horrified faces realised that their shots had no effect anymore. Then, choosing life over an unwinnable fight, what was left of the survivors ran off into the darkness. They had bought the rest of them enough time to flee – and paid a horrible price for it.

The Stargazer felt his knees tremble but he kept standing. His healthy hand pressed against his stomach out of reflex even though what little bleeding there had been had long stopped. But he still felt the warning pain that there was now a hole in him where it did not belong. The magical projectile had gone straight through, leaving a scorched hole in his utility vest. Which unfortunately wasn’t bulletproof and never had been because usually nobody got shot in Mezchinhar. And even if, those magically charged projectiles would pierce through most armour regardless.

“Shit…” A staggering breath whistles through his teeth. The carnage around him still dripped almost tauntingly from the ancient murals. Pelagius’ dead body was still on the ground. The unicorn was charring, upset and tense. Another drip. His eyes found the gun again… the limp, dismembered hand still on the trigger. “Shit.”

Whatever he felt right now, it was too much. Guilt, regret, anger, frustration – and shame. The Stargazer had always been a burden, a mistake, he knew that and everyone always had been eager to remind him of it. But he was still a decent wizard, he was still Ravalor, he made things right – but never before had he felt this incompetent.

He was certain the Warrior would have been prepared. For the attack on Obermoor, and for the encounter now. The Stargazer knew he should have been too.

He was certain the Kingmaker would have kept control over the situation. Both of them wouldn’t have frozen and stared uselessly.

Even if they just had been with him he could have...

He swallowed hard as he heard movement behind him. The scratching of armour on stone.

With a deep furious frown he turned around, just soon enough to see Pelagius dragging himself up, groaning in pain.

“Why did you do that?!”

Pelagius looked up, finally standing again, a dangerous gleam in his eyes as he made a step toward Ravalor. They recognized me. They were about to attack.

They were scared! the Stargazer snapped back.

“Scared and armed! There is no reasoning with these people! Their brains are rotten. The water is poisoned here, there is no food. There is no food, Ravalor! The darkness and hunger has driven them mad – They would have tried to kill us anyways just to keep themselves alive!”

What’s it to you? You can’t die!

You’re not listening to me. And you still can die!

But not that easily! We could have tried to calm them–

What happened to the rest? Did you kill them?

No, of course not!

So they fled?

Yes.

What if they hadn’t? Would you have fought them? Killed them? Or would you have fled instead? Leaving me laying here?

The Stargazer kept quiet.

Thought so. Pelagius’ hand reached out, the device in his hand lit up and the sword snapped back into his hand. I’m not going back there. Do not leave me behind when I can’t even fend for myself! The sword trembled in his hand, seconds away from drawing it on Ravalor again. His breath was heavy, and there it was again, the sense of lost desperation behind a grimace of anger.

Then don’t force me into a situation where I have to! I’m here to save these people, not to kill them! Tell me you understand that, because I don’t get the feeling that you do! He was too emotional, he knew that. He needed to calm down, lords, if only his Wizard would speak to him, he could have defused the situation he was sure of that. But as it was, the belittling judgement fused with his own anger dripped from his every word, and it fueled the knight’s anger like gasoline. And he knew that anger. He had seen it before.

And for a horrible moment he felt like staring into Zenozarax’ eyes, the very moment Pelagius had closed the distance between them. He had seen him coming, he would have had all the time to react, had heard his angry shout, the sharp blade flickering with the reflection of his own dark, magical light.

Then his head bounced against the stone floor, his vision flickered, his own breath shallow. Pelagius above him.

Don’t. He heard himself whisper, the sword crackling with the cursed magic inside, ready to strike and almost absurdly he noticed how the intense magic was literally burning the skin of Pelagius’ hand where the device ended. It must be hurting.

But then he met the knight’s eyes again. He saw two sides warring inside of him, slave to the unnatural anger within him, but dead afraid of the consequence of what he was about to do.

If you kill me now… you’ll be alone again, the Stargazer said quietly. I won’t come back. I’ll be returned to hell. And kept there. I don’t want to go back. Oh what a lie. There was nothing he wanted more. But not like this. Not without having achieved anything of worth.

Pelagius’ breath was heavy, his hand holding the sword trembling. Then a clang of metal on stone as the sword dropped down, and Pelagius flinched, pushing himself backwards away from him.

Silence.

Pelagius stared at him.

The Stargazer took a deep breath.

You’ve been shot. Pelagius eventually said, pointing out the obvious between still hard breaths.

Yes. For a moment he just closed his eyes, laying on the stone floor, one hand on the gunshot wound on his stomach. What was he even doing?

Will you be alright?

Yes… barely a whisper. Though he already started to doubt that.

4 Rise from the death

What’s this place?

They had stopped at the hall’s entrance, Pelagius eyed the ancient structure slowly while the Stargazer’s eyes were fixed on the altar at its centre and the twisting dimensions surrounding it, invisible to Pelagius.

There was a reserved tension in the knight’s voice, the Stargazer’s felt it too. Not even half an hour ago, Pelagius had killed those survivors and almost had tried to kill him as well – now continuing as if nothing had happened felt forced and even a bit awkward. But what else could he do?

He believed that Pelagius believed that he had done it to protect both of them. That, in his mind, it had been the only viable course of action at that moment. That it had to be done. During the entirety of the last 23 minutes and 34 seconds he had mulled over that fact with a frustrated sense of exasperation. Not leaving Pelagius behind made him feel like a hypocrite. He felt like he had been riding a particularly high horse that somewhere since his grand exit out of Mezchinhar had thrown him off and now he couldn’t even find the stirrups anymore.

But even despite his own moral conundrum, Pelagius was now as much a variable in this as he himself. Just leaving him behind wouldn’t take him out of the equation. He didn’t know how vengeful this new Pelagius could be, but given the unnatural anger within him, the Stargazer felt it the safest for everyone but himself to keep him around. At least he’d known what he was doing.

So finally he answered,

It’s a rift space.

But there was no portal. The way here had been unobstructed. We’re now directly below the Citadel.

Alright, Pelagius said, perfectly unimpressed by that revelation. And why are we here? And not up there.

I think… Ravalor finally overcame that invisible threshold and stepped into the chamber, carefully approaching its centre. This will be important. His mind was racing, trying to piece together all he knew about rift spaces, the memory of the portal he had seen Zenozarax use, and the erratic images of his prophecy. The fragmented memories of the Hermit turned out to be the most useless, as almost all his attention had been on Zenozarax himself – but he did remember the structure.

Zenozarax used a portal right here to drag something from hell. But I am pretty sure the reverse should be possible too. So if we had a stable enough portal … He circled the altar, staring at it, his thumbnail clicking against his front teeth in thoughts in every pause he took. Zenozarax wanted to use the spire as a catalyst to draw onto the power of the conjunction, hence the structures he created around it. If I’m right, the whole thing is basically an oversized antenna. So – if we manage to time it perfectly, while the spire is aligned with the sun, with the portal acting as a sort of funnel… He fell silent, stopping in his tracks, his frown deepening, another click of his thumbnail. He may had broken down, but at his core he was still an Engineer and had been for some time. And from all he had learnt, thanks to the Hermit’s seemingly random but almost manic compulsion to research this subject, this could be possible.

You want to drag the curse out of the sun and into the portal?

Ravalor almost flinched. For a moment he had almost forgotten Pelagius’ being there – for a moment he had expected an answer from any of his other parts, first and foremost the Wizard. Maybe even the Kingmaker, who only in technical musings acknowledged the Stargazer’s presence at all.

Yes. He nodded nevertheless, letting his hand drop. Basically, that. He was however impressed that Pelagius didn’t seem to have any trouble following his ramblings, despite all of it surely having to sound like – well – magic to him. But then again, from what he knew, the knight might have spent a lot of time with Zenozarax. It wasn’t unreasonable to assume he had picked up some things here and there. Maybe he could be of greater help than he first thought him capable of being.

Repurposing the structures should be relatively easy. It’s in theory already supposed to draw energy inwards. However, we’ll have to be careful with the portal. It has to be stable enough to withstand this kind of direct energy. Or else he would blow up earth… again. He felt a reasonable amount of nervousness considering that option.

If Pelagius noticed it he didn’t show it. On the contrary, he seemed absolutely content with the vague plan at hand as he nodded. Ravalor himself may be doubting his chance of success, but Pelagius seemed to have utmost confidence in him. For now. Maybe Pelagius was also just trying to make up for the fact that he had just tried to kill him.

Ravalor turned back to the altar. Letting his hand rest on the dusty stone. There was still blood on them. Red and black one. He forced his eyes away from it. The mystical lights of the rift space only he could see danced around him without casting any shadows. It was like a holographic shimmer tingling through the air. Here and there where the rift became the thinnest it was like stars gleaming from places beyond this earth.

It felt different than he remembered. Not as hostile and threatening. Nor as suffocating. When he had seen and felt it last it had been a horrible deluge of unimaginable power. Now it seemed almost weak in comparison. Downright harmless. No portal was tearing into the dimensions now, leaving them in a tight but content state of equilibrium.

There was beauty here. And even the tension he felt by the dimensions being stretched this thin, being pressed so tightly into each other, didn’t feel bad.

And yet all he really felt was a clear sense of dread.

He remembered the Hermit’s last moments, remembered how he had reached this place and the horrible realisation to find Zenozarax here after all. Remembered the pain when Zenozarax attacked him. But also what he had done afterwards. This very place as the catalyst for the destruction of an entire planet.

But that wasn’t all. Because like the Hermit had realised in his last moments of that existence; It had felt familiar. Every part of it, the rift space, the portal, Zenozarax, himself – even the idea of dying right there.

And now that the Stargazer stood here at that very place, he knew it was true. As the void within him dragged him into the darkness, as his hands froze and the lights vanished around him, he knew. But not really. He didn’t see it, he didn’t remember, but he felt it was there, so close, just out of reach.

It clawed on his mind, urging him to look closer, to just reach out, it was right there! Just look!

But there was nothing but darkness.

Cold, eternal and threatening darkness embraced him as his thoughts lost themselves in the silence of what he couldn’t hear.

He wasn’t there anymore. He was nowhere.

He wasn’t.

He…

The Stargazer blinked and the light returned to the world. His whole body felt frozen to the core, but he knew it was just a feeling. It was familiar.

He stared at a distant stone wall with strange curvetures, protruding towards him. No. It wasn’t a wall. It was the ceiling, of course, basked in a faint blue shine. He felt the stone floor against his back. He blinked again.

He heard restless steps pacing around, the sound of armour against stone. He also heard a hard scratching. Then the steps came closer.

You’re awake?!

The Stargazer blinked again, trying to swallow down the wave of shame he felt. Instead he tried to focus on the urgent concern in Pelagius’ voice.

What happened? You just… froze. Eyes all black. I almost thought you had just died.

Well. He had. How long was I out? He tried to sit up, forcing his stiff limbs to comply again. Pelagius didn’t offer any help as he squatted down besides him – and the Stargazer appreciated that.

Hard to say. Pelagius frowned. A day, maybe? I slept once in between.

The Stargazer sighed, closing his eyes under a frown for a moment. His sense of time told him no more than a few seconds had passed since he had stood at that altar – and he knew that wasn’t true. Unfortunately now, disconnected from the rest of himself, he had no way to realign himself with the true passage of time again. And, without the Wizard at his side, there had been nobody to drag him out of the void.

A horrible, cold fear crept up his spine. He had always returned out of those states so far – more often than not by the Wizard’s touch. But now he had to face the possibility, that maybe one of these times, he would simply lose himself completely in that all consuming darkness.

He couldn’t let that happen. But he also had no idea how he would be even able to prevent it.

Ravalor.

Pelagius’ voice was tense and the Stargazer opened his eyes again. There was that hard scratching sound again and he glanced towards it. To his left the unicorn stood still, lazily waving its tail. The bright spark at the tip of its horn was the only source of real light in the chamber. It was scratching the sharp, glowing tip over the decorative surface of one of the pillars, leaving deep scratches in the golden ornaments. It seemed fitting that Zenozarax’ unicorn had apparently a bit of a destructive streak in it.

What happened? And will it happen again? the knight firmly asked again, getting his attention back and making it clear that he demanded an answer now.

It will. But I don’t know when. He pushed himself up, feeling the weight of his every limb. Pelagius’ eyes followed him quietly, then he stood up as well.

What is it?

We should go. He heard himself say as he turned away, ready to leave this dreadful place and unwilling to lay bare how broken he truly was. And had always been. But unfortunately Pelagius wouldn’t let it be.

Ravalor!

He froze with a clear sense of alert as he heard the anger flare up in the knight’s voice.

I need to know what’s going on. We’re about to walk into a very hostile environment. If you drop down unconscious again, I need to know when and why. And for how long. I can’t keep you safe if you don’t tell me what is going on!

The Stargazer looked back, a frown on his own face and a burning sensation deep within him. It wasn’t anger. But humiliation. I never asked you to.

Pelagius’ hand tightened around the grip of his sword as he stepped closer again. His words were almost a hostile hiss, Be a stubborn fool if you must, but right now everything out there wants both of us dead. And I for one am willing to admit that my chances to get out of all this somehow is a lot better with you on my side. From all I heard I’m sure you can do what you came here to do – but so far it seems like you need help too.

Their eyes met unwaveringly, humiliated stubbornness holding against irritated pragmatism. But unfortunately, Pelagius was right. And Ravalor felt a strange sense of nostalgia, a faint memory of a long gone time, when he had first met this man.

He had liked him, from all the humans he had been forced to interact with at the time, he had found Pelagius one of the most agreeable. He wasn’t one for unnecessary chatter, and if he had something to say it was usually right and based on careful observation.

And nothing of that seemed to have changed. He was still under the curse’s spell – but he was also still Pelagius.

I don’t know when it will happen. I don’t even really notice that it happens until I wake up again. Sometimes not even that, he finally admitted. And I can’t predict for how long these… moments last. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.

Pelagius frowned, quite dissatisfied with the answer. There is no warning sign?

No. Sometimes it’s when I lose myself in thoughts, but it happens so quickly. Sometimes I know – but I can’t stop it.

What… exactly happens?

I die, the Stargazer almost scoffed. It was as simple as that, as absurd as it was. And then I wake up again. Not much unlike you I guess.

Pelagius raised his brows. Well. Usually I have a good reason to die. Like a sword wedged in my ribs. Not just some wrong thoughts.

The Stargazer shrugged weakly. As far as dying went he would admit that Pelagius’ plight would be preferable. More predictable. But there was no sense in dwelling on wishful thinking. There was no changing him. He was stuck like this. And he wore his title of Stargazer to remind him every day of that. As if that would be necessary – he hadn’t felt safe in his own body for several centuries, title or not.

He was deemed unreliable and too dysfunctional to be given any meaningful purpose or task. And now here he was – facing a task of staggering magnitude with no margin for error.

So yes. Pelagius was right. He couldn’t do it alone. He shouldn’t even be the one doing it in the first place. But he was the only one who would.

We’ll just have to be careful.

Can’t disagree with that. Pelagius still seemed deeply unhappy about this most recent revelation, but he also seemed to know that there was no changing it. Are we done here?

For now. We’ll have to move up a bit to reach the surface from here. I’m not familiar with these parts, but I know where the entrance to the citadel is from where we came from.

5 Tower of Stone

Hesitant to port too far into the so far unexplored parts of the tunnels, Ravalor led them for almost another hour through the darkness. Once he had found his bearings again, having left the part of the tunnels previously closed off to him, it was a familiar path, one he had led the crown prince of Treva of many generations countless times back to his home.

But the familiarity stopped soon enough as they came closer to the surface. Unrest in the earth itself, bending to the chaos wizard’s magic, had cracked the massive stone. Stragglers had found their way inside and left their marks. More than once they encountered signs of past life, the leftovers of a campsite or even the dead left behind and the demons that had followed them. All of it was dead.

It was like the tunnels themselves wanted to remind and prepare him that the city he was seeking wasn’t the same anymore. Outside the citadel no white walls would sparkle blindingly in the sun, no song would be sung by the birds in the sky, no chatter and shouting would greet him and Treva’s might and splendour would have vanished into dark shadows of decay. There would be just more death above.

He stopped before his expectations could come true. Delaying the inevitable.

We’re almost at the exit, he said to Pelagius who had stopped and turned towards him. We need to be quiet. There was an undeniable flash of irritation in the knight’s face that only grew stronger when Ravalor added quite urgently, No blowing up of anything unless there is really no other way around it! We can’t draw that kind of attention.

I’ve understood that the first time you said it.

Good. Then don’t give me a reason to say it a third time. He was just fueling that restless anger, he knew that, but it wasn’t like he had just forgotten and forgiven what had happened earlier.

To his surprise however, Pelagius stayed quiet on the topic, but from the look in his eyes not for a lack of opinion. Instead he said, You want to reach the summoning chamber. I’ll get you there.

He nodded. And with an undeniable air of hostility between them, they continued on their path, quietly.

In this reality, the passage beneath the citadel had never been properly revealed to the royalty of Treva. Ravalor had always known it to be there. But It had been Zenozarax’ first attempt to conquer the city that first had him meet Aeven VonTreva on his quest to reach the citadel and had him reveal this hidden path to the desperate heroes.

Ever since it had been guarded, the very entrance had been modified, fortified and prettified. A place of celebration and memorial, marking the prince’s path to victory.

Now as before back then, all they were faced with as they reached the end of this tunnel was a half caved-in section, leaving only an unsuspecting shaft weaving through the stone.

You’ll have to leave it here. Ravalor glanced towards the unicorn. We can come back later and get it once the spire is cleared.

Mercury, Pelagius murmured.

Excuse me?

That’s her name.

Right. Beautiful and deadly. It was undoubtedly fitting and at the same time horribly tacky. Zenozarax had a knack for that.

He felt distant memories of the Hermit tingling in his mind as he went first, shimming himself through the small opening. A small light followed him, making the whole affair just a bit less claustrophobic. With a last glance back he saw Pelagius giving the unicorn a pat of farewell, the magical device on his hand giving a hollow clang against the unicorn’s plates, but it reacted just lifelike enough. In fact it seemed almost sulking in the way it threw its head up, giving Pelagius a cold shoulder.

Then Pelagius followed him and Ravalor focused on the path ahead. He considered himself lucky that despite all the seismic activity that had ruptured the land in the past five years, this passage had survived just the way he remembered it.

Where does this lead exactly?

He heard Pelagius ask quietly behind him, adding to the knight’s armour scratching against the stone.

The entrance most likely collapsed way before the city was built. When they constructed the citadel they used the natural caves below for storage and the like. He explained, keeping his voice low, but in the complet silence well audible.

I know, I’ve been down there. Never seen any cave entrance though. Pelagius grunted as he seemed to squeeze himself through a particularly tight spot.

Because there isn’t. They walled it off. Quiet now.

Finally the narrow passageway ended, opening up into a small hollow. He waited for Pelagius to make it through, then faced the wall to the opposite of the passage. It was smooth and neatly bricked stone.

I doubt you want to blow a hole in it? Pelagius whispered as Ravalor let his hands wandered over the bricks.

Preferably, he answered as quietly, I can port us to the other side, however, on the off chance there are people or demons, I rather have an idea what we’re getting into first. Afterall, portals were many things, from magical to extremely helpful – but they were also very hard to miss, especially in the dark. In addition there was porting rule number one: Don’t guess! Followed by porting rule number two: Never port into the unknown! He had to see where he was going first.

Finally he found what he was looking for, as his hands brushed past a particular stone that even by his slight touch moved. The brick work was decent enough, but the citadel itself was already some couple of centuries old – there was weakness in the stone if one bothered to search for it.

Wedging his fingers firmly up and below the stone he pulled on it as quietly and slowly as he could. The light above them faded into darkness, leaving only some faint glimmers in the air for a few seconds longer.

With a last scratch that sounded deafening in the silence the brick came off – and for a few seconds both held their breath, only listening, not daring to even move. It was dark on the other side as well.

In the perfect darkness he listened. He saw nobody in the small view through the hole. Distantly he heard a groaning, some rumbling, probably from above. But the small room on the other side seemed deserted.

Steady yourself. I’ll port us over now. He said very quietly. A sharp pain went through his left arm as the runes on his arms lit up, basking the small cavern in blue light before the blinding light of a portal appeared right between them and expanded around them. Ravalor gave the portal a small push and the very moment they appeared on the other side, falling just a centimetre back onto the stone floor and the light vanished again.

Another rumbling from above. But the storage room around them stayed quiet.

Follow me. He knew these lower parts well enough. Once further up Pelagius would have to take the lead but for now he knew where to go.

Ravalor. A sharp hiss.

Ravalor stopped, turning towards Pelagius who stood there, staring at nothing.

What?

I can’t see.

And the Stargazer was thankful for that because for a moment, as he felt his own hands aimlessly raise, reconsidering, dropping again, there was nothing but exasperated helplessness on his own face. He didn’t feel safe enough for a light and he sure wasn’t about to hold that man’s hand to lead him because there was still a curse in him and he rather stayed clear of that one – so, in lack of an better option, he grabbed his own cloak and pushed it into Pelagius’ hand.

Here. Now quiet.

Due to a cosmic amount of good willed fate that brief problem kept the most troublesome event for the entire way towards the stairway and the next three levels.

With each level there was an increasing sensation that worried him. Nothing metaphysical or subjective, not tension or fear – but a very real rise in the natural background radiation, till it became undeniable that there was nothing natural about it.

When they finally reached the ground level, what little natural light there was from the dark sun ushered in by light vents from the hall itself, pushed away some of the absolute darkness. It was still dark, but even Pelagius would now be able to see at least some shapes around him.

We’ll have to go through the great hall to reach the central stairway. The portals have been down since the attack. The entire tower is dead. I don’t know why. Pelagius whispered as he let go of Ravalor’s cloak. The Stargazer knew very well why, after all the Warrior had parked the Northforce right in the spires side and blew up an entire floor with an intense EMP burst that had effectively disabled the entire structure. He didn’t feel like revealing that information yet, and so Pelagius continued, Just through there. He nodded towards a double winged door straight in front of them.

Ravalor knew that much, but he also knew what he heard in Pelagius’ voice. The great hall was the most open and easily accessible part of the entire citadel, with sprawling wide entrances and several massive arches at each of the cardinal directions.

With quiet steps they approached the doors. Signing Pelagius’ to be utmost quiet once more he carefully opened one of them the smallest amount. His field of view was once more dramatically limited, but he saw enough to extrapolate that they had a problem.

The great hall was unrecognisable. Its past glistering and pompous charm had all but vanished under layers and layers of magical engineering. Additional support pylons had been erected evenly throughout the entire hall, and the central stairway was engulfed in massive black roots reaching from the upper levels to deep below. They were dark now, but Ravalor knew, when the spire had been still operational the entire hall would have been lit by their magical glow. Countless amounts of crates and armoured cassies were piled up seemingly randomly, entire stacks of plating reaching almost to the ceiling.

Where there had been once the wide open space welcoming every guest within this great hall, was now a maze constructed by practicality and convenience. And between all that – there were the undead. Across the rim of the hall, at least where he could see, were soldiers, or what was left of them. They were armoured from head to toe, hiding their faces, but Ravalor saw in their abrupt and inhuman movement that they were no longer alive nor under anyone’s control. Further in the centre, between the boxes and resources were others, maybe workers once, shuffling from one point to another and back again. Like the demons, they were just mindless puppets that had lost their master, now aimless and purposeless. Kept from their final rest till their bodies would finally decompose enough for the magic keeping them alive to consider them no longer viable.

Their bodies and cells were already dead enough that the concerning level of radiation Ravalor sensed in the hall had little to no effect on them anymore.

He closed the door again, finally allowing himself to breathe again. Pelagius’ watched him tensely but he didn’t ask. Ravalor appreciated that.

Are all soldiers equipped with those weapons we saw in the tunnels? Ravalor whispered. Pelagius’ nodded. Great. While they couldn’t hurt him, as long as he kept his ward up and stable, an open confrontation would still draw considerable attention. Given his damaged left arm it would be near impossible for him to shield himself and fight back at the same time so at some point he could get overwhelmed.

For the start I just need to reach one of the access panels. That will tell me the status of the spire. Maybe I can revive it from there, then he added. If not, I need you to guide me to the summoning chamber, so if we want to get through there unnoticed, you need to lose the armour.

Pelagius nodded again, not objecting. There was no discussion to be had about sneaking in full armour. For a brief moment a worry flashed up in his mind – of course the workers and soldiers were already dead, but Pelagius, while seemingly undead, wasn’t as dead as them. Actually he seemed very alive all things considered. Yes, even now the knight’s armour itself as well as his clothes were still concerningly radioactive, so the curse seemed to heal him quickly enough – but if he stayed here too long, the dramatically increased radiation might affect him like any other living being – but how the curse within him would handle this long term he couldn’t even begin to hypothesise. But what other option was there besides leaving him behind? And he could very well imagine Pelagius’ opinion on that one.

They retreated to the far back of the room, careful to not make too much noise as now no more than a wall and a set of doors separated them from the enemy.

Pelagius began to remove the pieces of his long ruined armour piece by piece, putting them quietly on the ground.

What’s their exact purpose? Why are they holding positions here? Ravalor asked into the silence, watching Pelagius.

We used the grand hall for distribution, everything went through here, materials, weapons, ressources. Coming from the mines, forges and factories, going through to the construction sides or directly up or down the spire, Pelagius explained factually. Along the walls are the portals connecting the main areas. The soldiers were to make sure to eliminate any infiltrators.

Did that happen frequently? Ravalor felt a heavy weight inside of him. The reminder that while he had tinkered on his great plan in the safety of Obermoor, the local population had of course tried to fight for their own survival. In the first year there had been chaos. In the second and third the wars followed from the lands beyond the kingdom. But when they were lost, facing an seemingly all-powerful foe out of time, only scattered resistance groups and survivors had been left. He was sure, based on the weapons they possessed, the group they had encountered in the tunnels must have been remnants of one of these resistant groups.

No. There should be only a handful of soldiers. The workers should be harmless. They only focus on their task - at least that was my impression the last time I was here. Naive as I was. Soldiers shot me once I got too close, but the workers ignored me completely.

They shot you too?

Hmhm, I think they’ll shoot at everything that moves now.

Curious. But the workers didn’t recognize you as a threat like the soldiers?

Pelagius shrugged. I even saw one soldier shoot one of the workers, and they didn’t react. If the workers didn’t like me they didn’t do anything about it. But I really don’t know how any of them differentiate between friend or foe any longer. He raised up, a plain look on his face All I know, those soldiers got an aim to die for. And he tapped a scorched hole in his shirt right above his heart.

The Stargazer blinked. He understood, on a technical level, that Pelagius had just made a joke. But his mind failed to respond to it. He saw the resignation in Pelagius’ face as he got no reaction, not even a slim smile, but before Ravalor could have said anything the knight continued. From what I can tell, if we don’t get too close, we should be fine. It’s what killed me the first time. They didn’t react to me when I approached them in full view, till some 25 feet when they suddenly opened fire.

That should help.

Pelagius nodded while he picked up his sword and fixed it now on his back instead of his hip. Ravalor wasn’t sure if he’d rather prefer him to leave it here as well. It would limit the chance for a bombastic escalation, however, if they were to run into trouble it would be a valuable tool in their defence. In the end he just kept quiet.

Ready?

Pelagius nodded.

They opened the door again, staying behind the cover of the second wing. Ravalor glanced back into the great hall – the incomplete three dimensional map in his mind updated with the location of the few undead he could see and offered him the most secure path given the limited information and predicted walk patterns.

He waited, a second, another, then he moved. Ducked down deep but quick he reached a first row of boxes to hide behind. His sense of the space surrounding him filled in the gaps with every brief glimpse he got, updating his path.

Pelagius was right behind him and then hugging the made up wall to his left.

Ravalor heard the slow shuffling of the workers. The metallic steps of the soldiers. The auditory information filled in some blind spots caused by the labyrinth of materials, crates and magic. There was a faint whistling of the wind outside, but besides that, the citadel was unnervingly quiet. Their own steps seemed way too loud.

A next quick dash brought them a few metres forward and they huddelt into a small crack between two massive almost three metre tall crates. Ravalor instantly felt a distinct tingling of intense and unshielded radiation emitting from them. He glanced back at Pelagius –  the knight probably would be fine. ...he had survived being blown up by nuclear missiles afterall.

Then he leaned around the corner.

About ten more metres in front of them there was a small circular station with four now dead displays arranged around the central support beam. But too many blind spots for a direct approach, too many corners. Slowly, keeping close to the slightly warm wall he went around the corner, three more metres before they reached the next corner of the irradiated crates.

Another cross section leading in four directions. One worker shuffled across the path to their left. The other paths looked clear. He waited for the worker to turn excruciatingly long, but in reality only about ten seconds. Then he quickly crossed the gap to the next cover.

They were now deep enough inside the maze that the soldiers at its rim could no longer easily spot them. That was good. He moved forward, eyes fixed on the terminal station before him. Four metres.

Then he abruptly stopped as Pelagius’ hand grabbed his arm and every atom of his being felt like pulsing in intense alarm, his mind immediately bracing for any harmful intrusion. As tense as he was, he was ashamed to admit that he had almost blown the knight up by surprise.

But he had no time to think about that, not even to look at Pelagius and silently voice his irritation or ask why he had stopped him, because the moment he turned his head, he froze.

Almost wedged into the nook between what looked like stacked sheets of metal stood a worker. Impossible to spot from any other angle but dead ahead. Perfectly still, unbreathing, but eyes open – looking directly at them.

He felt the hard thumping in his chest as his eyes met those of the worker. It was a second, a very long drawn second before the worker could even move in which a plethora of thoughts and options computed in his mind, weighing pros and cons, alternatives and exit strategies – if the worker was still somehow connected to the others it was already to late, killing him now wouldn’t change that. If not, a blast of magic would draw attention from the soldiers. Maybe with luck he could make it across and incapacitate him before he’d have a chance to alert anyone.

But then the second past – and despite the urge for immediate action, he stayed still, leaning back against the artificial wall behind him, not letting the walking undead out of his sight – and then a few more seconds followed in an ridiculous staredown –

Before it became clear that the worker wasn’t doing anything. And by then Ravalor wasn’t even sure he truly saw them. In the pale face his eyes were cloudy and glazed by decay, its gaze unfocused and unmoving directed not at them, but a point somewhere behind them. Without the magic directing his action and taking note of his surroundings, he was blind.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t still hear them.

Carefully he signed Pelagius to follow again, very, very slowly and quietly. He didn’t like taking his eyes from the worker but they had to keep moving.

Finally they reached the terminal. There was no more cover, the terminal stood free in the centre of a little opening and he didn’t like it but there was no other choice as to sign Pelagius to watch the entrances while he rose up, in front of the dead screens.

His hand hovered over the access panel, trying to sense if there was any power still running within the system or if there were any clear warnings of unstable currents – then he pressed his hand down.

And nothing happened.

With his teeth clenched tight he tried to give the system a little boost, maybe glean some information from it, but nothing happened. As it turned out, he really was very efficient in destroying things. Wasn’t that nice.

Be as it may, he had enough uncomfortable setbacks in the last five years on this planet to not let this one stop him.

He got Pelagius’ attention and quickly they returned to the illusion of safety of the sprawling pathways carved between the crates. Their new goal, the centre.

Once they had to circle around another more active worker who was walking back and forth without any apparent purpose.

But they were lucky as after only a couple minutes they reached the massive corrupted structure which had once been the central staircase. Now the black tendrils spread from above into all directions, enveloping the building’s interior like roots having grown over centuries through the polished stone.

He saw a portal archway, completely dark and unpowered. Probably a quick way up the tower but right now inaccessible to them. Briefly glancing back he confirmed that they weren’t seen by anyone as they looked for a way through the thicket of dead magic. The presence of a wizard was undeniable as nobody had used these stairs for years and now they only facilitated the thick, black, and root-like cables reaching from the top floors down. And so when they finally found an entrance, the way up was more of a tight squeeze including several parts where they had to climb over massive bundles than a leisurely stroll up the tower.

The exit to the first level was completely blocked off, and so was the second. In the middle between the second and third Pelagius suddenly coughed.

And it was a violent cough, bearing the clear indication of a cough held back for too long already only making it worse. He muffled it with his hand but in the absolute silence Ravalor felt like the entire spire must be able to hear him.

Sorry. Pelagius gasped for air while at the same time holding his mouth as if he was about to vomit. It’s the goddamn air here. It’s poisoned. Tastes like god damn metal.

It’s not poisoned. Ravalor said quietly, examining Pelagius, noticing the slight irritation on his skin. It’s radiation. He felt reasonably guilty to be curious how the curse within Pelagius would handle this complication – the fact that he was even here after the battle at Kivinan would suggest he’d survive, but whether or not he would die first or heal quick enough to prevent it was the question at hand. We better hurry. You may lose consciousness.

Oh great. Pelagius hissed, which was a mistake as on cue he finally did indeed churned out the little content of his stomach which was no more than stomach acid. I’m good. He panted, wiping his mouth again. I’m good.

I doubt that. Come. How far up is the summoning chamber?

Almost at the top.

Of course.

6 Light in the Dark

There was a deceiving sense of safety facilitated by the sheer claustrophobic experience of ascending the repurposed stairway. With how often they had to squeeze themselves through gaps, and even once having to put caution aside and port to the other side, it was hard to believe that any wandering soldier had accidentally ended up here. So whatever had been stuck up there when the portals went dark was all they had to deal with. In theory.

They had climbed for a while when Ravalor heard a low gasp from behind and just turned around in time to see Pelagius stumble. There was the brief urge to catch the knight before he could fall – it was a strange reflex for a wizard and the Stargazer was puzzled by it long enough that it was already too late to act on it in the first place. Only by luck Pelagius managed to catch himself on one of the massive cables and not fall down the stairs.

Pelagius’ groaned while leaning up against the wall as Ravalor took a step back down. Can you keep going?

Pelagius’ only groaned again which Ravalor freely translated to ’Do I look like I can?’ before he saw the man’s body convulse and bend over just for the rest of his stomach contents finding its way onto the stairs. Just more stomach acid.

Pelagius was panting as he leaned his head against the wall again. I think I’d like to die now.

Not yet, Ravalor said as if it was up to him. Even with the intense radiation, in normal conditions assuming a latency period to set in between the initial exposure and death, Pelagius should have still a few days before he would die. So he doubted a forced death now would really quicken the process – he’d just have to drag along Pelagius’ dead body for longer till he had fully healed again. At least he assumed so. We should be near the top.

Almost there. Yes. Pelagius glanced up into the darkness, his chest heaving and every breath rattling in his lungs.

Just tell me where it is and–

Forget it. You’re not leaving me sitting here to die in my own vomit. I’ll get you there. Pelagius frowned, then coughed, and even in the dark Ravalor saw the blood. Too much as to be under any illusion that the man’s body wasn’t violently taking itself apart right now.

Then let us hurry.

Two more floors. Then Pelagius stopped, desperately out of breath and pretending it wasn’t so.

This floor, he whispered, nodding up. They could see the archway a few steps above them, not more than a black hole in the walls.

They got as quiet as they could and still Ravalor could hear nothing that would warn of danger as they closed the distance. Exiting the staircase they found themselves in a wide sprawling corridor. The carpet and decor was mostly of a deep rich red which had turned purplish grey in the cold shine of his magical light hovering above them.

He considered turning it off again, but then Pelagius stepped forward, signing him to follow him. Carefully they moved through the seemingly abandoned corridor.

In the darkness he heard a harsh wind whistle through the structure. Somewhere not too far from here was still a massive hole in the side of the spire where he had crashed the TSS Northforce into it not too long ago.

The entire citadel had been swarming with demons then.

Now it was too quiet. And at the same time, not quiet at all.

There was a dangerous aching in the structure. Somewhere far away a low thumping. A bone chilling screech he prayed came from outside. Their own footsteps were too loud. So was Pelagius’ rattling breath and occasional muffled cough.

Step by step the corridor before them came into light, before the cone of light was nothing but absolute darkness.

The air was stale but still he smelled a forgotten hint of almost flowery sweetness mixed with a round scent of burned wood. It was an odd scent that took the place of the unsettling sweet odour of rot from the lower levels. Like it didn’t belong. Not here, maybe not even on this earth any longer.

Another step forward. The light pushed away the darkness. Revealing more of the corridor. Revealing–

He saw it and reacted before Pelagius could even realize what had been brought into the light before them. Without even thinking about it he grabbed the knight and abruptly pulled him back.

Like a black tumour grown onto the ceiling hung a mass of cold, black magic. The demon matter had no sensible shape. Countless appendages clawed like gangly legs of a spider into the walls. And then, one by one, a dozen red gleaming eyes lit up and stared at them. Startled awake, its entire body was suddenly taken by a high frequency jitter - turning the cold mass into a pulsing body of intense heat that stood out against the cold darkness like a beacon.

It dropped, the massive mutated form crashed onto the floor and the entire corridor ached under the impact. Its countless legs twitching erratic as it propped itself up. And despite its size it wasn’t slow. Suddenly, within two seconds of them having been spotted, the demon construct charged at them, the black bulbous body filling the entire corridor.

Pelagius had only halfway drawn his sword as Ravalor had already dashed forward. There was nothing else but the demon filling his field of vision, magic shot through his arms, a painful sting in his left, before a sparking ward exploded around him and the demon crashed with full force against it. His hand grasped hard around the invisible control he held over his ward, the sparks increased, the demon roared, just that it wasn’t a sound any living animal would ever produce. It was harsh, artificial and cold, caused by billions of magical particles grinding against each other. Mindlessly it scratched, bashed and clawed against the ward, the dark tendrils smouldering and crumbling – but there was just too much of it. His left arm felt like set aflame and he saw the magic flicker in his left hand. He could no longer hold the ward and attack without risking dropping his only protection against the attacking mass.

And suddenly there was Pelagius. For a moment he had forgotten that he wasn’t alone. But before he could have stopped him, the knight was already past him, the sword held high for a precise strike, its blade glowing with dark burning light. And without a moment of hesitation he threw himself against the demon, passing the ward and the sword cut straight through the demon from top to bottom, the blade hissed, sparks flew, the demon screeched, twitching back, but by then Pelagius already had gotten another strike and plunged the sword up to the hilt between the glowing eyes and a horrible, bright pulse went through the entire mass. Tendrils shot forward in a last desperate attack, a twitch went through Pelagius’ body. His hand, holding the blade, sparked with magic, his skin was burned and blistering, then the demon exploded into a shower of dead demon matter.

Pelagius staggered back.

I don’t think I like spiders anymore, he muttered. Straight through his abdomen a black tendril dissolved into formless matter, dripping from the bleeding wound. The sword fell with a thump onto the red carpet which was now covered in dead black magic. He wavered, and this time, in the nick of time, the Stargazer caught him before he would have hit the ground.

The knight coughed, spitting out an almost impossible amount of blood for someone who was still alive. Cold sweat glistened in the blue light.

Come one, we’re almost there. Keep it together a bit longer.

Funny. Between two coughs Pelagius grabbed him by his collar and Ravalor tensed up. You might be fine with that hole in your stomach. But’’ – another breathless and rattling gasp, another cough and more blood – I don’t think that works for me. He pulled him down, holding him close with shaking hands. Blood bubbled from his mouth and he felt drops on his skin when the knight spoke again, fighting for each word before death could grasp him. Next split, on the right side, left after the golden curtains, third door on the right. Big door.

Ravalor nodded, ready to stand up but Pelagius grabbed him only harder, pulling him back.

Don’t. Leave me. His voice grew distant, his eyes barely conscious anymore while the pool of blood below him grew. The grasp on his collar grew weaker.

I won’t. Ravalor promised.

Don’t leave me alone. Pelagius repeated, his words slurred and barely audible. Then his hand dropped.

And the Knight was dead. Once more.

For a moment Ravalor hesitated. Given the intensity of the damages Pelagius had to heal through, he assumed he’d have some time before he’d wake up again. Maybe it would be safer to leave him here instead of dragging him along, in case there were more demons.

But then he scoffed, shaking his head to himself as he pushed that thought away. He picked the dead body up, shouldering one arm and stood up.

While dragging the dead weight along he killed the light and continued forward slowly, intensely listening to any more sounds. But they seemed lucky, the battle had not drawn any more demons towards them which suggested there maybe weren’t any more on this level. That was a risky assumption – so he kept his guard up.

The corridor split and he went right. After a while when he almost started to believe he must have missed it he passed a pompous archway framed by golden drapes reaching from the ceiling to the floor, bound together with elegantly woven tassels. He immediately kept left and started to count the doors to his right.

And true enough. Big door.

Double winged and almost as high as the corridor, the door fit as much into the spire as the corrupted magic did. It was closed. Readjusting the weight of Pelagius’ body he got his right arm free and activated the access panel next to the doors.

He hadn’t actually hoped it would work, chances had been good he’d have to either brute force his way through the magical lock or just port them inside assuming the room wasn’t lined with precautions to prevent exactly that – but the access panel glowed around his hand, and the lock disengaged, the doors slid open till the moment he removed his hand and they lost power again.

Maybe that wasn’t so strange, he thought. Zenozarax had operated under the impression he’d been the only wizard on this earth. There was no reason to lock these doors when he was the only one able to open them to begin with.

What was that again? Lesson three in Engineering Basics: Don’t make it complicated if easy will suffice.

The summoning chamber was pitch black, not even emergency power was still running. He made sure to scan the entire room carefully, confirming there was nobody in it, before he closed the door behind him again via the panel on this side.

Then he lit up his light again. Brighter and bigger this time, basking the magical room in the cold light, before he put down Pelagius. There was no better place to let him resurrect, so the floor had to suffice. More automatic than in conscious thought he took off the Warrior’s cloak and put it aside. It was bad form to wear a cloak while operating devices like these. Not that Zenozarax had ever cared much about that. Hence the lack of any proper place where he could have put his cloak so it ended up on one of the stools.

Then he turned to the countless arrays of pillars, screens and consoles. The room hadn’t been opened since the battle, and there still hung a distinct scent of burned out magic in the air which was the most discouraging scent Ravalor had ever smelled. He scanned the consoles and relying on general wizard conventions the power management should be – right where he expected it to be. The more manual console was as dark as everything else. He connected to the console with his healthy hand and arm and immediately it lit up again, powered temporarily by his own magic. As if it had just waited for him, immediately it threw countless critical error messages at him, informing him of a non scheduled system shutdown after disruption in the power distribution.

He felt relieved when he saw the reactor was still there (well, it wouldn’t have been going anywhere to be fair) but more importantly, it didn’t seem damaged (at least the system said so). It was offline, having gone through the proper automated shutdown procedure when the system itself had collapsed. He wasn’t surprised – the reactor was massive, built two levels below where they had entered the citadel – the entire structure now resting on a nuclear reactor able to theoretically power several capitals – but it was safe. The fission had completely shut down but could be easily restarted.

It was a fairly old design, considered ancient, but still a reliable one as well as easy in construction and maintenance. A proper fusion reactor would have produced a far greater power output of course – but a fission reactor like this still had its uses. While providing some drawbacks, it was still easier and smaller to build.

And again. Don’t make it complicated when easy will suffice.

Zenozarax seemed to have made use of the resources and time he had for maximum efficiency. Paired with an all too familiar disregard for any future use of the spire. It had been reshaped to fit one purpose – everything past that didn’t matter. If it irradiated the entire citadel in the process, making it unlivable for any human for half an eternity, so be it.

...it wasn’t like he hadn’t done the same.

He accessed the system and initialised the reintroduction of the drive fuel into the reactor, low warning tones beeped while he pulled a lever to manually increase the flow density of the reactor again, the room around him started to hum gently. After several confirmations, one rerouting ignoring a critical line error on level 34, 35 and 36, he hit the final okay.

Anticlimactic as it was, at first almost nothing seemed to happen besides the number of the reactor output steadily climbing until suddenly, as it seemed to have reached the required threshold, the entire room around him lit up bright as day. A tingling went down his neck as the summoning chamber came back to life, screen by screen restarting their operations. A few stayed dark, but that was okay. The reactor would take a while to safely reach full power, first after that he’d know the true damage the grid had suffered under the Warrior’s scorched earth policy.

For a while he stood there, watching the system reboot.

Then he sat for a while.

It was a large system and it took time for it to reestablish every connection, function and task. But as long as the whole thing didn’t freeze or just simply shut down again, he could wait.

The low hum of the magic surrounding him lulled him into comfort. Pelagius was still not moving while the curse within him did its best to heal the dead body. The wound on his stomach had not resealed yet (maybe his body healed more slowly now due to the radiation damage), so Ravalor estimated it would at least take a few hours till he could wake up again.

For a moment he took notice of his own beaten up shape. The bullet wound in his stomach was there, but easy to ignore. The general awareness of his body told him that it had taken out some process and memory allocation systems – but nothing that hadn’t immediately switched over to the available redundancies. Nothing critical yet.

His arm was worrying him more and he took the makeshift bandage off. The large slashes looked as bad as before. Worse even, as his last uses of his magic had burned his skin at the disconnected edges of the wound.

His body simply didn’t have the resources needed to fix himself and he needed to do something about that. He was okay now, but he couldn’t go around raking up injuries like this, because sooner or later there would be something critical failing. Like for example one of his hands. Everything inside him could easily realign itself to make up for an excessive amount of damages before it would fail him. But he only had two hands. And if he kept using magic like this he feared sooner or later his left hand might stop working altogether.

Ravalor stood up.

The system was still booting, probably for a good while longer. Pelagius was still dead.

He walked along the consoles. A few notes lay scattered on top. All of them written in that wide and flowing handwriting of Zenozarax. The arrangement of letters didn’t make sense to him, but that he had expected. Zenozarax, of course, wouldn’t be using any of the current ciphers issued by Mezchinhar. It would take a moment to decrypt them, and he should just in case one of these notes said Do not turn on the flow regulator or else the city blows up. The encryption they used wasn’t really meant to keep their writing safe from other wizards, but to confuse the hell out of humans should they ever get hold of one of their written out texts.

He gathered the notes, went back to the doors and opened them again. For a moment he hesitated, looking back. It was either locking Pelagius in to keep him safe or leaving the door open and risking anything sneaking up on him in this compromised state. And since he had voiced great anger concerning the second option, locking him in it was. He didn’t plan to be gone for too long. If he hurried he should be back before Pelagius regained consciousness. So he closed the door.

Then, carefully and still on guard, he walked down the corridor. Now with the lights on however, the corridor seemed a lot less threatening. On the contrary. He felt a strange sense of something… maybe familiarity. The decoration here didn’t seem very trevanian. But it wore all the markings of one particular chaos wizard. From the choice of stormy and rich dark colours to the paintings on the wall.

Which was curious.

Back in the days, the highest levels of Treva’s great spire had been nothing but decorative. A testament to suspicious ingenuity beyond their time and sumptuous wealth, with no real practical purpose. Most life and business had been happening in the lower, more easily accessible levels, with only a few ceremonial tasks being conducted in the top of the spire. But no wizard was ever concerned about stairs.

Zenozarax had lived here, obviously. He had made the top of the spire his realm. But all of this seemed older. Ravalor could not believe that Zenozarax would have found the time for interior redesign in the four and a half years since he had taken over the city. From all he had heard, and all he had seen outside, Zenozarax must have been exceedingly busy to make his plan come to life.

He reached the next door further down and checked it. It was also locked like the summoning chamber, and also opened up willingly to his presence. But it was just housing more of the backend of the summoning chamber. He closed the door again and tried the one across the corridor.

Most wizards would keep things like the main heart of their tower or important connection nodes like summoning chambers close by.

And true enough, as he opened this door he found himself in what appeared to be Zenozarax’ living quarters. The room noticed him and with the power back online the lights turned on, basking everything in a gentle golden glow.

Three things immediately stood out to him.

First, the impression that Zenozarax must have been here long before he took over Treva was strengthened by how comfortably lived in the entire space felt.

Secondly, while the markings of a wizard living here were undeniable, Ravalor was surprised how… downright humble it all seemed to him. There was the expected level of luxurious detail one would expect inside the royal citadel – but it wasn’t exactly Zenozarax-level of pomp and glitter.

Thirdly, what probably strengthened the second impression, was the inclusion of a workspace within here. It gave the whole room a more utilitarian feeling.

But nevertheless, Zenozarax had lived here, and there was a high chance he’d find what he was looking for. Be it mana, mina, or even just a base solution of amicelex, he wasn’t picky and could make either work to coax his body into knitting itself back together.

He put down the notes he had taken from the consoles in the summoning chamber onto the writing desk before giving the room another more hesitant look.

He hated this. Because it reminded him too much of his return to Zenozarax’ tower beneath Artlenburg (His own tower, Ravalor’s tower, he reminded himself. Even though merely thinking it still felt wrong. Not that it mattered now, it was gone, as was the entire planet). His own memories were distant, because they weren’t his own, the Stargazer’s, and he had not seen them when they had happened. He had been given those memories to hold onto when he had come in time. They were a part of him, but they were the Hermit’s memories.

From the time when he had found his own dead body in his own room. Later, after a long while of hesitation, he had searched the tower, top to bottom for any clue about what had happened. The tower’s own consciousness had been intentionally wiped clear, remembering nothing of Zenozarax, only accepting Ravalor as its new master. And so all he could do was search for anything that was left. He had searched Zenozarax’ personal rooms too. And every room he searched, with every item he examined, he had to accept more and more that Zenozarax was gone, and wasn’t coming back.

Now he stood in his room once more. Zenozarax gone. Leaving him to pick through what was left.

Still hesitating he opened some desk drawers, the little door underneath too. There were writing utensils, a few misplaced tools too of course. In the little storage in the desks legs were a few wooden boxes, he opened one of them. Inside lay a folded letter on top of a little golden horse. He took the folded piece of paper as he glanced back at the horse. Not to be judgmental but that seemed even too much kitsch for Zenozarax – figurines never had been his style. Probably the reason it was stashed away here.

The letter was handwritten, a steady but young hand who knew how to write properly but still put too great attention into the words as to look natural yet. It was more a note than a letter actually, just a single line.

It doesn’t hold up to the real one, but it reminded me of it.

He put the note back into the box with a light frown.

Curious. It was hard to picture any point in Zenozarax’ recent rain of terror in which he could possibly have received a gift like this. Maybe it was from Pelagius? But even that seemed odd to him.

He halted. Actually, would it be? He had no idea what Pelagius’ relationship to Zenozarax had been. Sure, without the curse Ravalor couldn’t see the morally rigorous man he remembered to be okay with anything Zenozarax had done here – but he wasn’t that man. He was controlled by a curse, and consequently by Zenozarax. Was it so unlikely that those two had been… well, something like friends in the most twisted and forced way?

He made a mental note to ask Pelagius about that later, then he closed the box and stood up again. If he kept this pace up he’d be finished searching the room in about three weeks.

More methodically he skipped a few drawers and went to a few cabinets near the workshop area.

They gave him nothing but a chaotic collection of stuff. Cables, tools, parts, some seemed even broken, a good handful of crystals almost dropped to the floor when he opened the second one, they chimed and flickered when he stuffed them back safely into place.

With a deepening frown he looked back into the room. Then he spotted the small drink cabinet that was surrounded by a spacious sitting area and almost had to slap himself in front of the head. He had been looking for it based on his own expectations, either relating it to work or a quick aid after a battle. Purely functional.

But this was Zenozarax.

He got to the cabinet and opened it up. And sure enough, between several bottles of various spirits stood three long, almost triangular shaped bottles with a pitch black liquid inside, shimmering ever so slightly. Propper multipurpose activated nanite amicelex.

Indulging a sense of obligation he got one of the glasses and filled it up with the black liquid, then he returned to the desk with the glass in his hand.

He sat down while taking a first sip. The mana was almost tasteless, bare a distinct metallic note. Zenozarax liked to mix in a fine dust of silver, because to quote him: It makes it glitter. It also slightly changed the taste, though he wasn’t sure humans would be able to taste the difference. As it was, the metallic taste lingered on his tongue, familiar, and not at all unpleasant. Though he assumed it to be an acquired taste.

He put the glass aside and gathered more of Zenozarax’ writing from the desk and started to read it carefully. After a while the letters formed into words as more and more of the cipher was translated in his mind.

He took the glass anew and almost emptied it while he continued reading.

There were technical notes relating to the construction, some plans, some brief reminders. A list of all facilities rated by some unknown standard, a few names he did not know. But there were a few personal notes as well. Words written in this beautiful handwriting, steady and calmly – not the hand of a raving madman. The words of the friend he remembered. There was a firm confidence in his words as he spoke of the development of the main site (Ravalor assumed it to be the citadel and all its surroundings). Pelagius was passingly mentioned as having been sent to deal with a problem in The Western Peak of Power. But Zenozarax didn’t seem too concerned. There was a strange sense of relief coming from his words as he spoke of this task finally drawing to an end. That it would be done soon.

He really hadn’t known. It was absurd to think how close they had been for almost 5 years and yet completely isolated from each other in their own little worlds.

He finished the glass and leaned back. He felt a pleasant tingling in his body, growing almost to an itching sensation on his wounds. But that only meant he was finally healing. His eyes rested on the notes before him. Chances were good he’d find a lot more in this room, a full documentation of Zenozarax’ entire journey in this universe. And he would read it, to understand what he was dealing with here. But still, no matter how ridiculous, misplaced and childishly nostalgic – it still felt wrong to him. Searching his room, reading his thoughts. He no longer belonged in these places and words.

With a deep breath he stood up, approaching one of the windows. The sun stood high in the sky and it was dark, but what else was new. But now, with the tower slowly coming back to life, its unnatural glow basked the city around it in its dark foreboding light.

He was faced with a stunning view over absolute destruction.

Beneath the dark red sky lay Treva. Though there was barely anything left that resembled the old city. Entire districts had been torn down to make room for the catalysts, the pyramids surrounding the tower to all four sides. Between what houses still stood he saw movement in the shadows.

But so far above it, it barely felt threatening anymore.

And without the imminent expectation of danger, everything here felt just odd to him. As if he saw all these pieces but there were still too many missing as that he could see the clear picture.

But it didn’t matter. Zenozarax was gone, maybe he even was dead. And he, Ravalor the Stargazer, was here to fix all of it.

The world before his eyes grew darker but he didn’t notice. A faint shiver crept up his spine as he felt a sudden coldness envelop him.

A gasp in his lungs.

Endless darkness, cold but not dead.

Whispering, always whispering, too quiet to hear, too dark to see. But there, right there, before him and he reached out–

A massive flash of light exploded in his mind and at once his body shot up, he gasped like he had been drowning, his empty lungs expanding almost painfully as he fell on his side, pushing himself up.

Before his eyes he saw the dark spire again, saw the blinding light, the sun, the sky, some things more clear now, others were no longer there at all.

He blinked hard, his heart pounding and his mind rushing with disorientation, so he closed his eyes again. The images of the vision still crystal clear in his mind, a deep breath, his hands clawed into something soft.

Then it passed.

Expecting it to start again any moment he only opened his eyes slowly again.

It was dark. And he lay on the floor before the window.

It was night.

A horrible wave of helpless exhaustion overcame him and he let himself drop down onto the soft carpet again, laying on his back for a moment, closing his eyes.

The Stargazer chuckled. But it was a horrible sound carrying only bitter frustration.

He understood what had happened. Enough time had passed that the sun had long set, so he had again slipped into the void. And to make matters worse, as if his own mind wasn’t already unpredictable enough, what had dragged him out of it had been yet another flash of prophecy telling him nothing of use.

This all felt like a very sick joke.

Then he heard something and he opened his eyes again. A low thumping sound. Maybe even a fragment of a voice.

And a horrible realisation drowning him in guilt made him jump to his feet immediately. As he quickly rushed to the door and down the corridor, the thumping was louder, he heard his name be called even though it sounded very far away. As soon as he reached it he slammed his hand against the access panel – the door to the summoning chamber opened up again.

And there was Pelagius.

Maybe he should have taken a moment to consider the possibility of the man’s anger. Or to find something to say. But he hadn’t done either.

As it turned out, he seemingly wasn’t thinking at all, because if he had, he might have expected the punch coming. Even now, he saw it, and he just didn’t react.

And that magic infused, already bloody fist crashed into the left side of his face with inhuman strength and both crashed down back into the corridor.

I told you to stay!

The Stargazer raised his hand by the time another hit shattered into his face. He tried to grab Pelagius.

Pelagius, stop!

Already his last word was cut down short as he was hit again – there was nothing but white burning anger in the knight’s face.

Finally before the fourth hit could try another attempt of bashing his skull in, he managed to grab the knight’s wrist – and fortunately, despite the curse – he was still stronger than him. Pelagius fought against his grip, in their struggle they rolled to the side, the knight’s knee crashed into his stomach, before he managed to pin him down onto the floor.

Stop it! He said, his own composure cracking, feeling the resistance against his grip as Pelagius still tried to break free.

You left me! The shrill undertone in the knight’s voice was so unexpected that it took Ravalor by surprise as he realised how genuine and intense the distress was he had just caused this man. Consequently his next words sounded just weak and defensive to him.

Yes, but you were safe. I just needed to–

You promised! Pelagius’ voice broke, and suddenly there wasn’t just the anger, but endless, helpless desperation. He felt the strength fade from the knight’s struggle. Please, I need … don’t leave me alone.

For a while there was nothing but Pelagius’ heavy breathing.

The Stargazer swallowed hard.

Are you calm?

Pelagius closed his eyes, a painful expression on the still young face as he nodded. He merely whispered. I’m good.

And he still would doubt that. But at least the anger seemed to have calmed.

I’m sorry, the Stargazer finally said, standing up.

May it be shame or embarrassment, Pelagius no longer met his eyes, didn’t even say anything to that. For a moment he just sat there, looking nothing but lost.

Come. Ravalor said, standing at the access panel. Slowly Pelagius got up and followed him back into the summoning chamber. Then he closed the door again.

7 Fallen, Risen, Forgotten

One might call it an awkward silence. Ravalor was fine with it because he didn’t feel like there was something he personally should be saying, but he sensed the undeniable tension.

Locked into a room with a man who desperately didn’t want him to leave him and yet would try to pummel him to death when his anger got the better of him. It probably was what would classify as an unhealthy relationship.

He still felt the tingling in his face where Pelagius’ fist had tried to crack open his skull, but now with the fresh mana flowing through his body whatever superficial damages he had suffered would quickly heal again.

For now, he ignored Pelagius’ presence. If the knight had something to say he could do so, but Ravalor’s first priority now was the restarted system.

A lot didn’t work. Several screens reported critical errors, a few of those he recognized as not as easily fixable. Nevertheless he confirmed to engage the whole idling system again.

Instantly a deep hum seemed to grow from the bottom of the spire, the room got brighter as the displays changed and the central altar lit up in a glow of magical blue light.

Ravalor stepped to the centre and connected with both hands to it. Once more he wasn’t kept from accessing the full reach of its magic. He was a wizard and that was enough of a security check for the spire. As he examined the access granted to him he noticed that not only any wizard was allowed to command the demons, but also Pelagius’ sword. He considered for a moment to revoke that access – but ultimately decided against it. Maybe if they managed to work together there would be some utility to it, and should Pelagius’ unpredictable anger turn him against him at some point, his own control over the demons would still overwrite that of the knight. Considering what just had happened minutes ago, after a moment of hesitation which felt longer than it actually was, he instead expanded Pelagius’ clearance to include free access to all doors in the system as well.

He did understand that waking up after dying, probably disorientated and being left alone, locked in a room with no way to get out of it with the possibility of being stuck there forever, couldn’t be a pleasant experience. So he hoped this would make up for that in some way.

In the meanwhile, now connected to the spire, one by one, he saw the demons appear within the grasp of the summoning chamber.

There were the soldiers and workers, astral zombies scattered all over the city, then the demons and hell spawns roaming the land, and the constructs rising from their slumber. They all froze in their movement as Ravalor took control over them. It took a long time. Because he had never done this at this scale. He wasn’t much of a Sorcerer and definitely no Necromancer. Sure the Kingmaker had dabbled with constructs here and there, the Scholar had learned quite a bit of theory from Zenozarax himself back in the day – but this was beyond his knowledge and abilities. There were thousands of them – trying to control all of them at the same time would most likely overwhelm his neural network and turn him into a piece of scrap metal for a good while. So he had to do it slowly, picking out small group after small group, focusing, changing, commanding.

And slowly, without them being able to notice it in the safety of the summoning chamber, the world around them became a whole lot less threatening and hostile.

He commanded each distinct group to gather at various points near Treva and left it at that for now.

Then he stepped back.

Did it work? Pelagius asked, the awkwardness in his words caused by the fact that he was the one to finally break the silence.

Yes. The demons and undead are all returning to Treva. I have control.

Good.

The silence threatened to take hold again as Ravalor met Pelagius’ eyes. Now out of armour, his clothes in tatters and with the uneasy expression on his pale face, the once so confident knight seemed a mere shadow of himself.

And as if to confirm that, Pelagius said, I’m not used to be like that.

I know.

No. I don’t think you do. Pelagius shook his head, a deep frown appearing on his face. Since that battle, things have changed. I have.

Ravalor chose to indulge him and his own curiosity for a moment and joined Pelagius who was sitting at one of the consoles. What do you mean?

Pelagius slightly shook his head, searching for the right words. When… I died in that battle, I mean when I woke up again – I felt this anger within me. Frustration, desperation – all of it. I don’t like losing, but it wasn’t that. It’s not me – it’s just there. All the time now I’m angry. And I can’t do anything about it.

The Stargazer listened, an unsettling feeling starting to take hold of him.

Are you… aware of what Zenozarax has done to you? Besides the resurrection part, he asked carefully.

If you mean that I can resist doing anything he wanted me to do, oh yes, I’m aware. Pelagius leaned back, a grotesque grin of bitterness and pain on his face. It was short lived before it faded into just cold acceptance. I fought it – at first. But there was nothing I could do. It’s like a different part of me doing it and all I can do is watch.

Wouldn’t that be cruel?

He felt something inside of him ache, a pressing thighness in his chest.

And for the first time – even after everything that had happened till now, this was the first time he felt genuine contempt towards Zenozarax. And that lord’s forsaken knife which would deserve to be called evil. To put this suffering willingly onto any living being sent a cold shudder down his spine. But also the sheer hypocrisy of the wizard he once knew, who had always so firmly fought for his own right to choose what he wanted to do, turning around and taking that autonomy from another just like that.

Maybe he should have reached this point a lot sooner. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to convince himself for centuries that Zenozarax’s actions were that of a mad man having lost his way. Now that he was back here and Zenozarax’ actions slowly revealed as planned and executed with a sound mind – it became harder to believe in that fantasy.

He took a deep breath, trying to push away his own feelings and bury them somewhere deep to be forgotten, then he said, You’re still cursed. And I think you’re still connected to that knife.

Pelagius nodded having watched him intensely, and the Stargazer wondered how much of his own feeling his face had given away.

Zenozarax used the knife to control you, but now he is gone. And I think – like the demons following their last command, you might be stuck with the last impression you got from Zenozarax before he died.

It was just a hypothesis, but it made sense to him. The anger towards those opposing him, desperation as he couldn’t finish what he had set out to do, frustration of losing – and now he was gone, and Pelagius stuck in a limbo of these feelings.

Can you… reverse it? The faintest glimmer of hope.

But there was nothing he could do but crush it in its infancy.

I don’t think so. This is the lords’ magic. No wizard truly understands it. To be honest I don’t even understand how… you keep on resurrecting. Alone with all the blood you lost – it’s like the curse is creating matter out of thin air. In the context of any magic I know, it makes absolutely no sense.

He had, in the extensive research the Hermit had conducted about the Lords’ artefacts, only ever heard of one that came close to what he saw now. To turn a mortal into a pure immortal being of magic – in theory. But that artefact was said to be lost in Gorgon’s Row with no more than legends to prove its existence. The Knife, Izvi, wasn’t supposed to do that (and yet it had). Admittedly, information had been sparse to non-existent on that one too, but what little he did find suggested it had never been used on any human nor was it intended to – it was a tool designed to fight wizards. Just like the Hammer, Izarax, was.

The weight of the revelation that he didn’t know however didn’t seem as crushing to Pelagius as the Stargazer had feared – though the plain and unsurprised acceptance in Pelagius’ face maybe was worse than shock could have been.

I suspected as much, the knight just said, glancing away. Then he added, I mean I knew. He told me the exact same thing. A dry chuckle. I’m not sure who was more surprised after I woke back up after he stabbed me. He or me.

What do you mean?

But Pelagius just shook his head. I don’t know. Something about him didn’t even thinking it would work on humans.

So he tried to kill you? the Stargazer concluded, not sure if that made it better or worse. Also not sure he liked that he was tilting to the former. Straight up murder was still bad, but not as cruel an intention as the apparent result had turned out to be.

… he was still trying to find excuses, wasn’t he?

Definitely. I gave him a good reason too. I had figured out what he was doing, or at least I thought so. God I’ve been so naive. I thought he wanted the kingdom, a grand scheme to take the glistening throne of Treva. His voice turned downright theatrical, stressing how ridiculously wrong he had been. But not – all this. Pelagius laughed bitterly. Next thing I know is me waking up positively undead.

The Stargazer listened to all that, nodding ever so slightly as if it just made perfect sense.

Pelagius still wasn’t looking at him, a brooding frown had taken hold of his face as he kept silent. Then he nodded towards the centre of the room. I think it wants your attention.

The Stargazer followed his eyes, relieved his mind was taken elsewhere, and stood up. The altar in the centre of the room gave a slow pulsing light, waiting for his input. He placed his hand on top of it again and the current status of the running operation got revealed to him.

There are a few demons unaccounted for – but we should be safe, he said.

Great. So what’s the plan now?

That was a very good question. This had been the easy part – from here on the things that needed to be done were countless. Where would one even begin?

Actual state analyses. If in doubt, fall back to standard procedure. I need an overview of what I’m even working with. If I can get this portal network back online you can show me around, you know what was going on here, right?

More than anyone else, I’d say.

Easy if anyone else is dead. Ravalor noted drily without looking up from the panels of the altar.

Consider me an expert then.

Ravalor looked back at Pelagius, once more slightly taken aback by the nonchalant joking. But it didn’t really mirror his expression. The knight still didn’t look too healthy. The face ashen and gaunt, with dark rims under his eyes. He didn’t even sound healthy. His voice seemed raspy and his words were accentuated here and there by low coughs.

Do you have your quarters in the spire?

Pelagius raised his brows. Yes?

You need to change. Your clothes are irradiated. They keep poisoning you.

Pelagius glared at his own clothes. Is it bad?

You tell me. How do you feel?

Not too good, I admit.

Then yes. It’s probably not helping. Change and leave your clothes in a separate room as far away from yours as possible. I’ll try to figure out where those crates were supposed to go, probably waste from the reactor, I doubt they were supposed to stay down there, he said getting quieter with every word and the last sentence he might not even have said out loud as he fell back into just thinking to himself – still expecting an answer that would not come.

But then nothing happened. Pelagius kept quiet. And after a moment Ravalor looked back again.

I’ll start up the portals, it will take a while. Go and change, he urged again, then Pelagius met his eyes, a deep frown on his face. Ravalor understood why – and was surprised to find his patients running thin. I’ll be here when you come back.

There was a plain, sceptical look in the knight’s face when he stood up and looked at Ravalor – he didn’t believe him.

But why did that bother him so much?

Pelagius, listen. We’ll be here for a while. I can’t be with you all of the time. You’ll have to trust me.

No.

No.

It was such a simple answer, yet so unexpected, that the Stargazer failed to respond to it. So in the silence Pelagius just added, I rather stay.

The Stargazer clenched his jaw as he felt a pang of irritation, but swallowed it, returning to the panels.

The dead network of portways spread out before his eyes. And slowly, one by one, they reconnected.

*

The portals were not quite how he knew them. Which he had expected. With the chaos interference ravaging the world for close to five years and the lack of any Izthra on this planet, any normal portal magic had been impossible to construct and nonfunctional when already built.

The entire network was reconnected and with that the prior dark archway within the summoning chamber itself lit up – but did not yet connect to any other space as it waited to be opened.

Before he dealt with that however he walked over to the back of the room and opened up the storage wall. Immediately several rows of automated shelves extruded outwards, presenting him with a fine selection of staffs.

He had expected no less. There were five in total – more than reasonable backup would call for. And not one of them was like the other. One space was empty. The sixth missing staff was most likely the one Zenozarax had carried into that last battle.

He picked one of the left-over ones, which one didn’t matter, because they were stored here in the summoning chamber so they all should serve the same purpose. They were all sorcerer staffs. He did however pick the one that had the least amount of glamour and stuff sticking to it. He wasn’t one to match his chosen channelling device to the outfit he was wearing and still he felt wrong with it – it didn’t belong to him nor was it designed for him.

Nevertheless he gave the dark, elegantly crafted staff a short pulse, the magic from his hand shot through the core and sparkled with a bright red gleam in its golden headpiece. Then he turned back around to the centre of the room and without any hesitation brought the lower end down in its centre. He was connected to the staff, the staff linked into the spire, and the spire to all the demons outside. The connection synchronised and as he removed the staff again he felt for the demons through the new connection. And it all worked as expected. With this he now held the ability to control the magic outside without having to be linked into the system directly and overloading his own perception.

It felt strangely surprising that for once things just worked right from the start.

Alright. Let’s go. Ravalor declared firmly turning back to the portal archway but then immediately hesitated.

Its light was wrong and while it was usually a safe bet to assume anything out of the ordinary was merely decorative, at least when it came to Zenozarax, this felt different. He gave the panel to its side a light touch and immediately he was offered a whole list of possible destinations. If he needed any confirmation that this wasn’t normal magic, this was it.

Static portals, like the portdoors, connectors and gateways they used in Obermoor and even Mezchinhar, were fixed points between two strictly defined positions in space and time. Their destination could not change, it was hardwired into their construction to be paired with their respective counterpart.

This panel before him now seemed almost taunting him. Like of course you can just switch between destinations? What decrepit magic have you been using?

But it was chaos magic. Like the chaos wizards ability to literally teleport, not having to create a portal to do it.

He chose one list item labelled The Pit (which was actually one of the less dramatic names on that list, reaching from The Heart of Darkness, to Hell Hole and the more bombastic Peak of Power – there were four of those labelled with the cardinal directions.)

Immediately the portal snapped open. It was dark on the other side (since it was dark everywhere, no real surprise there, but this one was really dark).

Ah. Pelagius coughed slightly and cleared his throat before he added The Pit.

How can you even tell? the Stargazer murmured, staring into the pitch black.

The sound. Listen, Pelagius said as he stepped without any hesitation up to and then through the portal – like it was the most normal thing to do. First now Ravalor realised that of course, the only reason this portal needed to be here was Pelagius. Zenozarax would have been able to teleport wherever he wanted without this, unbothered by the chaos interference.

Faintly he heard a droning coming from the other side.

You should bring a light. Pelagius turned to him, his image and voice slightly distorted by the portal between them. The Stargazer still hesitated. He now stood right in front of it, the strange light glimmering all around its frame. Carefully he raised his hand, his index finger just a centimetre away from the almost invisible border.

What’s wrong? Pelagius asked.

Nothing. Yet. But this was chaos magic. Pelagius seemed fine, but Pelagius wasn’t a wizard.

He pulled his hand back, took the small compacted piece of magic from his vest pocket and located Pelagius position. Then raising his hands he opened up a portal of his own, he saw its counterpart through the portdoor, and stepped through, arriving momentarily besides Pelagius.

Paranoid, but fair. Pelagius mumbled, followed by another low cough. Light?

Ravalor raised a light above them. And thus began Pelagius’ tour of showing him all the sights and wonders Zenozarax had created.

The Pit turned out to be a mine truly deserving the name. The heaving construct digging itself into the rock was making that droning, almost drumming noise while it idled. Workers were wandering around but there were fewer and less of them as they returned to Treva through the now reopened portal. Here and there Ravalor had to redirect them manually, using the staff to do so and Pelagius seemed to appreciate the little breaks as he seemed exhausted and too quickly out of breath.

There were a few fabrics and construction sites after that, most snuggly built far below ground in best wizard fashion. The place labelled Hell Hole was one of them, and Ravalor understood why it was called that as they entered and Pelagius warned he couldn’t stay too long. It was beyond freezing cold, some spots radiated a cold of almost minus 20 degrees celsius, and as Ravalor asked what they made here Pelagius just answered Liquid Ice and to his inquiry as to why Zenozarax had needed it Pelagius plainly said To store things. Before making clear that he was really freezing and if he would freeze solid he’d really appreciate Ravalor getting him out of here to thaw anywhere in peace.

The Peaks of Power turned out to be the pyramids. Pelagius showed him around the northern one and assured him they all were built exactly the same.

In terms of spare materials there wasn’t much to work with. Every possible form of fabrication needed for the project was right there and what needed would have been produced on the spot. Now however, without the workers and magic running the machines, they lay dormant. The Stargazer feared this could become a problem.

They were mostly done with the viewing of the pyramid as an alert flashed up in his mind, as he was still connected to the staff and the staff to the summoning chamber.

Quickly he opened a portal and already through it they saw the problem. Both stepped through and arrived back in the Great Hall of Treva’s citadel.

There was chaos in the most unmagical way possible.

The portal gateways surrounding the hall were all working, but the hall was stuffed to the brim. The portals clogged. More and more undead poured from the portals into the hall, all of which tried to exit the hall via the main gate. Over half a dozen inputs and only one output. It couldn’t work.

Adding to it the fact that the hall itself was still a maze of materials and the result was this. Undead pressing against each other, walking over each other, trying to tear their way to where the magic needed them to go. The intense mass and friction of magic turned the room static and hot. There was groaning, crushing, breaking. Even in the brief moment of their arrival both Pelagius and himself were downright tackled by stumbling zombies marching forward to the grotesque pile of bodies.

Ravalor raised his staff and with a bright pulse suddenly the noise stopped. And everything froze in its motion. That was the easy part. One after another he halted the incoming masses as well. Then came the tedious part. Now with a lot more attention to detail he started to move them again. First only the ones in the hall itself, starting from the front.

It took a long time till the entire hall was cleared again and he allowed further passage through the portals. Just a lot slower this time allowing the undead first to pick up the pace once they already were in the hall heading for the exit. It was tedious and exhausting work.

Pelagius didn’t say a word the entire time, just letting him work – it was a quality Ravalor greatly appreciated. The more startled he was when, by the time the trickle of undead seemed to have steadied and was flowing without any clogging through the hall, he suddenly heard Pelagius cough heavily behind him. And he remembered that yes – the hall was still very much irradiated. Which was still inconsequential to him, so it had been easy to forget.

You shouldn’t even be here. He pressed through his teeth as Pelagius raised up from his bowed position after his stomach had seemed to want to get rid of its contents. Only there was nothing.

I’m going to be fine. Pelagius murmured, wiping his mouth. His voice sounded rough and raspy. He slightly staggered in his stance.

With his hand firmly around the staff Ravalor ordered a few of the demons to take care of the worst causes of radiation in the hall, first and foremost those crates and things around them, and for the time being just ordered them to put them somewhere in The Pit. It wasn’t technically the most environmentally friendly way of disposal, but there was already enough radiation around here to make that concern pointless.

Let’s get out of here. You really don’t look fine.

It’s not that, Pelagius growled, followed by another cough as he was already with wavering steps following Ravalor through the portal back to the summoning chamber. Or just partly that.

What else? The portal closed behind them and he watched Pelagius stagger to one of the stools, a sigh of relief as he sat down. But there was a grimace of pain in his ashen face.

I think I’m dying.

I can see that, but why?

Pelagius chuckled humorlessly and breathlessly. What’s it been now since we met? Five days?

The Stargazer would have said no more than three, but he had lost undefined amounts of time in the void twice since then. So he merely nodded. Five days it was then.

That means I haven’t eaten in 6 days and I ran out of water back in the tunnels. It was only a question of time...

But you can’t die, Ravalor said almost wonderingly, for a moment his curiosity was stronger than the worry about the fact that he was literally watching a man die of thirst right before his eyes.

Temporarily I can. And it feels just the same. Pelagius retorted, teeth fletched against the pain of his body.

That finally reminded him that just standing here watching was mind bogglingly cruel and quickly he said, Wait here, I’ll try to find something. The city probably still has food stored right? The cellars and houses? All he had seen in Zenozarax’ chamber had been hard spirits and mana - both would not help Pelagius now.

No, don’t, it’s fine. I told you I’ll be fine. Pelagius pressed through his teeth.

This is not fine. I can’t just watch you die, you are clearly in pain.

Doesn’t matter. If it’s that or you leaving, I take the pain. Just let me die, I will be fine.

The Stargazer felt an intense wave of irritation as he put the staff away and stepped towards Pelagius. Fine. Then you come with me!

Much to Pelagius’ surprise, the Stargazer grabbed him, shouldering one arm and pulled him through a quick portal of his free hand. By now the Stargazer felt the intense exhaustion tearing at his own body, but he only staggered briefly as they stepped through. The portal stayed stable and they arrived near the base of the southern pyramid where the houses had seemed the most unharmed to him from his view from the tower.

Most doors stood wide open, speaking of people having fled in terror. He picked one of them that looked the best to him and dragged Pelagius into it.

Almost five years of open door policy had not done the interior any favours, and still the signs of an abrupt desertion were plain to see.

He found the kitchen and the adjacent cellar door. Everything he saw in the kitchen itself, what there had been on open food was long rotten and gone.

You’re going to sit here. And I go downstairs.

Pelagius’ state was, as he was actively dying now, deteriorating quickly and he seemed at this point delirious enough to no longer complain – at least in a form that was understandable. So the Stargazer sat him down, propped up against the frame of the cellar door.

Then followed by a small light he went down. The signs of a civilization in the rush of their first spur of major industrialization greeted him. Novel things like canned foods had started to find their way into the homes of people, but still mixed with the old ways of preserving food.

Unfortunately what there was in terms of meat not yet consumed by the rats had turned as hard as stone and would probably do more harm than good. He quickly found what was probably the most helpful thing in the moment: Bottled wine. Quickly he went back up, passing the delirious knight who mumbled something, before he opened the bottle in the kitchen. He shoved it into Pelagius’ hand, which gave a low clang against the magic in his palm. Being in no condition to even coordinate his limbs anymore, the Stargazer helped him drink. Just a bit. Then a bit more.

In theory – even when he was already suffering some organ failure at this point, the magic within him might be smart enough to reverse to process before he was properly dead once he removed the cause of death. It was a wild theory, but worth a try. There was still the fact that Pelagius was, to Ravalor, literally glowing by lingering radiation, but that was a long term problem now.

He let Pelagius hold onto the bottle before going back downstairs. Now. Food. The Stargazer felt a newfound respect for the Warrior who had to deal with this for the last four and a half years. Lords, humans really were high maintenance – and his one wasn’t even the real deal.

He picked out some cans that looked good to him, probably half of them were rancid anyways if not tainted by still developing sealing standards, but it was a start.

By the time he came up the stairs, Pelagius actually was looking at him, both hands firmly clasped around the bottle – which was an about 30% improvement to his previous state.

Toss those. Pelagius murmured, sounding tired as hell as he nodded to the cans. The Propter ones. They’re all shit. He took a sip from the bottle and the Stargazer noticed it was almost empty already. Tastes like shit…

Getting the sneaking suspicion they might be shit Ravalor put the cans in question aside and proceeded back into the kitchen with the rest.

Hearing a rumbling behind him he feared Pelagius having fallen down the stairs but the knight had managed to just stand up and was shuffling over to him, sitting down at the table. He seemed already properly drunk and Ravalor considered the possibility that his liver had already been damaged and he was now dying from alcohol poisoning instead.

Well. It would be an even more delirious death, and something he truly couldn’t fix right now. He opened one of the cans and inspected their contents. It looked and smelled worse enough to be still considered edible he supposed. Just to make sure he wasn’t adding food poisoning to potential organ failure and alcohol poisoning he even tasted the smallest tip of a spoon full of the stuff - fortunately it was still good and  he didn’t find any traces of things that shouldn’t be growing and multiplying in the brown goop.

Thank you. Pelagius’ slurred voice was quiet and as tired as before.

Ravalor found a plate and spoon and emptied the can into it before putting it on the table. Cold had to do.

And people call me stubborn, he only said, which made Pelagius chuckle. He really was drunk.

So I heard.

Thoughtfully Ravalor watched Pelagius as he started to eat. He took another of the wine bottles and opened it. Placing it on the table.

He wasn’t trying to kill the man, but this seemed like a good chance to quench his curiosity along Pelagius’ thirst. And so he sat down as well.

“Were you close?”

“Hum?” Pelagius raised his head between two spoons full of whatever the brown glob was supposed to be that had come from the can. The label said something about stew. He had to believe it.

“Zenozarax and you.”

Pelagius scoffed. “We were something. Mistrusted him to hell in back in the beginning, he’s a charming one I grand him that – didn’t like that. Him just wrapping everyone around his fingers. Didn’t trust it.” Despite being drunk and despite the probably raging hunger, Pelagius made it a point to carefully not talk while he was chewing. So after this first explanation there was a moment of silence. Then he continued. “Then he stabbed me. And after that – I don’t know. Sometimes I liked him, sometimes I hated him. Most of the time I despised him. But we were stuck together so we made that work.” Pelagius shrugged, now taking advantage of the second bottle of wine.

“Hm.” Ravalor nodded, having his arms folded on the table, listening attentively. And here they were, stuck together, trying to make that work. “He forced you to do terrible things,” he prompted carefully.

“Hm-hm” Proletis nodded while chewing. After that he said, “He had a mask. I guess we both had in a way.”

“A mask?”

“Yes. Not an actual one, well yes an actual one too, but I mean–” Pelagius waved the spoon around, searching for words, his whole upper body slightly wavered in the motion. “It wasn’t the mask itself, it was below. You put it on, and you do what you have to do, and then you take it off. Leave that with the mask. I hated that mask.”

I’m not sure I understand, he wanted to say, but halted. Thinking about it. Faintly he remembered his last encounter with Zenozarax, remembered that chilling moment as the face of the wizard he knew, the face of his friend, had turned ice cold and unfamiliar. Ready to kill an entire universe.

And he remembered the last feverish moments of the Hermit, till the moment he forced that stoic calm into his mind, ready to kill an entire planet.

And he remembered the Warrior, ready to take whatever he needed to do what needed to be done, allowing no single emotion to stop him. Ready to kill one man to save another.

He did understand.

“I liked him better without the mask.” Pelagius slurred as he leaned back, the bottle in his hand. The plate was already empty.

“Me too.” Ravalor mumbled more to himself. Lost in his own thoughts and memories he first was brought back into the here and now as Pelagius put down the bottle onto the table with all the tenderness of a stormfire dragon.

Ravalor!

He blinked, looking at Pelagius, who in turn looked at him as if he expected him to say something.

You almost slipped away there, didn’t you? Pelagius said slowly, slurring his words badly and tilting his head, watching him carefully. Your eyes became darker. Huh. That’s a very literal form of that saying isn’t it?

The Stargazer blinked again. He had to believe it. The already empty second bottle on the table now only proved that a little bit more time had passed him by then he realised. I didn’t notice.

Huh. Pelagius chuckled, food and alcohol had turned his cheeks a patchy and powdery red on the pale skin. And here I thought you were just ignoring me.

Before the Stargazer could assure him he hadn’t and ask what he had said, Pelagius already continued, “Let’s pack some of the stuff and return to the spire, alright?” he exclaimed utterly ignorant about Ravalor’s slight confusion and with the unnatural confidence of a drunken man who – just second after he said it and tried to stand up – landed face first on the floor.

“You are drunk.” Ravalor stood up, pointing out the obvious to the groaning man who was holding his face and cursing him and the floor to equal degrees. “Just keep… I don’t know, stay there. I will pack some food. And we’ll try to find you something to drink that isn’t alcohol.”

8 The dead Army

The air was filled with the deep rumbling sound of shifting bodies, rattling breaths, claws on stone and unnatural growling.

Pelagius climbed the ledge first, offering his hand to pull Ravalor up.

Ravalor glanced at the offered hand and ignored it, pulling himself up on his own. As he straightened up again and faced the army before him, he couldn’t help a short whistle through his teeth. Lords– he muttered to himself as he stepped closer to the other side of the raised stone stage where Pelagius already waited for him. A low wind was whistling between the houses, but even the wind couldn’t take away the oppressing and all consuming smell of rot.

As far as the eye could see, filling the sapphire square and every alley and street, packed to the brim, pressed shoulder to shoulder stood the demons and undead. And he knew there were a lot more all across the city. It had taken a while for all of them to arrive here, as not all had been within reach of a portal.

Behold. Your army. Pelagius said plainly, just glancing at Ravalor.

It’s not my army.

You’re in control, are you not?

The demons were pulled together by everything and anything the demonic mass could have gotten its tendrils on. Earth, stone, minerals, sod, wood, rot and decay – held together and made walking by magic. Their unnatural sight turned no less unnerving by their docile stares.

But the undead were worse.

Each and every one of them had once been a human being, who had lived on this earth and, in the end, most likely fought for that life – without any real chance of success. Their bodies were rotting now. The decay slowed by the cold temperatures and the magic within them that kept their cells alive to some extent. But it wouldn’t do so indefinitely. Many wore their past damages and wounds like a twisted badge of pride, plainly open for the world to see. Crushed limbs, shattered skulls, bruised and bloodied skin, cloudy eyes if there were still some left in the hollow sockets of their heads. They were dead. There was nothing left of the person they once used to be.

We’ll bury the dead, he declared – Pelagius raised his brows.

You’ll need bodies. There is much work to do, didn’t you say so.

The demons will suffice. The Stargazer didn’t even like to entertain the thought. It was too practical.

Hmhm. He thought that too, Pelagius added, staring back over the dead mass.

The Stargazer didn’t want to hear it either. He was sure there were plenty of good reasons Zenozarax had decided on stocking up his workforce with the undead, but it wasn’t a path he was willing to go down. These people (though they were not people anymore) deserved to finally rest. Yet he fought his own sense of pragmatism at every step of that decision.

He let the magic run through his body and the staff, his eyes glowed as he took direct control of the forces before him. No longer guiding individual bodies but instead taking hold over a spreading mesh of magical nodes within his grasp. Thousands of bodies, separated but acting as one, easing the strain on his own mind. And the whole mass of matter and bodies began to move. Like flowing water they shifted, moved, seperated. The demons walked away, to idly spread across the city, while the undead stayed and formed countless perfectly aligned rows, waiting for his next command.

Ravalor jumped down the ledge, Pelagius as always followed him promptly. Every dead eye rested on him. And as he passed through them, row after row turned to follow him.

And so he walked an army of death out of Treva. Thousands of feet like thunder, marching behind him in synchronized lock step.

I think you’re making a mistake.

Ravalor did not stop while their march through the gates of Treva continued. Instead he just said, It’s the right thing to do. As if to remind himself and to drown out that practical part of himself considering the potential use of the undead.

I know. I agree.

At that Ravalor first looked back at Pelagius and was surprised to find a deep frown on his face. Before he could ask, Pelagius added, If you do this now, do not send me to kill more once you realise you need them after all.

I won’t do that.

Good.

The open plains once chequered by grass and farmland were dead and abandoned. Even here, the battle and subsequent fire had tainted the ground with radiation.

When the army stopped with him, Ravalor gave the ground a slight nudge with the end of his staff and confirmed to himself what he already knew.

The ground was frozen.

Thousands of dead behind him, waiting for their graves – and if he would want, he could tell them to dig here, and they would. They would dig with their bare rotten hands if they had to till there was nothing left but bony stumps.

He wanted to avoid that.

And faintly he wondered when that had happened.

There was no respect for the dead he’d have ever been taught. It was a nonexistent concept in Mezchinhar. Humans as much as Wizards became nothing more but matter and a statistic the moment they died (some like Zenozarax may say it was even before that). What they left behind were resources or waste that was to be dealt with – or made use of accordingly – depending on need and situation.

He supposed though the situation was different – or maybe he was just too subjective about it. These people had died violently, killed just for this purpose and hadn’t been given any respect, not in death and maybe not even alive. For too long this had been going on, now it was on him to right this wrong and to give these people a last bit of dignity before their final rest. Maybe despite his best effort he had gotten too used to humans. Maybe he had gotten too used to this whole ...thing. Trying to fix things he shouldn’t be caring about. His own kind of chaos. Something that couldn’t be taken back anymore.

His mind connected to the staff and he reached out, taking some of the demons that had followed them and when his staff came down on the frozen ground once more, they broke apart into a glimmer of magic that immediately rushed over the ground. It reached him and Pelagius, danced around their feet but it ignored them as it went onto the open plain. The glimmer vanished as the magic settled into the ground. There was a moment of silence.

Then the earth before them groaned, a hard, unpleasant, grinding sound as the frozen ground was torn open and the magic matter broke through earth and ice alike. The ground was alive, shifting, moving, seemingly on its own, and before their eyes, slowly a massive chasm opened up, the displaced earth and stone piling up in heaps around it, sparkling with magic.

And then, without a word being spoken, the army of undead walked past them, forward, and into the pit. Soon bodies piled on top of another, and yet more walked in, burying those that came before.

There were muffled groans as air was pressed out of rotting lungs, a cracking noise of clothing and armour crashing together – maybe bones too that snapped under the enormous weight of thousands of bodies.

“This is macabre.” Pelagius muttered and first now Ravalor looked away from the grim spectacle before them to see the grimace in the knight’s face.

“The macabre still shakes you?”

Pelagius considered for a moment. Then he said,

“I did what I was told to do. And when I did I did it with righteousness because it was the right thing to do. For a greater good. In those moments, it felt justified. But I never remembered that when night fell. When I was alone again, with my own thoughts and the screams of those that had fallen by my blade. I feared the night I may sleep sound again – but for better or worse that night never came.”

Ravalor looked back to the piling mass of undead. Less and less passed them on their way to their final resting place. A mass grave the likes this world had never seen before.

“What was it?” he asked, the last few stragglers coming up behind them now. “That greater good you speak of?”

“I don’t know. I just knew it was there. That all this was for a reason, an important one. That it had to be done.”

The last undead fell into the chasm.

Ravalor raised the staff again, this time pointing its glowing top at the pit, he felt his mind tingle, and for a horrible moment he felt like fainting as the sheer mass of magic he tried to control at once near overwhelmed him, he staggered back a step, ramming the staff back into the earth for control and balance alike – and the entire chasm lit up as the demonic mass that had kept the undead alive left their host bodies and moved out of the pit. For a while the world around them was lit up as bright as day as body after body finally fell dead for good. The magic that kept them together amassed a body of its own, building sharp angular structures of light around the mass grave and reaching like abstract pillars into the sky.

Then the earth moved again, rolling like waves as the hills surrounding the chasm buried the thousands of corpses.

As the light of the magic faded away, the pillars standing like otherworldly gravestones around the heap of earth turned dark and the world became quiet again.

*

When they returned to the spire, both were somberly quiet. It seemed appropriate after what they had just done and witnessed.

The quietness was only disturbed by Pelagius’ infrequent coughing. The knight had sat down on the sprawling sofa in Zenozarax’ room but by now lay halfway sunken into the backrest. He didn’t look good, his skin was ashen and glistening slightly with the sweat of a light fever.

Ravalor knew there was nothing he could do but wait for the knight to get better now. The burial, while bombastically gruesome, had also put an enormous amount of irradiated dirt and dust in the air which Pelagius had been breathing in the entire time.

He still felt quite inadequate in taking care of any human he realised or else he would have thought about telling him to wear at least some kind of mask or face cover.

He walked over to Zenozarax’ closet (and despite not yet having found any proof to the contrary he could not believe it was his only one) and opened it. The colourset that greeted him seemed uncharacteristically muted. Very dark, lots of reds (that wasn’t surprising, it had always been his favourite colour to wear) but also a few very common and downright undramatic pieces of clothing. They seemed un-Zenozarax-y enough as to not feel perfectly weird seeing Pelagius wear them.

You really need to change your clothes. He declared as he walked back over to Pelagius who had watched him with half closed eyes, more intent to simmer in his suffering than to really watch him.

Take them off and throw them out of the window for all I care. But you really have to. Wear these for now. He put down the pieces of clothing he had picked out. They should fit, not well, Zenozarax had a very strong frame and Pelagius, while not too unsimilar in height, was more of an athletic build, but it would do the job.

Fine… Pelagius murmured, not too happy about having to move at all now. But he did.

While Pelagius changed his clothes Ravalor mustered the out-of-place and perfectly unmoving unicorn in its slumber again. Mercury as Pelagius had reminded him.

They had retrieved it from the tunnels when Pelagius had recovered from the very intense but short lived hangover Ravalor’s saving his life had caused, and for a lack of a better place just parked it here in Zenozarax’ room too. Given the very distinct, slightly destructive personality it seemed blessed with, Ravalor felt it to be safer to have it sleep for now before they would come back and find the room in shambles.

He doubted they would have any use for it from here on out. Not with the demons under his control and the portals working again. It was a machine of war. But the war was over. It had no place in the rebuilding that had to happen now.

Maybe one day it would become the banner of a new kingdom rising from the ashes. A promise of new wars to be fought. But those days were still distant.

Pelagius had finished changing and instead of throwing the old clothes out of the window as suggested, Ravalor just opened a portal to The Pit again and dumped them there. The mine was useless to him without the workers, so he might as well continue to use it as a permanent repository for nuclear waste.

After that, they both went back to the summoning chamber.

*

There is someone coming.

Ravalor peaked up with a confused mix of surprise, disbelief and fear. He had thought Pelagius had fallen asleep behind him as he worked. Excuse me?

Pelagius, indeed having chosen a more lying than sitting position against one of the pillars in the centre,  pointed to the panel he’d been watching, observing the demons on the plain. Within their detection range two little dots had appeared. Within the information embedded in the signal Ravalor recognized it as a horse and a human. They advanced carefully, but heading straight towards Treva.

A survivor? Ravalor muttered puzzled, unable to find a good explanation for why one lone soul would wander all the way back to Treva which they must know was dangerous. You stay here. He said briskly, about to open a portal.

No, I’ll come with you, it could be dangerous! Pelagius protested, dragging himself up from the ground with a groan. He still didn’t look too good.

If it is, I will deal with it. He glared at Pelagius, the knight’s fingers twitched. Pelagius knew exactly why he was left behind now. Whoever this person approaching the tower was, Ravalor had no intention of adding them to the list of victims Pelagius’ abrupt anger had caused.

Ravalor, I promise you– Tension crept into Pelagius’ voice, but this time, in this case, the Stargazer was not willing to take this risk. And he had no time for a discussion. The person approaching the tower needed to go right now. He would deal with the consequences concerning Pelagius later. At least this time he knew what to expect.

No. I will be back. You stay here and rest. Watch the panels while I’m gone, you will know where I am. And without giving Pelagius another chance to respond, he opened the portal around him and promptly appeared in the plains, the portal collapsing again after he stepped out, cutting off Pelagius calling after him.

A bone chilling wind crept under his clothes. Based on any calendar or even the tilt of the earth itself, autumn had just begun, but it already felt like winter.

He lit up a bright magical light above him. Standing like a beacon in the darkness he looked out, searching for the rider.

And he felt a nauseating sense of Déjà vu as he spotted the shadowy figure in the distance. Like Aeven before, what felt like a lifetime ago, the rider slowed as they saw the light, but then continued slowly.

Once Aeven had found him bunkered up in Obermoor, he had looked horrible. Dragged through seven days of fighting and survival in a hostile land. But he had been healthy.

The figure before him looked unimaginably worse. Not beaten down by seven days, but five years of terror.

It was a man. A haggard face with a thick but patchy beard, eyes sunk in the ashen face. His clothes were layer upon layer of mended and dirty pieces, giving him a far more bulky look than his skinny face could fit.

And Ravalor looked the man in his tired eyes, squinting against the unfamiliar light – and he knew him. The Warrior had seen him before. Had even spoken to him on his way to Obermoor. He’d always dismiss the idea of a grand cosmic destiny - but in moments like these he sometimes doubted that conviction. Strings of individual fates weaving together by decision and consequences, and the result was as likely as any other, a coincidence only by his own involvement. But felt like more than that.

The man’s hair was no longer dark, now ashen with grey. The once sunkissed skin looked nothing but sick. But he remembered Ravalor.

You…? The man’s voice broke into a raspy cough as if his throat had forgotten how to speak. There was fear in his eyes, he recognized him, but not as friend, neither as foe – but a sign for caution.

You can’t be here. Ravalor said calmly. It’s not safe for you here.

It’s not safe anywhere. The man rasped. The gangly horse was nervous, twitching at every move of the dark shadows cast by the bright light. The man looked at it, it was too bright.

You’re like him. The dark lord?

Ravalor felt a guttural reaction to that claim, for several reasons, not least of all because he’d never have the audacity to proclaim himself lord, but he answered calmly, I am a wizard, yes. But I’m not him. Now please, you must leave.

But to his horror, instead of leaving, the man got off his horse, facing him directly. The layer of clothing made up for the once strong and burly build, but his stance had lost its pride and confidence. But when he spoke again, his voice had become more firm.

There are rumours. Conflicting ones. They all tell of a wizard returning to Treva. Some say he’s here to help us. Others that he’s here to finish what was started. He paused, his hard gaze not wavering But then the demons changed and left. They don’t attack anymore. He looked into the darkness, as if he knew that they were there. So we wondered if it could be true. If there really could be help. He looked back, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Once, five years ago, when they spoke for the first time Ravalor’s words had marked the end of life as they knew it. Now the man looked for an answer that would do the same again.

I am here to help, yes. I’ll try to revive the sun. It will take time, and I don’t know how long. But I’ll do whatever I can to make it so.

The man glanced up to the corrupted dark spot in the sky, framed by the dark red glow. An almost heartbroken sense of hope in his face. And maybe, Ravalor thought, he shouldn’t have said it. Yes, it was hope these people desperately needed, but the promise of restoring the sun to its former glory was something most would probably not even have considered. And here he was promising what he didn’t even know he could do.

The man looked back down, a determined look in his face. Do you need help?

Yes. But instead he said, You can’t stay here. Even here in the open plains a considerable distance from Treva and the battlefields of Kivinan, the radiation was strong enough to cause humans serious health issues long term. It was in the earth, the grass, stones and animals that still survived. But remembering Pelagius’ words he said The air is poisonous. You’ll die if you stay here too long.

But you’re here.

Yes, but I’m a wizard, I’m not affected. Return to where you came from. Change your clothes if you can. And do not return. Tell others to stay away if you meet them.

The man seemed concerned, but far from panic. How bad is it?

There are spots within the tower and in Kivinan that will kill you within days. Others will leave you a few months. Most places are low on… poison, if you were to stay there for longer, you most likely would die within 5 years. He had considered making it sound worse than it was – but the reality seemed already grim enough to him. This poison will never vanish. You’re never to return here, you understand?

The man looked sceptical. Ravalor knew very well why. He had read about the blindness of humans towards radiation often enough. There was no smell for the most part (by the time humans could smell the presence of ionising radiation it would be lethal within minutes), no visible signs, no immediate effect of any poison in the air – he himself knew it was there, he could feel as much as he could see it clearly and precisely, but the man before him could not. Even if he believed him, he soon would doubt the severity of his explanation. But the man nodded.

Last time you didn’t tell us your name.

Ravalor hesitated, questioning if he wanted people to know of him, considering how likely it was that anyone from the circle would come here and find him. But finally he said Most call me Stargazer.

The man blinked, a weak but amused smile in his face that took easily 5 years of him. I see. Gowen. He said, holding out his hand. Ravalor stared at it for a few seconds (paranoia flared up in his mind, considering the insane possibility of this man not being who he appeared to be, that this was a chaos wizard about to kill him), then hesitantly took it. An uncomfortable shudder went down his spine as he did so, every atom of his being just wanting to abruptly pull his hand back again – but he kept his face clear of the discomfort the direct touch against his hand evoked. He didn’t hold on any longer than minimum politeness required before he quickly pulled his hand back.

Now please go. Maybe that was a bit rude too. But that didn’t matter. The sooner this man, Gowen, left, the better for him.

Fine. Gowen didn’t look too happy, but turned back to his horse and climbed up. Back on horseback he looked back down at Ravalor. The last few years have treated you well, he said plainly. Maybe even a little resentful.

Of course, the man remembered the Warrior – but faced the Stargazer. His hair now longer, the beard gone, exchanged for short stubble – and he even looked younger. Maybe more haunted – but overall, not comparable to the change the man himself had undergone during the past five years.

He didn’t know how to answer that, he didn’t feel like explaining the nature of wizards to him, so he just nodded.

Gowen understood that this marked the end of their encounter and steered the horse around.

Gowen.

The man halted, looking back.

Where do you go?

I’d rather not tell, Gowen answered, pinching his lips. We’re safe for now. But winter is coming and we had to keep moving because of the demons.

Do not fear them any longer. You shouldn’t encounter them anymore and if you do they will not harm you. I have taken control of them.

Gowen nodded, his face relaxing a bit.

Is your wife there with you? The Stargazer wasn’t sure why he asked, but felt compelled to. Because he remembered the kindness and offered hospitality in the face of tragedy.

No.

And the grim frown on his face told him the rest.

Ravalor kept quiet and watched the man ride away. Vanishing from the light, soon into the darkness, and he watched till he no longer could see the glimmer of heat from the man and horse.

Then he opened his portal.

Pelagius jumped up the moment he saw Ravalor appear in the summoning chamber again. The anxious frown on his face made room for relief. Yet for a moment Ravalor still braced for yet another burst of anger. To his surprise, it didn’t come – but he saw the burning irritation turned to plain hate, no matter how involuntary it was.

He’s gone? Ravalor asked, pretending he didn’t notice as he glanced at the screen.

Yes. Didn’t turn back and exited the perimeter a few moments ago. Pelagius’ answer sounded like pressed through teeth with utmost restraint – but it was still better than a fist to the face.

Good.

 9 To guide the Soul

The entire structure hummed as the energy flowing within it harmonised in the metal bonework of the pyramid.

Ravalor was staring at the panels of the control room in the northern pyramid (which Zenozarax had theatrically labelled as The Northern Peak of Power but Ravalor now referred to plainly as Pyramid One). He had been staring at the panels unmoving and perfectly passive for about half an hour. Every ten minutes he noticed Pelagius inconspicuously strolling around him, probably making sure he hadn’t just died again.

The structure was working perfectly fine. It was ready to do exactly what it was supposed to do at peak efficiency.

With Zenozarax notes, his own extremely vague understanding of the harnessing of the stellar alignment and the structures he was presented with, he understood to an extent what it was supposed to do.

These pyramids were receivers and aggregators alike, passively and actively harnessing chaos from the world around them and drawing more in, then redirecting that chaos to the spire… where it would have done... something.

What’s the problem?

Pelagius’ voice interrupted his stagnating and piled up thoughts. But he didn’t answer.

As the silence carried on long enough he heard Pelagius coming up behind him again before the knight appeared at his side.

Might help talking about it. Pelagius sat down and first now Ravalor looked at him, feeling a sense of strange and uncalled-for nostalgia for a time long past.

At least Zenozarax seemed to think so. Pelagius scoffed as Ravalor stayed quiet. Didn’t even need to say anything – just listen.

Indeed, it was Zenozarax’ preferred method of problem solving. But that wasn’t him and hadn’t been for a long time, if ever. Zenozarax had called it brooding and maybe that was true. Hunching over a problem in silence till by some cosmic twist of enlightenment the answer came to him – or not. And then he would never talk about it. Not until Zenozarax came and coaxed him into talking about it anyways.

He had moved past waiting for Zenozarax, and his other parts had tried to take over that duty. Which was technically just more brooding over his own thoughts. But now they were gone too. So maybe Pelagius was right.

These pyramids – they do one thing and one thing only. Catch chaos, draw it in, that’s what they are built to do even though I still don’t understand how that plays into their original purpose. He said slowly, sorting his thoughts. That curse around the sun is actually millions of small demon constructs operating on chaos – that’s why I can’t control it directly. I can’t shoot it down with regular magic because they are shielded by chaos, and I can’t manipulate or control them – not without using chaos magic myself. Which I can’t. So I need to use what is already here to do it. These pyramids are the only chance I have to do so – if I make one mistake and break them in the process, I won’t be able to make it undone.

So you have a plan of what to do. But you’re afraid you fuck up?

Those words sound wrong coming from you.

Bad influence. You really like to dodge questions don’t you?

I just wish there would be more information. But I have found nothing of what Zenozarax has written dating back further than a year. He must have written it all down but it’s just not here. A hard frown appeared on his face as he still was glaring at the panel before him, taunting him with the fact that the pyramid was perfectly operational.

A moment of silence followed.

Then Pelagius said, You need to let me help you. Show me what I can do. He held out his hand.

And almost horrified Ravalor looked at it, then finally up at Pelagius.

No.

Ravalor–

No. I won’t do that.

Pelagius’ hand tightened to a fist, and sensing the raising tension within the knight Ravalor quickly added,

There is still a very powerful curse running through your veins. I don’t know if it will spread nor what its effect would be on myself. So I will tell you, but I can’t show you. Not like that.

Pelagius’ hand relaxed a bit again as he pulled it back. I see.

Will you trust me? If you want to really help me, I need you to work on your own.

Pelagius kept quiet for a moment. Still that reluctance and fear. But then a hard frown of determination appeared with a nod. For now.

*

Ravalor had explained to Pelagius quickly what he needed him to do – that was to go to the lower levels and be ready to act as instructed once Ravalor would start the readjustment of the panels covering the pyramids surface.

The knight had left and once he was gone it was an unsettling realisation that the Stargazer was for a moment alone again.

As unnerving as Pelagius’ constant company had been, it had been company nonetheless. Now he was left to himself and his own thoughts again.

He shook that thought off and quickly established a line of communication to Pelagius. Like the Northman, Pelagius’ body was changed enough that the Stargazer could see him beyond his bodily presence. He had an aura identifying himself clearly as well as a position he could track. While with the Northman he did not fear a direct link between them, with Pelagius he took some of the magic and reformed it into a small datatab for communication. Feeding it Pelagius’ markers it gave a low pulse of light and momentarily displayed a steady and strong connection to the knight.

Can you hear me?

Loud and clear. Pelagius’ voice came back from the datatab. He didn’t sound startled or even surprised, and Ravalor had to assume the knight must have had Zenozarax’s voice directly in his head often enough in the past.

The visual feed stayed dark with a distorted hum. As it seems I can’t see what you see so you’ll have to tell me if something goes wrong. Ravalor said.

Of course. Pelagius sounded puzzled, even amused if Ravalor would believe so. Why would you see what I’m seeing?

It was worth a try. There is a lot of magic within you – beyond the thing on your hand. Hence why we can even talk like this without any tools. When we create cyborgs, it’s possible to tap into what they see – given artificial eyes where implanted. You do transmit some signals too – but none I can comprehend or do anything with currently. It’s magical. But also still very biological.

You sound fascinated, Pelagius noted dryly.

It is interesting, Ravalor admitted as he went over the pyramids controls once more, making sure he wasn’t overlooking anything. With quick steps he went from one side to the other, checking the queued inputs and even adjusting some last minute based on gut feeling and assumptions alone.

An area of displays showed him several critical areas within the pyramid he worried about, as well as a few demonic eyes he had on the outside and a last set staring at the dark sun directly above them.

Ready. Pelagius said. All seems in order down here.

The Stargazer’s hand hovered above the input field. He let the wave of doubt and paranoia wash over him, but then he felt that the practical, more task oriented part of him dragged him from his worries. This was merely a well educated shot in the dark – but it was a step forward. And he had to start making those.

And from that came a sense of curiosity. Both felt strangely healthy.

Rotation adjustment in 3 – 2 – 1–

He pressed his hand down, the markings in his hands lit up, and the pyramid reacted immediately. The sound was deafening as thousands upon thousands of the modular receivers shifted position, starting from the top like a ripple going to the bottom, the pyramid was blooming like a flower opening their petals to the sky, the smooth and perfect surface sparkling even in the dark light.

There was not a single error. No panel got stuck, no line broke, the megastructure of wizard engineering readjusted into its new layout without any complaint. What a marvellous piece of work.

Readjustment complete, all systems operating normally, he said automatically like he would inform any Operator working alongside him.

There’s some aching in the cooling and the temperature jumped quite a bit. Pelagius sounded tense but calm enough to confirm there had been no error.

Yes, I can see that here too. It was an enormous amount of energy that just pushed through the structure. Let’s give it a few minutes to vent before the test charge.

Understood.

And for a while both were quiet.

He looked at the outside view on one of the panels and the pyramid looked even more threateningly unnatural than before. Then he looked back to the display of the sun. He didn’t dare to hope for much. But with a little bit of luck, there would be… at least some observable effect. Something to work with.

Ravalor.

Hm? He kept looking at the sun while he listened to Pelagius. The knight’s voice was more quiet now.

I know you have no reason to trust me. And I’m aware that I’m not making things easier. The more I appreciate that you put up with me. He could hear the nervous tension within those words. Now away from Ravalor, Pelagius truly had to trust him to not suddenly disappear on him – how uncomfortable that made him was clear in his voice. Maybe Pelagius just said it to remind him of that.

Ravalor didn’t quite know what to say to that, so eventually he admitted, I do need the help. But he wondered if he should have said something else. Something less practical.

Maybe. But I don’t think as much as I need yours. Pelagius said, a sombre and thoughtful tone in his voice. Ravalor felt like he wouldn’t be saying this were he in the room with him now.

You don’t need me. I can’t even help you, he said plainly, almost dismissively, trying to discourage that idea.

I don’t think that is true.

Ravalor kept quiet.

When I look at you, you’re the only bright spark in this eternal darkness. A last glow in the night. Something to hold onto. You’re a wizard, and while I don’t know why, this curse within me needs you. To do what, I’m not sure yet either – maybe you do, and maybe you will tell me one day. All I know, Ravalor, is that I do need you.

The Stargazer felt something, maybe empathy or nostalgia, but did not dare to linger with that. You’ve always been very poetic.

Pelagius was quiet for a few moments then he said,

You speak as if you knew me. Were you there too? When he tried this the first time?

Ravalor blinked – it was a surreal moment when first now two of those puzzle pieces he already had, slotted perfectly together. He had just never tried to connect them before. All this – 992, the conjunction, his attempt to acquire powers beyond comprehension – Zenozarax had wanted to do it before. The whole failed Conquest of Treva, a mere precursor to what he had wanted to do. It really never had been about the city, the wizards, nor the planet itself.

Yes. He eventually said, his own voice sounded distant to him. You and the Northman followed Prince Aeven into that battle – and stopped Zenozarax.

I see, Pelagius said, then adding, sounding actually amused, Must have been easy with a god at our side.

Right. Despite the similarities, Pelagius had grown up in a world that worshipped that cyborg. The Northman had never been a friend to him. They had been close as brothers once, but now Pelagius didn’t even know him beyond the name. Even with the awareness of the endless possibilities within the multiverse, it just felt wrong.

It helped, Ravalor just said and checked the control again, the temperatures within the structures read normal again. He almost felt like he should say something else, that just going back to the task at hand would be rude – but then again, he really didn’t know what that would be. He had never been good with these kinds of things.

We’re ready for the test charge.

Understood. Pelagius said, and there was no discernible shift in his tone. Just plain acknowledgment. Ravalor looked back at the image of the dark sun.

20 second test charge in 3 – 2 – 1

Another glow of his hands firing a command through the structure. This time a low hum started to resonate from its centre, growing in loudness. The panels now charged started to pull an invisible charge of energy – all of them directed directly at the sun. He waited till it was operating at full capacity, waited 10 seconds longer, then he turned it all off again.

Is it doing anything? Pelagius asked uneasily.

Yes. But it will take time. The pulse is directed now at the sun. It takes a bit under 10 minutes to get there and again as much to have an effect we can observe. Since I don’t know how much chaos energy we’ll get back from there I turned it off again already, so we’re not overwhelmed.

I see.

Keep an close eye on the system. If anything starts acting up, tell me immediately. Anything is important now.

And so they waited. For 16 minutes absolutely nothing happened.

The first thing he felt was a sharp tingling in the air. Then the entire structure seemed to vibrate and invisible to the human eye an massive amount of chaos slammed into the pyramid –

And four things happened at the same time.

He heard Pelagius’ alarmed voice telling him that pipes were bursting, lines exploding and alarms ringing up all around him.

He felt the entire pyramid ache and groan, followed immediately by the tremors of collapse.

He raised his hands, a bright strip of light appeared in the room and he knew it was too late–

But he also saw – in the last second that the panel was on, within the erratic flashing alarm – he saw the dark sun, and at its bottom left part a bright glow appeared. Like dithered through a net, the natural light of the sun broke through, for only a moment, he saw the light brighten up the earth ever so slightly–

And then, lost within a thunderous apocalypse – the world around him collapsed.

*

Now.

This was a problem.

Ravalor took another shallow breath – it was filled with dust and smoke and tasted like electrical fire. Every small move resulted in more rubble and debris falling down. So he rather not move – it felt better framing it as a decision he actively made than submit to the fact that actually, he couldn’t really move much even if he wanted to. His chest was firmly wedged between what was left of the floor and a massive metal beam.

There were several ways to react to this, he thought with a forcefully stoic attitude his Warrior was so masterfully in. His first instinct, to panic, wouldn’t help him now. Probably make things worse.

The pyramid had, if not exploded, at least collapsed. If partial or fully was impossible to say from this vantage point stuck right in the middle of it.

That was bad. Really bad. And would that fact be left on its own, the Stargazer wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay this calm.

But since he was still alive, the additional fact that it had actually worked (that unplanned explosion aside) filled his mind with an unfamiliar sense of euphoria. But it may as well be shock. He wasn’t sure yet.

Fact was, he used to be an Engineer, and if there was one thing he and the Kingmaker who had taken that title from him knew too well, then it was that great magical tasks usually came with setbacks – but ideally they also granted some insight leading to the solution.

He couldn’t fix this pyramid, that much he knew. But if his calculations were correct, based on what he had just observed, if he could strengthen the connection of the other three pyramids so they could share and withstand this kind of energy long enough to redirect it right into the planned hell portal beneath the spire – they should be enough. He just needed to give this massive amount of energy somewhere to go and it should work!

He suspected however, that he had taken all the leeway he would get. Should he lose another pyramid, he would calculate the chance of success way below any reasonable hope.

But overall, this was good. Really good. He chose to believe that he was on the right track. Theoretically.

However, in terms of the here and now, he was also stuck and that was not good at all.

He tried to move his head and see, searching for the staff. He had put it near the entrance of the room when he had come in. And now it was gone. No matter how far he twisted his neck, in the rubble around it he could not see a glimpse of its shine.

He rested his head again on the floor, paying attention to the massive weight on his chest. Should it shift down by any tremour or further collapse, it would crush him. His body was resilient and much sturdier than any human’s, but he wasn’t indestructible. He could die here any second now. That he hadn’t yet was an seemingly impossible amount of luck. Good to know he still got some of that occasionally.

He considered a portal for all but a split second but knew that in his current situation, a portal would most likely increase his chance of just dying. Theoretically he could create a portal directly around him, even in this unfavourable position.

But that was where the problems and dangers came in. A large enough portal would, since it was a three dimensional sphere, include a lot of the surrounding structure. Things only passed through a portal if they carried some momentum – or, and that was the problem, if the portal moved. And it took an insane level of focus and skill to be able to keep a portal completely stationary in relation to the world around. An insane calculation based on all the moving parts in the universe. The planet, the solar system, the galaxy – everything was moving.

So. If he were to open a portal around him now, and it would twitch just a little bit, there would be what wizards colloquially called a Cascade. Everything around him, himself included, would be pushed through the portal which undoubtedly would cause further collapse of the structure which would fall down into the portal and flung to the other side where it would consequently bury him again. Maybe even kill him.

So he dismissed that option for now. If all failed he would keep it in mind, but for now it was too dangerous.

He felt that sense of panic clawing at the back of his mind again and took another shallow breath. No. Panicking about it wouldn’t help.

Calmly he remembered Pelagius’ markers, trying to see if he could sense him around. But there was so much static and interference in the air it was hard to tell. He hesitated. For a long while infact, as if he hoped any other option would just arise by chance. But it didn’t. Then, bracing his mind for any possible malicious intrusion, he opened up that direct line of communication to the knight he had wanted to avoid. It wasn’t like he had many more options.

The connection was there, so Pelagius still existed somewhere below him – but he felt nothing else.

Pelagius? He said quietly and noticed the dust in his lungs and throat scratched over their surfaces. He did not cough though.

There came no answer.

Still, no reason to panic. Pelagius could be dead right now. Or less dramatically; unconscious. He kept the link open and then kept on laying there. Nothing else to do but wait.

If only he could get his hands on some demons or magic matter.

He closed his eyes.

Objectively he knew the weight on his chest hadn’t changed (a passive part of his mind tracked the pressure very carefully assuring him that he was absolutely fine – for now), but subjectively it started to feel more and more heavy.

When the bright flash of light bloomed before his eyes this time it took him way less by surprise than it had the first two times. Though again, the timing felt more than questionable.

But for the first time he actually had time to really just see and try to understand. The vision he saw hadn’t changed much, at least from the vagueness he could grasp. There was the image of the spire again, followed by pure light. But something was different. Or more? The light seemed more violent, still all consuming, but almost threatening.

But the Stargazer didn’t know what that meant. If it meant anything and it wasn’t his own mind mixing his own emotions and memories into what he saw. He hadn’t spent any time on trying to understand the science behind prophecies – because he had been under the firm assumption that he simply wasn’t made for that.

It was impressive how ignorant he was on this topic given how enamoured Zenozarax had always been with these. But in all their years together Ravalor couldn’t remember them ever having really discussed the topic despite it being such a prevalent part of their – well Zenozarax’ day to day. As he dug a bit deeper into far distant and compressed memories of the Hermit, he figured it was mainly his own fault. He had been very dismissive about it, he had to admit, much to Zenozarax’ dismay.

The world hadn’t changed and the Warrior had experienced nothing even close to this. Some hunches and gut feelings that maybe had been a bit more than guessing – but not full one visions of a potential future.

So it was him who had changed. Maybe because he was who he was – the Stargazer – built to see into the void. Was it so unlikely that maybe he was more receptive to see more in the passage of time than any of his other parts? Especially now that he was alone with his mind desperately reaching out? It had broken him when it happened the first time, when he first had lost himself into the void, alone and unable to return from it on his own. He hadn’t been separated from his other parts since then.

It was a hypothesis that seemed possible.

The images before his eyes faded away – and the world around him turned dark again, and then faded into the void.

Ravalor?!

His ice cold body twitched, dust fell into his eyes and he was momentarily reminded of the crushing weight on his chest. Every limb felt stiff and rigid as he blinked disorientated, the dust scratched uncomfortably against his eyes as he blinked.

Ravalor, can you hear me?

At first he didn’t even process where that voice was coming from – then he realised that it was straight in his head.

Pelagius? He croaked before clearing his throat. His mind felt hazy and even more tired than before.

Thank North! Pelagius exclaimed followed by a nervous laugh that was filled with relife.

I doubt that one had anything to do with this, Ravalor groaned, trying to move his fingers and feet that felt short of freezing off. Are you alright? Where are you? Can you move?

I just woke up. It’s pretty dark but I think there’s a way out. What about you? What happened?

The burst of chaos energy was too much for the structure to handle on its own. It’s fine – I can make this right. But I’m stuck here between some pieces of the upper floors. I need your help.

Of course. What do you need me to do? Pelagius answered promptly, sounding a bit strained. He was probably already making his way through the rubble. As Ravalor was only able to hear his direct voice, not what Pelagius was hearing, it was impossible to tell what was going on around him.

You still have your sword?

Affirmative.

Good. You’re still able to command the demons as well.

I am?

Yes. I need you to send some of them to me. Or at least, the magic within them.

Understood. Pelagius acknowledged his new task with a dutiful seriousness in his voice. Are you in imminent danger?

No. Well. Yes. But as long as there is no further collapse I’m fine. You can’t send them tearing down their way too me – thing is as unstable as it gets. Have them break down to their magic base and let that one find its way to me. Can you do that? He said breathless and consequently tried to take a deep breath which turned out rather uncomfortable.

I think so. Pelagius confirmed. Some moments later he asked Might take a moment, I’m almost at ground level but things are bad here.

That’s alright. Ravalor closed his eyes again. He really felt exhausted. The pressure on his chest slowly seemed to become normal and he felt his mind drift away, coaxed into downright sleepiness by him just laying here unmoving, making him aware of how tired he really was.

Pelagius was quiet now.

*

In the absolute and cold darkness he was bodiless.

Or at least, he was, until something pinched at him. From his legs to his hands and face, like a low current prickling against his skin. A sudden sensation rushed through his entire body and he opened his eyes just to be faced with nothing but a bluish glow. The moment he tried to open his mouth something fell inside and he immediately spat it out again.

That something was magical matter, and it was moving and pinching, almost excitedly shimming over his body which it had enclosed completely in its comfortably warm embrace. It had found him and was eagerly waiting for its new purpose.

Pelagius?

Oh for crying out loud would you stop scaring me like that? You’ve not been answering for an eternity! Pelagius answered promptly and unmistakably as irritated as he was relieved.

Sorry. I must have slipped away again. But it’s here, it worked.

Good! A short pause What now?

Give me a moment.

Magic started to tingle through his hands and immediately pulsed through the accumulated magical matter. Millions upon millions of microscopic nanoids extending his own grasp over the world around him and slowly and carefully he started to move them. Small pillars built up from the ground, others reached out anchoring themself into pieces of debris, stabilising the shaky structure around him with a net of connections.

A low aching went through the structure as even this little movement had an effect on the unstable pile of debris. The magic jammed itself between the floor and the metal beam and – a crack vibrated through the structure and the pressure on his ribcage increased – he heard a crack within himself. The structural casing making up his standard skeletal frame had little resemblance to actual ribs, but it was just about to break nevertheless. Immediately he grasped harder into it, fastened the magic, and another crack went through the ground as the magic lifted the metal beam just a centimetre – but it was just enough.

Torturously slow he pushed himself backwards, away from the metal beam. Another sharp snapping sound came from somewhere beneath him. Tumbling stones echoed in the darkness. The structure groaned.

Ravalor?

Working on it. He hissed through gritted teeth as he turned around and pulled himself forward, careful to spread his weight across as much surface area as possible. He had never thought much about it, but for the first time in his life he considered his comparatively lightweight build a blessing. I’ll try for the square. I’m looking for a more or less open space, but just don’t be near in case of a cascade.

A wide chasm opened up before him, at least four metres wide and deep enough that even with the occasional sparks in the air and his advanced vision he couldn’t see the bottom which was lost within pitch black darkness.

Oh that’s grand. He pulled a slight grimace.

What?

He ignored Pelagius as he pulled his hands forward and the markings started to glow. The bright strip of light appeared within the chasm before him and snapped open into a portal, hovering in the air and brightly illuminating the darkness.

Through it he saw the all too familiar darkness outside which turned out not that dark in comparison to inside here. And there was the ground of the sapphire square, its rampaged mosaic sparkling in the light of the portal.

Slowly he pulled himself over the edge, his hand glowing brightly, rubble fell down around him as he dangled from the ledge, glancing back down at the jittering portal. Without being able to keep his hands steady and focused the portal itself was twitching and erratically pulsing.

His feet found some footing –

Then the broken pieces of the ledge gave in, his fingers slipped as he suddenly held no more than rocks in his hands – and he fell.

For a second the dark debris flew past his eyes, then there was the dark sky and then he crashed onto the stone floor – just as elegantly and gracefully as the Warrior’s arrival into this world.

The portal vanished above him And a last few rocks rained down on him as he rolled himself onto his back. With a groan he opened his eyes again, staring into the sky.

Ravalor!

He frowned as he heard a strange echo of that voice – but then Pelagius appeared right in his field of vision.

I told you to stay away, the Stargazer murmured, feeling a really uncalled-for sense of embarrassment over this ungraceful landing.

Are you alright? Pelagius dutifully brushed past his complaining as he squatted down, relfexivly offering his hand to Ravalor to help him up.

Ravalor ignored the hand and sat up. Several parts of his body complained about cracks and scratches. But nothing seemed seriously broken.

I think so. He stood up, followed by Pelagius who watched him tensely. Ravalor turned north and found a frown on his face as he saw the crumbling ruins of the pyramid he had just escaped. A heavy pillar of smoke still came from it, dissipating into the dark sky. As it seemed he should consider himself lucky he hadn’t been trapped in any part that seemed to be still smouldering within the structure. We need to put it out. And then– then we fix this. He looked up, searching for the sun. It stood low now, but was again as dark as ever.

It worked. Briefly, but it did work. He added quietly. For a short moment there was sunlight again.

Wish I had seen it. Pelagius followed his eyes to the black sun.

You will.

10 Snow

Snow was falling.

It had started a few weeks ago and by now the dark world was evenly coated with a thick layer of snow. It made the land look marginally more bright and a little less hostile.

Like a white sheet put over a rotting corpse, Pelagius had said. A macabre image in how true it was.

But besides the optics, the snow had another, more physical benefit. The still radioactive ground was now completely covered, and besides providing some mild shielding in and of itself, it also prevented radioactive dust and particles from being picked up by the wind.

Pelagius seemed considerably more healthy in the last week alone and Ravalor found himself feeling bad on the knights behalf, imagining how miserable he must be at all times with cells in his body constantly dying from the radiation.

It was one of the reasons he himself had not yet found anything else to wear but the clothes he had left Mezchinhar with. While his body was happily neutralising any kind of radiation flung his way, his clothes were made to not absorb any radiation at all. A kind of magical fabric treatment that had become necessary as too many wizards kept forgetting about radiation altogether and would walk into heavy population centres as invisible beacons of death.

So right now he was the least irradiated thing in Pelagius’ vicinity and he rather kept it that way. He didn’t have to make it worse. That was the practical reason.

The other was a more emotional reason. He didn’t want to put these clothes away even though they showed the wear and tear of the last weeks clearly. Everything from the shirt and pants that had been torn during the collapse of the pyramid, the vest with its bullet holes and the battered cloak of the Warrior – it was all he had left. The last anchor to who he used to be. But now that he was here, having wanted to get as far away from it as possible, he didn’t want to give up on it yet.

He also couldn’t really see himself wearing any of Zenozarax’ clothes. They would be too short and too wide for a start and… well. No, it wasn’t an option.

At some point soon he should take Pelagius back to Obermoor. There still should be some uniforms and work suits left there. Maybe he’d change then too. But for now he kept what he had.

So he had washed what he had occasionally, but no amount of washing would mend the tears or get rid of the holes. There was a metaphor in there somewhere that Pelagius probably would be able to put decently into words.

The knight was sleeping now.

They had, for the lack of a better word, moved into Zenozarax’ rooms. It made sense, close to the summoning chamber and the main controls of the structure; it was also one of the cleanest areas in terms of radiation. It was the most practical choice.

It still felt wrong to him.

He should try to sleep too but once more he found himself restless, reading again through the journal entries he had found so far. There had to be more, he was sure of it. Zenozarax had written almost daily – but the earliest entries and notes he found were no older than a year. But even in them Zenozarax mused about how long he had been here. It must have been decades, if not centuries. And he must have written more. A lot more.

After turning a few pages he stopped once more at one particular entry. About half a year before the battle Ravalor estimated based on the mentioning of weather conditions in the entries around (it had been snowing then too), and the frequency of entries. There was no exact date given – and Zenozarax had mentioned how careful he had to be to not lose track of time now. Time that still eluded his senses.

The journal entry he was looking at now was a short one. The page before was torn out. His thumb brushed carefully over the rough border of what was left of it.

I realised the most peculiar thing after I woke up today. Not that it was a morning different than any other, this blasted monotony keeps chugging along and even though I know it is time soon, it is hard to feel the excitement – or dread for that matter. It was nothing observable but a feeling. A feeling I had for a while now, but couldn’t quite put it into words.

I think I have rarely slept this sound since Funnix. Definitely not since leaving Artlenburg.

And I think I know what it is. As ridiculous as it sounds, given what I know will happen soon. But I feel safe.

In this twisted reality, walled off from the rest of the Multiverse, from all wizards, I feel safe.

Ravalor felt a conflicting sense of compassion. For Zenozarax, who didn’t deserve that compassion, and consequently the people of this world. People who were fighting for mere survival as Zenozarax wrote these lines. Who were being slaughtered in the streets at his command – and all the while he mused about feeling safe.

And I realise it’s not the Circle that cost me my sleep in the recent past. The black citadel is the safest place I could have been, there was no danger for me there. Or at least, that’s what he would like me to believe.

But I haven’t slept without the proverbial one eye open ever since I set foot on it. He knows I don’t trust him, as much as I know that he doesn’t trust me. He’s playing a game and I’m no more a pawn to him than any other. And I play along, for I use him in turn just as much. Mutual exploitation. Mutual distrust.

Once I’m back I know that the greatest threat to my plan is the wizard standing behind me on that front line. Because my victory is not his victory, not his dream nor his drive.

He can’t fight me, not in a direct fight. We both know that – and so I have not slept a day since without waiting for that, again, proverbial knife in my back. (I’m sure he’d have used the actual knife a long time ago if only it had let him.)

But now he’s as far away as any other wizard.

I will cherish this sense of safety. Who knows when, or if I will feel it again.

His thumb brushed over that ripped page rim again.

This was the only time in this whole year of entries that mentioned another wizard. That he was talking about a wizard was obvious to Ravalor, due to the use of the third case version of the third person pronoun tez (which had no specific gender but was for convenience sake usually translated to he in most gendered languages), written as taux, not tez as one would use for a singular part or any human for that matter. No, Zenozarax was referring to a wizard as a whole.

It was curious.

This was the first time he ever had a mere glimpse into the lived reality of any chaos wizard. The mention of the Black Citadel the first hint of something… what? Like a chaos wizard society?

That sounded wrong to him. Chaos wizards operated if not alone, at most in scattered kabals. Most of them despitest any notion of order, so there simply couldn’t be any larger organised group. It was antithetical to the idea of chaos. Wasn’t it?

It also would be very bad. Chaos wasn’t easy to keep in line, and Order’s greatest advantage was their strength in numbers and the disorganised nature of their foe. Since the Uprising there hadn’t been any great army of chaos. If this was a hint to that …

Something ugly and horrible twisted again in his stomach. A moral dilemma awakened and upset as it has been brought into the light.

If there was an chaos army growing in the shadows, the circle had to be informed. They needed to know. To be ready if it was true.

But the Stargazer didn’t see a way to deliver this information with credible proof to the circle that didn’t have him end up right back in Mezchinhar one way or another.

His thumb flipped one last time across the rough border of that torn page before he closed the journal again.

He would find a way. But not now. Not before he had fixed this, he couldn’t risk it. Not for something vague as this. For all he knew he was simply jumping to conclusions. The Dark Citadel was in all likelihood just a single ship parked somewhere in darkspace.

A loud blaring of alarms tore him from his thoughts and Pelagius from his sleep.

He was on his feet before Pelagius could have even reorientated himself against the loud noise. What now? He heard the knight ask, his voice rough from sleep.

“Another person,” Ravalor answered as he used Zenozarax’ personal console to check in with the main system. “They’re alone.” His tone would not give away how much he dreaded this revelation. Why couldn’t everyone just stay away?

“In this weather?” Pelagius asked while Ravalor took his cloak again, a brief glance through the windows only confirmed that the earlier peaceful dancing snow was growing into a storm.

“Based on their current direction they are heading directly towards the city. I’d assume for shelter.” He fastened the blue cloak around his shoulder, ready to open the portal into the cold darkness once more. The prospect of using his magic made him already take notice of how tired he really was.

“Wait–” Pelagius said, “Wait. Let me come with you!”

“Pelagius–”

“I’ll leave my sword here.”

“Pelagius, we’ve been over this, it’s one person. I’m going to be fine and back before you know it.” Ravalor said stiffly, he didn’t want to have this discussion again, especially not now. He turned to the more open space in the room to open the portal when suddenly Pelagius grabbed his arm.

Having not expected it, he flinched back violently, abruptly turning back to Pelagius. A high intensity ring of alert in the back of his mind mixed into a sudden spike of genuine anger. Immediately there was an apologetic look on Pelagius face as he quickly pulled his hand back, but there was still that all too familiar frown too. Nevertheless, forcefully calm Pelagius said,

“Please let me come with you. Don’t trust this. There are still groups out there that learnt to avoid our detection. That will try to hunt down anything magical — and who became good at it. We might only see one, but there could be more.”

The Stargazer frowned, feeling his heart still beating hard in his chest from the unexpected touch. Somewhere in his mind he knew he should take a step back and calm his own irritation first - but he didn’t. So you want to protect me, without your sword? What do you think you can do that I can’t against one or even a few humans who’re probably half frozen and starved? Do you plan to just beat them to death with your bare hands? he downright snapped and regretted it almost immediately.

The look on Pelagius’ face spoke volumes, and all of them would be filled with the most colourful swear words one could throw at a wizard, the Stargazer was sure. But below the deep frown of palpable anger was something more. Genuine hurt.

And yet, as Pelagius spoke again, he kept his composure with what seemed inhuman strength.

“You don’t want them here, right? Maybe my presence could help with that. People still know my face. What I’ve done.”

“I don’t want to scare them,” the Stargazer said, trying to convey with his tone alone that he didn’t mean to be so blunt earlier. It wasn’t working, or at least it didn’t ease the frown in Pelagius’ face.

“Maybe you have to.”

He shook his head. “No, Pelagius. You stay here and watch the panels for any more straggler. Warn me if you spot them. But keep the demons out of their path.”

“Fine.” The one word was filled with so much irritation it was more a hiss through gritted teeth as Pelagius turned around and left the room for the summoning chamber.

Subconsciously the Stargazer rubbed over the spot where Pelagius had just grabbed him.

It could have gone a lot better, if he’d have kept his own composure, this could have even gone well. But as long as he gave the knight some time to cool off again they should be fine.

Ravalor took his staff again – or well, his new staff. The first one he had used was still somewhere buried in the ruins of Pyramid One. This one was another one of Zenozarax’. A more pointed design ending in a sparkle of blue crystals – he had been using it for long enough to start feeling comfortable with it. He had never been much of a staff user, his assigned profession had never warranted it. But by now the elegant tool felt propper in his hand, familiar.

Then he opened the portal.

From the darkness the ice cold wind and snow immediately whistled through the room and quickly he stepped through.

The dark blue cloak danced in the cold wind as he lit up the top of his staff. The snow was clouding the field into a disorientating haze of blinding white where the light touched it and disappeared into absolute darkness beyond that.

And yet, in the distance he saw the lonely beacon of faint heat moving. What madness had driven them out into this weather?

With firm steps he approached whoever was coming towards him, not letting the almost knee high snow slow him down as his legs pushed through it with barely any resistance.

He was here to send them away – but with every step through what was soon to be a full grown snowstorm, he feared more and more that it wouldn’t be that easy. It was very likely that not madness but desperation had driven this person to seek out Treva. Sending them away may as well could mean their death if they didn’t find shelter.

Soon he was close enough to spot the single silhouette in the darkness. The stranger had seen him too, but unlike before there was no hesitation. They just continued their way directly at him like a moth drawn to the magical light of his staff.

When the stranger reached him, huddled and wrapped in layers upon layers of run down clothes, Ravalor did not waste any time greeting them, “You can’t stay at this place! Turn around now.”

Seemingly utterly unimpressed, the person before him didn’t stop and instead closed the distance between them, raising his hand against the blinding light of the staff to get a better look at him.

“Commander!”

And Ravalor felt his heart sink so far it might as well just dropped into the centre of the earth and was crushed into atoms by gravity and the heavy implication this voice implied. He heard that young voice, and he knew it, oh he knew it very well – because he had heard it daily for almost five years. Now his own voice failed him.

“By North, I knew it! I knew you’d come back!” the young man fumbled at the hat, scarf and the suddenly very familiar fur collar around his neck, finally revealing his face. But he really didn’t have to.

He looked into the bright, artificial eyes of the young soldier. One of his. One of the cyborgs that had followed the Warrior into battle. Designation 5A5A – but his chosen name was Sasha. He had been an eagle pilot – one of those they had lost during the battle. Or so he had thought.

“Sasha–” he swallowed hard as guilt tried to strangle him. “Are there more? Have more survived the battle?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t found or heard of anyone else.” Sasha said grimly, but still the heartbreaking relife of seeing his commander wouldn’t vanish from his face. His commander who had come back to save him, who hadn’t left him behind.

“But we won, didn’t we?” First now a hint of uneasiness filled his face, maybe only now realising what Ravalor had asked him. “How many are left? Is the ship alright?”

“Yes. We won.” Ravalor quickly confirmed but felt that his voice did not want to sound as firm as he would like it to be. And yet there was a weak smile on Sasha’s face. He didn’t look as healthy as he remembered him. ”How did you find me?”

“I was with a group of survivors, I found them not long after the battle and they took me in. Recently we heard rumours of a wizard having returned to Treva. The Stargazer, they called him – but in their descriptions it was you, commander. Some spoke of slaughter, but they probably meant Zenozarax with that, but others said the wizard in Treva now was planning to heal the sun. And then we saw the sunlight! That was you, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” He nodded, but knew that this had to end here and now. It was freezing and while he himself wasn’t too bothered by it, if they kept standing here, Sasha might soon experience some serious effects of hypothermia. At least he wasn’t in danger of losing any fingers or toes, but still. “Sasha, listen, you can’t stay here. It’s not safe for you. There is radiation in the ground and water, in the buildings too.”

“I know. They spoke of a poison, but I suspected it to be radiation.” Sasha nodded. “How bad is it?”

“Bad enough to kill you within a few years if you stay here too long.”

“Alright. I’ll go back to the ship then. By North I’ve been missing them all like you wouldn’t believe!” Sasha smiled, still sounding so horribly relieved. Still believing that all would be fine, that this hardship was over and he was saved.

Ravalor wished he could have avoided the terrible moment of silence that followed that sentence, but he really didn’t know how to put the truth into words. Or if he wanted to tell it in the first place.

“I don’t have access to the ship anymore.”

And for the first time Sasha’s expression faltered. “Why? What about the others?”

“They are safe.” Maybe they were. “But I can’t– Things happened. I’m here on my own. Alone, without my other parts again. And I can’t get you onto the ship. At least not yet. I’m sorry.”

Sasha’s eyes searched his face, looking for any clue beyond his words. The snow was whipping into their faces, the wind howling. Maybe he found something there, some answer to the questions he wasn’t asking now. Maybe he should be asking them – but he was too used to Ravalor’s kind of answers as to do so.

“I’ll stay then. And help you.”

“Sasha, no. You will die.”

“Of course I will. Might as well do something productive until then.” And Ravalor was about to object when Sasha already continued. Where his voice had sounded almost naively chipper before, it now turned sober and factual. “The people here aren’t well. I’m not either. But I’m still okay. But look at me. I haven’t eaten in 4 days. I already feel like dying. They say the winters are getting colder and longer. Soon there will be no summer left to thaw the snow. They didn’t say it, but they wanted me to go. Because I wasn’t one of them. And I’m too hungry, I eat too much. But I’m not a hunter. I’m not a scavenger. I still don’t even know half of the plants that still grow here. I helped them build for a while but now they are heading south, like everything else. I can’t return, I have nowhere to return to. But you’re here, you try to fix this. Least I can do is help.”

And the Stargazer looked into Sasha’s eyes, filled with determination, conviction and trust. Looking at him as his last hope. And he wanted to shake him by his shoulder, tell him that he wasn’t that. That he had never been that. Maybe never would be. Tell him in excruciating detail how everything around him kept getting worse by his own doing. Tell him that he wasn’t a good wizard. Maybe not even good at all.

But he didn’t do any of that. Of course not.

And of course he couldn’t send him away anymore. He couldn’t even send him anywhere. He wouldn’t even know where he would be safe and able to survive on his own while keeping his own secret hidden.

“Very well,” he muttered more to himself as he raised his hand and in the darkness the portal snapped into existence again.

“Listen well, this portal leads directly into the spire. You never used one of these so step through it carefully but don’t linger inside it, and don’t drag your feet! There will be a slight drop on the other side.”

“Aye commander!”

Then Sasha stepped through the portal, as expected he saw him stumble on the other side, and with a heavy heart, Ravalor followed.

*

All the way up here, the tower wasn’t particularly warm. It was livable, passively heated up by the massive amount of magic concentrated within the summoning chamber, but not overly comfortable. Yet in comparison to the freezing cold outside, the relative heat was hitting them straight in the face and just moments later Sasha was peeling himself out of the copious layers of clothing that had kept him from freezing to death before.

Already, his snow covered clothes and boots left small puddles of meltwater on the floor and carpet. The snow on his own cape slowly turned to water and dripped on the floor. He had ported them directly back into Zenozarax’ bedroom. Fortunately, Pelagius had not returned yet, hopefully taking his assigned task seriously, watching the panels in the summoning chamber. But chances were good he would arrive here soon enough once he realised Ravalor was back.

Without the bulky clothes Sasha looked different than last he had seen him. His hair, usually cut buzz short, was a bit longer and not evenly cut. The face behind a short and thick black beard was more ashen, turning his natural tan to a more sickly grey. They had been so young when they had awoken.

Commander? Sasha had noticed his thoughtful look.

You look older.

I feel older. Sasha agreed with a weak shrug. How long has it been? Since the battle?

About half a year.

Sasha nodded. Feels longer... It was hard to keep track of time right after it. He admitted, fell silent for a moment, then added more somberly I tried first to get back to Obermoor. But I couldn’t get in. It was all dead and the doors wouldn’t open for me.

Ravalor nodded in silent understanding. Sasha was a cyborg by wizard design – but he wasn’t a wizard and Obermoor had not recognized him as an authority to grant access to without a wizard present. He did not dare to think too much about the cruelty of that revelation after what he knew was a gruelling journey through the hostile darkness.

“Sasha.”

“Yes, commander?” The soldier, out of mere reflex and habit, straightened up the moment he addressed him directly. The Stargazer found he wasn’t very comfortable with that currently. But that didn’t matter. There was another more delicate matter to reveal.

“There is – someone else here. Helping me.”

11 The knight, the soldier and the wizard

There was really no good way to break the news. Or if there was, Ravalor didn’t know it.

“Ser Pelagius.”

The Warrior had briefed the soldiers extensively about every aspect of the enemy forces, at least to the extent he had known about it. Ser Pelagius, the so defiantly titled Grandmaster of Zenozarax’ army, and consequently the danger of the curse of the Knife Izvi had taken a long section in laying out their battle plan.

He didn’t need to ask if Sasha remembered. It was clear in his face that he did.

Sasha, seemingly not sure he heard him right, stared at him for a solid 10 seconds, his brows drawing deeper with every one of them.

“The death knight?”

“The very one.” Ravalor sighed in spirit. Yes, it still sounded a bit ridiculous saying it outloud. “He’s here on his own free will, he’s not a prisoner so don’t treat him as such. I don’t say I trust him, he’s still a cursed man, but he acted on his masters behalf, not his own. We have to keep that in mind. You will have to too.”

“Commander–” Maybe in any other situation Ravalor would have found the genuine concern and unease a pleasant show of honesty, but right now he did not want to hear any doubt in his decision. Nevertheless, he let Sasha speak. “With all due respect, that man slaughtered hundreds, if not thousands. I was with them, I heard the stories. Entire villages and towns!’’ There was almost something akin to desperation in the young soldier’s words – maybe this unlikely joining of forces didn’t align with the image he had of his commander. Or maybe he finally realised what the Warrior really meant when he said “It had to be done.” It didn’t matter how or what. Only why.

But this was different. He wasn’t shaking hands with the devil to get something done no matter the consequences.

“It wasn’t him. He’s not a bad man!”

Sasha flinched and the Stargazer realised first after the fact how sharp his tone had been.

“I’m sorry commander–”

“But he’s right to be concerned. Isn’t he?”

Now Sasha truly took a step back as Pelagius’ voice came from the door. Ravalor didn’t turn around. Nor did he say anything. During the last few minutes he had tried to come up with a scenario of how he would like this to go, or what would need to be said, but he got nothing. So inevitably, Pelagius continued,

“Or at least it’s what you yourself think.” Pelagius appeared in his field of vision, almost circling him like a predator. “You spoke of trust the other day. And I believed you. I think you really thought you meant it then. But you don’t act like it. You tell him I’m not a bad man – yet just look at the way you look at me now. You don’t want me anywhere near him.” Oh and there was the anger, simmering in every word. So much for hoping the man’s irritation would have calmed in the time he had been away. In a tragic moment of relief Ravalor noticed that Pelagius’ sword was nowhere near or on him at this moment.

“You’re not. But the curse that remains within you is. And it is dangerous,” Ravalor said briskly, feeling an all too familiar sting of defiant stubbornness. In the meanwhile Sasha’s eyes jumped nervously from him to Pelagius and back again.

“Hm.” Pelagius scoffed. “Who is he?”

“His name is Sasha, he’s one of the eagle pilots you fought in the battle.”

“Sasha.” Pelagius’ focus now lay on the soldier who tensed up noticeably. “Those were your friends you flew with?”

“Yes,” Sasha answered hesitatingly, even glancing at Ravalor as if he hoped his commander would answer instead. Pelagius looked back at Ravalor too.

“So you want him to believe I’m not bad, while I’m the one who killed his friends?”

“Pelagius–”

“No. It’s true. I did. And I killed after that. Plenty of times. And I will probably do so again. Maybe I am not technically a bad man, but I’m sure not a good one anymore either. I probably never will be again. There is a stain on my soul now and it is blood red. I can’t change that.”

“Pelagius, what are you doing?” Ravalor finally cut in irritated, what was the point of saying all that if not to antagonise himself towards Sasha?

“You brought him here. So he’s going to stay, I assume. I’m making sure we’re all on the same page here and not lose ourselves in make believe. You don’t trust me and he probably hates me. And he has good reasons to do so. Let’s not pretend it’s any other way.”

Outside the window the wind now rattled on the frames. Snow whipped against the glass panes that were too thin as to hold off most of the cold. A practical part of his mind pondered over potential heating solutions for both his human companions – but another part of him realised he was trying to just think himself away from this situation.

This was the only kind of silence he despised. The one where he felt he was supposed to say something, to take control over the situation, but didn’t know what it was. And it felt unbearingly uncomfortable.

Unexpectedly, it was Sasha who broke the silence. He didn’t sound half as confident as he used to, but he did sound genuine as he said,

“I don’t think I hate you.” His words were slow as if he wasn’t quite sure if he really meant what he said. But once he had, he nodded confirming his words. “We didn’t fight you because we hated you. We had a reason. And we all knew we could die. You’re just a soldier too.”

Ravalor looked at Sasha whose eyes were firmly focused on Pelagius. And he felt a bitter sense of appreciation for the Warrior. It would have been easy to stoke the flames of anger and hate in the soldiers, but he had never done so. Maybe because it had never been true for himself. His entire quest to defeat Zenozarax had been underlined by an inevitable sense of regret and duty. It was a shame and it was painfull – but it had to be done. The soldiers had never learned it any other way.

Sasha was afraid of Pelagius, his earlier sentiment had made that clear enough – but Ravalor believed him now too, he really meant it.

“Interesting.” Pelagius noted. “Then you might be a better man than I’ve become.”

And to his surprise, there was even a weak hint of a smile on Sasha’s face.

But you’re also naive, Pelagius added promptly, a frown on his face, but now it seemed more in disbelief than anger. Be careful before it turns you cynical.

“Pelagius–” Ravalor cut in but was immediately interrupted by Pelagius again.

“What, it’s true. How old are you, Sasha?”

“Eh–” Sasha was coughed somewhere between being irritated and flustered at the same time. Ravalor answered instead.

“Biologically they are approximately 23 – I think – but I don’t see–”

“23? They? They all are?”

“They are clones. Some are a bit younger because I woke them up later, but–”

“Clones?”

“I really don’t see how this is important right now.” Ravalor said exasperatedly, “Sasha. You must be starving. Pelagius, would you kindly take care of that? You still have enough you scavenged from the city right?”

“Oh, now I’m to feed him too?”

“Yes, I would be most grateful for that.”

“Oh bugger off.”

“I’m sorry?” Sasha peeped up.

“No, this isn’t your fault!” Pelagius immediately said pointing downright threateningly at Sasha, then looking back at Ravalor “That’s his.”

And of course he was right about that. This all was, in a way, his fault, wasn’t it? But he would rather die than say it outloud. Instead he said, “Will you do it?”

“Of course.” Pelagius grunted reluctantly, already turning to leave.

“Thank you.”

*

“Do you have a timeline yet?”

“A rough one but yes.” Ravalor said, pulling up the according files on the display in the summoning chamber while Sasha stood next to him, the expected one and a half metre distance between them. Of course, Sasha wasn’t a wizard, but this one was a habit hard to get rid of. And the Warrior especially never had been too comfortable with anyone standing too close to him, wizard or human.

“Pyramid Two should be done soon, then we can move on to Three and Four. Number One suffered a critical failure and can’t be used anymore, but it will work with only three. After that we’ll have to construct a portal beneath the spire. There’s still a lot of work left, but if we can keep this pace up, hopefully even increase it now with you here, we will be ready to engage the system in about four months – three if the work has gotten familiar enough to quicken up the work on Pyramid Three and Four.”

“That’s sooner than I thought. That’s amazing.”

“Most of the structures are all already there. We just have to modify them.”

Sasha smiled lopsidedly. “You said the same about the ship and look how long that took.”

“That was different.”

“I believe you, commander. Three months it is!” There was no sarcasm or joking in Sasha’s tone, he meant it. The Stargazer only wished he’d stop calling him Commander, but he didn’t really want to breach the topic of why it made him as uncomfortable as it did. Sasha looked back to the screen, still a refreshingly optimistic look on his face.

“Man, Dion would have a field day with this.” He halted then looked back down to Ravalor, his voice suddenly a lot more quiet. “Is he alright? Dion made it right? And Sarah?”

“Yes, both of them are fine.” Ravalor confirmed confidently while in reality he didn’t know if it was true. At least the last moments of the TSS Hootforce, as vague and distorted they were by the overwhelming exhaustion on the Warrior’s mind, had shown the ship still very much intact with no damages to the crew inside. Dion had been in engineering, he should have been safe. Sarah would have been in the hangar bay, and unless something had gone wrong there, he too should be okay. It wasn’t surprising Sasha asked for both of them – Dion was best friends with everybody and Sarah had been something like an actual brother to Sasha after having woken up together. 5A5A and 5A8A.  

Sasha kept looking at him, waiting rather tensely for Ravalor to say more. And he knew what he was waiting to hear.

“Casualties were as expected isolated to the eagle fighters and the strike team. Most of them didn’t make it.”

“I see.”

Sasha had probably known that, or at least expected it. He had gone into that battle himself not expecting to survive. And yet he miraculously had.

“I should have looked for you sooner.”

“It’s alright, commander. There must have been a lot going on after that battle.”

“I guess that’s true.” At least he had to believe it was true. And not that the Warrior and the rest of himself had simply forgotten about it. But then again, not even he, the Stargazer, had even considered looking for survivors of the crew. In his mind, everyone left behind had been assumed dead. So he decided to change the topic before he had to think too much about it.

“Listen Sasha, concerning Pelagius, I know you’re willing to give him a chance, but I implore you to be careful.”

“Of course, commander.” And at Ravalor’s very intense and serious look directed at him, Sasha added “Seriously. I will be careful!” – because the last times Ravalor had implored any one of them to be careful had more than once ended up with someone in the medbay or dangling from some support wires in the assembly hall. There had been certain drawbacks of having a fighting force consisting of men just barely out of puberty and each with an energy for three that had to go somewhere.

“Good. Be careful not to anger him. What remains of the curse within him can occasionally overtake him.”

“Did he attack you?”

They were young, but they had never been stupid, one had to give them that. And maybe Ravalor had taught them too well to read between the lines of what he said.

“I think he is getting better at handling it.” Then he fell abruptly silent as the door into the summoning chamber opened. Of course who else could it be but Pelagius.

And the knight drew the right conclusion based on the abrupt end of the conversation he had just walked into. “If you want to talk about me some more, please, don’t let me interrupt you.”

Ravalor was concerned to hear an undeniable tension in Pelagius’ voice. But before he could have defused it, Sasha spoke.

“Well, is there anything you want to know about me? That would be only fair I guess.”

“Huh.” Pelagius chuckled weakly, despite not seeming very amused. “I’ll think about that.” He came closer, and finally drew his attention to the bowl in his hands. “Here. Food.”

Pointing out the content of the porcelain bowl as indeed food would seem unnecessary, if only Sasha wouldn’t stare at it as if he had never seen anything like food ever in his life.

“What is it?” he asked, taking it nevertheless, willing to be ignorant about what he would be eating as long as he could eat anything. In accordance, now faced with finally something to eat, his stomach gave a very audible rumbling.

“Canned goulash. We used to have a kitchen on ground level but it got repurposed for most of the repository. And since our wizard here keeps forgetting to finally summon up a portable stove, it’s cold. But it does the job. Get used to it, we have a lot of that.”

Right. The stove thing. He hadn’t technically forgotten about it, but it had accidentally slipped down again on the list of things he had to do as more pressing matters had arisen.

Sasha had already sat down at one of the consoles and started to eat. Arguably one could describe it more like wolfing down the goulash than eating.

“Oh by North– this is amazing?!” he mumbled between two spoons full of goulash. “Where did you get this?” If Ravalor wasn’t mistaken, the young soldier almost sounded near tears – and he realised that this unceremonious bowl of old, cold goulash was probably the most varied and spiced meal he ever had in his life.

Pelagius shrugged. “The city’s been fled by most right at the start, been abandoned since, nobody dared to move in looting. Cellars are still full of all sorts of canned meats, meals and fruits. And he says they are still mostly okay to eat.” He nodded to Ravalor.

But Sasha didn’t seem to have heard anything after fruits as he stared at Pelagius, for a moment, even the goulash seemed forgotten “Fruits? What fruits?”

“Ehh, pears. Lots of those. Peaches. Found a few cherries too last time I went out.” And after he saw the look in Sasha’s face he added. “Do you… want some?”

“Can I? I never had those! I know what they are, they were mentioned in the library – but of course we didn’t have them.”

“You never had any fruit?”

“No. Never.”

“Ravalor, how is he not dead?”

“Their nutritional needs were always met.” Ravalor answered stiffly.

“Oh that sounds delicious.” Pelagius shook his head turning back to Sasha, “I’ll get you some, any preference?”

“How?”

“Fair point. I’ll be right back.” And with that Pelagius left them again.

Sasha continued to eat his goulash in silence, but he was done quicker than he probably liked. Once his mouth was no longer stuffed full of food, he said with a light frown, “He actually seems nice.”

“Yes.” Ravalor agreed with a heavy heart. “The man I knew once was a good man, with strong compassion and an unshakable sense of duty. One who cared deeply about the men under his command. I think he’s still that man. But he’s also… someone else.”

12 Control

The first day had been a little awkward. After Sasha’s enthusiastic reaction to the novel food he suddenly had access to, his body had quickly reminded him that fatty canned goulash and most of a full can of pears were not a good way to break a several day fast for any normal human. Consequently he had been sick for the rest of the day.

Ravalor had made sure they hadn’t actually given him food poisoning, which earned him a stern word from Pelagius who wasn’t very amused over the implication of him having poisoned Sasha within 30 minutes of his arrival nor the fact that neither Sasha or Ravalor had seen it necessary to mention that Sasha hadn’t been eating for several days at that point.

While this complication did not dampen the enthusiasm for the next meal it meant that most of the rest of the day they had spent together in Zenozarax’ rooms.

Ravalor had quickly found a task he could do from there while keeping an eye on the suffering soldier and tense knight who diligently kept answering Sasha’s questions. Besides the upset stomach, Sasha had been pretty overwhelmed by the luxurious detail of the rooms and even more so with the slumbering unicorn. Of course, the soldiers had taken apart plenty of the old ones that had been stored within Obermoor, and as an eagle pilot Sasha was very familiar with these kinds of machines. There had been an unspoken question lingering in the room as Sasha had been clearly burning to see it alive, but Ravalor had found no good moment to actually do that.

It had however raised the topic of Obermoor. Now with both of them here, the few pieces of clothing Zenozarax had left that could be considered practical really wasn’t enough anymore, and so on the next day all three of them had visited Obermoor.

It had been a sombre and quiet visit. Ravalor and Pelagius had left Obermoor in a sorry state, and when Sasha rummaged through the chaos the demons had left every hint of his usually quite cheerful nature had been gone.

Ravalor had told them to take whatever they needed and in the end all of them had returned to Treva with quite a few different things. Sasha and Pelagius had both picked up some clean clothes, Ravalor had not. While Sasha had picked up some items of more sentimental value that had been left behind by the other soldiers, Pelagius had successfully picked apart the makeshift kitchen area and had (with an almost demonstrativ glaring look) taken one of the small cooking units with them. Ravalor himself had picked up some journals and books, which was the only thing of use still left in the base. Before they had left he had returned to the Warriors room and picked up the The Handbook of Biological needs as observed by Lord Wizard Heshiva too. He felt he’d need it now more than ever and relying on the vague and compressed memories of the Warrior really wasn’t cutting it.

By day three they really picked up the work again. Pelagius went to work on his own as he usually did lately, while Ravalor took Sasha with him to explain what needed to be done in the pyramids. The soldiers had always been quick learners by design and careful selection, and Sasha was no exception to that. However, as this work differed dramatically from the retrofit of the Northforce and eagles in Obermoor, there was a lot he’d have to learn now.

On day four Ravalor suddenly found himself alone in the summoning chamber after having seemingly lost himself in work. At first worried he had checked on the wearabout of both Sasha and Pelagius whom he found in Zenozarax’ room having a meal. A hot one thanks to the scavenged cooking unit from Obermoor.

Not a day later he started to assume that Pelagius was in his currently still quite reluctant way taking care of Sasha and whatever human needs would arise more so than Ravalor could think of. The same way the soldiers in Obermoor had started to take care of each other very early on.

Most of day six they had spent working on the pyramids. Now at the end of the day, all three were in Zenozarax’ quarters again.

Zenozarax had never been what anyone would describe as particularly orderly. Beyond the metaphysical idea of chaos and order, he had always had a tendency of creating a mess around him. Not unclean by any means, just scattered.

His quarters had been in an acording state when he and Pelagius had first moved in, and already during that time it had gotten worse. Now with the addition of Sasha and the visit to Obermoor there were so many things standing and laying around here there was not even a chance to make this room anything close to ordery. Which Ravalor would have preferred, but he had more pressing things on his mind. Or maybe he was just filling up his own hermit cave as well.

So he put up with the makeshift food storage area of the scavenged foods and cutlery that stood near the workbench. The little cooking unit next to the workbench too. And the very out of place unicorn in its dormant slumber. And the pile of clean clothes from Obermoor, draped over the sitting area. And the complete occupation of the bathroom not only for hygiene but the cleaning of dishes too. (He had little use for that space personally beside cleaning the occasional layers of grime and dirt from himself and his clothes, but he probably should be grateful that even in this reality, Zenozarax still had been indulging in the luxury of taking a hot bath. It now did wonders for the general smell inside the living quarters.)

Ravalor himself wasn’t quite innocent of the accumulating mess, as he kept on bringing parts and tools with him that needed fixing at some point and which at first had accumulated on the workbench but now populated the coffee table, study, every available shelf space, as well as the bedside tables for good measure.

These were some large rooms and they accommodated even three people, and a still present and utterly useless unicorn, quite well, yet the Stargazer had to admit, it was becoming almost too crowded for his taste. Which surprised him, since he was used to spending his time with the Wizard in their very small unit in Mezchinhar, but then again, this new situation was hardly comparable. It was one thing to spend all the time with oneself, another to share a room with two de facto humans. Either way, these were the only properly livable quarters this high in the tower and he deemed nothing further below particularly safe for his human companions.

He himself had given up on trying to properly sleep. Sasha had at first been worried he was taking his place in Zenozarax’ bed, to which Pelagius had dryly assured Sasha that he, Ravalor, only ever slept at desks. At that moment he had really no good retort to that, because it was true.

His days now consisted of infrequent naps that lasted an hour at most. Sometimes he just didn’t sleep at all for several days, surpassing any proper sleep cycle even by wizard standards. And he felt it. It had become a crippling sense of constant exhaustion, settled firmly in his mind. But there was nothing he could do about it. He knew that because the Warrior had gone through this for over four years. So the Stargazer wouldn’t get used to it anytime soon either.

He wondered how long it would be until it became really normal. He wondered at what point Zenozarax had gotten used to it. After all, by the time they had met, Zenozarax had been without his Warrior longer than Ravalor had even been alive at that point. And he had seemed fine… for the most part. But his nonadherence to any normal sleeping schedule made a lot more sense now.

Ravalor felt it all too clearly too. It wasn’t like he wasn’t terribly tired, just that sleep wasn’t helping. On the contrary, it even seemed to make it worse when he woke up and his mind ached under the fact that he couldn’t reach his other parts.

Therefore it was usually Sasha and Pelagius sharing the oversized bed in the room for their well deserved rest after a long day of work.

The mood between Pelagius and Sasha could by now only be described as forcefully neutral. Pelagius didn’t want the soldier to be here at all, that much was clear, but he was also seemingly paradoxically compelled to take care of him. In the meanwhile, Sasha was fronting a sense of enthusiastic optimism – which felt forced more often than not. But at least he held true to his conviction of not displaying any open animosity towards Pelagius.

He had noticed Sasha trying for more casual conversation with the knight here and there, but he had rarely gotten further than a few words. The most they talked about was the work and what they would choose as the food for the day. Sometimes even a little bit while eating, which ended up mostly with Sasha reminiscing about Obermoor and the other soldiers. Pelagius didn’t have much to say to that most of the time, only sometimes questioning the nature of the soldier’s cyborg existence, which Sasha answered quite readily. It was a positive development, even if very slow.

Both of them were quiet now. Last Ravalor had looked, Sasha had been pondering over the panels of Zenozarax personal console, opening this and that blueprint as if he hoped to burn them into his mind by staring long enough at them. Pelagius had been reading a book he probably had found in the city (Ravalor hadn’t bothered to see what it was) and had carved himself a free spot in the by clothes occupied sitting area by the drink cabinet.

There was something unfamiliarly peaceful about this silence. Like an almost absurd sense of normalcy settling in with their new dynamic of trying to work together.

In the air still lay a faint hint of the savoury meals both had had for dinner when they had come back here, and it mixed quite unwell with the metallic scent of the magic mechanical work Ravalor was doing at the workstation right now. For a few minutes they had opened one of the windows before both Pelagius and Sasha had agreed that the biting cold from outside wasn’t worth the breath of fresh air.

While focused singularly on the work before him, his fingers manipulating the fine dust of magic into shapes and modifying it to his needs, he felt a slight shudder. It really was getting cold in here, he couldn’t blame them for keeping the window closed. Not that the cold would bother him much, but his mind still took notice. Chances were good the temperatures would drop even further in the coming months. They’d need some extra heating devices in here sooner rather than later and so he ordered his mental node of that a bit higher in priority.

He blinked, and then once more. In this calm quietness he felt the exhaustion of his mind only more strongly. His hands felt tired and he stretched his right one, the connected magic bend into ridiculous shapes accordingly before settling back down, waiting for his command again. He blinked again. The room seemed darker than before. It really was cold.

He raised his head –

*

“Commander?!”

At the low thump both Sasha and Pelagius had looked up from their respective tasks just to find Ravalor laying on the floor. Sasha had already jumped up while Pelagius hadn’t even put the book aside.

“Commander?” Sasha was beside Ravalor and Pelagius noticed the real reluctance to even touch the wizard, yet he was clearly concerned for his well being. Worried and confused the young soldier looked at him, all the more puzzled it seemed by the fact that Pelagius hadn’t even stood up yet.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“You don’t know?” Pelagius raised a brow, finally closing the book.

“Don’t know what?” The sharp irritation spoke of genuine concern. Pelagius found it hard to believe that in those last years this would never have happened before, but maybe Ravalor had been just better in hiding it then.

“He just died. But, he’ll wake up again – at some point,” he finally said nonchalantly. He had gotten quite used to these very infrequent and random episodes. So far it hadn’t caused any harm, as they seemed to happen usually in more quiet moments, but Pelagius still expected them to become a problem sooner rather than later. This one however wasn’t it.

“What do you mean, he just died? What’s wrong with him?” Sasha still kneeled besides Ravalor, but he seemed now almost angry at Pelagius. Which was consistent with the downright devoted idolisation of the wizard Pelagius had noticed over the last few days. This soldier cared so much about his commander that him not taking this very seriously was a real offence to the young man.

“I’d have thought you to know that better than me. Afterall, he trusts you, doesn’t he?” he said, and then examined those words back after he had said them. They seemed not quite what he had wanted to say. So he added. “This keeps happening. Sometimes he’s stable for a week or two, other times he slips away thrice a day. I don’t know why. He wouldn’t tell me.”

Sasha looked back at the unconscious – or well, dead – wizard, his hands were tightly clenched into fists. “So we do nothing? We just wait?”

“Yes,” Pelagius said conclusively, intent on going back to reading, yet he found himself unable to take his eyes away from the soldier.

Sasha didn’t seem too happy with that answer but kept silent, looking at Ravalor, clearly unsure of what to do.

Pelagius let his fingers tap over the back of the book. Every move of every digit stung slightly in his flesh as the magic infused in his hand moved against muscle and bone. He barely felt it anymore. He kept on watching Sasha.

If the young soldier was determined to hold vigil over the dead body till resurrection he might sit there for a long time. He would find that out sooner or later on his own. That wasn’t his problem.

But he looked so worried.

It kindled a deep and ugly feeling within himself. He felt his stomach tighten as he mustered the worry in Sasha’s face. He hated it. And him. Suddenly, right at this moment, he felt a deep and guttural feeling of burning irritation. With this whole holier than thou stick. The naive front of a man whose only purpose had ever been to fight and kill, acting like the beacon of morality and care. Who just had come here and yet had shone a bright light on the chasm between himself and Ravalor. If he had ever hoped to gain the wizards’ confidence, to convince him that he was to be trusted, the arrival of this suicidal soldier had thrown a wrench into that hope for good. With every day now he felt how Ravalor’s attention was directed more and more at Sasha, how he was always sent away. Maybe to keep him away from Sasha, maybe so they could talk freely.

God, how much he hated him right at this moment. The hand on top of the book was clenched, his knuckles white and the sore skin around the magic powdery red. It hurt like hell.

He knew this feeling, and he knew it was dangerous as much as it was irrational. And it wasn’t him. So he took a deep breath, waiting for this drowning wave to settle and subside again. He had managed to do so the last few times as well. It would be okay.

Sasha eventually stood up and then picked Ravalor up.

“What are you doing?” Pelagius asked sharply.

“We can’t just let him lie there.” Sasha answered as he carried Ravalor to the bed.

“He doesn’t like that.”

“I’m sure it’s alright.”

And the worst was, Pelagius assumed it to be so. Ravalor had made it clear to him that he didn’t want him to touch him – ever. But of course, the same wouldn’t be true for the soldier. He wasn’t cursed. None of the wizards he knew liked to be touched. Zenozarax hadn’t liked it, Ravalor was magnitudes worse – but somehow he guessed he would accept Sasha’s action now. Because of course – he trusted him.

Sasha put the dead body down onto the bed and stepped back.

“Great, I’m sure that won’t be horribly disorientating when he wakes up,” Pelagius noted before he could have stopped himself. With the pettiness again. But it could have been worse. The anger within himself made him so tense he felt like throwing up.

“How long does he stay like this?” Sasha asked, oblivious to the turmoil within Pelagius, or maybe just too occupied with his own worry to notice.

“Minutes. Hours. Days. It varies.” Pelagius pressed through clenched teeth.

Sasha looked once more back to Ravalor before turning fully to Pelagius and walked over to him at the sitting area. But why?

I told you he didn’t tell me, didn’t I? Pelagius snapped.

Surprised Sasha looked at him, taken aback by the hostile tone. I’m – sorry. It’s just, another oh-so concerned glance back at Ravalor, It’s weird. Seeing him like this. It feels wrong.

He should just go. Leave this room and go blow off some steam somewhere till this storm within him had calmed. But he had never left Ravalor alone when he was unconscious like this. As much as he hoped and begged Ravalor to not leave him alone when he was dead, as much he wanted him to know that he would do the same for him. He wouldn’t leave him alone.

But he wouldn’t be alone now, would he? Sasha was here. But that only made it worse. He didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to hand over his responsibility to the soldier. This was his duty, one of the things he could offer the wizard that was of any worth. If he gave it away now, it would make him only more useless.

Pelagius was a knight, he was a soldier. Sasha was a soldier too, but he was also an Engineer. And Ravalor had already way more use for an engineer than a knight.

His heart was racing in his chest so quickly it almost hurt. There was a bitter taste in his mouth. He tried to breathe calmly and evenly but it didn’t help. The darkness swallowing his heart and soul was absolute, horrible and burned like an inferno. Because in this moment he hated the world and all on it and beyond. This blasted planet, the cursed wizard (which one didn’t really matter), that annoying soldier, and himself for his inability to do something against any of it.

He stood. Since when and why he could not say.

He heard Sasha’s voice. But he didn’t really.

He saw Sasha’s face before him. Then a blooming sharp pain shooting up his arm as his fist crashed into the young face. He felt the crack more than he heard it, if it was his hand or the soldier’s jaw he couldn’t tell.

Then the soldier was one the ground. He was too. The tangy smell of blood filled his nose. Punches and kicks hit his own body as the soldier desperately tried to defend himself below him, but he barely felt them. He saw the young man yell. But that too he did not hear.

All he heard was a deafening rushing in his ears, like the sound of a massive inferno burning, surrounding him, consuming the world around him.

Again. And again. The pain shot through his hand. His knuckles were drenched in blood, at least some was his own.

Every kick and struggle just fueled the anger within him. The soldier needed to stop, to shut up, to just go!

He needed to–

No.

No no no no no! This wasn’t right.

His left hand was still grasping the soldier’s fur collar. There was blood on it too. There was blood everywhere. His right hand trembled as he stared down. His heart was pounding against his chest. He let go of the soldier, it was so loud, he couldn’t think. He pressed his hands against his ears, the world kept rushing in them, he pressed his eyes shut, it was too much, everything was too much – he let out a frustrated yell, trying to drown out the madness.

And then.

There was silence. He gasped, his hands dropped down.

Beneath him, Sasha was silent too. He wasn’t moving anymore.

And Pelagius kept on staring at him. First after what seemed an eternity he suddenly jumped up and stumbled back, panting, staring, and he fell back on the sofa.

For a brief moment he just sat there. The pain from his hand now really starting to set in as his thoughts lost the red haze that had swallowed him whole and he really, really saw.

No! He jumped back up, falling down beside the soldier, Nononono, don’t be dead, come on don’t, with feverish hands he tried to feel his pulse, his breath, anything that would indicate he was still alive but couldn’t find any. Then he moved him on his side and finally, after a gush of blood and spit spilled from his mouth a cough went through Sasha’s body.

Oh thank god. He laughed, but actually he felt more like screaming – or crying for that matter, but he didn’t do either. Aimlessly he grabbed for any piece of cloth in reach which seemed to be clean, the overabundance of clothing on the sofa made that easy, and firmly he pressed it against the still bleeding wound on the young man’s face. Skin had burst, there were bruises down his cheek and nose, and where the magical device in Pelagius’ hand had cut him blood had seeped into his hairline. He shuddered, knowing that each of these hits could have been fatal if he’d hit him just unluckily enough. Even now the potential head trauma was critical.

Breath. Just breathe.

Sasha didn’t seem conscious, but that didn’t matter. Pelagius talked to keep himself from going insane. He had done so well before. He had thought he had it under control! Now that seemed like a lie he had convinced himself of.

Not even a goddamn week.

He shot a glance to Ravalor who was still dead, then back to Sasha whose bloodied face was already starting to swell up. In the end they had been right afterall.

A strange sense of calm overcame him. A grim acceptance he knew too well. He had felt it before. A moment in which he knew the consequences were inevitable, that there was only one path forward and that was through the thick of it.

He wouldn’t leave and simply flee. He wasn’t a coward nor did he have anywhere to run to. So he had to stay and bear the repercussions. But he also knew that one of those consequences might be that Ravalor would send him away. And he was terrified of it.

Like Sasha before, he stood up and now it was him picking up the unconscious soldier. Calmly he laid him down on the other side of the bed, careful to turn him more on his side and away from Ravalor.

If he had thought waking up to be disorientating for Ravalor before, he now didn’t have to add this horrible sight to it. He stared down at the soldier.

There was still something deep within him that wanted him to be gone. That whispered thretcherously that the damage was already done.

But he didn’t want to kill him. He hadn’t before. Even as he had beaten him to pulp, who he really was hadn’t wanted him dead. But that didn’t matter now.

He had done what he had done.

13 Care

The Stargazer felt the all too familiar heaviness in his limbs, the cold in every molecule of his body. It was, at first, the only hint he had that told him that he had been taken by the void again. Then it was the horrible disorientation as he opened his eyes, and for him it seemed as if he had gone from sitting at the workbench, working, looking up, to laying in what he recognized to be Zenozarax’s bed in literally the blink of an eye. One moment he had been there. Now he was here.

There was, however, something else that caused an alert sense of unease. The distinct scent of human blood. Quickly he sat up–

Ravalor.

There was Pelagius, standing up from the sofa, a haunted look on his face. For a split second instinctual worry overcame him as he first did not see Sasha, but calmed when he finally spotted him lying on the other side of the bed, turned away from him and wrapped snugly under the blanket.

How long? Ravalor asked quietly as to not wake Sasha while he stood up.

I don’t know. Pelagius said, and this answer surprised him, making him look back at the knight who at second glance really didn’t look well.

Did something happen?

I– Pelagius started and fell silent. Ravalor’s eyes very quickly took in every little detail of the man standing before him – and he noticed the change of clothes, the tired eyes, and then the sore and reddened knuckles around the magical insert. And at a more thorough look he would swear he saw blood still on them. And then there where dark splatters on the carpet. On the sofa. Suddenly he saw them everywhere.

Pelagius. What happened? He felt that sense of alarm rise within himself, yet his voice was still calm.

Sasha. Pelagius finally pressed through gritted teeth. He was still meeting his eyes head on – but every inch of his body seemed reluctant to do so.

Ravalor felt like he wasn’t really walking. He did though, making his way around the bed, for a moment his eyes lingered with Pelagius, then he reached the other side of the bed –

Lords– it was more a breathless gasp escaping his lungs than any real word he said.

Sasha was alive, his body still warm and his upper body moving ever so slightly with every breath – he saw both clearly. But his face was unrecognisable.

Ravalor squatted down beside the bed, quietly observing the damage to the still unconscious soldier. There had been bleeding, but it had stopped already. From the look of the gashes, it must have happened some hours ago. Horrible swelling had disformed the young face, most of his right side was puffed up and was already starting to bruise badly.

You did that? he eventually asked, quiet and sombre.

Yes. Pelagius answered with a raspy croak in his voice. I didn’t mean to. He had heard that tone before in his voice. He was afraid. But he was also genuine.

The Stargazer stared at the beaten face. He swallowed hard. He didn’t know what to say. Nor what to do.

You were right.

The Stargazer closed his eyes as he listened to Pelagius. He couldn’t stand looking at the horrible sight.

I can’t control it. I thought I could. But I can’t.

He kept quiet. He knew. He had known it. And now, he saw the proof of it right in front of him. But what was he to do about it now that the damage was done. He had let this happen. What else could he do but try to prevent further harm?

Pelagius…

No. Don’t.

He heard steps coming closer and opened his eyes again just as Pelagius kneeled down beside him, uncomfortably close and the Stargazer tensed up.

I know what you want to say, what you must say, but please don’t. I’m sorry. I don’t want him dead. I don’t want to hurt him, and I’m sorry.

I know you are, but–

Please. Ravalor. You were right, I can’t – but maybe you can! Suddenly Pelagius took his hand in both of his, so quickly and strongly the Stargazer just by a hair managed to not blow him up by mere reflex. All his self restraint however didn’t change anything about the absolute horror he felt within every single atom of himself in that very moment. Every defence mechanism in his own mind braced to prevent any curse to invade his body should the knight now choose to force a connection through the magic in his hand.

Let go of me. He tried to keep his voice calm, but it trembled with tension. Pelagius did not let go.

No, I need this. I need you.

It won’t work. It can’t. Pelagius, this is not how this works! If it was fear or anger in his own voice he could not tell, maybe it was both, while Pelagius hand was still firmly clasped around his, just one small pulse away from disaster.

You don’t know that! A burst of anger exploded in the knight’s voice. Anger born from desperation. You don’t know how it works! You don’t feel what I feel. There is a reason why I need you! Why everything within me knows it to be so!

I won’t take control of you!

Silence.

Pelagius met his eyes, the magical device on his hand pressed painfully into Ravalor’s skin. He answered quietly,

Somebody has to.

No.

The strength vanished from Pelagius’ grasp and quickly Ravalor pulled his hand back as he literally jumped back on his feet, establishing a safe and proper distance between them again.

His other hand brushed nervously over the other where he still felt the other’s grip.

Pelagius kneeled still beside the bed. He looked broken, defeated and lost.

You shouldn’t be here when he wakes up, Ravalor said stiffly.

Pelagius looked up. A thousand unsaid words in his eyes, but in the end he kept silent. He just stood up.

I’ll be in the summoning chamber then.

And Ravalor just nodded.

Pelagius stopped briefly, looking back to Sasha. But whatever he had wanted to say, he didn’t and stayed silent, turned and left.

And for too long Ravalor just stood there, looking down at Sasha.

Since most wizards interacted with the human population of this or that planet at some point of their existence, they usually possessed a solid base knowledge of human physiology. Not that many put it to use, saving any random human from a deadly injury or illness was usually considered rather pointless – but there were cases of interest where it was done.

This was usually a decision the Envoys made. Deciding who lived and who died in the passage of time to keep a stable and manageable order within the part of the multiverse they watched over.

Ravalor, however, had never been an Envoy and of course he wasn’t a doctor either. Besides the time the Hermit had spent in Artlenburg at Zenozarax’ side, the most he had ever had to really work with humans in any form had been actually the Stargazer himself, back when he was the Engineer, working with the cyborgs in Obermoor. But he’d never been there for their physical health and well being. And before long he probably would have been very much out of his depth as he now sat down besides the still unconscious soldier.

But of course the Warrior had been focused on the success of his mission. Keeping the soldiers alive had been part of that, because at no point did he have ressources to spare. Neither materials nor men.

He had ended up with a bunch of human soldiers, and consequently made an effort to make sure that he himself would be able to take care of them if they got injured or sick even in non combat situations. He had brushed up on his rather rusty knowledge in Obermoors libraries – more often than not with Tesenie as his study partner who had carried the official title of Doctor on the ship. It had been a stretch to call Tesenie a doctor after merely three years of crash course learning, as much as it had been to call Dion a chief engineer – or himself a Commander for all that mattered. It was all relative, he supposed.

When Ravalor now examined the damages inflicted by Pelagius unnatural strength and the sharp magical device infused in his hand he unfortunately knew that Sasha wasn’t over the hill yet.

He overcame the ingrained hesitation to get closer to the soldier and carefully laid both his hands around Sasha’s head. The magic in his hands started to glow gently as did his eyes and carefully he observed the damages. As he had feared, Sasha’s brain had been shaken around in his skull pretty badly, Ravalor suspected besides the impact from Pelagius hands he must have hit his head onto the floor at least once as well. There was major swelling and even some bleeding. In a single spark of luck it wasn’t enough to require immediate surgery.

He took his hands back with a slight frown on his face.

May it had been the gentle flashes of magic in his neurons or the movement waking him, Sasha’s eyelids fluttered as he dragged himself back into consciousness, but for a moment he didn’t even seem to see.

“What happened?” the young soldier mumbled, or at least it was what Ravalor had to believe he said, because he slurred his words so badly they were near unrecognisable. He turned his head, trying to see, his left eye was swollen shut, the other only halfway so.

“You don’t remember?” Ravalor asked, keeping close to Sasha who finally seemed to see him. Yet his answer wasn’t even an answer and took way too long.

“Commander?”

“Yes Sasha. You’ll be alright. You have a concussion and need to rest now.”

“No, no, that’s not–” Sasah kept mumbling and, to Ravalors alarm, tried to raise up. With gentle pressure he pushed Sasha back down.

“It’s alright. You need to sleep.”

Sasha frowned, squinting against the light.

“Are you in pain?” he asked. Sasha’s gaze drifted away, for a moment it seemed like he hadn’t even heard him.

“My head is killing me. My face....” his hand reached for his own face, but Ravalor kept him from touching the swollen bruises and cuts.

“Don’t touch it. There is some swelling,” he said, woefully playing down the real extent of the damage. Sasha would soon be clear enough to realise that too and how badly his face was really hurting. “I’ll see if I can get you something for the pain, but it will take a moment.” He stood up walking over to the workbenches. He was making big promises here, now it was up to the magic infused into the spire to deliver. Quickly he searched through the resources available to him and his pretended optimism faltered. The spire and retroactively installed summoning network had access to plenty of materials and elements in the repository, but they all were production and construction orientated. He should have expected that. The facilities allowing for some basic alchemy were limited, but whichcraft wasn’t something Zenozarax had put any focus in. Why would he have? Once upon a time people had sought him out for healing and remedies in trade for admiring glances, affection and gratitude, but that wasn’t this reality. Here Zenozarax had only brought death and destruction.

He kept leaning over the workbench, considering his alternatives. He probably lacked the materials and certainly the knowledge to synthesise any advanced medicine, so either he had to find some – or revert back to traditional medicine – and find that too. There had been medicine and appropriate resources in Obermoor, because it was the only tower on earth designed to accommodate humans in form of the cyborgs, but of course all of that had been moved onto the ship before they had left.

He halted, looking to the pile of canned food. How unlikely was it that Pelagius had come across medicine as well? At least some painkillers?

“What happened?”

“There was an accident,” he said without missing a beat, but he didn’t turn around to look at Sasha. “You should try to sleep. Don’t move too much yet. I’ll try to find you some painkillers. We’ll talk about this later.”

Sasha only whispered. “I feel sick.”

Ravalor grabbed one of the casings for a hydraulic pressure regulator from the workbench and walked back over to the bed. He put the casing beside the bed. “If you need to vomit, take this. Try not to stand up and walk around. If you fall or faint now, and hit your head again, it could kill you. Do you understand that?”

“Ye...”

Ravalor wasn’t sure he did. Sasha seemed a lot more occupied with how miserable he was in this very moment, with his face having to feel like it was set on fire, the headache, the nausea.

There were a few magical ways to put him to sleep, but each and every one of them would be a horrible idea under the current circumstances. At least as long as his plan was to have the young man heal anytime soon and not fry his already damaged brain some more.

He froze up as he heard a low sob and downright terrified he stared down at the young soldier. He had been standing right on the edge of his comfort zone from the very moment he had woken up again, but now he felt like someone had pushed him with inhuman force over the edge and he was drifting in freefall without any point of reference.

Sasha was in pain and confused, the Stargazer understood that. Chances were good Sasha was downright dazed or delirious still, with a considerable blank spot in his memories. Right in this moment he wasn’t a soldier that had worked and trained all his short life for one singular battle, who had bravely fought and almost died in that battle, who had miraculously survived and made it all the way back here through the hostile land. No, at this moment he was merely a young man of barely 23 who was lost, in pain and did not understand what had happened to him.

Ravalor, objectively, understood all that. And yet – what was he to do about it?

So after a moment of silence he just said,

“Try to sleep, Sasha. Things will be better in the morning.”

“Aye commander.” Sasha had closed his eyes, between some swallowed sobs his tired and slurred words sounded more like ‘ai ommanner’ – but it was something.

“I’ll be back as soon as possible. Remember, don’t walk around. Okay?”

“hmmhm.”

Then, hoping nothing worse would happen in his absence, Ravalor left the living quarters.

He could have ported right into the summoning chamber, but the way was short enough and he felt like he needed a few seconds to consider his next words to Pelagius.

As he opened the doors to the chamber however, he found the consoles and systems all running on their own and the room utterly deserted. Pelagius wasn’t here.

Puzzled, he tried to sense if the knight was close by but came up with no trace of him in the imminent vicinity. So he took the small piece of folded magic from one of the pockets of his vest and immediately the small rectangle unfolded into a datatable connecting back to the tower. Quickly he ran a scan of the entire structure.

He frowned when finally the knight’s position showed up. Pelagius was no longer up here, but way below. If this location was right he was in a chamber right above the power plant. He hadn’t been there himself yet as none of the systems he was working with seemed to rely on them, nor had they been referenced in any of the plans he had found.

He stashed the datatab back in his pocket after it folded back into an unassuming small rectangular piece of dormant magic, then he raised his hands and opened a portal.

On the other side he stepped into a high roofed room, more sized like a wide storage warehouse. Half of the lights had broken, leaving the entire room with irregular stripes of light while everything else vanished into shadows and the stale sense of rot.

An uncomfortable shudder went down his spine as he stood now between rows and rows of all too familiar rectangular pools. The liquid inside them was glowing softly, emitting a fine vapour of cold mist.

Once one of these had facilitated the first victory of Aeven over Zenozarax – an accident or maybe luck. But it had been the prince’s good heart and his own words that had spared the chaos wizard’s life. Maybe both had been missguided at the time.

And maybe he should have suspected these to be here as well. Whatever Zenozarax had been doing with them back then, he had been doing here too.

Before him, some 50 metres away he saw Pelagius sitting between the pools. Slowly he walked past the rows of Dynazane. They weren’t empty. Within the blue glow he saw shapes of human figures, their skin looked bluish and dark.

“You shouldn’t be down here, this close to the reactor,” Ravalor said as he was close enough to Pelagius to not raise his voice.

“Hm.” Pelagius didn’t look at him, his eyes were fixed on one or two of the pools before him. “I think it’s safe here.”

Ravalor took notice of the room more closely and realised that Pelagius was right. There was not a trace of any harmful radiation or any other cause for concern in here. Besides the light scent of decay, the air was clean too.

“What is this place? What’s the meaning of all these?”

“Hm.” Pelagius shrugged. “I just brought them here. He said he needed them. Keep them safe till it was time. They were all still alive last I’ve seen them.” He fell quiet for a moment, looking down the rows. “They’re all dead now.”

Ravalor followed Pelagius’ gaze and understood that when he had detonated that channelling device on top of the spire, and the entire tower had shut down and gone dark, the energy that had kept these people alive in their frozen slumber had failed too. And each and every one had unceremoniously drowned, died, and rotten. Till he had come back. Now the Dynazane preserved nothing more than swollen corpses.

Who is to blame for their death, you think? Pelagius asked plainly, still not looking at him. Zenozarax? He’s the reason they are here, but he wanted them alive, not dead. Maybe I? I bought each of them here, but that wasn’t really my choice. Or you? You shut down the tower, but you didn’t even know they were here.

Ravalor felt an uncomfortable sting in his heart. Just more death. For a moment he wished he hadn’t even come here. No matter how Pelagius framed it – there was no doubt in his mind about his part in all of this. But for the first time since he had left Mezchinhar he could carefully accept that it really hadn’t been just him, and he felt a strange sense of gratitude towards the knight for choosing his words as he had. They all had played their part.

The evening before the sun changed, there was a wedding here, Pelagius said when Ravalor stayed quiet. It was hauntingly beautiful. All that laughing and dancing, watching it while I knew what would have to be done. He was right in the middle of it all too. And I felt that burden on his shoulders too when he left and told me my orders. I don’t think I saw him smile after that night anymore. Just the mask. His words were calm and almost passionless, a plain description of what had happened. Pelagius wasn’t trying to paint any particular picture about what had happened nor of Zenozarax. Lacking any passion or conviction in his tone, it was just a sober retelling of what he had witnessed and felt. That night, with the entire royal guard under my command, I killed them. Almost all of them. I drenched the entire citadel in blood. The young, the old, the royals and the servants, every guest and ambassador. Each fallen body another sword in my hand to strike down the next man. By the time anyone could have raised an alarm it was already too late. If word reached the city, the sun had already turned, an army marching towards the city – and no one left alive to stop them. They never stood a chance.

Ravalor listened quietly. He remembered that morning when the Warrior had first arrived in this reality and it seemed even more surreal now. To know that while he had been still under the naïve assumption that everything seemed quite peaceful, in the citadel of Treva he had seen in the distance rising over the morning mist, carnage had already been happening within these walls.

Who were those people? He glanced back over the misty pools.

Farmers, factory workers, woodcutters… just peasants, the strongest and largest men I would see during raids. Pelagius paused, looking forward at the pools directly before him again. Except these two. They were the first I took on that very night. The only ones that survived. He chuckled humorlessly. I don’t think they had been part of the plan. But I understood it. They had been close.

Ravalor frowned slightly, more puzzled now than before as he stopped closer to the two pools.

For a while he just stood there. In the cold blue glow, staring into the Dynazane. His thoughts felt sluggish, slow and dragging along – like somehow, things had stopped making sense suddenly. Maybe this was him going insane. If he wasn’t already.

Of course it all made sense. There was a logical explanation for everything. There were rules. The creation of this universe had been unnatural, yes, but what had followed was not random, there was sense and structure there. Time had moved along as it always had, echoing earth’s past in a breakneck pace. Reality had been tested as it crashed against pieces of earth that were not natural, the wizards influence, and consequently ignored it. It all made sense. Obermoor was here because it had already been built on earth, with earth resources, at the point this earth came into existence. Pelagius was here because time had advanced enough for them to arrive back in 992.

And so who lay there, dead and unmoving in the pool of Dynazane, shouldn’t be a surprise to him. And yet…

It was their wedding? He heard himself ask, his own voice sounded distant and brittle to him.

Yes.

The woman he had seen once or twice before, in another life – and he knew more by context than recognition who she was. The decay had disfigured her form and face, the skin was patchy and bluish, the head floating in a cloud of long and wavy hair that looked almost grey now.

Princess Folina. As history repeated itself she found herself once more trapped by an evil wizard. Only that this time, it was for eternity. No hero had set out to free her, no songs would be sung about them.

Because to her left – was Aeven.

Aeven VonTreva. The first. The young prince who in this reality never would have, nor even could have, picked up the Hammer Izarax. Who had to face that chaos wizard, who knew not to make the same mistake twice, alone, with nobody to help him. By the lords, he looked still so young, younger even than when they had first met.

And now, both of them were dead.

The concept of death was in the context of the multiverse ridiculous to even ponder. He knew that. He also knew that he should have never started to see it as more than the constant and unstoppable circle of chaos and order.

A human’s life held no intrinsic value. Their death was meaningless. Be it one or a billion. Or more. Because in the multiverse under their fingertips, at each possible moment, the amount of life that died was a number higher than any human could even comprehend. Time moved on, life died, life was created, and time moved on. And they were always there watching over it.

Wizards, who were so scared of their own death that not even those called friends could be really trusted, and yet failed to apply the same importance to mortal life.

But there was another truth.

And that was that wizards – built in the image of those they were to watch over – had become, after billions of years, after iteration and iteration, left to their own devices and their Lords turned quiet, more human than machine.

They had learned to feel, to experience life, to love even. And now here he was, trapped between caring for the lives of mortals, the very reason that had brought him here, while knowing how pointless it was.

This Aeven’s death was meaningless. In the grand scheme of things, it did not matter. Earth existed here, it did so countless other times, with their own timelines, with the possibility of this or that Aeven just like this one being born, living, and dying, right at this moment, somewhere, it was happening. His Aeven mattered, because he happened to be chosen by the one Hammer Izarax. That made him of interest to the Circle. That one was special. That’s why he ought to care.

But this one?

He didn’t matter.

And still, as he was unable to tear his eyes from the corpse, he felt that heavy weight deep within him.

He was on a dangerous path here. Ever since he had left Mezchinhar. To take on the uncaring nature of the multiverse was an impossible feat. There was just too much death.

But – the least he should do was to care about those whose life he directly influenced. He owed it to them, they all did. That’s why they needed to help where they could – even if it was meaningless.

But his helping had killed this Aeven. His and Zenozarax’ actions combined had decided his fate. In a twisted kind of irony he also acknowledged that the same actions had created his life in the first place and a more jaded wizard would have chalked that up to a zero sum result. But he wasn’t there yet.

How is he?

He’s dead...

Ravalor blinked, finally able to turn away as if Pelagius’ voice had been necessary to tear him from his own thoughts.

Sasha. Pelagius added as response to Ravalor’s apparent confusion.

And reminded him painfully why he had been looking for Pelagius in the first place.

He has a serious concussion. He’ll need rest. At least two weeks.

I’m sorry. Pelagius said, looking away from him again. Not that it changes anything. I get that.

You need to stay away from him.

I know. Pelagius nodded. Then he scoffed, an utterly joyless chuckle paired with a hard and unhappy frown. He didn’t even do anything. He shook his head. He was just worried. And I was so angry at him. In his words resonated the same anger once more and alert Ravalor tensed up. But then Pelagius’ shoulder dropped down, his head lowered. Doesn’t matter… I’ll stay away from him.

Good. Ravalor said, still watching the knight carefully as his posture sunk even more. Then he said, Have you found any medicine when you were in the city?

Hopeful Pelagius looked up, as he was given a chance to at least help to make the situation any better. Plenty. He assured him. It’s all old now, but there is an apothecary not far from here. It’s still fully stocked.

Good. Ravalor repeated and nodded as Pelagius stood up. He took the piece of magic back from his pocket and opened up a small holographic map of the city as it currently was.

There. Right on the corner. Pelagius pointed at the the map, The collapse of pyramid one caused some damage, but last I’ve seen it still stood.

Alright. He stashed the data tab back in his pocket and momentarily opened a portal. For a brief moment he met Pelagius eyes, saw the uneasy hesitation and a question unasked. Then he nodded towards the portal. Show me.

Thank you.

14 Time moves on

From the outside, calling it some damage seemed like a woeful understatement. The apothecary had more than visibly suffered under the collapse of Pyramid One. Ash and debris had covered the building and the tremor of the initial impact had collapsed most of the street-facing walls. In the perpetual darkness, framed by the abstract remains of Pyramid One, this part of Treva was a stark reminder that even if Ravalor’s plan succeeded, Treva would never be what it once was.

There’s a way in from the side, Pelagius said as the portal disappeared behind them. His breath was hanging in the cold air and Ravalor realised it was way too cold for the simple work shirt and pants Pelagius wore.

We should hurry. For both Sasha’s and Pelagius’ sake, so he nodded for Pelagius to show him the way.

Through the debris-filled side alley they reached a door inside. It wasn’t locked and it would probably never be again because the lock was broken and hanging halfway from the wood as if someone had forced entry.

Inside it was chaos, but Pelagius had been right. Despite the mess the destruction had caused to the front of the building, he didn’t see any signs of previous looting here either.

Many bottles had fallen down and many of those had broken on the tiled floor. Whole shelves worth of abstract remedies and tinctures in the front of the shop were scattered on the ground and half buried under debris. Ravalor scanned the room and took notice of what wasn’t broken as carefully as he could as he walked through it, ducking underneath a dangerous looking wooden beam of the top floor. It looked unstable enough as to warrant caution as he feared further collapse of the building if he would accidentally touch it.

What does he need? Proletuis asked carefully into the silence that was only accentuated by the crunching sounds of Ravalor’s boots on the shattered glass. There was still lingering uncertainty within his voice, hesitation too.

I’m not quite sure what it would be called here, in this time, Ravalor said, murmuring to himself as he picked up a small bottle that was still intact, examined the label before opening it and taking a very small sip. No that wasn’t it. Then he looked at Pelagius again. The knight had wrapped his arms around him before his chest, clearly freezing but unwilling to complain now. I need some strong painkillers. Do you have any experience with what would be administered in a case like this? Something against the pain, or maybe even something that helps him sleep?

Pelagius nodded. Of course.

Ravalor raised his brows as he didn’t quite see why it was so of course.

Proletuis noticed the look as he started to search through the bottles himself. I’ve spent all my life with the guards and knights. There was training everyday. And there were accidents. He said briskly, slowly collecting a small selection of bottles and sachets in his arms as Ravalor walked back up to him. He picked up a small wooden box which held a few wrinkled and poofed up books and emptied them on the floor.

This will knock you out stone cold, Pelagius handed him the bottles one by one and Ravalor put them into the box, This is great for pain, but I’ve seen men get ruined by it over time. So use it with care. This one is also for pain, but less effective. But I’m not sure any of them still work after this time. We used to have salves to reduce swelling but I don’t think they’d have lasted this long.

Ravalor nodded, taking the bottle Pelagius promised to be an anesthetic of some sort and opened it. After a short sniff he also sipped on it under the most puzzled expression of Proletuis.

I take it, it probably won’t knock you out? the knight muttered with a tone of voice Ravalor hadn’t heard in a long while. The just too natural reaction of humans to wizards doing something not quite fitting into their frame of reference.

No. Ravalor said, pursing his lips slightly as the quite bitter aftertaste of the still very strong tincture lingered on his tongue. But it’s still potent.

*

Pelagius stayed in the summoning chamber as Ravalor returned to Zenozarax’ bedroom.

Sasha wasn’t asleep when he entered, but he wasn’t moving much either.

How are you, Sasha? he asked as he stepped closer to the bed, first only receiving a groaning sigh and a distorted grimace of pain in the swollen face.

My head feels like it’s going to explode… when I move, Sasha mumbled, keeping his eyes, or at least the one he still could use, shut. Can you turn down the light?

Ravalor did so with one hand while he placed the small box of medicine on the bedside table. Sasha seemed a lot more coherent than before, and that was good, but it also made him more tense.

Here, this will help with the pain.

For a while after that, both stayed silent and at some point Ravalor assumed Sasha to have fallen asleep on his own afterall. Still he kept sitting on the rim of the bed.

He felt sorry. He should have been more careful. Take precautions. Stop making unfounded assumptions. Before his helping would kill even more people.

He was sure the Warrior would have never let this happen. But the Warrior also never would have slipped into the void in the first place, leaving the other two out of sight.

His eyes lingered on a good handful of still wet rags now sitting next to the box on the bedside table. They hadn’t been there before he had slipped into the void, and he realised Pelagius had probably used them to try to cool the swelling in Sasha’s face. A little effort to make things better.

I’m sorry… Sasha’s slurred and drowsy voice tore him from his thoughts. From the way Sasha now moved his head, slow and sluggish, and the tired look in his eye, Ravalor could see the painkillers being in full effect. He was most certainly high right now.

What for? Ravalor asked carefully.

I’m sorry… Sasha’s head dropped on the side, and flinched slightly as the pillow touched the swelling. You said to be careful.

Ravalor clenched his jaw. Maybe there had been the infantile hope that Sasha would simply not remember at all. You remember what happened?

No… yes. I don’t know what happened, Sasha mumbled, turning his head but it dropped back almost immediately. He punched me…

Yes. Though Sasha still sounded unaware of the real extent of the beating he had been subjected to. But it wasn’t your fault.

Because yes, while they all had played their part, it wasn’t Sasha’s fault, it wasn’t even Pelagius’. Both were just subject to decisions way beyond their control, merly caught in the crossfire. In the end it was himself and Zenozarax and the path of destruction they left behind.

And for the first time, extrapolated from the individual pain and suffering, and all the death he had witnessed now, he really saw the cost of their war. Not the fight between him and Zenozarax, but the eternal war between Order and Chaos all across the Multiverse.

It would never end. It would always be like this.

As long as they kept fighting.

*

The work continued.

But slower now.

The first few days Ravalor had ordered Sasha to rest. The work they did was dangerous enough to warrant caution, not only due to the threat of a fall or hit to the head, but also concerning the fact that Sasha wasn’t quite himself.

And even as a week had passed, he still seemed different. More quiet.

If he harboured any resentment towards the knight he did not say, but Ravalor had to suspect it was so.

The two hadn’t been in a room together since. Pelagius made sure of that with strict dutifulness.

While he kept working with Pelagius like he had done before Sasha’s arrival, he now also had to take time off to see to Sasha’s well-being.

He felt guilty that, sometimes, he felt it to be a burden. His own progress orientated nature conflicting with the fact that he did care.

And maybe for the first time he really understood why the warriors, not only his own but all of them, were implored not to. To keep the mission in focus, to not get distracted. But he couldn’t do that.

He heard Sasha restless turning in his sleep behind him. The young soldier hadn’t slept well since the accident.

Pelagius was in the summoning chamber, having made himself a humble sleeping spot there. If the knight had any more trouble sleeping now, Ravalor wouldn’t know about it.

*

Three weeks after the accident Ravalor finally decided to allow Sasha with him again. He kept Pelagius working on his own just like they had done before. By that time the bruises in Sasha’s face had almost completely vanished. The uncharacteristic quietness however hadn’t.

When asked about his well being the answer was either okay’’ or mentioning a frequently occurring headache. But that was it. And Ravalor did not know how to make him speak more openly about his state of mind.

For the first time in a very long time he envied Zenozarax. Already as he had taken care of Sasha, and now in the aftermath too. He had seen that usually abrasive wizard tending to the ill so often, and remembered the ease with which he managed to draw out a weak smile from a dying man. It had come so naturally to him, to care, to speak and to make them speak. And yet despite having seen it, having had so many opportunities to absorb how Zenozarax had interacted with them – now that it was him, he failed.

Pelagius had become very quiet too. He had never been overly chatty, but it had become noticeable to Ravalor as well.

Both of his ill-fitting companions, now separated from each other, kept on working on the tasks he gave them, mostly in silence bare a few questions.

In a strange turn of irony, Ravalor had gotten that peace and quiet he usually was so fond of – just that this time he couldn’t get over how wrong it felt to him.

But this too he did not know how to fix.

*

Time was a treacherous thing once any routine set in, especially for wizards. Even when it was an uncomfortable routine. Sometimes he even failed to keep track of it.

Ravalor was working alone again. Sasha and Pelagius both delegated to their own independent tasks, leaving him to work solitary as well. Sometimes he slipped away. And nobody was there to notice.

Only when he woke again, limbs freezing cold and mind heavy by darkness he knew. When he’d see either of them again afterwards he’d try to put his sense of time back into place, his vague questions meant to not give away that he didn’t know, but he figured both knew quite well why he asked.

Days bled into weeks and weeks into months, stuck in this uncomfortable and unhealthy limbo of work and unresolved tension.

The occasional loss of time worried him even though in theory, time was a luxury he had – even when he was the only being on this planet with that luxury.

What worried him almost as much was the fact that he hadn’t seen the light again. No further glimpses of prophecy had been granted to him. Usually, he had noticed, they coincided with him slipping into the void, either ushering him into the darkness or dragging him back out of it.

But that hadn’t happened in weeks. His deaths had been cold and dark, just as they had been for centuries.

Now that they were gone again, he felt the terrible possibility looming that somewhere along the choices he had made, there had been a mistake. That he had diverted from the path time had shown him and the future he had strived for was no longer reachable.

The lingering anxiety that caused was a constant weight on his chest. Naturally, he hadn’t told either Pelagius or Sasha about this fear.

He hated that he worried so much about it. From all he knew, prophecies were rarely reliable if they were somewhat clear in the first place, and even rarer they came true. He had never put much weight on them – but now he started to understand the nervous and paranoid disposition of the few Prophets he personally knew about.

Was it his fault? Had he made a mistake? Had he done something to disturb those images from time to come? Could he fix it? Did he want to? They had never been pleasant, and more than once put him in danger. Furthermore he shouldn’t rely on them. He never had, why should he now? He could only work and try to do this to the best of his abilities and reach the result that would get him. No prophecy would change anything about that.

And yet. There had been something comforting about it. Like an infrequent and violent reminder that he was on the right track.

Commander?

Sasha’s voice dragged Ravalor’s mind away from his own heavy thoughts and his hands stopped moving over the console. He turned on the stool to see the young soldier walk up to him.

In the cold magical light of the summoning chamber he looked sickly, and the expression on his face was too grim. The scars on his nose and forehead had turned light by now, a stark contrast on his darker skin.

Is everything alright? Ravalor asked reflexively. He had learned to do that with his human companions now. A question that was wasted on most wizards, who would rather throw themselves into the lethal nothingness of hell than to answer any personal question truthfully. But as it turned out, humans actually seemed to like displaying their burdens and feelings for the world to see – once they became too heavy to bear.

I’m not sure, Sasha admitted. Hesitated. Then he sat down two seats over next to him. Work is going fine. It’s not that. He glanced quickly at Ravalor. Three is almost done.

Yes it is. Ravalor nodded. While Pelagius was already doing the rough work on four with the help of the demons under his command, Sasha was focussing on the fine rerouting and wiring that had to be done within number three. Ravalor helped both when needed but was focusing on getting the incantation for the entire final operation in perfect order.

There was almost a minute of silence in which Ravalor hesitated to simply get back to work. Sasha wanted to say something else, that much he understood.

And indeed, eventually he spoke again, even more quiet, his tone almost frustrated.

I’m just tired now. All the time.

A horrible pang of empathy stabbed him in the back. By the lords, didn’t he know that feeling too well. His own mind dragged down and constantly occupied by the fact that he was exhausted. That he just wanted to sleep, rest, let his mind find the rest of himself and find peace again.

No matter how much I sleep, I’m tired. Sasha continued. And I am afraid I might mess up something because of it.

Have you–

Yes, I do run the check up every day. I’m still okay. Sasha quickly assured him – maybe a bit too quickly.

For a moment he mustered the young soldier’s face, he wasn’t looking at him, his eyes fixed on something on the consoles, and Ravalor considered the possibility that he was lying. Maybe he wasn’t doing the check up on his own body out of fear of the result, or he had and the result was cause for concern.

Either way, if he chose to lie now to his own detriment he did so for what he perceived as the greater good.

And so Ravalor accepted the lie and made a mental note to check the records later himself.

Is there something I can do? Ravalor asked.

And finally Sasha looked back at him, with an expression that seemed too old on his face. When he spoke his voice was hesitant and quiet, yet pleading.

I want to go home. He blinked hard, swallowed. I don’t even know where that is. It’s not Obermoor anymore. Maybe the ship? I think it’s not anywhere, but wherever the others are. I want to be there. Talk to them again. Hastily he wiped away the tears from his bright eyes, but it barely worked. I’m sorry.

Ravalor felt that knife in his back twist a little deeper. On top of everything else, Sasha was lonely. Of course he was. All his short life he had spent every moment surrounded by the other soldiers. Now he worked alone, almost all of the time. Ravalor could not fill that role. Nor could he do anything about it.

I can’t do that, Sasha. We can’t leave even if I knew where they are, Ravalor said calmly.

Why don’t you?

Ravalor blinked, Don’t what?

There was something different in Sasha’s face now he couldn’t quite place.

Why don’t you know where they are? You said they are alright! It was fear. And that fear now trembled in his voice. It was the fear of abandonment. Each of them would have followed him into the void of hell if they had to – and now he had simply left them behind on their own? He saw that it didn’t want to make sense to Sasha.

They were, last I’ve seen, but I haven’t been in contact with anyone since I arrived here. I simply don’t know. And then, seeing that his words weren’t helping he added, I am… still with them. At least he hoped so. He hoped the Warrior had saved them. That he had managed to plead with the circle. The Warrior is.

A light of understanding lit up the soldier’s face. Ravalor had told them about the nature of wizards, preparing them for the possibility that in an emergency, if the Warrior would get killed, another part of him could take command in an instant. Given the disruption field was down.

It had never come to that. But he understood it.

But… then why don’t you know? Sasha repeated even more confused now.

There were many good and truthful answers to that question and none of the Ravalor felt comfortable giving. They would only raise more questions, more questions about himself, his mistakes and doubts. He didn’t want to talk about that.

I can not contact them before I am done here. He eventually said.

Why?

Speak your mind. Question everything.

Once Zenozarax had hammered that into his own mind.

Then the Warrior had passed it down to the soldiers.

And now it came right back to bite him in the behind. So he did what he always did in this case.

It’s late already, Sasha. You should try to sleep. Pelagius will be back soon.

There was clear dismay in Sasha’s face as Ravalor so blatantly dodged answering the question, but for now he didn’t comment on it and merely stood up.

There was a slight guilty feeling of not only having not answered in any capacity to ease Sasha’s worry, but also that he was shamelessly invoking Pelagius’ soon arrival as a tool to send him away.

But it worked.

Sasha left without another word. Maybe even angry at him.

Then the summoning chamber was quiet again.

But it really wasn’t before long Pelagius entered as predicted.

In comparison to Sasha, Pelagius looked just fine. As okay and healthy as he could under the given circumstances. He hadn’t accidentally died in months now and his body seemed quite grateful for that.

We need to talk about Wittenmoor, the knight said bluntly without a greeting and Ravalor sighed.

I know.

Number four is basically done once you and Sasha are through with it. But we’re out of everything now.

A little hyperbolic, but almost true.

I need materials to continue down below. Unless you want me sitting around twiddling my thumbs.

I know, he merely repeated flatly. This problem had been looming on the horizon from the moment he had decided to bury the workers Zenozarax had used to operate the facilities and factories. Now they sat on a vast network of raw resources and production lines with no feasible or effective way of making use of them.

Then what’s the holdup?

Ravalor finally turned to the knight who met his eyes with an uncharacteristic impatience.

I’d like both of you with me when we go.

Why?

Wittenmoor is the largest tower built on earth. The oldest too after the Dark Tower. It holds vast amounts of resources and tools that need to be brought here. It will take time because I’ll have to conserve my strength to hold open the portals for the transport. He was worried about that. Holding open any portal for a prolonged amount of time was a straining exercise prone for disaster.

In case of… If I happen to become unavailable at any point, I don’t want either of you alone on either side.

You mean you don’t want him to be alone. Pelagius concluded with a slight frown, crossing his arms. Obviously there wasn’t much point worrying about his well being when he was effectively immortal.

Yes. He’s not well.

How bad is it? Pelagius’ face opened up in genuine concern as he joined him at the console and Ravalor took the cue to check on the health log of the soldier.

His body is slowly but surely failing him. It’s in the dust, the water, even the food he eats. You heal fast enough to not be affected too badly. But he’s not. Ravalor said, studying the numbers and information given to him via the interface. My hope is to find the appropriate resources in Wittenmoor to synthesise appropriate medicine for him. At least some cancer inhibitors. It’s a slim hope though.

Then we shouldn’t wait any longer! Pelagius declared, sounding almost baffled. If there is something there to help him, we should have long gone already.

Weren’t you supposed to be evil?

Just because I want to kill him occasionally doesn’t mean I want him to die. Pelagius countered.

And it was a joke, somewhat, based on reality of course, but a joke nonetheless. An answer to his own maybe misplaced quip. It had been months since the accident, but even now he wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to ease the severity of those memories with jokes. But at least it made him feel a little less tense. His mind ached for a small respite from the constant dread.

Wittenmoor is no longer abandoned. Ravalor finally admitted. I sent Aeven there to retrieve something and he opened up that tower to the world, disabled all its defences. The world up there is frozen, but the tower offers shelter.

There are survivors?

Yes.

And that’s why you don’t want to bring me, Pelagius once more concluded accurately.

Yes. Ravalor again confirmed, there was no point in obfuscating the truth at this point.

So. You don’t want him because he’s dying and you don’t want me because I might kill someone. But you can’t do it alone?

No. I’d need to control the demons while holding open the portal – I can’t do both of that at the same time.

Pelagius leaned with one elbow on the console, a serious frown on his face. So, there’s no alternative?

Only those that would take me weeks if not months to complete. I don’t think… he looked back to the automatically generated medical record of Sasha. No. Ravalor shook his head.

Pelagius nodded, looking away, letting his gaze wander through the summoning chamber in thoughts before he finally said. No way around it.

I don’t like it.

Pelagius glanced back at him. Me neither. But I think we’ll have to get over that. In and out as quickly as possible, less chance of things turning ugly. There was bitterness in his voice, and Ravalor understood that Pelagius was taking his own volatile state of mind still very serious despite any previous joking. He didn’t promise him he would do no harm, because he couldn’t. He didn’t trust his own mind anymore.

I’m afraid you’re right.

15 Wittenmoor

Once all three of them had arrived in the summoning chamber there was an awkward silence. Ravalor found that he started to really dislike those, all things considered. Also, how unbearable tense this particular one made him. There was a ridiculous realisation that at this point, almost everyone present had at one point tried to kill the other. The only thing that was left was that he and Sasha went onto each other’s throat. Why they would do that, he wouldn’t know, but it would complete the set.

Pelagius and Sasha had looked briefly at each other and as far everything pointed towards that would stay the most of their interaction for the coming trip. Both of them were decently wrapped into layers upon layers of warm clothes scavenged from the city and while not thermally efficient, it was the best they could do right now. They looked like two uniform blobs of earth colours shuffling around in this awkwardness. There was an actual advantage of this – as covered as both were, nobody would be able to recognize Pelagius or be unsettled by Sasha’s appearance.

On the flip side, he knew he better hurry up, both of them already looked like they were getting too hot.

“I’ll port us close by, but not in direct sight. Just to the south of the entrance,” he explained, pointing at an aerial overview of the area constructed by his own observations. “As I scouted the area a few days ago, they had built some minor shelters on the surface where at least three people were keeping watch at all times.”

Both of the wrapped cones of clothing nodded in attentive listening.

“These people are from the north based on their clothing. So we’ll have to be careful to not step over the line or else we might find ourselves on the bad side of a fistfight. Or a war axe in the worst case. You two will stay a bit behind, quietly. I’ll first talk with them alone.” His eyes darted from Pelagius to Sasha and back. “Try not to kill each other while I do so,” he added, and while it felt ridiculous saying it, he still felt better doing so. At least he had said it. We do not permit murder in this house anymore, mind the house rules.

“I want us to get in there and back out without anyone dying. Of us, and them.”

“What if they don’t cooperate?” Pelagius’ voice came from the right walking pile of clothes.

“Even then we do not kill them.”

“I got that,” Pelagius said sharply, understandably so very irritated by the infantilizing tone Ravalor had chosen. “But we still have to get the materials.”

“If I can’t talk them into helping us, I have an option in mind that will incapacitate them – temporarily. It would also mean we would have to hold them prisoners within the tower till we’re done, and I really would like to avoid that at all costs. There are too many things that could go wrong if it gets that far.”

Pelagius nodded and Ravalor looked over to Sasha who was not saying anything.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, commander.” Sasha answered nevertheless without hesitation.

For a last time he turned to the aerial overview of the area and zoomed it out a bit. “I marched some of the demons near here. Ideally, if these people are willing to help, we might not need to disturb them with their sight. But … just in case.” He looked back to Pelagius. “They are hidden beneath the snow and just within reach of your sword. Do you have it?

“Of course.” Pelagius nodded again, which was due to all those layers of clothing more a bow of his entire upper body. And somewhere wrapped up whining those was his sword. Ravalor had to take his word for it.

“Good. Then let’s go.”

*

Technically, it was springtime in the northern hemisphere. But, the world had forgotten about that.

The moment they stepped through the portal they sank into more than knee high snow and the wind was biting against any millimetre of exposed skin. It was the middle of the day – the dark sun had not yet reached its summer cenit, but was already standing high in the dark, red sky. This was the brightest it would get – and in this reality that meant it was still dark. But not dark enough that one wouldn’t be able to see at least a red tinted idea of the world around.

They stood in the imaginary shadow of a small hill after advancing close enough to the entrance of Wittenmoor that they could see the massive stone pillars of the Lord’s Mark when peaking over it.

“Stay right here in the wind shadow. Follow if you see me cast a light. Run if anything else happens and I’ll pick you up as soon as possible,” Ravalor promised and both nodded. He glanced over the hill. A small flame was swinging back and forth in the darkness, a single point of reference in a vast and endless sea of snow. Its light was not strong enough to illuminate the three figures close by, but Ravalor saw them anyway against the biting cold around.

“Stay alert!” he said as last directive before he passed over and dragged himself through the snow towards the light.

*

Tensely Pelagius watched Ravalor disappear into the darkness, then crouched down, shielding himself as best as he could from the wind. Sasha stood about two metres away from him. Quietly watching him. Maybe as tensely.

“Don’t stand there, get here. You’ll cool out quicker in the wind,” he said as casually as he could manage. After a moment of hesitation, Sasha did as he was told. Even if that meant getting closer to Pelagius.

Pelagius glanced back up to the single light in the distance. There was nothing else but the howling of the wind over the uneven field of snow. In this frozen wasteland nothing seemed alive anymore. Everything was buried under the snow. And yet, that single light in the distance. Some still lived and survived against all odds. Flora, Fauna, Humans – over five years nature and magic had weeded out everything too weak or slow to adapt – now only a fraction of what was before was left. But maybe that fraction was enough to keep on living once all of this was over. Those few that would emerge from the cold darkness and step back into the light.

There was an aching in his bones no magic or medicine could cure, as his body and mind were longing for summer. He tried to remember how the sun had felt but the freezing wind took those memories and scattered them into the darkness.

“I’m sorry,” he said, still looking towards the light. He hadn’t had a chance to say it to Sasha in person yet and he figured now was as good a moment as any. Maybe the only one he’d get.

Sasha didn’t answer and Pelagius soon questioned if he had even heard him. His own voice was muffled and speaking into the wind carried his voice away. But saying it again felt like pushing it.

After a short while when Pelagius had already accepted that this was where they left it either way, Sasha asked, What was it?

Huh?

What… did I do?

Nothing. Pelagius frowned, still watching the light. Get that idea out of your head right now. You did absolutely nothing wrong. That was all on me. His face was drawn into a grimace as he slightly shook his head. No, this wouldn’t do. Something bad has happened to you. But there is no justification for it. I can’t give you a good reason for it to make it better – or at least understandable. I should have stepped away, I should have realised I couldn’t stop it, I am the one at fault. There is nothing logical about this anger I feel. It is inherently irrational. Because I’m angry about something that has long happened, something that didn’t even happen to me. It’s always there. Even now.

Sasha listened to him quietly. He heard him shift, maybe trying to catch more of that wind shadow afterall. Even he felt the cold now becoming more pressing.

But you’re not trying to kill me now. Nor before.

Hm. Pelagius murmured.

So what was different?

Pelagius really didn’t want to answer that. He had meant what he said, there was no justification for it. Everything he could say now would only sound like he was trying to give one anyways while laying bare feelings and impressions that he wasn’t even sure whom they really belonged to. The anger, the fear of abandonment, even the jealousy. He didn’t know where his own feelings ended and the curse began.

I need him, he just said eventually.

We both do.

The light in the distance moved in the wind, it was probably a lantern. For a moment Pelagius saw a figure move in front of it, then it was there again.

I guess we do

*

Ravalor approached the light slowly. It wasn’t the snow that slowed him down, he was carving a path through it without breaking a sweat (not that that was an option) but he would rather convey a sense of peace – and the mental image of a snow train ploughing towards the watchman wasn’t that.

The three people he saw were taking their duty seriously – none of them seemed slacking on the job so to speak. He hadn’t even gotten close to the faint shine of the light when he was already spotted, even within the howling wind and whirling snow whistling through the tall standing stones surrounding the lord’s mark.

Who’s there? a loud voice shouted towards him and he saw them tense up, ready to draw their weapons against any foe or wild animal desperate enough to take on the three of them.

I’m a wizard. But I mean you no harm! He stopped and shouted back, hoping the wind wasn’t carrying most of his voice away. Then he tensly waited for a moment.

So then come closer, wizard! the man said again loudly, Ravalor was surprised how amused he sounded.

Quickly he closed the distance, stepping into the light of the lantern and the three figures did the same, emerging from the shadows and shelter.

Even the shortest of the three was still taller than he was, and everyone at least double as wide. That impression was also strengthened by the voluminous coats they wore, rimmed with thick furrs. Different from Pelagius and Sasha, these coats were the only real protection against the cold these men wore – but they closed tight and offered good isolation. The fashion of a people used to the cold.

Two wore their coat caps up, the third pushed his back as he faced him letting a mane of reddish hair dance in the wind. The even deeper red and braided beard reached almost to the lower part of his chest and was powdered white with snow. Reading the body language of the three as well as the glances they shared, Ravalor knew to address the red haired man first.

This place was built by wizards once. There are things below I now need. You found shelter here and I don’t want to take that from you. Nor do I want to steal from you. So I’m asking for your help.

My what a proper spoken one that is. One of the others laughed and the other caped one joined with a chuckle.

Are you alone? The red haired man asked.

No. I have two companions with me, he said truthfully. He knew upfront honesty went a long way with these people. But he would not yet disclose where the others were. The red head didn’t seem to expect him to.

You’ll have to speak with Yrsa, Red eventually said after having studied his face excessively, gauging his character and trustworthiness. I will get her. Can your companions wait this long? You must be freezing by now. He eyed Ravalor’s own clothes sceptically, the flimsy light cloak over to thin clothes must hardly seem weather appropriate to him.

Ravalor was surprised over the unexpected show of compassion of a man who had no reason to grant it to him or the two he hadn’t even met yet. He shook his head. They can wait a little longer. Even though he would like to have an eye back on them, if he were to speak to these people’s leader, he would like to do it alone.

The man nodded, Then wait. And he left into the darkness to where Ravalor knew the entrance to the tower was.

You do this, wizard?

Ravalor looked back to the other two. The man speaking nodded up to the dark sun. So word had reached far enough north for them to be aware. They seemed spared by the violence – but not ignorant of it. Yet the question lacked the expected sense of hostility.

No. But I’m trying to make it right.

Good. The man nodded, but what he might think of it was lost in his expression being hidden behind a wild blond beard and bushy eyebrows that were coated in snow.

Hell, what good that will do, eh? The other man laughed. Never seen much of the sun before anyways, ’tis not too different now.

The first chuckled, grunting in agreement.

You come from the north, don’t you? Ravalor asked, indulging his curiosity.

Nidaros. The blond beard huffed and Ravalor had suspected so. The so–called giants of the north were hard to mistake for anyone else and he wondered if the title of hootsman was still used by them, considering the prevalence of a god with the same name. We walked the ice here. It’s too thick now, can’t fish, can’t hunt, so we now go south

It’s better here. But not good, the other said grimly. We should have gone long before.

The blond beard grunted again, it was less friendly now, so Ravalor assumed this to be a point of contention. If the Nidaros of this reality had turned out even vaguely like the one he was familiar with (and all evidence suggested it did) he could see why. These people were proud and strong – being driven from their home by forces they could not fight wouldn’t sit right with them. That they were here now proved only how desperate the situation had gotten.

Steps approached from the darkness again, it was the red haired man from before now following a woman that met his eyes.

Of course she was taller than him too, not much differently dressed than the rest, the only real difference seemed to be the lack of a beard. Her face was framed by a wild cloud of golden hair. And her eyes were a very familiar pale blue.

Ravalor felt a strange sensation, like seeing someone he once knew after centuries, not sure if they really were who he thought they were. Of course, in this case, it was not. He had never met this woman.

And yet.

North wizard. She exclaimed, with a voice full of confidence and no single shred of weariness. She reached him and the other two and Ravalor noted she gave his appearance the same sceptical look like the man before her. My name’s Yrsa.

A pleasure meeting you. You lead these people? He asked with the most polite tone he knew.

By hoots, at this point I’m technically their queen, but the ceremonies and rituals have been the first to fall to the chopping block. But they follow me – so yes. I am, she said with a nonchalant shrug, making clear she really didn’t care what she was called as long as things got done. Do you have a name, wizard?

He considered. Ravalor. Answered. And kept it at that.

And your companions? Are they wizards too?

No. One is a knight from Treva, the other a soldier from Obermoor. They are human.

So you’re not? She raised a brow, eying him once more.

No. I’m a wizard.

Well then, Ravalor the Wizard. I heard you need our help. I will hear you out – but I think we should go inside before you freeze solid out here.

Ravalor, the Stargazer, swallowed the guttural rejection because Ravalor the Wizard wasn’t him, but there really was no point in even trying to clear that up. Instead he said, You’ll let us in?

Do I have a reason not to? she countered.

I hope not, Ravalor said. My companions, the knight, you may know him. He was the head of the royal guard of Treva. Ser Pelagius. Have you heard of him?

Something dangerous shifted in her face. A disdain that would have been answer enough. Yet she clarified. I did. They say he killed the entire royal family of Treva. That he worked with the wizard who cursed the sun. If it’s true, that is curious company you’ve choosen there.

It is true, but also a lie. The man was cursed by that wizard too. He had no control over what he did there. Now he tries to make this right again. He is helping me.

A hard pill to swallow, but he saw that Yrsa was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt – for now. Confident that even if they meant harm, her own men would be strong enough to stop them. They wouldn’t. But she didn’t know that.

Do not be unsettled by the appearance of my other companion. He is human, but he will look – unusual to you. There are parts of his body that have been changed by magic.

Now Yrsa laughed. Wizard, this is a strange encounter indeed. Then let’s see those companions of yours and let us get inside already.

He nodded and turned halfway away from Yrsa and the other three and raised his hand. A bright light appeared in the air and caused a surprised murmure from the watching men.

Only moments later the sound of two figures approaching came closer. Ravalor noticed the relief he felt of seeing both of them very much alive.

But he did not linger with that as he turned back to Yrsa. She seemed welcoming, the others as friendly and open to hear him out. Despite that, or maybe because of that, Ravalor felt even more tense than before. Even he knew enough about humans from all over the multiverse to know that difficult situations could bring out the greatest compassion and love among them, but it was also a fertile breeding ground for cruelty and deception. When the world became smaller, there was the tribe, and then there was everyone else. These people looked surprisingly healthy, and Ravalor wished his belief in the good in the heart man was still strong enough to not imagine them trying to capture and eat them later. Maybe he should try and elegantly drop a comment about how there really was nothing nutritious on him for any human.

Pelagius and Sasha were greeted by the people from Nidaros and they returned it with muffled voices, before Yrsa waved them to follow her. Almost naturally his group of three ended up between Yrsa in front of them and Red and Blond Beard in their back. This only strengthened the sense of paranoia within him.

They passed the massive ring of stones and in the centre there was the entrance to Wittenmoor. No longer hidden to the outside world the hexagonal shape protruding several metres into the sky looked sinister, dead, and looming over them against the dark red sky. Unlike Obermoor and Marcardsmoor which were surrounded by several buildings and structures according to the tower’s purposes, Wittenmoor’s true might was completely hidden below the surface.

Ravalor could have stopped the tower from doing what it was about to do by simply blending in with the others as just another human, but he was already declaring himself brazingly as a wizard, so there was no utility in that. So knowingly he said, There might be light.

Yrsa glanced back at him. Light?

But before Ravalor needed to bother answering, the moment he stepped close enough for the tower to recognize him, the world before them lit up bright as day as the tower woke up.

Pelagius and Sasha were pretty unshaken, however, the same could not be said for the others – there was more than one surprised curse and exclamation of profanitys.

That’s you? Yrsa asked, having to squint against the unfamiliar brightness.

The tower recognizes me as a wizard. As I told your men, it was built by us, he explained. Maybe this was good. There was nothing impressive about that simple passive background scan that had picked up his identification signature and reacted automatically with its set perimites – but if it made him seem more powerful than they thought him to be, he would take it. Maybe less danger of ending up as dinner too.

Hm, Yrsa just said and turned back to the tower. By the time they entered through the high gate footsteps came rushing up the first flight of stairs.

Yrsa! The entire thing– a young hectic voice shouted before he had even reached them but Yrsa cut him off,

I know. It’s alright. It’s just light. Calm down. It’s because of our wizard here.

What?

Run and calm the others, everything is under control, and tell them to gather. I will speak to them when I have spoken with our guests.

16 Limit

The small group led by Yrsa and followed by the other two men continued down the stairs. Reaching the first landing they crossed a barren and empty hall. Still dead portal archways lined the round room and in its centre a rough stone stood like a pedestal missing its exhibit. It was a place of importance. But not on this earth.

Ravalor wondered if Aeven had recognized it from the legends when he had passed through here.

Before they had reached the stairs further down Ravalor had picked up the pace almost unnoticeable and caught up with Yrsa.

May I ask a personal question unrelated to my purpose here? He inquired which earned him an almost suspicious glance from the tall woman. Nevertheless she said,

Ask ahead.

Have you ever met the Northman?

Ah. The weariness fell from her in an instant as she chuckled while shaking her head. I know what you’re asking. But no. No relation.

Could have fooled me. He agreed, keeping his voice as open and friendly as possible.

One of my ancestors is to blame for that. She nodded, My grandfather used to assure me there was one that looked just like him. Like twins. That caused a lot of confusion at the time. Allegedly be played along a bit too often too. He probably liked it. She chuckled, fondly remembering the tales of her own family. So, I hear that question on occasion. Well, used to at least. There’ve been no pilgrims for a while obviously.

Ravalor nodded thoughtfully. It certainly fit time wise. In this reality, the young king who would become the Northman he had met all those centuries ago, had never set out and left his land to seek out the legendary power the wizards promised to those bold enough. Or maybe he had and found nothing on his travels. Nothing but the devotion of people believing him to be their absent god. He would have liked that, Ravalor was sure of it.

But no immortality had been granted to him. And so the King of Nidaros had been born, lived and died, long before the Warrior had first set foot on this earth.

He wondered if the Northman had been aware of his twin.

Their little group reached the first level of the tower and it became clear immediately that the survivors had not utilised the tower much beyond this point. Seemingly everything they could have reasonably travelled with was right here in the entrance hall. Hide tents mixed with little huts made from Wittenmoor’s own furniture, cooking, hunting and fishing equipment were placed at their appropriate spots, sorted and tidy. A few sleds stood against the wall to the right. Lines of dried meat and clothing hang between the columns holding up the ceiling. It all seemed like they had been here already longer than they planned, but still with the intention to leave at some point. Rudimentary lights were still burning, but they paled against the bright glow of the light panels that weaved in a wide curve from the ceiling down the walls.

All of them clashed with everything in the tower. Two cultures that had nothing in common, but one had been dead and forgotten, and so the new one took what it needed to survive. Humans did not belong in this place – and yet Ravalor had gotten so used to it in the last years that this didn’t even strike him as odd anymore. It just seemed natural. New order forming in the chaos.

There was a lot of talking – some of it excited, some unsettled, and all eyes followed their little group as they walked past.  

Yrsa led him into one of the small adjacent rooms, which seemed to have turned into whatever would constitute a throne room these days, as well as her personal quarters. These people hadn’t been here long enough to decorate accordingly (nor would they have had the resources or time besides trying to stay alive), but the room still carried a sense of importance in comparison to the tents outside.

Red had followed them into the room.

Now, lose that shell and sit down, Yrsa said, though it sounded more like an order than a suggestion. Ravalor waited till both Pelagius and Sasha had shed most of their layers of clothing to a reasonable degree and had sat down before he did so as well. They took notice of Pelagius’ sword, the only visible weapon they could see on them, but did not comment on it.

The desk and chairs were native to the tower – everything on it was not. Maps, tools, a dagger, a jug and some knick knacks spread halfway from a sachet. A thick roll of fur dominated the right side of the table – what piece of clothing it may be was impossible to say.

Yrsa didn’t sit down, just crossing her arms as she spoke again. A mild powerplay, harmless to engage in, there was no reason to challenge her on that.

So, wizard. What is your story then? What help do you need?

And so dutifully and calmly Ravalor started his tale. He told her about Zenozarax’ reign and, in basic terms, what he himself planned to do because of it. By the time he spoke about Pelagius, a young man came in and brought some hot beverages. Ravalor declined politely and continued his story while the others drank. He had a brief flash of terrible paranoia a little later when he realised he shouldn’t have declined the drink just to make sure they weren’t poisoned, but by then, if they would be, it was already too late. So hoping for the best and cursing himself in spirit he stoically continued his tale

He ended with the promise that they were almost done, but talking about Wittenmoor, he made clear that he couldn’t finish his task without taking from the tower what was needed and bringing it back to the citadel.

Yrsa only listened. She did not interrupt him, and even though his words must sound fantastical to her, there wasn’t much disbelief in her eyes. Nothing of what he said seemed to shake her, but he did notice her eyes glancing towards Sasha every now and then. There was a certain irony that Sasha with his bright artificial eyes and hands stood out the most, and yet technically he was the most human of the three of them.

So what I need from you is nothing but your permission to take some of the resources from below. He ended his abridged retelling of the last months.

Huh. Yrse’s pose had not changed once. Arms crossed still looking down at them. What permission do you need from us? If what you say is true, this tower as you call it belongs to you more than us.

Yes. Technically that is true. He nodded, But as I said, I’m not here to take it by force. He considered his next words carefully, Even though I could.

Closely he watched Yrsa’s face, and he saw that she understood that he chose a peaceful approach not out of weakness. She did not yet know the real extent of his powers, but she was careful enough to believe his words. So she nodded.

Stay with us for supper, will you?

Ravalor blinked as Yrsa’s words did not fall into the multitude of responses he had anticipated and planned for in his head.

You can take what you require and we will help if you need. But I want my people to hear about hope again.

He wouldn’t be looking forward to it, but he understood it. For four years it had been his burden to keep the soldiers under his command in high spirits – or as high as was reasonably manageable. And somehow he had managed. She was in the same position now.

But it was risky.

Pelagius met his eyes, he looked tense, too jaded to trust this peaceful resolution yet. There was an unspoken question between them, but Pelagius answered it with a light nod either way.  

Sasha on the other hand looked nervous and unsure, his eyes didn’t linger on any one person for too long. He was still too inexperienced in any social negotiation as to fully know what to expect. But Ravalor knew this would be good for him. Maybe it would take away that loneliness after months of isolation, for all of them — at least for a short moment.

Both of them waited for his decision.

And so finally he said,

We’d be honoured to be your guests.

*

Ravalor was painfully aware, or at least his by now flourishing paranoid disposition tried to warn him, that every second longer they spent here was a chance for something to go horribly wrong.

And so the more jarring it felt when… it didn’t.

Yrsa talked to him about the plight of her people, the first years under the dark sun, meanwhile he watched Pelagius and Sasha applying themselves with the locals – helping to set the table where they were allowed to, mingling to an extent with them too, though it was mostly Sasha while Pelagius kept more to himself.

He took a moment to remind both of them that, while they were guests and invited to eat and drink with them, they ought to show restraint since food was scarce.

The meal they were offered was not much in variation, but seemed surprisingly high in its nutritional value. Despite the hostile circumstances the people from Nidaros were still prolific hunters. The game on land had moved southwards and they had followed. It was scarce here too, and he wondered how many hunting parties were out there in the cold right now, scouring the desolate wastelands of snow for enough gain to keep all these people fed and healthy as they were.

But the fatty meat on the plates ought to be seal or some other sea creature Ravalor supposed, still left from their travel across the ice. He did not ask, cared or felt inclined to taste it. If it was rude to decline the offered food, it would be an infraction he would consider manageable.

Instead of eating he answered the question of the survivors and did what Yrsa had asked of him. He kept the information he gave vague, but substantial enough to spark hope. He watched his two companions in the meanwhile. Pelagius was still tense, he wasn’t talking to anyone. Sasha, while looking more sickly than ever, seemed at the same time more lively than he had seen him in weeks, answering questions over his modified appearance with a lingering smile, seemingly just happy to be talking to anyone.

And for a moment, as he watched him, he became unwillingly aware of the rushing line of associations his brain connected, cross referencing the present with his memories. All his memories. It was distant, but once he found them, the memories of his other Parts became clear in his mind. A moment of the Warrior in Obermoor, the soldiers laughing, celebrating the successful engine test. A festive inauguration the Kingmaker attended as a guest of honour. A cold but warmly lit winter festival the Hermit had visited at Zenozarax’ side. Even one celebratory meeting the Wizard had in Mezchinhar, marking the end of a project he had worked on with a few other wizards.

They were good memories. All of these occasions he had reluctantly attended, and yet they were good memories.

He felt his heart become heavy, and for the first time in months he wanted nothing more than to go back. Go back to how things used to be. Before all of this.

*

After the meal they went down the tower.

Wittenmoor’s storage was even worse off than Obermoor had been. More than two thirds of the materials that should be here, weren’t.

Ravalor had expected as much. Still seeing it was a different thing.

A few of the people from Nidaros had followed them down into the depth of the tower, to help as they offered quite readily, but surely out of curiosity too. Previously the absolute darkness had kept most of them to the uttermost top levels of the tower. Now with the lights turned on they were eager to see what lay below.

Yrsa was there of course, Red too. Just that Red’s actual name was Breen as Ravalor had learned earlier. Accompanying them were a good dozen of the group’s strongest men and women. Since he had decided against bringing the demons in, their help would be of immense value.

Scavengers got here? Yrsa wondered noticing the many empty storage shelves and containers.

Something like that. Ravalor confirmed. He didn’t feel like trying to explain that the thief in this case was reality itself and the differences between this universe and its parent one. If he started like that they would be here for a very long time and so he did it in the best wizard fashion and did not say anything about it at all.

The group split up into three parts – each led by Ravalor, Pelagius and Sasha respectively, as they went to different levels to collect all the things they would need. Ravalor ordered them to be all collected in a central location on each level.

That portal you’re building, what’s it doing exactly? Yrsa asked between two heaving huffs as she put down one particularly heavy crate.

In short, it will take in the curse currently surrounding the sun.

Where does it go?

Nowhere. It will simply stop existing, Ravalor said as he picked up the crate Yrsa had put down to put it on top of another based on an order by weight he had decided on. The ease with which he picked up the heavy crates had at first caused quite some surprised glances under the men, but nobody had been bold enough to ask.

What do you mean, stop existing? Yrsa frowned.

The place beyond the portal is hell. It doesn’t exist. Not like this world exists. There is nothing on the other side we can make sense of.

Breen scoffed, handing him another crate. If it goes from here to the other side, there has to be another side. How can’t it exist?

Because existence as we would define it assumes the existence of space and time. There is neither on the other side. Of course, there is something, just that this something isn’t a something. Everything we shoot through it will still be there, but it won’t be existing anymore.

By North you’re making my head hurt, wizard, Breen groaned, drawing laughter from the others who were not as brave to admit he had completely lost them.

Breen and the others fell into the trot of carrying and chatting with each other again, only Yrsa kept quiet.

When she was near him again Ravalor quietly said, “I can help you get further south.”

“More portals?” she assumed and he nodded.

“How much of a risk ending up in nothing too?”

“None. But it isn’t without risk.” Because he’d have to do it by hand. Even if all the portals in the towers would function, none of them connected to the other towers. A simple security measure assuring the fall of one tower would not spread instantaneously into the others. No wizard on earth had ever thought about having to move a large group of humans from one place to another.

Based on centuries worth of learning, the Kingmaker had become a very capable Planeswalker. That knowledge helped him now more than he’d have ever imagined with the dimensional portal beneath Treva. With that same knowledge, if he just had some izthra he could build those space-time connecting portals too. It would even be easy compared to the hell-portal. But there was no izthra on this planet. Because it wasn’t a natural element. Like all the things missing in Wittenmoor’s storage, it didn’t belong here. The only traces of it in his reach were fused into the magic within his veins, allowing him to connect two places in space and time.

“I’ll create a temporary portal, with my own magic. You will have to pass through it, one by one. And we might have to take breaks because holding a portal open for that long will be extremely straining for me. But it is doable.”

Both fell silent for a moment as Breen and the others unloaded another set of crates near them. When they were out of earshot again, Yrsa, who had heard what he said, and also what he didn’t, asked, “What happens if it fails? If you can’t hold it when one of us is going through it?”

“In the worst case, it will tear you apart,” he answered – and it felt strange doing so when his first impulse was to divert the question, obscure the answer because this was something no human really needed to know about. But they did. This time.

Yrsa stayed for a moment quiet, her brows drawn into a thoughtful frown.

“I have to admit, it is not easy putting the life of my people into the hands of a man who looks as exhausted as you do,” she finally said bluntly.

The Stargazer blinked. He had seen his reflection over the last months here and there, he knew he didn’t look too energetic, but he hadn’t thought his exhaustion was this plain to others. It was a worrying thought that it had become so normal to him that he didn’t even recognize it anymore. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “But that’s all I can offer.”

She nodded, making it clear that she wasn’t willing to make that decision yet.

*

Pelagius and Sasha both called in soon after another, only shortly before Ravalor’s own group was done, then they joined them again.

All of them showed signs of carrying heavy objects for the better part of an hour. It added a scent of sweat Ravalor briefly considered novel in this place that never would have smelled anything other than mechanical. Again this human presence that didn’t belong here.

Pelagius, I need you to take the magic from outside and use it to quickly transport all these things through the portal.

From the–

Yes. Ravalor cut in before the word demon could have been uttered.

Alright. Pelagius looked at Yrsa. You might want to send someone upstairs to warn them that there will be something coming through. It shouldn’t disrupt anything there, but it might scare them.

What is it? Breen asked seemingly already halfway turned around to do what Pelagius suggested.

A mass of magic. It will be glowing, moving almost like water. You can touch it, it won’t harm you, but I suggest not standing in its way nevertheless, Ravalor added. And Breen, lords bless his soul, while looking very sceptical just nodded with a prayer and a curse to the Northman under his breath and hurried back up the tower. They gave the man a few minutes to reach where he went and explain what would happen.

Then Pelagius unsheathed his sword, wrapping his magic infused hand tightly around the handle. Subconsciously or not, most of them took a step back. Only Ravalor kept unmoving, meeting Pelagius’ eyes. They both knew that this wouldn’t be much fun.

Alright, Pelagius muttered Here it comes.

At once the entire sword lit up, the entire blade and dark runes seemingly burning with that black fire and a vivid glow. Ravalor saw the tension in Pelagius’ face, the tightness of the hand around its handle. He would soon smell the scent of burned flesh too.

It took almost a minute.

It was eerily quiet – but impossible to miss. Without warning suddenly a bright glowing mass burst like a wave into the room from the corridor. It moved towards them, Yrsa and the others stepped back further but before the tumbling mass could have overthrown them, it simply stopped – forming into a perfectly round sphere of glowing light.

The Nidaroslers whispered amongst each other, but Ravalor didn’t waste much more time.

I want you to build a bridge, half of it on this side, half on the other. Envelope the crates and move them through as quickly as possible. I’ll try to give you a good view. He said to Pelagius who nodded tensely.

Ravalor raised his hands, the magic runes lit up, as he grasped into the air and the blinding light of a portal appeared before them. An astonished, maybe even frightful murmur went through the group.

Pelagius acted at once. The magical mass shot towards the portal and crates alike. It wrapped itself around the resources and at first slowly, then increasingly quickly they started to move like carried on an extremely bright conveyor belt.

Ravalor held his hands tight, holding the portal firmly anchored to himself and as stable as possible. By the time half of the crates and materials had passed he felt the strain burning in the magic running up his arm and settling as a numbing exhaustion in the back of his mind. Every second was countless calculations running in his head, adjusting for his relative position in space while the earth hurled through the solar system, dragged by the sun in the inescapable pull of its galaxy and the forces beyond. Two points in spacetime, seemingly static – and yet to keep this portal stable and open for this long was making his head spin. The only saving grace was the fact that it was on the same planet, that he could use his own position as well as the spire as anchor points.

When the last crate was through he let the portal collapse at once and as if the sudden lack of tension hit him like an avalanche he staggered back. His hands hurt badly and an artificial sense of sickness bloomed in his stomach as if to ask himself what the hell he was doing straining himself like this.

He had not expected it to take this much energy. ...or maybe more accurately he had hoped his own exhaustion wouldn’t hinder him this badly.

Commander!

I’m okay. He quickly said and steadied his stance before Sasha in all his worry could have reached him.

Now he only had to do it two more times.

*

Before reaching the level below, Yrsa had sent the others away to see to their duties again. She however, stayed with them. Witnessing and judging him in silence.

By the time he raised his hands for the portal he felt his mind protest and suspected he knew why Yrsa had sent the others away.

But he pulled through. When he let the second portal collapse again and all materials from this level were safely stored on the other side, the world was blooming before his eyes and he barely kept standing.

He was almost done.

*

Taking the steps a further level down, he stalled for time.

He should take a break. Take time to recover, at least a little bit.

He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t bring himself to do that.

No. Maybe that wasn’t quite true.

He didn’t want to stay here. He wanted to return to the spire, to continue the work, they were so close, they had everything they needed. He didn’t want to stay here.

He wanted to go home.

The thought lingered with him as he stood before the last pile of materials Sasha’s group had collected. It wasn’t as much as the other two, it was doable.

He couldn’t go home before he fixed this.

He had told himself that, over and over again. He had to make it right.

At the sound of a low metallic click he looked up, meeting Pelagius’ eyes who waited only for him to open the last portal.

Redemption. Not forgiveness. Like what Pelagius had done was beyond forgiveness and reason, but he tried doing the right thing now. Trying to redeem himself too. And maybe, if the knight could do that, he, the Stargazer, could too. Neither of them could undo what had happened –  they could only try to make it better.

Commander, maybe we should wait a while, Sasha said quietly.

Ravalor looked away from Pelagius.

We will rest back at the citadel, he said firmly, unwilling to be talked out of his conviction, yet surprised how troubled Sasha looked in response.

His thoughts felt sluggish and slow – like everything around him just took a while longer to make sense to him and to be properly computed in his mind.  

Pelagius.

I’m ready, commander, the knight said slowly, the tortured hand wrapped again tightly around the handle of the sword. There was blood on it, but Pelagius no longer seemed to even notice. If he flinched, Ravalor didn’t see it.

There was something in the way he said commander that struck him as odd, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

One last time he raised his hands. Ignoring the screaming warnings his mind flashed into his consciousness. The magic shot down his arms into his fingers and by now it burned like acid in the ancient markings.

The bright strip of light expanded with a snap into the sizzling sphere of connected spacetime. He stared through it, on the other side were the caverns beneath Treva. The place he had deemed safe to port the materials to. The piles from before were all there.

But he didn’t really see them. Nor did he really notice the dancing magic glowing before him as Pelagius got to work.

Just a little bit longer.

Two points in space. One connection. Calculating in his mind. Thousands of times every second. Again. And again – it hurt like hell. He was too tired.

His hands were shaking. Twitching. Burning.

He blinked hard as his vision flickered.

He felt like throwing up.

What a strange sensation. A perfectly human one of course, no matter how artificial in his case. It still served as a warning function – and so it was not utterly pointless, he supposed. A not so gentle reminder that he was overdoing it as his body tried everything to make him stop what he was doing. He needed to stop right now. But his hands felt frozen in place as the room around him became brighter.

You need to stop.

The gentle yet desperate voice of the Wizard spoke in his mind. It didn’t startle him. He wasn’t there. He couldn’t be. It was just a memory. An auditory hallucination he supposed with that calm, factual part of his mind that seemed oddly detached from what was actually happening.

Stay here.

As his mind overloaded, memory and present bleed into each other, the world shifted before his eyes, balking images reaching his visual sensors accompanied by stuttering sounds.

He didn’t blink. He no longer was breathing. His heart stopped beating. As artificial function after function was shut down in a last desperate attempt to keep his mind going. He wanted to lower his hands, he wanted to stop, but he couldn’t. He physically couldn’t stop anymore. There was something else. Something right there—

What are you doing?

And then the images before his eyes stopped.

The pain vanished.

There was a familiar and comforting hum in the back of his mind.

And for a moment – he felt weightless – embraced by nothing but light.

17 The Light

The Iumzache was the heart in Mezchinhar’s centre. It was the sole reason a space like that existed where no space was. It created time and space in the nothingness of hell. A miracle of the Lords not even the wizards themselves could begin to comprehend, let alone explain or, lords forbid, recreate.

It lay in the centre of the First Circle, Mezaiz, and so most wizards would never see the Iumzache during their existence, but it was said to be as large as a moon, and bright as a star. Both were amazingly unspecific, but it was impossible to weed out the legends from fact on this matter. The First Circle obviously didn’t want facts about this artefact of the lords out in the open, because it was the most important object in Mezchinhar. Everything existed and functioned only because of it.

Beyond creating space and time, the Iumzache was also Mezchinhar’s sole source of seemingly unlimited power.

And deep within them, built into the impossibly intricate magic passed down by the Lords to them, there was a link to the Iumzache every wizard shared from the moment they came into time. A link that was created not by hand or intent, but their mere existence. A link that could never be fully severed.

Distantly Ravalor heard voices around him, but he didn’t recognize the space he was in. He didn’t see people around him either. There was a bright light behind him and he turned around.

His entire field of view turned to light. And yet, wide eyed, he looked at it, up and down, left and right, a wall of light so massive in size that the faint curvature of its horizon wasn’t even visible from his point of view.

The Iumzache really was beautiful.

This close to it he felt the vibration of the drawn out pulse with every fibre of his being.

Again there were voices, their words did not belong here. He didn’t know what they were saying.

It was a strange light. Utterly unearthly, not shining in any colour ever named in the multiverse. It sparkled like a fine dust of moissanite. It wasn’t solid. Nor did it seem liquid or a gas, maybe a form of plasma – but even that wasn’t true, because it was fundamentally alien to this realm …

He felt the unbearable urge to reach out. Before he knew it his hand was raised, hovering before the otherworldly wall of light just centimetres away. He didn’t know why, but he needed to …

But then his hand abruptly stopped as suddenly the pulse changed. His hand, previously just millimetres away from the light twitched back before he could have touched it.

For the first time in billions of years Mezchinhar’s heartbeat stumbled. And the very moment he felt absolute horror take hold of his mind. The light before him became more radiant, but it stuttered, flickered. On top of the bright surface dark spots appeared, reaching with dark tendrils across the light.

He reached for his chest as a blinding pain shot through his heart. It was a pain like he had never felt before, it was everywhere, in every atom of his being. He couldn’t breathe anymore, and even though he didn’t have to, he felt like suffocating.

Have you thought about it?

He looked at Zenozarax who was watching the corrupting, blinding light before them. He seemed tired and exhausted and the thoughtful look struck Ravalor as strangely familiar. Then with a sombre look on his face, Zenozarax looked at him, raising his hand. Offering it to him to take it.  

But before he could have answered, the light exploded. From one moment to the next he was ripped away, the light blinded him, then there was the tower, the spire, the light, the sun, images flashing rapidly before his eyes before it all disappeared into that blinding light.

And he stared at a cold, bare ceiling with striped lights that in comparison to the radiant light from his memories seemed dull and dim.

For a moment he couldn’t move. Petrifying terror had taken hold of his entire being, and so he only stared, unblinking, at nothing.

The first thing he felt able to do was to raise his hand, it dropped like a stone onto his chest. As if it meant anything he felt his own artificial heartbeat. And beyond he still felt the warmth of Iumzache’s pulse. His true heartbeat, every beat drawn out over several millennia. It was still there.

He heard his name spoken. Heads appeared in his field of vision but he didn’t really see them.

Because in his mind he was still caught in the images that had played right before his eyes. The single images were crystal clear and yet stitched together so vague they said nothing. He had never seen the Iumzache, he couldn’t know how it looked, but there it was right in his memories with unshakable certainty that that was what he had just seen. The dark corruption spreading over it, once more sent an ice cold shudder through his body and finally he gasped. Breath filled his empty lungs again and he blinked.

Someone asked if he was alright as he sat up.

No. Definitely not.

He didn’t answer.

Someone said to give him some space, accentuated by a curse. It sounded like Pelagius.

Right. Pelagius.

Sasha. Wittenmoor. Yrsa.

The portals.

Commander?

He blinked again, and Sasha’s worried face finally computed in his mind.

Yes… he mumbled, subconsciously brushing his hair out of his face. He barely felt like he did. Like some part of him was still somewhere else.

The part of him that was here, right now, realised he was no longer in the storage room. Instead, he remembered the room to be Yrsa’s quarters. That alone suggested that he had been unconscious for a while.

Sasha was there, of course, as well as Pelagius. But also Yrsa and Breen. And they were staring at him as if they expected him to say something. But what?

Are you alright? Sasha asked. He stood next to the bed. Which consequently made Ravalor realise that he had been laying in said bed.

Yes, he merely repeated. He wasn’t really looking at anything, he wasn’t really talking to anyone either as he said,

I think we should go.

Before you do, may I talk to you? Alone? Yrsa’s voice cut through the heavy silence. He didn’t have to answer that, because everyone else seemed to deceit that his answer was yes, as Sasha stood up and followed Pelagius after Breen out of the door.

Ravalor had stood halfway up when Yrsa waved her hand, telling him to sit down again before she herself took the chair next to the bed.

About your offer, she started, raising one hand to stop whatever he had wanted to say before he even took a breath. I know you want to help, and I appreciate that. But I also see that you’re exhausted. And you don’t seem well.

Ravalor kept quiet. There really was no denying it even if he would have found the ability to focus on it. His eyes lingered on his own hands. Even now he could still see the brighter lines of his magic where it had damaged the overlying material. It would take some mana to heal again.

So keep your energy. Fix this. And if you do, we don’t need to go south anymore. I want to return to the home of my forefathers. We don’t need anything else from you, wizard.

He looked at her. There was a sense of shame he felt. Gratitude too. All of that burrier below a numb layer of utter confusion. How could he even begin to consider this problem when there was one magnitudes larger than he’d have ever thought possible, clawing at the back of his mind? But he had to say something. And so he said the only thing he could say, It may still take weeks.

We will survive. We’re good at that, she assured him grimly.

And he had to believe it.

*

The people from Nidaros were hopeful at their good bye. Only Yrsa and Breen seemed more gloomy.

Ravalor barely noticed any of it.

He opened the portal and Sasha and Pelagius quickly went through it before him, maybe nervous themselves that it and Ravalor would collapse again.

Ravalor only briefly looked back, meeting Yrsa’s eyes a last time, she gave him a firm nod. Breen wished him good luck.

Then he stepped through his portal himself, and momentarily it collapsed behind him when he was through.

From one moment to the next they had left the crowd behind and were again alone. Just the three of them.

And again they looked at him as if they waited for him to say something. He was still not sure what that was.

Commander… Sasha started hesitantly but Pelagius cut him off,

What was that?

Ravalor didn’t answer as he walked over to the work desk and sat down. He still felt distant from himself, his mind occupied elsewhere.

You definitely did not die. Not like usual. Your eyes were glowing the entire time till you woke up. And now you’re … what is wrong with you?

He heard anger in those words, accusatory and worried at the same time. Irritation born from not knowing.

I overdid it. That’s all. Partly the truth, partly a lie. But it was easier than trying to explain the shattered confusion in his mind. I should have taken a break.

He had raised his hand, hovering over the work desk – but really he didn’t know what he even wanted to do here. And so he stood back up, I think I should do so now. I need to think, he said more to himself, then, Would leave me alone for a while please.

He didn’t even really see the puzzled and surprised glances exchanged by Pelagius and Sasha as he already sat back on the bed. The sheets were not as clean anymore – but it was still very soft.

Sure. Pelagius said, dragging the word.

Are you– Sasha started, but stopped mid sentence for reasons Ravalor didn’t know.

Then he heard steps, then the doors shutting. And silence. Finally silence to really focus on the tangled mess of thoughts in his mind.

*

He’s not alright, Sasha stated in clear distress.

I noticed that, Pelagius murmured, brows drawn deep over his eyes while they entered the summoning chamber. Otherwise he surely wouldn’t have sent us away together.

He heard Sasha’s footsteps stop abruptly and turned around to him. The uncomfortable realisation was still clear in his face.

Calm down. I’m currently not harbouring any murderous intentions towards you. At least not more so than usual. His last remark was meant humorously, but he saw that Sasha was way too tense to take it as intended. He had noticed his humorous remarks weren’t quite landing for a while. Which was a bit disheartening. Then again, he did just joke about the fact that he had tried to beat him to death before – so maybe this was on him.

That’s reassuring, Sasha pressed through his teeth, looking more than unhappy, glancing around.

Listen, Pelagius said, keeping his posture open and as non threatening as he could. I’ll go make myself useful. There’s a lot of stuff down there that needs sorting and prepping.

But what about the commander?

What about him? What is there we can do now but wait for him to tell us what’s wrong? He needs some time alone, fine. I’m not going to sit here twiddling my thumbs. Pelagius said firmly, first after the fact realising that he shouldn’t be too harsh in his conviction here, in case Sasha wanted to do exactly that. He took his bag of tools and work lights before turning back to Sasha.

No, you’re right, Sasha admitted and Pelagius gave him an appreciative nod as he walked over to the portdoors. There were enough things left to do for both of them to make themselves useful in their own way while Ravalor dealt with whatever was wrong now. But as he heard steps behind him, he halted.

What are you doing?

I’m coming with you.

Pelagius frowned, their eyes met for a long moment. He tried to figure out if this was a show of good faith or pity, a decision made out of nativity or good will. Maybe it was a little bit of all of that. The last few hours had gone well, but his gaze flicked to the still very visible scar on Sasha’s temple. He wouldn’t let that happen again. Are you sure?

I want to help, the sooner this gets done the better. Sasha said grimly but then paused, Or do you need to be alone?

Pelagius considered that for a careful moment. And he appreciated Sasha asking. It could be humiliating, he supposed, but right now the mere question was reassuring. A simple acknowledgement that both of them knew to be careful.

Then he said, No. I think I’m good. There was frustration and anger, but it was merely simmering calmly within himself, stirred by what just happened, but not threatening to boil over.

While Pelagius manipulated the panel at the portdoor’s side Sasha added, We need to get away from here.

I hear you. Pelagius agreed quietly as the sparkling door opened up before them.

This place isn’t good for him.

Pelagius glanced back. Judging the stated concern, weighing it in his mind, watched for the reaction of his own mind. Hm.

What about you? You don’t look too good either. Pelagius asked instead of talking about Ravalor as he went through the static portal. He remembered Ravalor’s promise of medicine for the soldier they were to find in Wittenmoor – he hoped he hadn’t forgotten about that.

I’m alright. Sasha said behind him, his voice slightly distorted till the moment he went through the portal himself, joining Pelagius on the reactor level.

Sure you are, Pelagius grunted with a frown.

There was a moment of silence after that as they went up the stairs again to reach the tunnel access.

There is abnormal cell growth in a few of my organs. Mainly stomach and lungs. Probably from eating and breathing contamination. It’s sooner than I’d have expected – but I’m no doctor, Sasha finally said.

Is that bad? It sounded bad.

It is. Sasha nodded, but he didn’t sound like it was. As a matter of fact he sounded very matter of factly. We have an implant. Sasha tapped at his chest Right below the heart, that stimulates cell renewal and metabolism. It’s meant to support any healing process – but I think it does the opposite now.

Can it be taken out?

Open heart surgery? Sure, sign me up.

Pelagius felt a distinct flash of irritation, why was he even this concerned when the soldier himself didn’t seem to really care? But he realised he was looking at it wrong. He only saw the surface. Ravalor had to be undoubtedly aware, so to answer his own question he deduced that taking it out was probably a greater chance to just die than leaving it in. And Sasha knew that. He was joking about it because it was the only thing he could do.

On their way up from the reactor to the entrance to the tunnels, they passed the chamber where the preserved corpses still rested in the pools of Dynazane. Maybe that was an option, he wondered. Freez Sasha till they could go. But then again, having seen the death faces beneath the icy surfaces… he wasn’t sure he would trust that option either. But he’d keep that in mind just in case.

I read that humans can get a hundred years old, right? Sasha suddenly asked.

Some. But that’s rare. Pelagius took one of the work lights from his back, holding it in his hand the magical device connected with his own implants and lit up in a bright teal shine. Then they passed through the hidden passage. The walls were torn down now, leaving only an ugly, unceremonious hole in the bricked stone.

That always seemed a lot to me. But I know I won’t get that old, Sasha said.

Ravalor spoke of some medicine. Eh – anti cancer meds?

Yeah, that will help. But still. I’ve been alive for 4 years, but technically I’m something like 23. But I probably won’t live past 50 even in the best case, with all the meds.

Why? Pelagius halted looking back at Sasha who just tapped on his chest again.

Cell renewal only happens so often. At some point, what’s human in me will just die. Just quicker in my case because of the implant. His expression became thoughtful. You’re immortal right? Like the commander? You don’t age.

Not sure. A horrible sensation crept up in his thoughts. Nobody seemed to understand how his own ’immortality’ worked. What if he only had a certain amount of deaths he could heal through? If what Sasha said was true and cell renewal only happens so often – what if one day he just simply wouldn’t wake up?

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt it again. A sensation lost to him over the last years. The fear of death. It felt horrifying – and yet, strangely healthy. Like his mind remembered that, as a human, his base instinct should be to not wanting to die.

Sasha, perfectly unaware of the existential dread he had just kicked off within Pelagius, continued, I can’t even imagine how that would be. Four years seems like such a long time already…

Pelagius pulled himself back together, swallowing hard. He noticed his hand was firmly grasped around the hilt of his sword as if he was looking for stability from it. It’s because that’s been all your life. He said, clearing his throat again. Once you live eight years, that’s half your life, then a third – it will seem less long to you. Time goes faster the older you get.

Sasha frowned, tilting his head, then he even seemed amused. I don’t think that’s a law of physics.

No, that’s a human thing.

*

They reached the antechamber to the portal room in silence. It was still some couple hundred metres away from the main chamber itself, for safety reasons as Ravalor had stated. The three piles of resources from Wittenmoor stood in the antechamber’s centre.

Putting his bag down he took one light after the other, activated them and placed them straight in the air all the way around the chamber. Besides a little wobble they stayed right where he left them, suspended in mid air.

We’ll need the Commander to bring the raw resources into the repository. I don’t think we can get a summoning circle down here, Sasha stated as he looked over the piles of materials.

Indeed. Pelagius confirmed. There will be a lot of portals.

Are you worried?

I think he can do it. Pelagius answered, But I worry he’s getting impatient. What happened back there? Didn’t need to happen. We could have stayed a few hours longer, to give him time to recover. He wasn’t just worried, he was unsurprisingly also angry about it. But he barely took notice of that. Of course he was. That’s why he was here, to put this restless tension to good use instead of brooding and making it worse. He would have thought by now he’d have gotten used to Ravalor’s secretive nature but as it turned out it wasn’t so. Not knowing what was going on still irritated him to no end.

I know, Sasha said. And I don’t get it. He’s never been impatient. Or careless.

Would be nice to have that part of him, Pelagius grunted as he picked up one of the larger crates and put them aside. Let’s put everything that will have to go up over there.

Alright. Sasha followed his lead. What do you mean?

From what Zenozarax told me, they are different, their parts. At least somewhat. Your Commander was his Warrior, right?

As far as I understood it, yes. Sasha nodded.

Those are usually the most focused and task oriented. Lots of attention to details.

Huh. Did Zenozarax tell you a lot about them? Wizards, I mean. Sasha asked, and Pelagius, after having put down another crate, stemmed his hands into his sides, a frown in his face.

By North, he told me a lot about everything. Just kept on blathering about this and that, endless musings about the nature of the universe and how all wizards suck, his words not mine, the design of the spire, the demons, the staffs – Pelagius frowned slightly, He once talked about three hours about the ’weird consistency of mushrooms’. Saying it out loud made the memory seem strangely surreal in retrospect.

I like mushrooms.

I’m sure you do. What I’m saying is, it was more listening than talking.

What was he like? I mean, besides talking a lot. Both had stopped in their work, and Pelagius realised what Sasha was looking for. But he didn’t think he could give it to him. It was the same Ravalor probably had wanted to hear too. A justification.

He wasn’t insane, if that’s what you’re thinking. Sure, he drove me almost insane with how much he talked but… No. There was a reason for all this. A good one. He believed he was doing the right thing. Or better, he did what he did for the right thing. So I did too.

What was it?

I don’t know. He never talked about that. But it was important. At least to him. Justifying all this… death.

It wasn’t a satisfying answer, he was aware of that, he himself wished he knew. To be able to make sense of it all and what he had to do. But it was all he knew. And in reality, he knew, no justification, no matter how good, would make it okay.

What he did… what we did. It was cruel and calculated – but it wasn’t… he halted, then continued.  It wasn’t a village or people, it was numbers and requirements. Resources. The means to an end.

“That’s horrible…” Sasha muttered. And after that he stayed quiet for a long while.

 18 Prophecy

Afraid.

He pondered over the word, examined it from every direction, cross-referencing it with what he felt.

Scared. Terrified. Horrified? What was even the difference?

All of that seemed true and not yet quite there.

He felt too calm for all of that.

Curious.

The Stargazer tilted his head slightly.

Shock.

That could be it.

But this was an awfully long time to be shocked, wasn’t it? Unfortunately, he neither knew what a reasonable period of shock would be for any human nor wizard. And currently, he wasn’t able to sheepishly browse through Mezchinars libraries to find any journal entry of any wizard telling him Oh shock, yes that can last for a while – it’s a young wizard thing.

It didn’t feel right.

Then again, shock probably wasn’t supposed to feel right, that was the point.

Whatever it may be – one feeling he felt very clearly and had no doubt about was the fact that he still felt petrified. Almost detached from his own body, now that he was sitting (and he had been sitting on the rim of this bed since the door had fallen shut), he felt unable to move or do anything else.

He understood that those brief flashes of visions he had before had been just that, flashes. The vision he had in Wittenmoor had been on a completely different level. No longer faced with vague seemingly static points in time, he had been there himself. He had been part of it. He had seen something he shouldn’t be able to know, something that he might would know at some point. If this path in time became true. At least he had to assume it was that because he failed to explain it any other way.

In his mind, he replayed what he had seen over and over again. Snippets of visions as clear as memories, from the spire, the citadel, the darkness, the light …. and of Zenozarax. And the Iumzache. The horrible infection spreading over its bright surface and the explosion of light.

And over and over again he tried to make sense of it. See the red line, the connective tissue holding these fragments together, but there was none. At least, none that he could see.

Yet.

And that was what scared him. The possibility that what he had seen indeed was connected and he would first be able to see the path behind him once he had already reached its end.

The idea that anything could happen to the Iumzache was insane to him. It was impossible. It had been there for millions of iums, it had existed before any wizard even had first come into time. How could anything he did here lead to what seemed like the collapse of a force this massive and ancient?

What if saving this earth, restoring the sun, somehow would lead to that? What if not saving this earth would lead to that?

Time doesn’t care about one wizard. One planet. 

Zenozarax’ words were distant in his memories, fragments of the Hermit’s last memories that just barely made it through the distortion.

What if nothing of what he did mattered in the first place and it would happen either way?

Have you thought about it?

About what? What did he mean? Why was this prophecy version of Zenozarax, who usually was very straightforward and direct, this horribly out of character with being this unnecessarily cryptic?

And why did those words sound so familiar to him?

Nothing of this made any sense! And he was surprised how angry that made him. It was unfair, he had come this far, so close to actually make a difference, to give this planet a second chance. And now some vague, probably impossible, out of time visions tried to tear that all down.

What was he supposed to do? Just leave and hope it would turn out alright? Do nothing while he knew this planet would die?

He couldn’t do that.

And because that was the only thing he was really sure about, there was only one thing he could do. He needed to finish what he had started. Fix the sun. It was the only thing he could influence. What came after that…

He couldn’t know. Prophecies were a gamble to begin with, staking one’s bets on them a losing game. But the prospect of theoretically knowing even an ever so small chance of the future became more and more terrifying to him. Because he now truly experienced how unsettling it was to know the What but not the How or Why.

But he couldn’t stop now.

The thought finally gave his body and mind the jolt to stand up again. He took the last bottle of mana from Zenozarax’ stash, it was almost empty already and this time he didn’t even bother with a glass as he went back to the desk already unscrewing the top.

It was time to be the wizard he was and do what a wizard, especially one with visions like this, was supposed to do.

The metallic tang of silver lingered again on his tongue as he sat down. He put the open bottle down next to him and cleared the table of all the knick knacks and unfinished magical devices, just shoving them back against the wall. Then he pulled a few sheets of almost silvery and fine paper from the drawer underneath the table top before rummaging through the side ones for a suitable pen. As he found one he hesitated – taken by an unexpected pang of nostalgia. It was a very familiar pen. From a set of four, a black design with a swirl of dark blue waves circling the cap and a fine silver rune engraved on its end. He wondered why it was here – but then again, most wizards carried their prefered writing tool with them at all times. Yet it seemed close to a miracle that Zenozarax hadn’t lost it in all these years, considering all that happened. Only now he had.

As he opened up the cap the very fine tip gave a low glow and turned pitchblack. It was over two millennia old, but still as functional as the day it had been crafted.

He let the tip hover over the blank paper, it seemed almost blindingly pristine in the warm bright light of Zenozarax’ room. Then with a flick of his hands he turned down the light, the room fell dark and instead he conjured up a small magical light, letting it hover just to his right.

Just like the Hermit would have done in his cave in the tunnels. Just like the Warrior had in his room in Obermoor.

And then he began to write.

All he had seen and done. Every thought and assumption poured onto the pristine pages and soon he had to take a few more from the drawer.

Hours had passed by the time he finished the last page, ending with where he was now, stricken by visions and close to the end of what his journey had been.

He lay down the pen and pulled the light pages together, straightening them.

His first prophecy was written.

And now that he had done so, he felt a strange sense of acceptance. As if writing it down had taken some of the burden from his shoulders. It was here, no longer just in his head. It was, while no more clear than before, graspable.

Every actual Prophet would probably scoff at it, he suspected there was an agreed upon form and style prophecies should be written in. But Ravalor didn’t know about that.

The small stack of papers lay light in his hands before he put them down and walked over to the small summoning circle. Quickly he let his glowing fingers run over the smooth surface and immediately the circle began glowing itself. A second later as he pulled his hand back the magic started to pour out of the fine markings of the circle, and before his eyes, engulfed in that magical light, a small cylinder formed.

As it was done and the magic retreated back into the circle he took the cylinder and opened it’s cap as he went back to the desk. He rolled up the sheets of paper and pushed them into the cylinder before closing it again. It gave a first low click and when he gave it another small nudge with his own magic it gave another, more solid click, locking its content behind a magical lock. And with that click he felt a stoic sense of calm.

Ravalor considered the small scroll in his hand, it was barely a handspan in length and would fit comfortably in one of his vest pockets. But he shouldn’t be carrying it with him. That would defeat the point – he needed to put it somewhere or give it to someone safe that would survive him should he die. Well, actually he should give it to the Filemasters in Mezdovat. But that wasn’t currently an option.

For now however he did put it in the breast pocket of his vest, joining all the other knick knacks he had been carrying around since Mezchinhar. And after a moment he also took the pen and put it next to the scroll. Afterall, he had lost one of his three, the one the Hermit had been carrying, when earth had been vaporised.

*

God dammit!

A loud clang underlined the curse, echoing through the antechamber.

Must be a magical lock. Sasha suggested, sounding rather hesitant and true enough as Pelagius angered glare met his, the young soldier twitched back just a bit but still kept sitting.

The cursed crate, which refused to open even after the very scientific hit of his fist, seemed almost taunting him. Alright. We’ll see how long that will last. He took a few steps back drawing his sword.

Pelagius! Stop it. We’re done here. There’s nothing more we can do but wait for the Commander.

What is going on here?

Both Pelagius and Sasha visibly flinched at the sudden third voice in the room. Both had been so occupided with the stupid crate and each other they hadn’t heared Ravalor appear.

Commander! Sasha jumped up.

Open it!

Both Ravalor and Sasha looked at Pelagius who still held his sword raised towards the crate.

Don’t look at me. Open it or I’m going to blow the whole thing up!

Pelagius– Sasha started but Ravalor vaguely raised his hands and he fell silent.

With watchful eyes he walked past Pelagius, the ancient markings on his fingers lit up as he let them run along the front edge – and in the silence in the chamber, the low click was clearly audible. Then the spring opened and almost in the same moment Pelagius let out a relieved sigh, lowered the sword and dropped down, sitting on the floor.

Sasha caught a glimpse of its content. That’s … what’s that?

Amielex. Ravalor said. The base component to make mana. But truely, it didn’t even matter to Pelagius. There could have been dirt in it for all he cared.

The sword lay on his lap as he lowered his head, taking a deep breath. Stupid crate.

Quietly he listened to the other two.

Are you alright?

Yes. Ravalor answered, and from his tone it was impossible to tell if that was true or not. But he sounded more present than before. You sorted the materials?

Yes. Sasha sounded eager to explain and true enough, These need to get into the summoning network, we assumed we have to use the one in the spire, yes? A short pause, maybe Ravalor nodded, Those things can stay here when we bring the tools down here. And those we didn’t quite know where they should go. That included that stupid crate.

Most of that needs to get into the repository as well. It’s not needed for the portal but will help each of us in their own right to keep as healthy as possible. We need to start you on extended treatment as soon as possible.

Ravalor sounded different. Pelagius frowned slightly, raising his head again, really looking at Ravalor. Just some hours ago he had seemed like a mere shell of himself, now he sounded more confident than he’d ever heard him talk.

Ravalor, he said quietly, but the wizard heard him and turned to him. Yes. He even stood differently. The head held just a bit higher, the back a bit more straight. He looked still as exhausted as always, but the change in posture alone gave him an unfamiliar air of stoic dismissiveness. What happened?

For a moment, as Ravalor looked him in the eyes, he thought he wouldn’t answer him. Would dodge the question like he always did so masterfully.

But then he said, I had a vision.

A vision? Sasha echoed.

Like – prophecy? Pelagius brows raised.

Yes.

Pelagius scoffed. I thought you hated those.

Of course he would have told you that. Ravalor slightly shook his head. But my personal dislike of prophecies doesn’t change the facts. I have had them since I arrived here. This last one was the strongest yet.

Hope’s a good one. What’s it about? Pelagius stood up and sheathed his sword again.

I can’t tell you that. Just know that we will continue as planned. We will restore the sun.

Pelagius felt a very strong flame of irritation, but swallowed it. There were two parts to that statement. The first he hated, the second sounded confident enough that it actually would work with an uncharacteristic certainty. But he disliked it for more reasons than that.

Why can’t you tell us? Sasha asked, he stood now besides Pelagius. He didn’t seem to be happy about it either.

It would do no good. This knowledge is not for you. Let this be my burden to carry.

He wasn’t saying much, but Pelagius suddenly had the distinct feeling that what Ravalor knew was not all good. The more curious this sudden sense of confidence was. He hated it. It felt almost like a mask.

Alright. Then tell us what needs doing now, great Prophet. He wished his tone could have been a little less bitingly sarcastic, but as he met Ravalor’s eyes again, there was nothing but stoic calm.

Let’s move these crates. Pelagius, are you rested enough for it?

I am. He said, even though that wasn’t quite true. His hand still hurt like hell from Wittenmoor, and he was quite tired. Are you?

Yes.

Pelagius wondered if that was true either.

*

With all the preparations they had done before, the construction of the hell portal took only six days.

Ravalor barely slept at all, if forced to recall it may generously add up to a handful of hours in total. Pelagius and Sasha managed to sneak in a more reasonable amount of hours per night (or whenever the chance offered itself) but were kept on task and track by Ravalor’s busying. When they worked they did so often from the moment they woke up till they fell exhausted into their bed.

After moving everything to where it was supposed to be Ravalor had seen too it that Sasha would get the medicine he needed, and in the last days the physical health of the Soldier had already seemed to improved.

Ravalor had mixed up and activated a fresh batch of mana that now sparkled slightly in the bottles in Zenozarax’ room. He had been drinking it sparingly before but now went through half a bottle per day. Consuming it in these quantities made him feel sick but it also helped against the lack of sleep and the amounts of portals he needed to create and hold each day now.

One evening, in a moment of misplaced curiosity, he had even offered it to Pelagius, with the reason that since Pelagius seemed to be more magic than human at this point, it might do him some good. It didn’t really. All that happened was Pelagius voicing very firmly that the stuff was disgusting and he had a stomach ache for about 20 minutes afterwards. Which was different to the reaction of any normal human who would have needed to be hospitalised drinking that much mana, but not really the reaction he had hoped for.

By day four he for the first time noticed that he felt almost stable. The moments of him slipping into the void kept very brief, only ever second of losing himself before those vivid visions tore him from the darkness again. It barely interrupted his work.

He didn’t see the Iumzache again. Only the light and the spire. And he felt he was getting closer.

By day five, as their work drew to a close, the light in his visions had become all consuming, offering no other sight.

The sixth day arrived and his mind stayed his own.

He felt the exhaustion of the last days, but it was hardly any different than before.

Deep beneath Treva, Ravalor gave the plating of the portal a last firm shake, searching for instabilities or any loose screws. But there were none.

The chamber reeked of work and sweat, mixing badly with the beautiful show of light all around him that his human (and sweaty) companions couldn’t see.

Pelagius and Sasha sat to the side, watching him do the last check. Both looked awful, but not in a worrying way. If anything, behind all the dirt, grime and sweat, both Pelagius and Sasha looked downright content. They knew they had done it.

After months of work, they were done.

Looks good? Sasha asked, his voice echoing in the chamber.

Good. Ravalor confirmed, stepping away from the portal. He turned back to it as he reached the other two.

I think good is a stretch. It looks ugly as sin. Pelagius grunted with a light frown but his tone gave away that he was quite satisfied with the result as well.

As long as it works. Sasha chuckled.

One would hope so. Pelagius paused, nodding his head with that frown still lingering before he said, How did that go, An open path to hell... paused and frowned as he tried to remember the rest of the passage.

An open path to hell lain down, soon to take each king and crown. Sasha finished the quote, his face becoming more thoughtful. Of course he recognized the line from the legends that had shaped the godly tale of the Northman in this world. But this is different.

Pelagius’ brows raised. You know it?

Of course! Sasha declared firmly. We all do. And if things go wrong, the Northman will save us.

Oh. Pelagius lowered his head with a slim smile, seemingly amused or surprised over Sasha’s devotion. Only Ravalor noticed the way Sasha’s voice dropped in the end. Only a hint that his faith may no longer be as strong as it had been a year ago. For him, the Northman had never appeared. He hadn’t saved him. Both of them, Sasha and Pelagius had been taken out of the battle before the self proclaimed god had finally decided to show up. They didn’t even know about it because Ravalor had never told them. And now, no matter what happend, the Northman would not make his grandiose entrance at the last second and save the day as his legends promised.

You don’t believe that? Sasha asked carefully.

Not like that, no. Pelagius shook his head. But what do I know of gods. An extra prayer might help for this one to go right.

Ravalor watched both of them, feeling a sense of gratitude and fondness for both of these men. For the last six days in which they had all worked together there had been nothing but this focused sense of purpose which seemed to have kept Sasha’s melancholy and Pelagius anger in check. Besides the occasional burst of curses, things had gone downright perfect. All of them spurred on by the promise that soon all of this would be over and the promise of hope. To leave this place. To return to family and friends. To find a new life.

Thank you. Both of you, he said, cutting into their banter and both fell silent. Sasha grinned. Pelagius just nodded, but keeping that look of content on his face. Unfortunately there was not much more than his words he could give these two to show his gratitude right now.

Let’s hope it does do work. The knight said, glancing back at the portal.

It should. But I don’t think I want to rely on hope and prayers on this one.

You want to test it? Sasha peaked up, straightening up from his leaned back position.

I think we should. Just open it for a second or two to see if it can establish a connection to hell. I’d rather find out it doesn’t now as by the time we bombard the citadel with chaos with nowhere to go.

Yeah, that sounds bad. Sasha nodded along. Is it dangerous? I mean testing it?

Ravalor hesitated, looking at the portal. It shouldn’t be. As long as it turns off in time. And I see no reason it wouldn’t. I checked those controls about fifty times. It’s solid with plenty of redundancies.

Then let’s do it! Sasha jumped up displaying a commendable sense of enthusiasm. That however faltered slightly as he saw the frown on Ravalor’s face. Or…not?

No, we should but– Ravalor looked back at the portal. He felt a nervous tension within himself, an almost reluctance to do the test in the first place. It should work. But maybe he was just afraid it wouldn’t afterall.

Sasha shrugged, I mean, the last final test, and we’re all here now. If it doesn’t work you can yell at us directly.

Ravalor crossed his arms and glanced back at Sasha. Sasha. I never yelled at you.

I know. I’m just joking, commander. I mean if it doesn’t work, we can fix it right away. Sasha grinned.

Hmm. The thumbnail of his right hand clicked against his front teeth as he pondered the portal. It should be safe. Ravalor said slowly, trying to find any reason why they shouldn’t stay for the test in his knowledge about rift space portals. It was extensive, but all technical and clinical. He had close to no actual reference date about the practical opening of a portal like this. As far as he knew no human had ever witnessed the opening of a hell portal before. They weren’t supposed to.

Another click against his teeth.

But then again, no human was supposed to freely walk the halls of their towers, no human was supposed to travel on their ships, no human was supposed to behold the true extent of their magic. He had blatantly ignored all of that so far already – so this didn’t seem too outlandish to him. On the contrary, now that they had come this far, he really couldn’t help sharing that sense of curiosity.

Not sure I want to see hell, really. Pelagius murmured.

You can’t tell me you’re not a little curious! Sasha glared down at him.

Believe me, my curiosity for all things magical, all the way down here. He patted the ground with his hand, the magical device infused in his hand underlining the words with a metallic clanking. Do you want to test it right now?

We could do it right now, yes, Ravalor said, finally lowering his hand again and uncrossing his arms.

Ah dammit, alright. Then let’s light it up and be done with it, Pelagius said, sounding despite his complaints almost amused as he stood up.

But you should stay back, just in case, Ravalor warned.

Oh great yes, it’s perfectly safe, just be ready to run for dear life.

It’s going to work, Sasha said with a sense of refreshingly hopeful optimism. Ravalor felt a distant and painful tingling of a far away memory. But he ignored that – and turned back to the portal.

19 Hell

The portal he remembered the Hermit seeing for those few moments back on the other earth had struck him as wrong and unsightly.

Now he looked up to his own creation and realised it wasn’t much better. The magic infused structure of metal stood out in the dancing light around him like a crude and constant reminder that it didn’t belong here.

And while he entered the parameters into the console, very carefully and dutifully, he still found a moment to for the first time ponder over why the original one had been there in the first place. Why he had known about it – or at least suspected he once had.

They, Zenozarax and the Hermit, had used it, that much was clear to him now. If they had built it however he could not tell, but it seemed likely as there had been no record of it he had ever seen. Even in his conversations with Yoctotyr the custodian of earth hadn’t seem aware of such a dangerous device being right below Treva. On the other hand, even if he had known, Ravalor was sure he wouldn’t have told him and it would have been a good reason as to why Yoctotyr hadn’t wanted him to excavate those parts before.

Riftspaces weren’t dangerous in and of themself – if left to their own devices they existed without interfering with the world around them – it was the moment one tampered with them that could cause problems. Because as he had so perfectly demonstrated – the destruction of one was a force impossible to predict or shape.

All panels showed ideal working conditions, the simulated connection was stable. He set the automatic shutdown time to one and a half seconds. They would have just barely more time for the real run.

Behind him he heard Pelagius and Sasha talk quietly. While he was setting up the test, Sasha, seemingly driven by hunger as breakfast was now already 12 hours ago, had started to make dinner plans, changing his opinion with every sentence. Pelagius consequently told him with every change in plan if that was something they still had or not with a flat and impassioned voice. Since Wittenmoor and especially since all three of them kept working together Sasha had found some of his chatty nature again, and fortunately Pelagius was taking it with the unshakable patience the years under Zenozarax must have taught him.

Almost subconsciously Ravalor reached for the breast pocket of his vest where he felt that scroll holding his prophecy and the vision of light.

May it happen or not, based on whatever actions he may or may not took - if this test succeeded, at least this earth could be saved. And when he would return to Mezchinhar, others could ponder over what the prophecy meant. He felt comfortable with that course of action. He was ready to go home, ready to be whole again, and to work out who he was. And who he wanted to be.

And so he set the warm-up timer to two minutes and without allowing himself any more room for doubt, his hand connected to the main screen and a pulse went to the console, the timer started to run and the portal sprung to life. Still dark, but the magic in its frame started to hum.

Alright. He stepped back. Two minutes.

Sasha fell silent at once, a wide eyed expression on his face while Pelagius crossed his arms and, maybe only subconsciously, made a half step back.

Ravalor went to the backup console further back confirming all settings were running just the same. No errors. No warnings. The sound grew louder.

What will it be like? Sasha already had to raise his voice.

Hard to say, Ravalor answered as he couldn’t help but check the information and status one last time while the portal heated up. I’ve never seen one opened. At least as far as he could remember. Wizards tell of a fantastical show of light. But I’m not sure what you will see. You can’t see the rift space. Not to dampen the excitement, but there is a chance you may only see… nothing.

Ow. Like not even with my special eyes? He didn’t see it but it sounded like Sasha had used air quotes on that.

I really can’t say. Finally Ravalor looked back up to the portal. Everything was running smoothly. There was nothing more to do than watch.

Around him, the dimensions in tension reacted to the energy of the portal. He saw the waves of light bend around it, being sucked through it and spit out the other side till the room was filled with a swirling vortex of light and colours, fragments like specks of distant stars danced around him.

What do you see?

Ravalor shook his head lightly. There was no way he could really put it into words. Light. It is impossibly bright in here right now. Like a whole galaxy compressed into this one room.

I wish I could see it.

He glanced back onto the panel. 30 seconds left.

The passage of time was subjective. That was true for humans but it also was for wizards – just in a less metaphysical sense. With their focus drawn sharp, mere seconds could draw out to achieve thoughts and actions quicker than any human could dream of. If they let their minds wander, years may pass before their eyes. Some like Zenozarax didn’t even want to be aware of it.

Ravalor knew it was 30 second, but his focus was drawn so closely to every detail, every light and speck of dust, every motion and sound around him, the uncomfortable shifting of Pelagius’ stance, the tentative step of Sasha trying to find the ideal spot to watch, the vibration and microscopic movement of the portal, the feeling of the slightly trembling earth below his feet and the sharp scent of glowing magic in the air – that these 30 seconds felt like an eternity drawing longer and longer. He leaned forward, hands pressed against the panel, ready to act within the fraction of a second if anything should go wrong.

The last seconds ran out.

3

2

1

For over a second nothing seemed to happen, a strange pulse went through the portal as if it failed to establish the connection, and an avalanche of worry and fear rushed over the Stargazer, this shouldn’t be happening, it should open immediately–

But then with a snap that ripped through reality the portal opened.

It was only one and a half seconds. Ravalor knew that. But it felt like a lifetime as he stared into hell and his breath stopped.

There were no words for it in any language he knew because what he saw didn’t exist. It wasn’t something and it was everything. He knew he saw it but his mind couldn’t comprehend what he saw. Like every colour of the light spectrum blending into one and yet keeping their radiant hue, like every possible sound combined into one yet each of them distinct and sharp. He saw and heard all that and at the same time it was like he heard and saw nothing at all. And suddenly he felt an ice cold shudder shooting down his spine, as if staring into this nothingness had put some of it directly into himself, like it was something after all, something that knew he was there.

But that was just a fraction of a second before the portal fell dark again. Exactly one and a half seconds.

Dazed Ravalor kept staring at the now empty frame of the portal again, unblinking and motionless. Time still ran slow but deep within him an excited tingling rose up.

It worked.

They really had done it!

They were ready. He knew they wouldn’t have much time, but it should work. This was doable. A massive weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. Of course he wasn’t done yet, but he was so close now. It could work!

And for the first time in a very long time he felt a tired smile twitch on his lips.

And then he heard the dull sound of something hitting the ground. And then again, just that this one carried the sound of metal on stone.

Ravalor turned around.

And time seemed almost to stop completely. Because for what felt like minutes he didn’t understand. Maybe he didn’t want to. The world seemed muted and distant around him.

He moved but couldn’t tell he did. He fell to his knees. There was no conscious thought in his mind. Just numb and allconsuming horror as he stared down at the two bodies on the floor.

He grabbed Sasha without even thinking about it, turned his head and the moment he did so the Stargazer knew. He wouldn’t accept it for minutes to come, but in truth he knew in that very moment.

Sasha was dead.

He held the young soldier’s head, his back resting on his knees, if he said something he didn’t remember.

The young face looked calm and unmoving, eyes wide open, almost in awe. He saw the still well visible scars Pelagius’ attack on him had caused months ago. Noticed the slight crook in his nose after it had been broken.

And blood still dripped down his upper lip and ears.

Besides him lay Pelagius. And he saw the same sight in his face too.

Still not wanting to believe, the magic in his fingers lit up softly, trickling through Sashas head. But where it had found pathways and connections before was nothing left but dead flesh and blood. Even the low pulse he sent through his brain helplessly died as there was nothing coherent left to receive it. And so did the next one. And the next.

Then he stopped.

He felt nothing as he lay down Sasha – carefully as if it still mattered. Looking from Sasha to Pelagius. Hesitating. Lost. Then back. Then at nothing.

And then the Stargazer stayed there, sitting between the lifeless bodies, for a long time – until the darkness within him had swallowed him whole.

*

Pelagius woke up.

His brain was pulsing painfully in his head and he blinked against the seemingly blinding light. It made him feel sick. First when his eyes got used to it he realised he was still in the dimly lit riftspace chamber.

He felt something crumbling above his lip and reached for it, realising it to be dried blood.

The moment he forced his aching body to rise up, he spotted Ravalor. Laying unmoving on the ground beside him. Eyes open but pitch black, perfectly unmoving – not even breathing.

Before he could have done anything, his eyes had wandered further – and he saw Sasha on the ground too. And he saw the blood in his face, the bright eyes dully staring at him.

For a moment he just stared back.

…

Sasha was dead.

It was a strange realisation, one that he didn’t want to make sense but still did so very mercilessly. Pelagius himself had died, he felt it in his bones and the raving headache pulsing in his brain, and whatever had done that – had done the same to Sasha. But he wouldn’t come back. A sudden wave of absolute horror overcame him, as he hectically scrambled to get close to Ravalor. The pain in his head exploded as he moved so quickly, stars bloomed before his eyes but he didn’t stop.

Without considering any of Ravalor’s previous wishes and concerns, he just touched the wizard, turning him on his back, feverishly trying to spot any hint that would suggest that the wizard wasn’t actually dead. But there was none. There never was. But this time, that was not reassuring knowledge.

“Nonono….” he whispered to himself without noticing. He didn’t know what the portal had done, he didn’t know why he had died, why Sasha was dead, but he also couldn’t know if whatever it had been, hadn’t actually killed Ravalor for good as well.

They couldn’t be both dead!

He couldn’t be alone again!

And in a last desperate attempt to calm his own confused panic he grasped the wizards hand with his right one, the magic of his own hand pressing against the wizards palm – and with a bright shine of his own hand a bright pulse went through the markings on Ravalors arm and suddenly the wizards black eyes flashed up in that magical glow.

And he felt it shoot through his entire body.

It was a strange moment. It couldn’t have lasted longer than a second. But in that very second Pelagius felt almost torn from his own body. It was as if for that second, he was looking at himself, holding Ravalors hand, the magic glowing between them.

For that second, he saw Ravalor, not he himself did, but the curse within him. And he knew in that second that Ravalor was still alive. Because as the curse saw him, Ravalor saw it in turn. And it knew him.

His own desperate panic, the lingering anger in his heart, the hate – suddenly clashed against impossible grief. The anger bloomed inbetween it for a moment, and then died in the numbing regret, withered away till there was nothing left but this horrible, strangling sense of sadness that took his breath away.

The second past and almost startled he pulled his hand back – the light of Ravalor’s eyes faded. But they didn’t turn back into utter darkness.

Ravalor gasped, staring at nothing, but finally blinking again.

“Ravalor?” Pelagius asked carefully. He feared Ravalor’s reaction would he realise what he just had done – but for the moment, the wizard didn’t even seem aware of it. Instead he just sat up. But as Ravalor took his own hand in his other, looking down at it, there was no doubt about that.

“You shouldn’t have done that…”

He knew that. “Are you okay?” he asked. But Ravalor didn’t even look at him anymore. Instead his gaze was directed back at Sasha’s lifeless body.

Now that he looked at him again himself, it was like he was just violently reminded that Sasha was dead.

The fact caused an intense and unfamiliar grief pressing onto his heart. Its force was almost strangeling. Yes, he had never truly disliked the soldier even when at occasion some parts of him wanted him dead, hell, he had even come to like him as of late. His company had been a refreshing change. But he wouldn’t have gone so far to call him a good friend, if even a friend at all. Yet suddenly, right at this moment, his death felt like so much more to him.

“What happened?” It was concerning how often he found himself asking the wizard that, he noticed with a distant analytical part of himself that tried to get away from the strangeling grief.

Ravalor did not answer. It was also concerning how often he did that. But right now it seemed less out of choice but based on the fact that Pelagius wasn’t even sure the wizard was truly still with him.

Slowly Pelagius raised his hand, hesitated, then carefully touched Ravalors arm. Subconsciously he was already bracing himself to be shot into atoms.

But instead, finally, Ravalor did blink, his eyes refocusing into the here and now, and he looked at him, almost questioning, asking quietly why he interrupted him.

“What happened?” Pelagius carefully asked again.

Ravalor looked down, at Sasha.

“I think… whatever you may have seen, it was too much. I could barely comprehend it myself… if I would have known–” Ravalor said quietly before falling silent.

And Pelagius did remember. Not much but enough to believe him.

That brief, almost fleeting moment, as he had stared into the pit opening up before them where previously nothing had been. He had felt his brain cry out in agony the very second, but it had been just too quick. It had been a horrifying feeling, like his own brain was set aflame before his very eyes and he could feel every part of it. All in the span of not even two seconds. There had been no time to react, no time to do anything. When the portal went dark, he had stood, maybe for a second longer – but then his memories stopped abruptly. Taken by death.

It had been a quick death. But a horrible one.

And he felt sorry.

As if he had just taken on the grief of the world he felt sorry. Pelagius had to take a deep breath to focus his mind again, to think clearly, because no matter what just happened, they needed to continue, right? They couldn’t just stop here now.

“What now?” he asked and Ravalor looked back at him, the face void of any emotion as he answered.

“We will bury him. Then we continue.”

And there it was more clear than it had ever been before. That blasted mask again.

*

Ravalor carried Sasha’s dead body away from the riftspace, once far enough away he asked Pelagius to take him so he could create a portal.

Pelagius did and almost staggered. Ravalor had been carrying the dead soldier with ease, but now that Pelagius had to, he noticed how heavy the young man was, infused with all this magic and metal.

They went through the portal and arrived in the snow.

Pelagius considered laying Sasha temporarily on the ground, his weight had become quite heavy to carry, but decided against it. It felt wrong. He would first put him down in the place he’d stay forever now. His last resting place.

He recognized the place. The pillars of unused magic still marked the grave of a thousand unnamed victims, all buried in an unceremonious mass grave. Layers upon layers of dead bodies just below the frozen surface.

Calmly he watched Ravalor reach out, his hand started to glow and one of the pillars reacted, falling apart into a glimmer of light, rushing towards them. And a bit away from the mass grave, before the crumbling walls of Treva, it dug into the ground and tore through the ice and snow.

It was a nice day, in a way. There was no wind, and only a soft powder of fresh snow fell from the dark clouds. Their kind of a pleasant spring day. In the strange and distant red light from the black sun the snow looked like a dark desaturated pink.

They didn’t speak. When the hole was dug, Pelagius stepped forward and into it before he put Sasha down. For a moment he stood with him in his grave, looking down a last time into the young face. Considering the barely four years of life this man had lived. And it felt unfair and unjust.

It felt cruel.

Sasha had deserved to go home. To live. But of course it didn’t matter what he would have deserved. It was the same lament that had enveloped these past years, it was a tune of death and cruelty. All the people he had killed, all the people who had fought, struggled and starved to death, the sickness, the darkness. Many good people had died who would have deserved better. Sasha was just another one of them.

But instead of soothing the grief it only strengthened it.

Pelagius.

He took a deep breath and stepped out of the grave. With a slight move of Ravalors hand the magic shoved the earth and snow over the hold again, and just like that, Sasha was gone.

For a while, they stood there. Ravalor wasn’t looking at him, but when Pelagius looked at the wizard he found still no hint of any expression in his face. He felt the biting cold in every part of his body and they really ought to get back inside.

“Ravalor…”

Ravalor looked up from the grave.

And in that moment he realised and saw that while his face was perfectly neutral, calm and stoic – he was being consumed by grief. It was all right there, in his eyes alone. A desperation and helplessness Pelagius didn’t want to see – but right at this moment, he understood Ravalor better than he’d have ever imagined.

But as Ravalor spoke again, his words were as calm and collected as the expression of the mask he wore now. “You should sleep. I’ll do so too. In the morning, we will activate the spire.”

And Pelagius merely nodded.

20 The Last Step

Ravalor was already awake. In fact, while he had tried to sleep (once), he hadn’t gotten any rest this night. But he felt like it didn’t matter. He drowned his tiredness in more mana that made him feel sick because his body didn’t need it anymore.

Instead of sleeping he had been down at the reactor, then at pyramid two, three and four, then he had briefly tried to sleep for about 20 minutes before he had checked the entire spire from top to bottom for any glaring faults in the critical connections needed for what was to come. The hole in the spires side the TSS Northforce had left had been one of the first things they had patched, now the pillars of magic weaved through three entire floors. He checked those four times. The worst thing that could happen was the spire collapsing in on itself while the chaos was funnelled into the portal.

He hated that little voice in the back of his mind that told him he was bothering too much. Afterall, all his attention to detail hadn’t saved Sasha’s life now had it? One blind spot and misplaced optimism. Being swayed by an emotional driven argument. All of that were mistakes. All he planned to not repeat again.

And so he ignored that voice. Ignored what had happened. Ignored the grief in his heart. He had a job to do, and he would see it through.

When it was almost time he returned to Zenozarax’ room and woke Pelagius.

Pelagius rose from the bed and got dressed. He wasn’t saying anything but Ravalor felt the glances in his direction.

“Get dressed warmly.” He waited till Pelagius was done before he said, “I don’t want you here when I activate it.”

Pelagius nodded, he didn’t seem very surprised about this revelation. It made sense after what happened to Sasha.

“You don’t need my help for this anymore?” He sounded gloomy.

“No. Everything should happen automatically. I’ll stay here in case of an emergency–” Ravalor fell silent. The mere word caused a nervous tightness within him.

If this works, Pelagius said, fastening the belt of his coat tightly, what are you planning to do?

Pelagius was saying one thing but Ravalor realised that his actual question was where he was in those theoretical plans.

I want to go home.

He felt the sting that thought evoked in the back of his mind, words Sasha had spoken not too long ago. The Stargazer had been so sure he would go home, but right at this moment he was no longer as confident that he would.

I don’t know, he said instead. How do you feel?

Pelagius looked at him, seemingly surprised about the question and for a moment not sure about the answer. For another moment he looked hesitant to speak.

I feel… different since the portal.

What about the anger?

Pelagius shook his head. I just… I don’t know. He even chuckled briefly, but it was a pitiful, belittling sound at his own expense when he said, I think I just feel sad. I’m not really angry, I’m just – sorry? I suppose that is an improvement. He shrugged almost helplessly.

Ravalor sighed. I feared as much. He stepped towards Pelagius. When you woke me up, I did see the curse within you, and in turn it saw me. I felt your anger, and now you feel my pain as well. Give me your hand, let me try to ease your mind.

He held out his hand.

He was surprised to see a frown on Pelagius’ face.

Just like that? After all this time? Maybe there was something reassuring about the idea that this sudden anger in the knight’s voice was maybe for the first time more his own than it was the curse within him.

If it is something that has infected my own mind, the damage is already done, Ravalor said calmly, still holding out his hand without wavering. If not, there is no danger in doing it again.

Pelagius frown was deep and he looked – almost hurt. Betrayed maybe. But instead of airing more of his frustration he just let out a sharp whistling breath through his teeth and grabbed Ravalor’s hand.

Ravalor felt him almost immediately flinch back again as the magic tingled through the ancient runes directly into him, but Ravalor held his hand firmly.

Once more he really saw Pelagius. And his curse. It remembered him, it felt like welcoming him back. And he realised it had been as lost and abandoned as Pelagius, searching for it’s master, searching for a familiar wizard.

He still felt Zenozarax’ anger and frustration, his fear too, and he felt his own grief. And he accepted all of it. In turn the curse noticed the forced stoic calm of his mind, exploring it almost curiously. He felt a nauseating sense in his stomach as he let this absolutely foreign curse course through his own being without any attempt of stopping it. It wasn’t normal magic, nor was it chaos. It was ancient – the true magic of the lords. He felt its might and assumed, if it wanted, it could take over him too. But its master, even while gone, wouldn’t want that. And so it didn’t.

When it was done he felt a sense of equilibrium. He wasn’t its master, they both knew that, but he was trusted. The realisation sent a painful sting through his heart and he felt Pelagius hand twitch in his.

First then he consciously returned to the world around him, meeting Pelagius’ eyes again who looked with an indefinable expression at him. Maybe awe, gratitude, still irritation, and sympathy.

Then Ravalor let go of his hand.

How do you feel now?

Pelagius held his hand in his other, the thumb slightly brushing over the now beightly red irritated skin around the magical implant. ...better. I think.

I can’t take it away. I can’t control it. But it knows and trusts me. Because Zenozarax did. I don’t think any other wizard should try this.

I told you…

Yes. You did. And I’m sorry I didn’t know. But I was right too. If Zenozarax wouldn’t have still thought of me as a friend, this curse probably could have corrupted my mind too. Even though it didn’t harm me yet, it is now within me too, and I might pay for it later.

A brief moment of silence followed in which Pelagius looked back up from his hand. Then he said, Thank you. And I’m sorry.

And Ravalor nodded.

Now let’s get you away from here. With a twist of his hands a portal opened up in the room and immediately a soft but biting cold wind brushed past them. Wait there. I’ll be back for you. He promised and reassured Pelagius nodded and stepped through the portal.

*

The cold greeted him almost familiarly and the darkness followed soon enough as the portal closed behind him.

Quickly Pelagius looked around, trying to gauge where in god’s name he even was. In the darkness the structures he once had travelled as a younger man and known by heart looked unfamiliar. The destruction he himself had caused turned them downright unrecognisable. But this was Glinde. The city was abandoned and had been ever since the turning of the sun, deemed too close to Treva for anyone still sane enough to think. Those that hadn’t been, were dead.

Still he kept up his guard as he quickly hushed along the rim of the city. Yes, Treva was still relatively close, but he couldn’t see it propperly from ground level. Before him the massive cathedral of St Leifel still stood strong amongst the destruction. The holy house had been of no interest to him and his forces when first he had marched them through here.

The doors stood wide open like they would have the day of the attack. He had never been an overly religious man himself, but even he felt almost compelled to pay a certain respect when faced with the overly pompous structure. The intricate stained glass windows lay in darkness now, the stories they told of the Northmans glorious deeds hadn’t been spoken about in here for years.

Quickly he made his way through the main wing and down into the closed off parts in the back of the church, then up the belltower. Finally on top he stepped back into the wind that was more biting than it had been on the ground before.

Reorienting himself he looked around, but he didn’t struggle to find Treva once he turned the right direction. In the distance on the horizon he saw the pyramids and spire looming. They were embraced by that ominous red shine ever since the reactor had come back to life.

Firmly he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat and settled to wait. The cold and tightness of the pockets hurt on the magical insert, as the cold directly shot through it into the bones it was anchored to.

Huffes of his breath were whipped away by the wind. And suddenly he realised, if this worked, he would see the sun again. Very soon.

It caused a strangely hopeful sensation within him. Almost as if seeing the sun again would mean something more. A promise of a better future. Not only for the world, but himself too. The end of all this misery. A new beginning.

And Pelagius felt calm with that idea. No anger. No pain but the sting in his hands. Not even regret at that moment.

Hope. What a tragic thing to feel novel, he supposed.

He thought about Sasha. Who had kept up at least some semblance of hope even in the worst of times. And he thought how unfair it was, that the young man, who had never in his life even seen the sun, had died one day before it would come back to earth. One day before everything would get better. One day before he’d see what he had been fighting for all his life.

Yes. It was unfair and cruel even. But there was nothing he could do to change it now. For a moment he hesitated, but then lowered his head and wispered a prayer for Sasha. One of the very few he still remembered by word, belonging into a childhood that felt lifetimes ago. He wasn’t overly religious himself, but considering where he was right now, and Sasha’s own unshakable faith - it seemed appropriate to do so.

As he was done he looked back up, finding the red glow of Treva again. He wouldn’t forget him. And next time he’d find a chance, he would raise a drink in his memory.

*

For about 20 minutes Ravalor did things. He was sure of it. He first stopped doing these things, whatever they were, when he realised that he was, indeed, procrastinating.

There was no reason for it. He had already spent the entire night checking everything that needed checking twice over. And if he would procrastinate any further he would miss the window to do this. Earth’s rotation would continue and they would have to wait another day to realign the pyramids.

So he stopped. Took a deep breath. His hand once more touched the scroll in his pocket.

Then he stepped into the circle in the middle of the summoning chamber. Connecting to both access panels as he had done when first he had taken control over the demon army. Now his entire self connected to the tower itself and the structures surrounding it. From the very top of the spire to the portal deep below, and into every nook of each of the three remaining pyramids. It all was under his direct control – the amount of input was almost too much for him to handle at once. But just almost. It was all carefully calculated and tested. He could do it.

The incantation he had written was clear in his mind, waiting to be executed. Millions of carefully crafted lines that would bringt the spire to life and return the sun to its former glory.

Another deep breath.

And then, with a single pulse shooting through his fingers, it began.

Immediately he felt the spire react, and around it, the pyramids bloomed. Millions of mechanisms worked at the same time, only here and there a singular piece of connection didn’t trigger, flashing a soft warning, but nothing that hadn’t redundancies in place that took over automatically.

The spire now hummed. It was a soft vibration going through the entire structure and distantly he heard rocks falling. A brief flash of anxiousness overcame him as he feared the spire would collapse after all before the job was done, despite the reinforcements. But every available sensor he had told him of no such danger.

The pyramids were in full bloom. Their panels all raised to the sky.

The portal below started to warm up.

He felt the set countdown ticking down. The moment it reached its end, a strong pull went down the entire spire. It wasn’t physical – only a force rippling through the more metaphysical dimension of this world. Its pull was growing upwards now, directly at the sun.

After it passed, Ravalor let out a heavy sigh.

It was done. Whatever happened now, it couldn’t be stopped anymore.

16 minutes now. Then the chaos front he sun would reach the spire.

*

Pelagius saw the strange glow of the spire increase slightly, he even saw the pyramids shift as their strangely magical panels rose to the sky, changing the already absurde skyline once more.

Then he saw something else. If he’d have blinked he would have missed it, and even now he wasn’t quite sure what it had been exactly. For a brief moment it had seemed like the spire itself had pulsed.

Now it was static again.

Nervously he looked up into the dark sky. Just a few clouds travelled along, the dark sun burned threateningly as ever above him.

Maybe something had gone wrong? Ravalor had told him to give him an hour at least. There was still time.

By now his hands felt properly chilled through and through, which made the stinging pain actually more bearable. Patiently he looked up. Waiting for any visible change.

He shifted a bit in his stance, shoving himself once more a bit closer into the mere idea of wind shadow one of the corner pillars of the bell tower promised. It did not help.

Bouncing ever so slightly on his heels to keep away the worst of the cold he suddenly stopped as he noticed he had started to hum to himself. The prayer he had spoken had reminded him of a hyme his mother used to sing. He didn’t remember the words, but the melody he remembered as soft and comforting. He smiled to himself, pulling his hands from his pockets to cross his arms in front of his chest, wedging his freezing hands under his arms.

He stayed like that for a while. Humming to himself.

Then suddenly – something changed.

It was only a second in which everything around him started to feel strange in a way he wouldn’t be able to put into words. A kind of invisible tension that embraced every atom around him.

But that was only a second. Before everything changed.

Without any proper warning, the entire world around him suddenly lit up as bright as – well – as bright as day. Because it was!

Pelagius’ eyes hurt as he tried to blink against the intense and unfamiliar sunlight, squinting tightly as he tried to see Treva. Through the patchy clouds a pillar of nothing he could see with his eyes came from the sky, tearing through the clouds. And even from here it looked like the entire structure was vibrating and glowing.

Cursing, he blinked again, trying to see for god’s sake, he even wiped his eyes as if that would help. The light of the sun turned more normal in his perception, and in turn the shine of Treva became more and more unnatural. It really was glowing now, brighter even than the blinding daylight, the ominous light had turned to a bright pulsing beacon getting brighter and brighter against the blue sky.

And then time kept ticking on, and he felt even in his awe that too much time had already passed. He knew the portal could only be opened for a very brief time. And yet the spire was still glowing, the structure still seemingly pulsing in their vibrations, the glow was still increasing.

And it was almost subtle in the way the sense of absolute horror suddenly took over his mind.

This wasn’t right.

*

The spire was screeching around the Stargazer, it was deafening and yet he didn’t hear it. He heard nothing, not the structure, not the millions of alarms blaring around him, pulsing, everything was red, warning, error, warning, critical failure, warning –

He couldn’t tell if the portal had shut down or not because he couldn’t see it anymore. It had taken a lot of the chaos in, but something had been wrong. Something about the portal had been wrong and it hadn’t taken as much chaos in as he had calculated. He didn’t understand why. The chaos had flooded the chamber and in that moment he had lost contact with the portal. Now the chaos kept slamming into the spire with no place to go. It filled the entire structure, every empty space between every atom suddenly drowned in chaos. His own mind was on fire.

He tried to reach the portal again, but the intense chaos in everything now was clogging every connection and every command sent down the tower was helplessly lost in the critical damping of the mass of chaos. There was nothing he could do!

Panic.

There it was.

As time suddenly was reduced to a crawl, he noticed, again with this strange detached part of his mind that seemed almost unaffected by the chaos, that he was panicking. In his slowed down perception he heard a long drawn out crack, it sounded deep and dull. A shake in the ground below his feet.

Everything was impossibly bright.

And he had seen that light before. For months he had seen it. And now he finally understood.

He was raising his hands and a sparkle of very slow light appeared before him.

It would explode. He felt it with every atom of his being. The intense energy emitting from below him was horrible. But it paled against the knowledge of what that meant.

The sparkle before him slowly formed into a thin strip of light.

It would explode. And first it would tear the tower apart.

Then the pyramids.

Then the rest of Treva.

The reactor.

Then it would reach the portal.

And the riftspace surrounding it.

It was already happening. It couldn’t be stopped.

With a drawn out snap that was lost in the deafening noise around him the strip of light opened into a sphere of darkness. Just stars sparkling before him.

He felt sick.

Below him he felt the floor rise. On the rim of his vision he saw the ground crack. Through those cracks the intense light of the explosion emitting from below started to shine as the floor broke apart. His body moved. A shrill sense of searing pain radiated from his feet up his legs. There was nothing but light around him. He felt the ground starting to give in.

And for a brief moment he wished it had.

*

Pelagius stepped back.

The intense glow of the spire became so bright he could no longer directly look at it. Treva was engulfed in a cloud of glowing steam as snow and ice was vaporised by the intense heat that was making the air shimmer. As the bright light of the sun broke through the steam a magnificent and perfectly round rainbow surrounded his view of the city.

It was hauntingly beautiful.

And then, like with the snap of a finger, Treva exploded on the horizon.

Pelagius starred at it. His mind was not really processing what he saw - it just happened too quickly.

The explosion ripped the city apart and only a fraction of a second after the first explosion another much more violent one followed. The ground groaned and shook and he heard parts of the city around him crumble and collapse, maybe some of the cathedral too.

But he didn’t really notice that as he saw the world before him being torn apart, rushing towards him faster than he could react or even start to comprehend.

It all happened very quickly, and of all that, almost nothing he noticed consciously. Before suddenly, all under the warm and gentle light of the sun that glistened on the snow covered roofs, the world around him – and he himself – was torn to atoms.

21 Epilogue: Zenozarax

Clear? Yeah no shit, I’d actually be surprised if he isn’t the only living thing left on the entire kingdom. If you can still call it that.

For crying out loud. I’m gone for like what..? A brief pause, seemingly waiting for an answer. Almost a year? Okay, that’s longer than I thought, but still, I’m gone for not even a year and you somehow manage to almost blow up the planet? The fuck did you even do?

Pelagius groaned. He heard the voice, seemingly talking to itself, but it was drowned out by a deafening throbbing in his ears. Everything hurt and he could barely breathe.

He had felt this only once before – that was after the battle above Kivinan. There too a blinding light had been the last he had seen. He understood it now a bit better. He had been completely taken apart. Scattered, literally torn to shreds – and yet here he was again, knitted back together by truly unholy magic. And by god did it hurt.

Hey. Pelagius. You’re awake right?

Something kicked him. Not hard, more like a light nudge to get him to move – but it still shot a sharp pain through his body. Wasn’t he already hurting enough?

Straining to open his eyes he blinked, and he coughed, both only hurt more. He tried to breathe even deeper but the air tasted like fire and smoke. Ash and soot immediately stuck to his tongue and got into his lungs and he coughed again. Something in his inner ear made a loud popping sound that shot a blinding pain through his brain - but it also let the throbbing pressure finally fade away.

I know. Circle might have noticed. The voice muttered as if answering someone Pelagius had not heard. Something fell on his body, it felt soft but still hurt against his overly sensitive skin. Here you can wear this, come now, stand up. We may not have much time.

And slowly the voice became familiar. The tone should have been before. And before his hurting eyes, against the raging of smoke and flames, stood Zenozarax.

The realisation shot a jolt of surprise through his body and somehow that was enough to make him scramble halfway up and back. That too did hurt like hell and he stumbled, his legs almost gave in. The thing on his body had been a simple cloak that now fell to the ground.

He didn’t notice as he stared at the wizard before him.

And suddenly he knew exactly what had happened.

Ravalor was gone. Maybe he had died in that explosion. Maybe he had left him here. But he was gone. And he wouldn’t come back. Raging disappointment, frustration and anger threatened to consume him whole. The need to shout and kill if he had to just to soothe this frustration within him.

And yet. There was this moment again, in which he perfectly well understood that there was no way but forward. That he couldn’t do anything else but face the consequences of what had happened.

He took a deep breath. You made me a prommis, he finally said, and he was surprised his raspy and hoarse voice still sounded almost calm. Slowly he reached down to pick up the cloak again, minding his aching body. Merely throwing it over his shoulders felt like every singular muscle in his body was set on fire. The rough and hot ground below his bare feet hurt as sharp debrie pressed into his soles.

Zenozarax’ expression turned sour almost immediately. Well I died? He said exasperatedly. I know, that doesn’t mean much to you anymore, but I do still need a lot of time and work to get back to this, okay? Zenozarax pointed at all of himself in his – Pelagius assumed – glory. But he saw in Zenozarax’ face that he very well noticed that he hadn’t really answered Pelagius’ unspoken question.

I can’t set you free, Zenozarax finally said. The knife is gone. Took me long enough to even find a chance to get here. I had to make sure things were safe and I had some appropriate backup. Zenozarax glanced back at the other man, actually first now Pelagius realised there were two others with him.

The one Zenozarax had nodded to was... Zenozarax. A dark gun lowered in his grasp while he kept his eyes tensely on their surroundings, ready to shoot anything that would dare as much as twitch. In comparison to the extravagant appearance of the Zenozarax before him the other was dressed a lot more practical, more agile in the dark uniform. Pelagius understood that this was his Warrior. The Wizard he knew was the one before him.

So much for Ravalor’s claim that they had defeated him. Here he was, alive, well and whole.

And worst of all, without the knife.

Yeah I feel like I deserve that look, Zenozarax murmured, Listen, I know you’re pissed at me, but it literally wasn’t my fault.

Of course not. Pelagius still wavered in his stance. The muscles in his legs seemed to be set aflame.  

Come here.

Pelagius staggered back, away from Zenozarax, while every fibre of his being wanted to step forward. His mind was hurting. He was staring at the burned and dusty ground below his feed. It seemed to be swimming before his eyes.

Pelagius?

He almost chuckled. What was that, concern?

He felt like throwing up. Why had he left him? Why had he left him?

Suddenly a pair of very elegant boots appeared in his swimming vision and before he could look up, he felt his hand being taken – immediately he flinched away, or tried to – but it was almost the same moment his mind suddenly was at absolute ease again and he halted abruptly. He almost sighed as Zenozarax’ mind took hold of that scrambled mess in his head and his thoughts became clear again. The curse within himself rejoiced, and all those confused and conflicting emotions suddenly subsided as it embraced its master’s touch.

And in that moment Zenozarax saw all he had seen.

He looked at Zenozarax’ glowing eyes and saw the confused and almost shocked surprise in them.

... Ravalor?

Pelagius was breathing hard and heavy against the smoke in the air. The wasteland was burning around him. There had been a city here. Nothing of it was left. He was in its centre when it exploded. He’s probably dead.

No. He’s not.

Pelagius looked up in surprise, meeting Zenozarax’ frown. He had said it so factually that it was impossible to doubt, but how could he know?

Zenozarax let go of his hand, his eyes turned black again. A look of worried concern in his expression-strong face. Well, at least that explains the almost blowing the planet up part, he said, but even his tone didn’t carry the same levity it usually would.

Ponderingly he mustered Pelagius.

He’s not well… It wasn’t a question, because Zenozarax knew that now as much as Pelagius did.

No. Pelagius confirmed it nevertheless. Then he added soberly, But he tried to fix… all this.

He did. Zenozarax said and puzzled Pelagius looked up. Then he remembered that he had seen the sun. He remembered that it had worked. Now, even if it were daytime, the sky was blackened by smoke and soot. He just scorched half of the planet in the process. I can’t believe how much destructive energy he got. I never knew. I’m actually getting impressed. And worried.

Zenozarax, the Wizard that was, glanced back at the Warrior who just shrugged slightly. It looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t.

It wasn’t supposed to explode… Pelagius said quietly, getting Zenozarax’s attention back at him. And to his surprise there was a downright painful expression on the wizard’s face.

He couldn’t have known, Zenozarax said – and still Pelagius was puzzled by the real sense of regret in his voice. The plan was good, the way he made all of this work within these limitations is impressive. But it was doomed to fail from the start and neither of you could have done anything to prevent it.

The portal you built would have worked in the original universe, with the original rift space. But not here. The rift space here is just a proxy to the original. Like a small stream feeding into a much larger river. Zenozarax added, facing the slight confusion in Pelagius’ face.

It couldn’t take all the chaos in as he calculated, because it was physically incapable of it. He calculated the river, but had only the stream. Otherwise this explosion really would have destroyed the whole planet again. A brief pause No, actually, if it would have been the original, it would have worked as he planned in the first place.

Of course Pelagius understood that Zenozarax now knew all he himself did, seen it as he had taken back control over him. And yet just hearing that the entire plan he had worked on for months had been resting on one critical flaw Zenozarax could point out like it was the most obvious fact rose a bitter feeling in his stomach.

Why didn’t he know?

Zenozarax let out a heavy sigh. Because he doesn’t remember. And because Zenozarax expressions were an open book Pelagius understood that while yes, even despite the fact that Ravalor seemingly had tried to kill Zenozarax several times by now, Zenozarax took absolutely no pleasure from seeing him fail. Even more so, there was a sense of guilt in his face. After all they had done, Pelagius hadn’t thought there could be anything Zenozarax could feel guilty about.

Then the Wizard briefly glanced back at the Warrior. Yes, yes yes, I know. Again answering to something the Warrior had not said out loud.

Why are you both here? I thought that was a bad idea. Pelagius asked with a light frown which interrupted Zenozarax who had been about to port them away from here. It also earned him a deep frown from the Warrior.

Ah. Zenozarax raised a finger as if to praise him for that astute observation. It is. But he’s also a paradoxical safety precaution.

Pelagius frowned but Zenozarax kept on talking. Just like he remembered.

This is a bit of an off the book excursion. Right now I don’t want Quadir to know about any of you two — for your own good and mine. I had him sticking to my ass for months now, but right now he’s busy snooping after Tharon’zul. When I felt that something bad must have happened here we staged a quite dramatic though risky diversion, giving me a chance to finally pick both of you up. Zenozarax nodded behind him to the other man, making it clear he wasn’t talking about his Warrior any longer. Keeping it to myself so to speak. Belief me, having you two stuck out here was quite distracting. Especially him dying over and over again. For the sake of my own mental wellbeing, I’d have gotten you a lot sooner if it weren’t for that devious piece of-

Zenozarax kept on talking, going on and on about cursing Quadirymir, saying that even now it was very risky to even be here, and somehow ended up mentioning their need to get a bath or something like that – while Pelagius now finally looked at the third figure. The man’s breath was heavy and rattling – if anything he seemed even more troubled by the smoke in the air. His face and body was shrouded by a heavy cloak, but where Pelagius saw exposed skin it was reddened and crumbling. Even as they stood here blackened chunks of skin fell from his hands, exposing raw and pale skin underneath it.

Below the deep hood was a strong chin, lips crusted and slightly parted in his heaving breath, and a distinctive nose.

It was part of a face he knew. One he had watched growing up under his protection.

Pelagius felt an ice cold shudder running down his spine.

He’s dead… I saw him dead…

Zenozarax paused in whatever extended monologue he had tangled himself up in, looked from Pelagius to the hooded figure and back, a surprisingly grim look on his face.

That’s not your prince.