1 Ravalor  I

In the depth of the cave the darkness was thick and oppressive. It pressed in on all sides, eager to claim any who dared to enter this forgotten place. The air was heavy and damp with the scent of age and decay, speaking of centuries of isolation and the unforgiving neglect of nature.

Within this endless darkness stood thousands upon thousands of stalagmites, fed endlessly by their counterparts that lined the ceiling. Silent sentinels, twisted and gnarled by the passing of aeons, only making themselves known by the low and constant dripping from the tips of the stalactites. Each drop echoing through the cave, an never-ending and unpredictable symphony of desolation. The water that dripped down had carved its own path through the rocky terrain, etching out channels and crevices that grew deeper and deeper with each passing century.

It was a place that spoke of no future, where even the smallest glimmer of light died long before it could have reached the Stargazer.

How long had he been here? It didn’t really matter, nothing did anymore. It couldn’t have been too long … but his exhausted mind failed to remember. In the beginning, he had still tried counting the seconds, minutes, hours, then days — now he just tried not to think about anything. He found comfort in it.

A cold drop of water dripped on his shoulder. Another on his neck. The cave wall was still cold against his back. There was still the pinning pain radiating from his legs — at least where they still existed. It was the only thing that still felt real. At least sometimes.

He was already drenched to the bones, had been for a long time, his body unmoving and freezing cold, his legs were radiating pain into his awareness whenever he didn’t ignore it, only his immortal heart was still beating slow and warm inside of him, keeping him stoically alive till time itself would end if it had to.

At times he had forgotten where he was. At times he had forgotten that he was.

In rare moments like these, he became aware again, felt his existence, heard the silence within him and the aching of his weakened body.

Ravalor, the whole wizard he used to be, had never been in much need of company. He had always thought to be most comfortable alone.

But he had been wrong. Terribly wrong.

Even at his most secluded, he had never been truly alone.

The song of dripping water echoed hollowly in the cave.

The Stargazer shuddered, not by the cold, but the strangling feeling gripping his heart and mind. In moments like these, he wished he could find solace in the catharsis humans found in crying. But he couldn’t. He was just here, drowning in desolation, yearning for someone, anyone to talk to. He was lonely. And the drops of water that ran down his chin were just the water dripping from above.

He missed himself like he wouldn’t have believed possible. Not after all he had done.

And he wondered if the others felt it, too. If his absence was as much a burden to them as it was for him. And he was sorry, so terribly sorry.

He had turned his back on them, shut them out to leave and never turn back anymore. Just to find out that he could run, but he would never be able to leave himself behind. He was as much part of who Ravalor was as the others had been. Just because they weren’t here now, didn’t make it less true or painful.

A wizard could take a multitude of forms throughout their existence, but each of them was carefully considered. Till the scholar — the one they had called the Hermit when last he had been with them — had died the first time, he hadn’t really understood why. When first then he had learned that each expansion of their minds was a path with no way back. His absence had been grating on his nerves, missing that part of him to make him whole again.

He felt that now again. And he had chosen to do so. He had put this burden on himself. On all of him.

That terrible shudder went over his skin again.

He just wanted to go home.

But he couldn’t. Not after what he had done.

His heart burned, his lungs were tight, strangling him at the base of his throat.

There was only the low dripping of water around him.

Then suddenly something more.

And his heart almost stopped.

Distant a low echo found a way through the caverns. Not the sound of seismic shifting nor that of rocks yielding to time and erosion. It was a regular tap, multiplied a hundred times though distant and quiet. A low crunching sound of rocks under heels.

Ravalor stared in the absolute darkness surrounding him. The sound became so loud to his ears which had turned sensitive by an eternity of silence. A panic rose in his chest, the urge to raise, to create a portal and flee before whoever approached could find him. Before anyone could find him. And bring him back. Back to where he desperately wanted to go.

But he didn’t move at all. Couldn’t. His legs were no longer working, and even if he could have moved, he had no energy left for a portal….

At first, the faint shine was almost invisible to him, as if the image of absolute darkness had burned itself into his vision. But it was there and grew stronger as did the sound accompanying it.

A shudder tingled up his skin. For the first time in a long time, he heavily raised his arms, barely noticing it, nor the aching of his stiff body as he wiped the water off his face, mesmerised by the growing light.

The shadow that appeared in its shine was that of a man.

Ravalor felt his own breath, flat and staggering, his thoughts were nothing but an incoherent mess. The figure approached slowly. Looking against the light, his delirious mind could not make out the face. But he didn’t have to. Subconsciously he shook his head ever so slightly, not believing his eyes as the pain in his heart grew a thousandfold. Because for a moment he was afraid. He tried to say something — but his voice failed him. His vision flickered before his eyes as his exhausted mind and body tried to react but had no energy left to do so.

He heard his name spoken. In alarm and worry.

In his flickering vision he saw hands, covered in elegant but sturdy dark gloves, there was some form of embroidery on it but he couldn’t make out what it was.

The hands touched his leg, he twitched helplessly back, trying to get away from the touch, but at the same time, in the cold magical light it was like Ravalor for the first time saw the real extent of the damages the explosion of the spire and rift space had inflicted upon his own body. Scorched up to his tights, his right leg was still a burned dark mess, the left one was almost completely gone below the knee, leaving only the sturdy skeletal support structure where artificial flash and magic had been ripped away.

His head slightly rolled as he barely managed to keep it upright, and so he leaned it back against the cold wall. Water dripped on his forehead.

In the flickering images of his vision he looked into black eyes, heard words spoken. Then a touch on his head, his neck, stabilising him.

Something touched his lips, then the faint taste of silver flooded his mind, setting his mind aflame as his body rejoiced at the mere taste of it.

The mana was warmer than his own body had become and he felt it spread into his body.

You’re going to be alright.

Doubtful.

His eyelids fluttered. And then the light vanished, and everything turned into void.

*

The Stargazer opened his eyes to the aching of his body. But it was a different kind of pain. A healing kind.

He noticed the lack of water dripping onto his body. The cold magical light had settled on the ground, its shine had turned warmer and softer.

And in its light, sat another wizard with him, watching him wake up quietly.

“You’re alive…” the Stargazer whispered, or maybe he did, he barely heard himself, his voice was no more than a raspy gasp in the back of his throat. He hadn’t spoken for too long.

“I think you knew that,” Zenozarax said, almost sighing. Sitting in front of Ravalor now, looking at him, a sense of pity in the black eyes. Besides them the magical light rested calmly on the ground, painting the cold cave into a diffuse warm shine.

“I guess I did.”

By that answer a slim smile appeared on the wizard’s face. But Ravalor couldn’t remember to have seen him ever looking this sad.

I know what happened, Zenozarax said calmly. I expected you to return to Mezchinhar. But when you didn’t… I knew I had to find you.

“Why? Do you think because I left them, I will join you?”

The smile of the old wizard didn’t falter for even a second, but the sadness in it that only grew. “I don’t think that would be particularly wise of me, even when my heart wants it to be true. You have turned bitter. You’re suffering, I know you are, now more so than ever. And as your former teacher - and arguably the cause for most of your sorrows, I felt a certain responsibility to at least find you.” There was a stiffness to his words. A sense of uncertainty. But what else could there be after all that had happened.

Responsibility, Ravalor scoffed, trying to straighten up a bit. Now with the mana doing the lords’ work within his body, he actually found the strength for it. Moving against the cold of the wall now felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable. “After all you did, I doubt that.”

Zenozarax for the first time, even if only briefly, averted his eyes. For a moment his expression was unreadable to Ravalor — before he realised it was guilt.

What happened to you? … to us?  The question lay on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask it.

When Zenozarax spoke again his words were surprisingly bitter. Do you really find it so hard to believe that I still care for your well being?

Ravalor slightly shook his head, but said, “How did you even find me?” his throat hurt, speaking was painful, and yet he feared should he fall silent now, Zenozarax would just leave. While he didn’t want the chaos wizard to be here, while he was terrified by the fact that he had found him, he feared the loneliness more now that he found a brief moment of rest from it.

Zenozarax frowned slightly, thoughtfully. “I think you wanted someone to find you. But nobody but me will.”

I— Ravalor stared at him, he felt like finally really realising that it was Zenozarax sitting truly before him now and yet he still couldn’t believe it. Nor his words. What do you mean?

After what happened on that earth, after what you and Pelagius did, you, this part of you, is not hidden from me. His curse saw you too, you are connected to me now more than ever before. But you are free. I don’t have the Knife and even if, you’d be in no danger from me. Zenozarax leaned forward and carefully took Ravalor’s hand who first violently flinched back. Like too many wizards he knew of the dangers another wizard’s touch could bear, and especially when that other wizard was a chaos wizard. As it was one of the few very effective ways to end a wizard’s existence by a simple touch filled with an overcharge of magic. But as Zenozarax reached out and took his hands a second time, Ravalor just let him. A calm acceptance that if Zenozarax would mean his death now, he wouldn’t fight it. Maybe it would be a welcome end to his suffering. Something he couldn’t bring himself to do.

To just… forget.

Zenozarax’ hands, even through the gloves, were warm around his freezing skin.

You’re hurting Ravalor. I know. What the circle has done to you, what I have done to you, and now what you have done to yourself — you wanted to be found. You want someone to make this all go away. You know I know what you feel. The betrayal, the pain and the loneliness. I had been alone for a long time, too.

Ravalor just listened to his former friend and for the first time he did realise that indeed, Zenozarax’ decision to not have his Warrior rebuild after he had lost him at Funnix suddenly seemed even more puzzling than before. Or maybe not really.

You were afraid of what you had done…

I was afraid of a lot of things after Funnix, Zenozarax just slightly tilted his head, not taking his eyes from their hands. But I know I felt his absence every hour of every day. And let me tell you Ravalor, it won’t become easier. You will never forget them.

The terrible truth hung in the cold silence, a fact Ravalor knew was no lie, because he felt it. And the wizard he could blame all of this on, right in front of him.

Why did you even return? Why didn’t you stay away? They thought you were dead! his voice cracked, finally granted the chance again to hurl his desperation at the wizard he once would have died for. For whom, or maybe, because of whom he had died. You were free of it all…

I thought I was. But it was never true, Zenozarax said downright grim. A lot has happened since we have parted. A lot that I regret, too. I fought for our freedom, and failed. But one day I’ll make it true, and Mezchinhar will fall silent forever. First then, I’ll be free. We all will be.

For a while there was only the constant dripping of water. Then Ravalor said quietly, You truly believe that?

I do.

Why must all pay for what a few did?

Because it’s the entire Order, I’d want to burn the lords themselves if only they hadn’t left us already to our own devices. I have lived on both sides now and it’s all rotten and wrong. Nothing of all of this should ever have happened. And for the first time since he had arrived, the hate and anger that had only grown over centuries seeped plainly through his words, the sheer disgust and need to purge this vile wrongness from the multiverse. A dangerous gleam fueled Zenozarax’ eyes as he now looked at him and Ravalor became worryingly aware again that his hand was still held by the chaos wizard. Aware that these could be the last seconds of his existence. But the words Zenozarax said next were more painful than death.

You know I’m right. It’s the reason you’re here now isn’t it? You couldn’t stand it any longer. Are you aware, Ravalor, that you have killed more lives in the last two years than I have in the last two thousand? By quite a margin. Isn’t it so?

Ravalor couldn’t answer.

Did you even hesitate once? I don’t think you did. Because you’re a good wizard. You’d never let collateral damage keep you from their goal. Because that’s what Mezchinhar expects from you. From all of us.

It had to be done… he said weakly. He had tried to believe it.

I know. I forced your hand. And yet you keep impressing me with that cold blooded efficiency of yours.

Stop... Ravalor lowered his eyes, his heart was ripped apart by guilt and shame. Please.

He felt the light squeeze on his hand as Zenozarax said, “I know that isn’t who you are. You know that too.”

He didn’t believe it. Not anymore. But he couldn’t tell Zenozarax how wrong he was about him. Zenozarax didn’t need him to say it and only shook his head ever so slightly.

We’re very different, you and I. You strive for order and clarity, strive for absolution in righteousness. But there will be no forgiveness you can give yourself once you lose faith.

Ravalor flinched as he felt Zenozarax’ hand touching his face, the faint warmth tingling against the cold that had taken hold of him. The danger of this touch, even through the gloves which he could easily burn through, was dizzying, the implication intoxicating and terrifying — as Ravalor looked up and the yearning in his heart for a time long past almost took his breath away. He looked back into Zenozarax’ eyes. And for the first time since his disappearance all those centuries ago, Ravalor saw genuine regret in them. A deep seeded pain that filled his following words.

Why couldn’t you have just come with me?

There was a truth deep within this question, knowledge of events Ravalor couldn’t remember, the nagging question of what by the lords’ names his most trusted friend had done back then that Ravalor had refused to stay at his side.

I wish I knew… he whispered.

And he saw how his words tore whatever was left of Zenozarax’ resolve apart. The pain in his eyes was unbearable.

Curse you. No more than a whisper under his breath as Zenozarax hand pulled him forward, their foreheads touching I’m sorry. And I know what you think; but my regret runs deeper than having lost you. Though there is not a single day that I don’t think of that day. Because I couldn’t make you forgive me. But I am sorry.

Zenozarax— Ravalor felt frozen, taken by the sheer physical closeness to the other wizard. He didn’t know what to say, if he even had to, if he could say anything that would matter now. This close to finding the answer ls he had always looked for, but suddenly no longer finding the strength to ask the question.

“I know…” Zenozarax whispered. “I don’t expect you to forgive me now or ever, not even to tell me that you don’t hate me. Because I know you have every right to. But no matter how you feel — you’re still a part of me. And you always will be.”

Don’t do this... Ravalor begged weakly, his hand trembling in the other’s hand. Please. He closed his eyes, burying his head against Zenozarax’ neck, he felt his eyes would betray him now, speak what he could not say, dared not to say in fear it would make it true.

I’m sorry, Zenozarax whispered again, his low voice so close to his ear, sending a shudder down his spine. And in that moment the reason for why he was sorry did not matter anymore. If it was just for having lost him, so be it.

When Zenozarax pulled away from him it felt like an eternity had passed and no time at all. He opened his eyes again and saw the clear regret in Zenozarax’ eyes too.

Zenozarax leaned back as he said, It pains me to leave you here, but I have to go. And so do you.

Please…. Don’t, Ravalor said quietly, his voice taken by the all consuming fear of being left alone again.

Zenozarax, about to stand up, stopped, halted. There it was again, that gentle smile that belonged to the wizard Ravalor once knew. Who he thought he had lost forever. Zenozarax reached into his pocket.

You know I can’t stay here with you. Zenozarax’ voice turned softer, almost lulling him into comfort. For a last time he reached for Ravalor’s hand, briefly, and as he pulled it back there was a faint weight left in Ravalor’s palm. And neither should you. I won’t force you to come with me because you shouldn’t. You should return to Mezchinhar. Be whole again. Heal. Leave this behind you.” He paused for a heavy moment. “But if you can’t do that … find me if you will, at the Edge of the Universe. We will be at this location for a little while. Come alone, or bring an army, I’ll welcome you accordingly.

Zenozarax—

I’ll be waiting for you. Zenozarax finally stood up and turned away. Nobody ever called me wise anyways. His steps continued, the light followed.

Ravalor couldn’t think straight, so he closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see him leave, could not bear the thought of seeing the light vanish with him. So he chose darkness before it. But the sound of his steps was clear enough, walking away, growing distant, then a sizzling of energy.

A mere echo.

Then he was gone.

Silence again.

Only water dripping from the ceiling.

The Stargazer was alone again.

He opened his eyes, staring into darkness, slowly the urge to run after the other grew with every breath he took as the encounter turned into memory that seemed already so distant and impossible that he barely believed it really happened. Threatening to have been just a dream after all.

He didn’t move.

His hand twitched and he was reminded of the slight weight in his palm. Quietly he stared at it.

The small device was the only proof that what happened truly had happened. And the overwhelming weight of the decision, delivered in the unsuspecting form of this harmless little waypointer, came crashing down on him.

2 Zenozarax I (Warrior)

Zenozarax sat at the head of the navigational node of the control centre to keep himself from pacing. A feat he only achieved partially. EZ-354, a soldier colloquially called Esa, who was usually the Twilight’s designated navigator unless Zenozarax saw it fit to take the station himself, stood motionless aside, maybe even slightly displeased that his station was unjustly occupied.

He heard steps on the metal plating on the floor coming from the corridor behind, but he didn’t take his eyes from the view screen. Not that there was much more to see than endless darkness dotted with distant stars, but … what else was there to do but wait.

Xaronzul stopped beside him. Maybe also glancing at the dark viewscreen and the two wizards at the front panels.

We should go soon, Sukatar said without turning around, focused on monitoring that probe data out of a different universe. “They’ll be out of that dark zone in 38 hours. We won’t get that chance again for months.”

“I know. We will” Zenozarax said. Speaking made him aware how tense his jaw had been clenched. He stood up, releasing the nav control node back into Esa’s care and went to the command chair facing the front panels. Xaronzul followed him naturally.

“With all these people?” Moakatar asked softly, glancing back at Zenozarax as he sat down.

Zenozarax clenched his teeth again. It wasn’t ideal, in fact it wasn’t good at all, but the options weren’t exactly limitless. Take them with them into danger or leave them here to a different kind of risk. Evacuating them to the Dark Citadel was out of the question, and just offloading them on a remote planet wasn’t safe either and currently he didn’t even feel it particularly safe to return to the colony fleet. Too many moving parts. A problem of his own making.

If push came to shove, he would blow the whole thing off. He would not go and risk the lives of all these people for a measly three parts. There would be other opportunities.

What if he doesn’t show up? Xaronzul asked when Zenozarax didn’t answer.

He will, Zenozarax said. There was no doubt in his mind. The Wizard confirmed as much.

The idea of having Ravalor back at his side wasn’t even making sense to him, the Warrior in particular, not really. And he first would believe it when it happened, but he was certain that it would. Even without any touch the likes they had shared so often in the past, the Wizard had sensed, almost felt, the desperate yearning as clear as he now felt his own. More so, he had seen the misery he had put upon his most trusted, most valuable and most important friend. He couldn’t ignore it. He needed to make this right. Somehow he had to fix this. Making sure that Ravalor was okay again was more important than anything else.

He knew that with an unshakable certainty. Even though this part of him had never met Ravalor. Or so his memories would make him want to believe. It wasn’t true, of course not, he felt it clearer than the Wizard ever could have. He knew how right Ravalor had been. And it made the anticipation so much worse.

But what if he—

He will! Zenozarax snapped and Xaronzul flinched visibly.

I’m sorry— Xaronzul said hastily but halted as Zenozarax let out a deep breath and raised his hand to stop him. He let himself fall back into the cushioning of the seat, with his left hand he massaged the bridge of his nose as if to defeat a looming headache.

No, I’m sorry, he murmured. I know he will, he has to. He wants to. Then he sighed, dropping his hand, shaking his head slightly as he looked first at the viewscreen again then finally to Xaronzul. Even he seemed noticeably tense. Though probably not for the same reason as anyone else. He really shouldn’t have snapped at him like this.

He, Ravalor, Xaronzul began carefully, as if really trying to find the right words. He is important to you, yes?

Very much so. I won’t be able to deny that, Zenozarax said, to his surprise he found the furrowed tension in his face loosened as he said it. That’s why this is grinding my nerves into pulp right now. He’s not well and that’s my fault.

I see, Xaronzul said strangely thoughtfully, Zenozarax’ gentle tone seemed to put him at ease again. Zenozarax carefully mustered the young wizard’s face.

Will that be a problem?

Xaronzul looked at him wide eyed and puzzled. A problem?

For you.

An enlightened O expression appeared on Xaronzul’s face. Oh, a problem. No? No. No! He nodded, for a moment his eyes drifted away as if listening to something that was said elsewhere in the room. He’s important, he finally concluded.

Yes, he is. Zenozarax nodded, still carefully watching Xaronzul. If there were to be any sign of jealousy, he needed to spot it now before it inevitably would become a problem.

Xaronzul was loyal to a fault, he idolised Zenozarax, and Zenozarax was aware of that. It was a fact that was of some benefit, but also came with drawbacks. So far, most of the time, Xaronzul had access to his undivided attention — but this would like change would Ravalor truly arrive and, lords forbid, stay.

Xaronzul’s eyes darted back to him, his whole body seemed jumpy as if someone had injected him with an overdose of OCM and all that energy suddenly needed release. There was a wide grin on his face. If there is a chance, could I speak to him?

Hm. Zenozarax considered for a moment. It was a strange question but one worth exploring. Once Ravalor was here, he had to be kept as much a secret as Aeven and Pelagius. At least, a secret from Quadirymir. He’d, evidently, trust the entire crew of the Twilight with his life so he saw no reason to keep Xaronzul from speaking to Ravalor unless he feared any danger from them to Ravalor. Studying Xaronzul’s face again he really couldn’t see any reason for that. Well, besides the near manic gleam in his eyes, but that was usually nothing to worry about.

If he stays, you may, he eventually said. But give him some space first. There will be a lot of things, …people, here he needs to get to terms with. He’s a very orderly wizard.

Apparently not, Xaronzul mused, bouncing on his heels, and despite harbouring no ill intention Zenozarax felt a pang of irritation.

He is. He’s just caught in a system that doesn’t know how to appreciate it. Nor how to help him…

At that Xaronzul made a sound that was somewhere caught between a chuckle and a grunt. He could relate to that intimately. By now Xaronzul was pacing through the CC as if pondering a thought. Or just to be in movement. While he was at it he glanced back to Zenozarax who followed his stride with his eyes.

Let’s assume then that he will show up, okay, that’s a fact now, Xaronzul said, still pacing. It reminded the Warrior of his Wizard and he still wondered if it was natural behaviour for Xaronzul or just something he had picked up from him.

Zenozarax nodded again, encouraging Xaronzul to go on, while leaning his chin on his hand.

But he’s still four-parts bound to Mezchinhar right at this moment.

Disconnected

So he says. But that can change at any moment. So we may all die doing this. Yes? Xaronzul concluded. He didn’t sound very troubled about this, merely exploring a factual curiosity. At the front he saw Suakatar glance at both of them. She would be, by nature, the most doubtful. Not out of mistrust, but carefulness. But she and Moakatar also understood his reason in a way Xaronzul simply couldn’t.

He won’t betray me, Zenozarax said. 

He did try to kill you. At least three times so far, yes?

Yes, because that was what he had to do.

And it isn’t now?

No.

Hmhm. Xaronzul nodded, as if the answer was perfectly sufficient and logical. For Xaronzul it probably was. Zenozarax had said it so he believed it.

And yet. Both the Dawnbreak and the Twilight were only teleport-docked to the Edge of the Universe, meaning they were in range, stationary relative to the station’s speed, but had no physical contact to the station. Ready at a moment’s notice to break off and teleport out if — against his firmest conviction — something else besides Ravalor would appear at the small, hidden station. Giving Ravalor direct access to it was by all logic extremely risky. Sukatar had been keen on making sure he understood that about five times by now. The smart thing to do would have been to set up a remote meeting place. Be safe in case of betrayal. Hindsight and all that.

But he didn’t believe that would happen, couldn’t nor wanted to imagine it could happen — but — he had lived this life already long enough to know that any moment of faith could get people killed. It was the fear that he’d let his own hope and emotion blind him. He wanted to trust Ravalor, he did trust Ravalor (with his life as it seemed) but Ravalor wasn’t well. No matter how much it pained him, for the sake of everyone else that had come to trust him, the Warrior could not dare to put his trust blindly into someone as broken as Ravalor seemed at this moment.

And he hated it from the bottom of his heart. It was the uncertainty where none should be.

Moakatar and Sukatar were both at their stations at the helm and tactical station respectively, ready to act if needed, but they had turned around lazily watching the discussion between their commander and XO. They lacked the unshakable faith Xaronzul had in him but they trusted him too. They were just a bit more sceptical about it, in a healthy way.

Then the alarm came.

A portal was created inside the station, springing open and piercing through time and space, triggering the hypersensitive sensors even before the connection had gone through the initiation setup.

Zenozarax had jumped up, apparently he had, because he stood, the view screen had immediately switched to the security overview, displaying the intrusion into the station.

A video feed sprung up, showing the portal and then — there he was.

Ravalor.

The alarm became less intense as soon as the portal closed. But the light still pulsed red.

The plan had been to wait. At least for a moment, to see if anyone would follow. Sacrificing the station but keeping both their capital ships safe by teleporting away.

It had been a sufficient compromise. But by an impulse too strong to ignore he decided that he was quite willing to also sacrifice this Part of him as well if that was how this would turn out.

Zenozarax wait—

But already he had vanished into a swirl of light and dark.

3 Ravalor II

The Stargazer let himself drop the few centimetres down from the portal and for a moment he felt like even that slight push against the gravity of the unfamiliar place he had ported into was enough to drive him to his knees.

There was still a flaring pain in his left knee, some damage that hadn’t been fixed, or couldn’t be fixed by his own body which had managed to reform a rough idea of what his leg used to be, almost convincing from the outside, but not much beyond that. Despite the pain he kept standing. His portal vanished behind him and his eyes turned black again.

He had thought he would be nervous. He would have thought his heart would be hammering in his chest. Maybe he should be angry. Or scared.

But there was none of that.

As he now looked around, faced with the structure of a room he had never been into, in a place he didn’t know, he felt nothing but a numb, almost apathetic sense of hope. He shouldn’t feel that way, he knew that. Venturing behind enemy lines, there wasn’t anything but his death here. But where else was he to go now.

The room was large enough to be called a hall. He saw no immediate utilitarian function but it bore the architectural hallmarks of a tower or station. Modular wall pieces welded neatly together and hidden behind decorative, dark red plating that only showed its true nature along the seams of the walls while the floor tried very hard to convince him it was made out of wood. It felt… comfortable. Even the gravity was a merciful 0.89G and he could smell the artificial scent of air filters and recycled air. So probably a space station.

His arrival had changed nothing in his immediate surroundings, he was alone, but suspected he had not gone unnoticed.

A swirl of light and dark appeared before him and subconsciously he made a step back. It shot a pang of pain up his left leg. But he stopped dead in his tracks as the light faded and who had appeared before him was no one else but Zenozarax. Wearing a unusually plain, dark blue uniform and short haircut which both struck him as oddly unfamiliar yet instantly recognisable. Like he had seen it only in pictures. And even though there was no identifying signal the Stargazer could grasp — he immediately sensed more than he knew that for the first time he stood before Zenozarax’ Warrior.

You came, Zenozarax said. His voice was unexpectedly mellow, and for the first time Ravalor realised how much he had, in his mind, separated Zenozarax’ Warrior from the Wizard, based on nothing more than pictures and feelings. But of course, he was still just Zenozarax too.

You knew I would, the Stargazer answered plainly. He felt dizzy from exhaustion. He had hoped what happened now would make sense to him once he was here, but didn’t really.

I feared it to be wishful thinking, Zenozarax said.

And here they were. Standing some three metres apart which felt like an eternity between them. Neither of them were moving. Just looking at each other. And maybe, the Stargazer thought, maybe it didn’t make sense to Zenozarax either.

Maybe they both were still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

What is this place? he finally asked. The distance between them started to feel forced, unnatural and wrong. Awkward even.

The Edge of the Universe. It’s a station— my station. We’re safe here. You are safe here. Only a few wizards know about this place. And I trust them.

He blinked, hearing what Zenozarax wasn’t saying. Safe from what? Pause. Or whom?

People that would want to use you to get to me.

He didn’t clarify if he meant Mezchinhar or any other chaos wizards, but the answer was probably yes to both anyways.

I see.

Ravalor shifted his weight and his knee almost caved in. He wavered, but he did not fall. But then there was Zenozarax. A strong grip on his arm to keep him standing. Concern and worry on his face.

The Stargazer noticed the firm gloves against the bare skin of his arms.

Are you still hurt? Zenozarax asked.

It’s just my knee.

It was pretty damaged. I’ll have a look at it, I’m sure it’s nothing too— Zenozarax said but then fell silent. As if he had just noticed what he was doing he let go of him again and even stepped back half a step. Not far enough for common social expectations, but there had never been such a thing between them. If you would want me to?

It’s okay. Don’t worry.

The short burst of scoff was more like a brief bark, more stiff than it was amused. Don’t worry? Your humour used to be better than that as far as I remember. Hell — come. Can you walk?

I think so. I made it this far. Nevertheless he appreciated Zenozarax giving him a little support again. And I’m sorry. I’m sure me being here will complicate things.

Of course it will, for you, first and foremost. What are you even thinking? Zenozarax murmured as he, still with one arm supporting Ravalor, pulled the glove from his other hand with his teeth, shoving it between his uniform and belt, and opened a regular portal to a lab.

“So you wouldn’t have done it? Inviting me here?” the Stargazer asked, genuinely curious if this might have been a point of conflict between Zenozarax’ Parts.

Of course I would have. I want you here, but that doesn’t mean you should be! You are vulnerable and you need help and I will do what I can, but you are jeopardising your safety even further by being here.

There was an unfamiliar clear and firm cadence to the way this part of Zenozarax spoke, conveying the facts of the situation with candid clarity.

“I choose this myself.”

Zenozarax didn’t answer that beyond an unhappy frown in his face. Their back and forth carried them most of the way through the portal and into the following room, accentuated by infrequent hisses of Ravalor whenever his knee forgot how to function.

Once they reached a fairly standard work table Ravalor sat down and Zenozarax quickly put the glove back on.

Ravalor understood very well why and it sent a calming sense of relief through him. Zenozarax was a chaos wizard, yes, but he wasn’t willing to risk spreading that curse by accident. Not with the way they so naturally fell into their old rhythm. But it was also an artificial barrier between them that had never been there before. Maybe only accentuated by the fact that they were two parts that had never spoken before. Both now trying to grasp the other.

Zenozarax got some tools and came back to the table, telling him to put his left leg up. He did. Then he told him to cut off all sensory input from them from halfway down his tights. He also did that. The strangely numb sense of suddenly missing a leg altogether computed in his mind, suddenly missing a not inconsiderable amount of his decentralised nervous system, but the discomfort was being partly equalised by the fact that he had done that deliberately.

This wasn’t the most optimal way of doing it. Normally,  if hurt this extensively, he’d go with this Part to his Soulturner, Exavidar, who would have him temporarily shut down to prevent his own body from trying to heal while they were working within the functions of his body. But Zenozarax didn’t suggest it and the Stargazer understood that it wasn’t so easy.

The relationship between a wizard and their Soulturner or Mage was one of absolute trust. Because once deliberately shut down fully like that, not a reset, not a reboot, but actually, good as dead shutdown, it needed the physical touch of another wizard to initialise the reboot sequence.

Ravalor had let Zenozarax do it in the past. Back in the tower. (Exavidar had naturally not been happy about it, letting another wizard play around in their work, but if Ravalor thought it was okay, it was for them too.)

Now it wasn’t a matter of trust, and Ravalor was glad to not have to face that decision yet, not after all that had happened.

But it was that artificial barrier again. Zenozarax physically couldn’t initiate his reboot sequence without spreading the curse of chaos.

Calmly he watched Zenozarax cut open his knee. Ravalor felt nothing of it. The still patchy, makeshift artificial skin was peeled away, careful to cut the fine weave of Izra running beneath it very cleanly so it would reconnect itself once he was done. An effort that seemed to be pointless given the scattered remains of the weave. With the help of about three retractors Zenozarax managed to keep the magic within his body subdued enough so that he could work.

“Well. This seems like a pretty obvious problem.” Zenozarax muttered as he pulled the ceramic forceps back, between the pliers was a small black piece of rubble. “Forget about sand in the gears, you got whole stones stuck in there.”

“Hum.” Ravalor nodded, it wasn’t really that surprising.

“You should have a full body scan. Chances are good there are more of these, smaller ones too, that just don’t make any problems yet. Probably shrapnell too all over your body. I don’t say they will cause problems, compositions like this are probably going to break down within… hmm three to four weeks I’d say. Given your body is working with full efficiency again. They are not where they should be after all. But if your unlucky you’ll get some corruption around them, fucking up the functions of the surrounding area.

The izthra is pretty badly damaged too. From what I’ve seen it’s completely broken in this leg and probably badly damaged in the right leg as well. So don’t try to go on a space walk anytime soon.” Zenozarax plucked a few more splinters and pebbles out of his flesh. Best thing would be to just rebuild the whole damn thing, but … this will have to do for now.

“Hmhm.”

Zenozarax briefly glanced up, meeting his eyes while his fingers and tools were still halfway buried in the mechanics of his knee. For a moment he seemed to search his face for something, then he continued working.

He did so in unexpected silence for almost 5 minutes, being very thorough and careful to not only remove all foreign objects but fix the stressed areas with some directly applied Mina. He used a tool instead of his own magic to make it do what it needed to do.

“I messed up,” the Stargazer finally said while Zenozarax still worked on the fixing part of his task.

For a few seconds Zenozarax neither looked or said anything. Then, “I know. Pelagius told me.”

Ravalor nodded. So Pelagius too was back with Zenozarax. That was good. Maybe. At least it was better than the alternative of being either dead or left somewhat alive within anything that had remained of that cursed planet. His thoughts drifted off as he wondered what he would say to him. What there was that he could say to him. Tell him that he was sorry? Maybe that really was all there was to say in the end.

“You couldn’t have known. It wasn’t your fault,” Zenozarax said as he removed the retractors from Ravalors knee. “The rift space wasn’t right. It was just a distant weaker branched path from the original. It couldn’t have worked like you wanted it to.”

“I suspected as much. Retrospectively. It was the only thing that seemed like a viable explanation. I hadn’t made a mistake with anything else. The magic was good. The spell was good.” His voice grew more tense in the end and he forcefully had to relax his body again.

“When did you start doing sorcery?” Zenozarax asked genuinely curious, maybe even a little proud if he would believe it and Ravalor sighed.

“Only a little bit with constructs with the K— my Engineer. But never Necromancy. That was the first time.”

Impressive. You managed well. The Spire was an overwhelming piece of work.”

“I had to work in chunks,” he admitted.

And they fell silent. Both sure felt the weight of a thousand unasked questions lingering just millimetres above every word they said. A thousand very uncomfortable questions and at least half as many accusations. How could they talk this nonchalantly about necromancy if the very fact was based on thousands of dead people. But he didn’t want to think about that. Not when he felt still this tired, not when he had just this brief moment of calm. He didn’t want to talk about it. But all the justification for his silence just felt like a betrayal of everything he had tried to do.

Zenozarax closed the skin again, applying a thick layer of Mina that momentarily seeped into his skin and helped his body to knit itself back together. Slowly the patchy skin assumed a more even colouration too.

I can’t stay too long. I need to do something, Zenozarax finally said.

You’re leaving? He asked reflexively, but if it was worry or suspicion in his tone he couldn’t even tell himself. If there was any tone at all. Whatever it was, he saw in Zenozarax’ face that he didn’t like it.

I’m expected. And when I and my ships would be absent certain people would get curious. And there are people we don’t want to get curious. Zenozarax frowned. I don’t want to go, I don’t want to leave you alone, but I promise I’ll be quick. And when I’m back we can talk.“ Hesitation. “— please don’t leave before then.

Where would I go?

Home?

What even was that at this point.

Zenozarax rose back up. I’ll leave some people here, you can trust them. Feel free to look around.

Where do I stay?

Zenozarax nodded for him to follow and so he did. His leg, now back feeding him all the normal sensory sensation still ached a little, but probably it just needed a little more time to heal.

They could have ported again but Ravalor suspected he was now led around to at least get a vague sense of the space he was in now. On their way they met nobody else. The only sound was the station around them doing normal space station things. Filtering air, generating a constant gravity, some minor course corrections through thrusters, a low hum whenever the generated shielding caught this or that space rock. It was a pleasant and calming set of monotone sounds.

He couldn’t yet speak of its size but design wise it was …adequate. Which was a strange word in relation to Zenozarax, but the space surrounding him lacked the usual pomp and glitter he’d expect from him. Everything felt a lot more utilitarian. That was until they reached a more elegant looking door.

As they entered the room behind, and the door slid shut with a soft hum, greeted by the lush interior of the room Ravalor felt calm. It was a bedroom, but as it was Zenozarax’ bedroom it was anything but ordinary. While the rest of the station he’d seen so far displayed a clear sense of restraint, the creative touch of the wizard was undeniable here, creating an environment where ancient decor and advanced magic combined in perfect harmony.

In the centre stood a bed that seemed to belong in a royal palace. The large, ornate bed frame of white gold was adorned with fine engravings of ancient runes and patterns, the bed itself finished by an array of cushions and expensive blankets in rich hues of red, and it was large enough that at least five people could sleep in it comfortably. Ravalor had gotten used to the sparse and merely functional beds that had been normal during the last two thousand years of his life, often no more than bunks or notches, always close to the next wall. The bed here, functioning as the centrepiece of the room and drawing all attention to it, felt extravagant — and yet so horribly familiar. So much like the home he had lost.

The room lay in warm, soft light, from the enchanted lamps that lined the walls, casting a gentle glow that was soothing and familiar. While there were naturally no windows, the room felt anything but claustrophobic. Instead, it seemed to exude a sense of comfort and intimacy.

Long curtains of silver and red, and mirrors of various sizes filled the spaces between bright drawers and shelves, reflecting the light and opening up the space as the room itself extended into the display of a nebular moving on the ceiling.

For a moment Ravalor stared at it, it was a sight to behold. A breathtaking display of magic, showcasing a swirling, colourful nebula that looked so real he felt like falling into it the longer he looked. Stars sparkled and danced, casting a beautiful display of celestial wonder that was mesmerising. And he had to willfully tear his eyes away from it.

Along the walls, occupying the few free spaces above drawers and shelves, magical staffs of varying shapes and sizes were displayed, each imbued with its own unique power. Works of art, crafted by the skilled hands of Zenozarax.

It was a haven of enchantment, a sanctuary where one could escape the chaos of the cosmos and find solace in its opulent embrace. But it wasn’t quite what he knew. Everything was much sleeker in its design with its focus on silver and red, less overwhelmingly detailed like the warm gold of the tower. Maybe it could be explained by the fact that they were on a space station — but Ravalor assumed he had just glimpsed at one of the many ways how Zenozarax’ Warrior may differ from the Wizard he knew. It was still him — just a little different.

You can stay here till I’m back. There is mana, take it, from how you look you really still need it, and speaking off, there is a bathroom if you want to clean up.  Zenozarax signed to the right, there was no judgemental hint in his tone but it made the Stargazer realise that he hadn’t really cleaned himself in weeks. Months? His clothes were still damp, as well as dirty from the explosion and the cave.

The study and library are to the left. The door directly across is the wardrobe. You can use the summoning circle as you see fit… with your clothes… Zenozarax’ words trailed off. There’s a kitchen and mess hall on the third level, they just call it the Restaurant…

The realisation struck him that Zenozarax, of all people, wasn’t sure what to say and that his continued silence wasn’t helping.

I think I’ll clean up. And then sleep. I’m exhausted.

Understandable. Zenozarax nodded, relife in one word. Good. As I said, make yourself at home. I won’t be long. I hope.

Ravalor nodded weakly. Okay.

There was a swirl of emotion in his old friend’s face, too much at once as to read any of them clearly, caught somewhere between profound relief, strickening worry, barely contained joy and yet still clear uncertainty.

I’ll let you rest then. See you then.

Ravalor nodded once more.

And then the door closed, and the Stargazer was alone again.

4 Pelagius I

Thoughtfully Pelagius idled for a moment, looking towards the exit door from the transfer node like he could will his vision to see past the walls. That they were all now returning to the station meant that Ravalor had arrived. And only Ravalor. At least so far.

There was tension in the air. Too many people uprooted from their day to day as to not sow mild discontent. And fear. A mix that quickly could turn to protest or violence if there were any long standing qualms of the populous. He saw no reason yet to fear it here. These people would be mildly disgruntled for a day or two and forget about it, returning to their normal life.

Pelagius wondered how long Ravalor would be here. He wondered if he would have a chance to speak to him. He wanted to, but he yet questioned the intent of desiring what felt in his mind like an inevitable confrontation. Was he looking for an apology? An explanation? Or just a fight? He was relieved that Ravalor had survived. But beyond that his feelings were … conflicted. Confused even, muddied with Zenozarax’ influence still lingering in his mind.

Unexpectedly Sukatar tore him out of his thoughts with a brisk call of his name.

In the last three or so odd months Pelagius had at most exchanged a handful of sentences in total with this particular wizard so the sudden focus on his person surprised him. Yes?

Sukatar was a small wizard with long black hair and more often than not a sense of careful suspicion in the black eyes. She (Pelagius, like everyone else as it seemed, had fallen back to calling both Sukatar and Moakatar she since that matched their visual appearance even though he technically understood that the idea of man and woman didn’t really apply to wizards as Zenozarax had once told him) and Moakatar seemed to come in double wherever they went and so unsurprisingly, the other wizard stood just a few metres away watching both of them.

Do you have an exit? Did he give you one?

‘He’ was referring to Zenozarax in this case and Pelagius shook his head. I don’t think that will be necessary. I doubt we will be attacked.

You can’t know that, Sukatar said sharply. Pelagius didn’t take it personally. He could sense the tension within Zenozarax too, and that was from a point of view that undoubtedly did trust Ravalor. Sukatar had no reason to just put her faith in Ravalor.

As a matter of fact, I do. I know that wizard. He was in my head, Pelagius said factually and to ease the nonchalant nature of his answer he added, “I assure you I am taking this seriously. But I don’t think he’s here to harm you.” And to be honest, even if he should be wrong, maybe that wouldn’t be too bad. If someone actually came to get him, Aeven and Ravalor out of here. It wouldn’t solve anything, he understood that. If Zenozarax was to be believed, it would make things magnitudes more dangerous for each and every one of them. So he echoed those words. I also understand that the only thing that would happen if I get caught is that they would use me to get to Zenozarax. And I am perfectly willing to believe that wouldn’t be too pleasant for me.

Sukatar didn’t seem very happy but less tense at the answer. As long as you understand that. She took a step back. I know you don’t want to be here. But you’re safe here. And as long as you are, we are. So I hope you know what you’re doing.

He felt like Sukatar wasn’t really talking to him but Zenozarax by proxy. As if Pelagius had any real say in anything happening here.

If anything happens, stick with the goblins. They’ll get you out, she said and Pelagius nodded appreciating the tip. It would have been his first instinct anyways.

Through the portal another figure appeared, slumped over and half carried by Xaronzul. Aeven was conscious, though barely. Strong sedatives had kept him docile on the Twilight and they were barely wearing off. Until then they had to make sure he was in his room.

With how short Xaronzul was compared to even Aeven it looked like the wizard should be struggling to keep Aeven upright, whose body had regenerated into a strong athletic build soon after being dragged out of the volcano. But of course, the wizard was stronger than he looked.

As Xaronzul offloaded Aeven into Pelagius’ care he struggled a bit more to make Aeven comply, but he managed and left the exchange node with Aeven’s arm over his shoulder, more or less dragging him forward. Behind him some more of the crews of both ships came out of the portals to stay on the Edge of the Universe for the duration of the upcoming battle. A good handful of goblins as well as a few humans. Most were probably using another portal leading further into the station directly, only those having business on the docks, either loading or unloading would exit here. They had evacuated everyone from the station onto the ships for the moment of uncertainty. Past the portals there were still children too. A babe screaming her little lungs out because something had upset her.

He ignored all of them and soon was enveloped by the quiet of the station.

Aeven beside him slurred some incomprehensible words. A very few he could recognise. Something that sounded like Treva. Something like can’t and help me

I am. I’m here, Pelagius said stiffly, just to give this Aeven the comfort of hearing a somewhat familiar voice, to keep him docile a bit longer. He felt Aeven’s grip for a moment increase, even saw his head tumble with a bit more control, maybe his dazed eyes even saw him briefly.

He better hurry.

They reached Aeven’s cabin a minute later. Pelagius let Aeven drop into the bed and rolled his shoulders before making sure Aeven lay comfortably and safely on his back. His head now resting on the pillow still rolled aimlessly from one side to the other.

There you go. Everything is alright. Pelagius rose back up, resting his hands at his sides for a moment and looking down at the semi-conscious man.

There were straps at the side of the bed, not for detention purposes but theoretically to keep anyone sleeping safe in their beds should the gravity fail or the station make some unplanned evasive manoeuvres and fire up the main drive without the force dampeners kicking in in time. Pelagius barely understood what that all meant but it was a fact he had just accepted as a thing that was a thing.

Like the idea of being in space. The concept of space being a thing to be in in the first place. There was a lot he had to just accept as a thing since he had met Zenozarax.

He let the safety straps rest. It never went well trying to restrain this Aeven.

Call me if you need something, he said flatly and Aeven murmured something. He doubted Aeven really understood him yet. But it didn’t matter. This wasn’t the first time and Aeven knew how to reach him if he wanted to. I’ll get you something to eat as soon as everyone has settled in again.

Another murmur. Another slurred Help me…

Pelagius turned around with a grim frown on his face, left the room and, without hesitating even a second, he locked the door and left with a bitter sense of disdain clouding his thoughts.

*

Pelagius entered The Restaurant as it was colloquially called. The mess hall of the station offered plenty of space to more than 400 people he’d guess with still room to manoeuvre. Consequently, the barely two dozen people that were here now felt a little forlorn in the large space. But it was still lively enough to take his thoughts away from Aeven which did wonders for his mood.

He went over to the food serving area that led into the kitchen. He knocked respectfully at the frame to get the two chefs’ attention.

Chief Burton, a human, was a stocky man with magnificently bushy eyebrows. His family had been living under Xaronzul’s protection for at least 4 generations as far as Pelagius had gathered.

Gnash was… not a human. Well, there were some human aspects to his figure, like the Goblins he walked on two legs, he had two arms, a head with a face and two eyes. So that made sense. But he also had tusks that accentuated the long drawn face that seemed longer than it was tall. His skin was a light blue and the hair a washed out orange. And by god he was tall.

Pelagius hadn’t yet found a polite way to ask what exactly he was so for now he accepted not-human as explanation enough. Besides being tall he and Burton also shared the title of head chef on the station and so far Pelagius had not found any complaints with the food the not-human cooked up for them daily.

Not-human, just another thing that was a thing. Just like the Goblins.

What do you want?

Foods not ready for another hour!

Chief Burton and Gnash said one after another in a unisono tone of annoyance.

Well that was all I wanted to know. Thanks.

As he turned around two goblins almost tripped him up as they rushed past him straight through the kitchen, he heard Gnash yell after them in his native language (some colourful cursing) accompanied by Burton’s bellowing laugh.

He mustered the few people that were present in the restaurant. Most just talked, some humans, some goblins. A group of their children too that were in the constant cycle of making friends with each other just for the goblin children to outgrow their human companions dramatically within a few weeks. Not in height, but mental development of course.

The mood seemed relaxed enough. Sure their wizard overlords threw themselves once more into a potentially dangerous situation, and he assumed sometimes things turned bad, but in the end someone always came back for them.

Excuse me, he quietly got the attention of one of the women, it was the one with the babe. The little girl was sleeping now in her stroller, probably exhausted by all the crying earlier. Is Xaronzul already here?

She nodded. I think he’s in the CC.

Thank you.

She nodded again, her focus was already back on her child.

He hadn’t noticed anyone treating him much differently than anyone else so far, Burton and Gnash were their own flavour of kind to anyone and everyone else spoke to him not less than polite. But he still was and felt like a newcomer and outsider — he felt out of place. And out of time.

In no hurry he made his way up to the Command Centre of the station.

Pelagius had gotten used to time without any reference to the sun so this new living situation wasn’t too different. It was warm. That was a plus compared to his last years in Treva. Though if anyone would bother asking he would admit readily that he missed the sun now more so than ever.

It had been roughly three months since Zenozarax had found him again. Or decided to finally pick him up was more like it.

It was enough time to slowly get to know the other people. Pelagius now spent his days on either the Edge of the Universe or the Twilight. The Dawnbreak was Xaronzul’s ship.

There was another place, The Dark Citadel, he knew Zenozarax and the other wizards went there, but none of the wizards wanted their people there and Zenozarax didn’t want either him or Aeven there either. Why exactly that was he had not yet been specifically told, but by all context it was because of one wizard there, Quadirymir. Zenozarax despised that one, that much he knew.

He found the CC almost deserted bare Xaronzul. The walls were lined with screens and panels that displayed every function and status of the station, very reminiscent of the summoning chamber in the spire of Treva, the screens at the front however showed the status of two ships. The Twilight and Dawnbreak.

Xaronzul sat sprawled over the command chair, seemingly dedicated to not let any of his limbs touch the floor. He was hunched over a datatab he held in his left hand while his right hand swirled a delicate little stick through his fingers with a quickness and steadiness that was nothing short of impressive.

Is everything going alright?

Jop, Xaronzul said, only briefly looking up and not stopping the twirling of the little stick in his hand. This one had shorter hair and a less striking though more pointy style of facial hair — it was Xaronzul’s Engineer as far as he understood it. And usually the one that stayed behind as a backup, because more often than not both of his other parts were on the Twilight and Dawnbreak respectively. One time as the Commander and one time as executive officer to Zenozarax.

How much longer?

Approach will be still 43 minutes. Nobody’s seen us yet. Can’t port to close or they’d have noticed, Xaronzul said, still perfectly focused on the datatab in his hand. Nevertheless Pelagius sat down near the side consoles, watching the slight changes in the numbers relating to the ships.

What’s the goal?

Izthra of course. It’s just a small target. Distant planet scraper. Easy and safe, no protection. May get three bodies out of it. That would be good. And a free pick of what they have in store if all goes well.

Three bodies. Parts of other wizards. Three was barely enough to make one new Part. Something about how complicated the recycling process was of getting the Izthra out of them. Risking two ships and at least five Parts for it.

The maths didn’t add up, and yet it was worth it apparently. He had to believe it.

5 Little Halo

T8:33:BB:22 in Cluster Salta was conventionally named Little Halo by the Operators on the Planetary Refining Station surrounding the small planet.

A lifeless body of mostly silicate minerals on the outskirts of an cold and inhospitable starsystem. Once upon a time some rudimentary form of life had developed on one of the inner planets, but the old star had burned out long ago and its death had purged every sign of life.

Now there were only three living beings in the entire system: The three operators of Little Halo.

Pikodamon watched the wide wall of screens and holograms. He had done so for the last two rotations and would do so for quite a while longer. Till all of Little Halo was exhausted, broken down, refined and transported away to fill a miniscule fraction of Mezchinhar’s endless demand for resources.

There wasn’t much prestige in the task, but in his estimation it was an appropriate purpose for his rank. Pikodamon was just a Provost — and had been for a while now. Stuck in that noncommittal place between a Lesser Wizard and a fully respected Circle wizard. But that was by his own choice. There was only one requirement he had not yet fulfilled to become a Circle Wizard, and that was to build himself a Warrior and do his part in the eternal war against chaos.

As he, with no Part, aspired a purpose that would benefit from staying a Provost, it was expected of him to build a Warrior and sooner or later he would, but for now he had managed to talk himself out of that responsibility.

It had earned him the purpose he was now tasked with: mining this planet down to the core. An absolutely eventless task. Just like the administrative porter stuff his Wizard in Mezchinhar was doing. But that was okay. He didn’t mind. Instead of tedious he found the experience pleasantly relaxing.

The entire structure around him hummed, a faint vibration went though everything as layer upon layer of the planet was taken off, separated and sorted. Nothing was discarded. From ice and stone to metals, minerals and gases, everything was being processed because it was all of use somewhere.

After sorting, the materials were ported to the appropriate sections of the station for refining before getting packed up and sent to whatever base, station or storage was in need of it. The requests were handled and fulfilled by Kobalux, the second operator on Little Halo.

Most of the station worked autonomously. It was Pikodamon’s job to make sure that it kept doing that. He was in charge even though he was the lowest ranking wizard on site. But each of them were here for a reason. His was his own unwillingness to throw himself at the war he thought of as rather pointless. The reasons for the other two he could only guess.

With his feet on the console, Pikodamon kept on watching the screens. There was something hypnotising about it, just watching the cycle upon cycle process, numbers of contents rising and falling, the automated distribution to the factory sections, percentages climbing to 100 and then starting again.

Occasionally he started to whistle to himself quietly while hours upon hours passed. Sometimes when he saw the little plant (named Greg) he had placed on the console’s dashboard looking a bit dried out, he took the pilgrimage down into the holding area where the rows upon rows of containers lined up to be ported to their destination by Kobalux. He usually saw to it that there was at least one of the large tanks holding some meltwater from the processed layers of ice before it would be broken down to its base components further down the line, filtering out all mineral traces and separating the hydrogen and oxygen atoms.

He would steal some of the water by creating a little portal within the tank and by now he was proficient enough at it to not spill several litres of it all over the floor. With his bounty he would then return to the command centre, water Greg, and then he continued watching. The numbers kept dancing over the screen.

He heard the door to the control room open and glanced back to see Kobalux enter. As always wearing the white pointy hat that fit the plain white robe — Pikodamon had the same hat, it was standard operator attire after all, just that his lay forgotten somewhere in this room.

Everything alright?

Just a little bottleneck. Kobalux held up a datatab and let the information switch to one of the main screens. 23 consecutive high priority requests for silicon.

Pikodamon finally took his feet from the console and leaned forward, scanning the details of the requests.

Fulfil these— he marked about half of the requests — forward the others to Dekodano and inform him that silicon has been at a much lower yield than expected, probably will be for at least one more rotation, and we can’t provide these amounts currently. If he asks, say it’s an equipment issue, don’t call it a scanning error. I mean it has to be, but I don’t want to get the prospectors into trouble.

Kobalux nodded. He probably would have done roughly the same, but he was required to check back with Pikodamon for executive decisions like this. Pikodamon still felt weird about that, because Kobalux was a High Wizard. As far as he was concerned, Kobalux shouldn’t even be here, this wasn’t a task for a wizard of that rank. He even looked more important, with the pointy long beard and the weathered face, and not least of all the hat, even though all that was just meaningless superficiality of course. But he looked like an important wizard.

Besides that, is anything else making trouble? Pikodamon asked before Kobalux could have turned again to leave. It had been quite a while since they had talked and Pikodamon had to admit he could do with some surface level socialising. Kobalux probably felt the same, because otherwise he wouldn’t be here — he could have sent this question through the system instead of showing up in person.

The older wizard looked back up from the tablet, giving a weak shrug.

Not really.

Pikodamon nodded to the other chairs and Kobalux followed the suggestion without hesitation. Things have been a bit chaotic after that attack on Fallrise. But nothing that a bit of reshuffling couldn’t be taken care of.

That’s good. Guess this silicon demand is an aftermath of that too. I heard they have to rebuild the entire control node.

Probably, Kobalux agreed. He was looking at Pikodamon but his left hand kept connected to the datatable to manage the countless incoming requests.

After a few moments of both of them just idly watching the screens, or in Kobalux’ case, managing his work, Kobalux said, Do you think we are in danger?

There it was.

Pikodamon shook his head.

Fallrise was a high visibility target. Something was bound to happen there sooner or later. If the Circle would think we’re next, we would have gotten an escort. Nobody knows we’re here, he answered confidently. Of course he was hyperbolic when he said nobody knew they were here — the circle knew of course, but besides that the entire construction and operation of Little Halo had been conducted in the shadows. They were running as dark as possible and there was no natural space traffic in and around the system. From the outside, there was nothing going on there — but of course, if a ship would come within scanning range, they would see them. A whole planet being processed was really hard to hide, visually as well as temperature wise.

“Maybe,” Kobalux said grimly. “But I think they are gambling. The hope is that if we keep a low profile nothing will happen — but If they would have the ships to spare, they would be here.”

Mezchinhar’s army and fleet was, due to their multiverse spanning nature, the largest that existed in time and space. However, it was finite. The Multiverse as they knew it was not. Even the miniscule part of it they looked over was close to infinity itself and still their reach expanded with every day.

Pikodamon didn’t know the exact number of course, but even if one were to assume they had billions of ships, or trillions even, quadrillions or whatever number — they were not able to patrol all of it even if they were to just send one ship into every system... or galaxy even.

“Come now Kobil,” he said, using maybe inappropriately so the diminutive of the others name to lighten the mood, “find comfort in the fact that what we do here is really not important enough in the bigger picture. We don’t matter and that’s great.”

And Kobalux chuckled. “I guess you’re right.”

One of the screens flashed up with a bright warning window and Pikodamon leaned over the panels, his fingers dancing over the inputs before establishing a connection to the third operator on site.

“Fajathena? There appears to be a minor coolant leak in the LMS in section 45b, can you give me eyes on that?”

“Affirmative.” The young voice of the engineer came back immediately. A short moment there was silence, just the low vibration of that station beneath their feet, then the screen changed to a life view of Section 45b. Fajathena moved in the absence of atmosphere and proper gravity slowly and carefully, looking around.

It was absolutely silent. Only occasionally there was a low tremor coming through the speakers as the automated defences around the station shot down some small incoming meteoroids and asteroids. The sound and vibration travelled through the structure and into Fajathenas body where it was then transmitted to the Control Center.

“It should be right above you.”

“I see it,” Fajathena confirmed, the other two saw it through the screen. The clear liquid pooled around the tank, held together by its surface tension. The picture came closer as Fajathena floated through the room towards it.

“How did that happen?” Pikodamon asked with a slight frown.

“Normal wear and tear,” Fajathena answered, sounding perfectly impassive as he got to work. Placing a small nozzle into the liquid it almost immediately started to lose volume as the coolant was sucked away. “This station’s a rustbucket.”

“Harsh words.” Pikodamon smiled.

But true. With the coolant out of the way and held at bay by the suction, Fajathena examined the leak; a weld line had become brittle by the constant vibration. Pretty sure the entire thing will get back into the cycle once this planet is done. If it doesn’t blow up around us before that.

You know what I always liked about you, Jata? Your optimistic outlook on life. It’s quite refreshing. Pikodamon noted with a smirk on his face and Kobalux chuckled softly beside him. Fajathena was a sourpuss, but that wouldn’t get his mood down. He watched Fajathena place a structure sheet over the leak and it instantly wrapped itself around it before Fajathena sealed it shut with his high frequency welding tool that activated the structure nanites within the sheet and made them grasp tightly into the metal below.

Fantastic work, looks almost as new! It was a bit of a stretch but as new wasn’t currently an option it was the closest they got.

This needs to be replaced as soon as possible. Fajathena said as he was done, stashing his tools again.

I know, Pikodamon answered with a sigh. I will notify Dekodano that we’ll be down for at least a third of a rotation for repairs after this one.

I’ll do it. Kobalux stood up. Have to talk to him anyways, eh. He raised the data tab in his hand.

Thanks, that’s kind of you. Pikodamon nodded.

Should only take a fifth, Fajathena said, the image on the screen showed him floating back to the ground floor, a thump went through the speakers as his boots connected back with the floor and his magic anchored him firmly within a small artificial gravitational field.

Maybe, but he already won’t like it, so I’d rather finish quicker than estimated than delay when we run into problems.

Fair.

A third then? Kobalux asked.

Yes.

And with that Kobalux left again, leaving Pikodamon still linked in with Fajathena who had left the large processing hall and across the walkway connecting 45a and b. Through the long infused polycarb windows lining a third of the walls he looked down onto the carcass of Little Halo, for a moment watching the bright line of light where layer after layer was scraped off this planet, before his gaze rose to the stars.

Pikodamon allowed himself to let his own eyes get lost within the endless space, even if it was only by proxy.

You plan to stick to mining once this one gets scrapped? He finally asked.

Fajathena didn’t answer immediately, but then said, I’ll go wherever they tell me to go. Do what they have me do.

There was a near melodic resignation in the engineer’s voice, hinting at more than he was saying. Hinting at the very reason he was here. Pikodamon suspected he himself was the only one of the three that was here by choice, but he also knew that asking directly would be pointless.

What, no single big plan? You got time here, you could start on your masterium. Or are you shooting for a promotion? You’re an eagle rider right?

This time the silence was longer. What about you?

Okay, alright, trading information. Not unexpected. Give something to get something. He had expected that.

He pulled his own datatable from his shirt pocket, the magic expanded in his hand and lit up. Then with a quick touch he sent a file over to Fajathena.

On the screen he saw Fajathena open up the file on the wrist terminal he wore. A little idling hologram of a small planet lit up.

I named it Dalina he said and before Fajathena could ask he added. That’s a kind of mountain flower.

You want to claim that planet? Fajathena asked, as impassive as ever.

That’s the plan. Pikodamon crossed his arms as he leaned back, watching the video feed from Fajathena. The other wizard killed the hologram looking back up to the stars.

You don’t even have a warrior yet.

True. But one day I will, no way around that. Then I’ll get my Masterium done and then Dalina will be mine.

Fajathena scoffed. What for?

Pikodamon shrugged slightly, downplaying his own reasons to silliness, even though Fajathena couldn’t see it. Dalina has a really fascinating ecosystem. I really hope to be able to study the plant life there. Actually little Greg’s grand grand grand parents are from there. He admitted freely as he looked at the little plant. He hesitated briefly, then he sent another file to Fajathena. A drone video of the planet’s surface. “I was only briefly there during my Scionship.”

Fajathena looked at it for a moment. It’s pretty.

It is. Pikodamon agreed with a smile. It’s wonderful.

Silence. Just the stars on the screen which Fajathena’s gaze was fixed on.

Pikodamon kept looking thoughtfully at the screen, losing himself in the stars —

“Can you run a manual scan of the area?” Fajathene suddenly asked.

“Sure — why? The passive ones are running, Ladar will put us on the map like a glowing beacon—”

“I have a feeling. Please run the scan.”

“A feeling? Ohh— this part of you used to be a Prophet right?”

“In training. Do it!” the sudden firm and commanding tone almost made Pikodamon tip over his stool and definitely made him forget who was in charge here as he replied with an almost automatic “Running a manual fine grain ladar scan, everyone brace yourselves this will be bright.” on all internal channels.

The world around them on every screen turned into blinding light.

Pikodamon heard Fajathena ask, What’s that?

Kobalux’ voice added, “What’s going on?”

For a very brief moment Pikodamon didn’t know what Fajathena was referring to, but the other wizard was looking directly at it — yet it took a brief moment to understand.

Fajathena stared still straight into the star-filled universe, millions, billions of little flickering lights all around them, except a sudden irregularity in the waves of light.

Right before Fajathena’s eyes. Like an uncharted back hole, there was a completely lightless spot in the void that had flickered only ever so slightly the moment the wave of magical light had hit it. And it was growing larger. Quickly. Way too quickly.

Jata, get back up here! Kobil, scuttle the portals! He ordered immediately, his finger hectically rushing over the panels, they still couldn’t really see it, the station itself still thought it wasn’t there, none of the scanning light had reported back, just as if it had been swallowed whole by whatever it was. Hadn’t Fajathenea looked at it right in that moment they wouldn’t even have known—

Fajathena’s point of view lit up with the light of a portal which’s counterpart opened up behind Pikodamon.

He aimed the defence railguns at the approaching unidentified black mass, but it was already way too close —  it was that moment where everything fell apart.

Something like a wave rushed through the station as the black mass crashed into it.

And his mind was cut apart as his wizard in Mezchinhar fell silent.

He knew he was in big trouble. He understood that this short moment of horror was just granted to him because in a twisted chance of fate Fajathena had looked at that part of space, because he had decided to ask. But it was already too late.

He knew. So his Wizard knew too. And so even if the emergency signal hadn’t gone through, Mezchinhar would know within the next moments. And even then, the fleet would first arrive in about two minutes.

And it was already too late.

A hard thump behind him ripped him from the terror flooding his mind and he swirled around seeing Fajathena on the floor.

Half of his left leg was missing. His portal had collapsed just before he had been completely through.

Kobalux!” Pikodamon downright shouted trying to establish a line to the older wizard while he was already sprinting over to Fajathena.

Kobalux didn’t answer.

Jata. Pikodamon looked back, forward, his mind hurt, back to Fajathena, even now reluctant to just grab the other wizard and help him up.

Get away! Fajathena barked at him.

But what was he supposed to do? He knew and understood what was happening. The collapse of Fajathena’s own portal was proof enough to know that he couldn’t leave. He had only ever heard of something like this happening but —

“Follow protocol! You know what to do!” Fajathena said sharply, tearing him from his panicking thoughts.

For a brief moment he met Fajathena’s eyes —

Wait here! and then without a second though he bolted for the door.

I’m not going anywhere! Fajathena hissed, cursing the artificial gravity in spirit, but Pikodamon was already gone.

1 minute and 18 seconds.

Before he could even consider a place to crawl to and try to hid, let alone destroy his own body, mere three seconds later a sharp sizzling filled the air of the control centre and in a swirl of light and darkness a wizard appeared right in the centre of the room, followed by a dull clank as the heavy boots connected with the floor.

Fajathena felt a horrible tension take hold of his body as the wizard’s hand rose quickly towards him. His own fingers twitched and he pushed himself back, dragging the stump of his severed leg, leaving only a short trail of black blood. He felt his leg was missing, but he couldn’t really pay attention to that as he stared at the wizard in front of him.

And the chaos wizard looked back at him, the gleaming eyes of his mask unmoving and cold. Then his hand lowered again — unexpectedly without having attacked him.

Fajathena didn’t move any more. There were thousands of things he should do right now — but all he did was stare. And shame burned in his heart as he wondered if this had happened before. If he had frozen like this, back then too.

55 seconds.

The masked chaos wizard raised his hand again, but not to attack. Instead his attention was directed at the panels for a moment. Magic snapped in the air, the panels flickered erratically. For a moment he didn’t even look at him anymore, and Fajathena felt a ridiculous sense of humiliation. Fully at the chaos wizards mercy. Who didn’t even pretend there was any danger to him from Fajathena’s presence.

30 seconds.

Is there no fighting left within you, Fajathena?

The distorted voice cut through the silence.

Wh- Fajathena almost flinched back as he was addressed by name and the chaos wizard looked back at him.

This does seem below your station. I suspect you didn’t choose it? Unexpectedly, the mask folded back, the small parts retreating unveiling the wizards face - and while he knew that meant only that he couldn’t get out of here alive, he felt only numb shock.

Zenozarax?! Fajathena wasn’t sure he even said the name as he looked into the glowing eyes of his former Grandmaster.

8 seconds.

That we would meet again. We unlucky few.

Zenozarax looked exhausted but at the same time seemed eerily calm. Zenozarax knew no matter what Fajathena could throw at him, Fajathena couldn’t win against him. He let his fingers reconnect with the station.

3 seconds.

2

1

1 second overtime

2

3

There is nobody coming. Zenozarax said plainly as he came closer. Fajathena felt the tense anticipation of death strangling him ever so gently. You of all wizards should know that.

I guess hope dies last, he heard himself say, his voice sounded weak to his own ears, betraying his fear. It felt like a sick joke — after what had happened at Funnix, this very same spell that had ruined everything. Now under the control of Zenozarax. Maybe it had always been, even back then.

You’d think so. Zenozarax nodded downright thoughtful and yet he didn’t sound as if he was agreeing. Do you still hope?

Fajathena felt a distinct disdain burning in his stomach as he realised what this was.

Save your words, Zenozarax. I won’t be tempted.

Zenozarax whistled amused through his teeth, Ah, so there is still some bite in you? He glanced back to the screens, first now Fajathena noticed the busing displayed all around the station. Dark figures hushing like shadows through the usually abandoned halls, searching for something. Or someone.

Do not fear. I’m not here to convert you, or tempt you as you put it. Maybe one day you’ll have enough, when the last of their trust in you has dried out. Then you may join us. But that’s not today. I’m sorry.

Fajathena frowned, then his subconscious reacted quicker than his awareness as he raised his hand, a ward exploded before his eyes — but it shattered into a violent burst of energy.

Only seconds later a bright explosion tore through the control center, accompanied by a yell of unexpected courage Pikodamon never knew had been in him, a massive, sparking plasma cannon on his shoulder.

But by then Fajathena was already dead.

6 Zenozarax II (Warrior)

The Edge of the Universe. Hidden well beyond any curious eyes, lost within the eternal darkness in between the stars. In the limitedly known infinity of this universe, it was a place that came the closest to the place Zenozarax once, countless mortal lifetimes ago, had called his home.

But where the thought of Mezchinhar spawned vile hatred in his guts, returning here now he felt nothing but relife.

His body ached. The skin on his arms still burned and his back was hurting badly. He felt exhausted. Only the tactical choice of dark clothing hid most of the dark staines now soiling his robe and cloak. A quick scrub had cleared most of it from his face and hands, but he hadn’t been as thorough as he should have been. He felt too tired to walk, but he also felt too tired to attempt another portal or worse a teleport — and since only one of those options didn’t bear the chance of him accidentally jettisoning himself out into space, he walked.

Those he passed on his way didn’t speak to him. The people here didn’t fear him, but they knew him well enough that they could read clearly in his face that he wasn’t in the mood for idle chit chat and especially not pointless comments nor platitudes.

The doors to his quarters opened as he approached and first when they closed behind him he allowed himself a sigh. The lights were turned on, embracing the large room in a warm glow, and he was greeted with the enchanting glimmer of the splendour around him. The light reflected on polished ornaments and shimmered on the masterfully woven tapestry and drapes flowing like colourful water from the walls. Silver waves lined the ceiling’s edges, fading into the sparkling darkness of space far away. There was too much of everything, and his eyes rejoiced in the comfort this place conveyed. A familiar sense of safety.

The many mirrors scattered around the room just confirmed his sorry state of appearance, but for once, for now, he dismissed it as he approached the sprawling bed. The relief settled firmly in his heart.

Zenozarax smiled lightly as he sat down at the side of the bed. He was dirty and bloody and the first thing he should have done was get a bath and change into clean clothing. Instead he was leaving dust, dirt and crumps of dried, black blood on the spotless sheets. Ralthor wouldn’t like seeing him like this, the more Zenozarax felt it necessary that he did.

There was a weak sense of irony in the thought that especially here, between the copious amounts of rich pillows and ornate blankets Ravalor looked the most lost and so terribly out of place. Sleeping the way he always did, flat on his back, as if barred for his own funeral. At least — it would look so for any human. For him and any other wizard it was the opposite. Because it was the way they came into time. The pose each of them had been in when they first opened their eyes, laying flat on their back on cold metal and glowing magic, staring into too bright lights, before hearing their own name for the first time. Zenozarax couldn’t stand it, as it did always remind him of Mezchinhar, but to Ravalor it must still be comforting. A longing for the clarity and comfort of the prescribed life inside those cold walls. A longing for order.

Zenozarax raised his hands and shoved some of the hair from the sleeping wizard’s face. It was so long, much longer than he had ever worn it before. Once upon a time Ravalor had scoffed at anything much longer than shoulder length as impractical at best. Since their hair didn’t naturally grow longer unless they wanted it to, wearing it this long was a very deliberate choice and so he wondered if it was just this Part of Ravalor that didn’t mind, or if it was just yet another reminder that Ravalor too had changed.

Ravalor stirred lightly. Sighed. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, almost hiding the light gleam in his eyes before they turned black. Just his subconscious mind struggling to accept that he was to wake up before he was able to synchronise his memories with the rest of himself.

“You’re back—” Ravalor mumbled, quite obviously not wanting to be fully awake yet.

“And you’re still here.” Zenozarax pulled his hand back, “How are you?”

“Good.” Another drowsy mumble, telling a lie in hope that one day it might be true. Slowly Ravalor seemed more awake, meeting his eyes, dragging himself up just a bit, sitting halfway against the pillows. He still looked tired.

In turn Zenozarax saw Ravalor’s eyes muster him, his dreadful appearance, the state of disarray of his usually pompous image. And they lingered where he knew he spotted the dark traces of blood even against the dark clothes. Probably he even smelled it. The scent of dead magic and burned izthra.

There was a sense of numb pain in Ravalors eyes. A quiet but dreadful acceptance. Zenozarax knew he wasn’t approving of what he did, he never would because he couldn’t. No matter how much he’d explain it, be it necessity or vengeance, and no matter how practically dispositioned Ravalor himself was, he was still fundamentally good. And kind.

And he would always be. No matter how much Zenozarax needed him, he would never be able to change that. Nor would he even want to.

And he knew that Ravalor was only here because he no longer believed himself to be good. Doubting his own heart that had been broken under the pressure of guilt and grief. Now it was up to Zenozarax of all people to remind him of the contrary. He felt obligated to, because the wizard more important to him than anything else in the multiverse was hurting, even though should he be successful, he knew Ravalor could not stay with him. The thought alone tore him apart.

“How many?”

“Ravalor—”

“Tell me.”

“There were only three wizards,’’ he said calmly. They were overseeing a mining operation. We took their Parts. Not their lives,” he stressed, but Ravalor stayed quiet, looking down and away from him. Maybe it didn’t even make a difference to him. He only heard what he needed to hear. Zenozarax was still out there, killing wizards.

Now that he was here, they would be slowly but surely working towards the inevitable realisation of the fact that Ravalor still, may it be stubbornness or in willful ignorance, didn’t seem to fully accept that he, Zenozarax, wasn’t good. Not in the orderly world Ravalor had accepted as true, not in his perception of good and evil. After all that had happened, not even in Zenozarax’ own anymore.

And he would always be that. His own consciousness was burdened with the death of too many. There was no way of taking that away. It would always be a part of him. No matter how much Ravalor needed him in turn, Ravalor would never be able to change that.

Even though he’d want to.

Ravalor’s eyes fell on Zenozarax’ hands, still not looking him in the eyes, and after a brief moment he reached out. Taking his left, gloved hand, slow and gently, and yet Zenozarax flinched back at the touch against the sore skin under the glove’s fabric. But just for a moment.

Does it hurt you? Ravalor asked quietly, his fingers hovering just barely over the clear visible bright lines of the ancient marking on Zenozarax’ exposed wrist. There the damage was visible where the intense magic had burned through and scorched through his skin. It would heal again, fade away eventually if he stopped channelling chaos for a while.

“Yes,” he answered truthfully, fully taken by the tension of Ravalor’s fingers so close to the danger he embodied to him.

“Why do you let it?”

Zenozarax stayed quiet for a moment. “I don’t know.” he finally answered, but wasn’t sure that was quite true. He didn’t have to feel the pain, that was true, it was quite possible to achieve. But he never even considered it. Because each time he felt the magic setting his nerves aflame and the pain exploded from his hands up his elbows and drawing all the way to his shoulders — when that chaos barrier tore through him, or when he saw the light in a wizard’s eyes vanish and the gaze turn dark — he needed to feel it. Once it carried a sense of purpose, marking one more step towards his goal. Now it was something else. The pain was agonising — but he couldn’t bear the thought of not feeling anything at all.

He didn’t know how to actually explain all that to Ravalor. “I guess it makes me feel like I’m winning.” he said instead, a false smile on his lips.

“Are you?” Ravalor looked up at him. “Can you?”

Would it have stayed at the first question Zenozarax might have considered a lighthearted answer, but at the added second one he swallowed it and the smile vanished from his face. Because Ravalor just looked at him, and even though the faint expression of being lost never left the young face, he asked in earnest and honestly wanting to know the answer.

“Maybe,” Zenozarax said quietly, grasping both of Ravalor’s hands, looking down on them. “One day. For now we just take small victories, one at a time.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

Zenozarax looked up again, desperate to see that weak smile he thought he heard in Ravalor’s voice. It wasn’t there. “I know,” he said soberly. “But I think that it will be the best course of action, to keep a low profile for the time being. To gather our strength. Figure out a course of action. Just keeping things stable.” He couldn’t hide the tiredness from his words. He didn’t even want to consider any grand plans anymore. Not while his heart was still full of grief.

A brief moment of silence as their eyes met.

“How long will that last?”

“I think I can squeeze in another month or so, before flying off the handle as some put it.” He answered the familiar judgmental tone of Ravalor’s question with a bitter sarcastic sneer in his own voice. It wasn’t like his own volatile nature wasn’t unknown to either him or Ravalor or anyone else for that matter. A fact some seemed very eager to point out to him as of late.

But his own irritation over it was soothed by finally a light smile on Ravalors face. Only that it seemed impossibly sad, and even worse, Ravalor pulled his hands away again.

“What is it?” Zenozarax withstood the urge to reach for him again, worried Ravalor would slip away from him as he knew from Pelagius. By the lord’s he wanted to rip those blasted gloves off. But he wouldn’t do that. Not again.

“I just thought…” Ravalor started, fell silent for a moment, then began again. “You haven’t really changed. I had convinced myself that you had gone mad. That your judgement was impaired, that this… all this, wasn’t you.”

“I’ve been called mad long before I left earth — but I don’t feel like the wizard you knew once anymore. Not since we had to part ways,” he said, knowing that it was true for both of them. He saw Ravalor’s eyes lose themselves into distance again, being swallowed by his own thoughts. Withdrawing from him, trying to find confort in the solitute that was a constant and agonizing torture on his mind.

Probably after having taken that bath he longed for he would find Ravalor asleep again. Tempted by the exhaustion of his body and mind that would find no rest. Nevertheless, he shouldn’t keep it from him. And he feared, if they were to talk more now, they would inevitably need to talk about things he didn’t want to talk about. Not yet. Not when he himself felt as tired.

“I’ll take a bath,” Zenozarax said quietly, standing up. A low grunt of pain escaped him as he straightened up, and he was surprised as he noticed that this got Ravalors attention back in genuine concern.

“Have you been hurt?” he had raised halfway.

Zenozarax looked away, feeling a distinct longing for that hot bath and the frustration over his own lack of attention that had indeed injured him in the raid, “I guess I could use your assistance.”

“Of course.” Ravalor stood up, being right at his side without hesitation, and still it made his heart arch.

He signed him to follow him and they entered the adjacent bathroom. Though the word barely fit what could be considered a personal spa. He heard the sharp breath as Ravalor finally really paid attention to the mess of cloak and robe hanging from Zenozarax’ back.

“Help me get this thing off me… I think it half melted onto my back,” Zenozarax said quietly, turning his back fully to Ravalor.

Hesitantly, Ravalor took hold of the shredder cloak and Zenozarax took a deep breath.

“What happened?” Ravalor asked while he carefully pulled on the dark fabric and Zenozarax felt it tear from his skin, ripping it open. It felt revolting.

“What always happens.” He pressed through his teeth. “I was too focused on one thing to notice another. Damn plasma charge went off right behind me… Might as well could have killed me. Blasted Lords could you imagine what a shameful end. Getting blown up by you, fine, killed by those clowns you dragged around, okay, but killed by the lack of attention — dreadful.”

Those clowns are good men. Ravalor placed the scorched pauldrons aside and removed the cloak fully, maybe not as gently as he could have. Zenozarax felt it tear from himself at a few places.

I know... Zenozarax said, his voice had turned soft. A lingering pain flared up in his heart.

“Open the shirt,” Ravalor said and Zenozarax did as he was told. Carefully Ravalor continued, shoving the uniform jacket down, pulling the fabric from burned skin, trying to not cause more harm. “I think I have been wrong.”

“How so?” Zenozarax asked back, both held their voices quiet as if more than a whisper would interrupt the sorrowful peacefulness of the moment.

“You seemed to have had a lot of time for… self reflection.”

“That’s a serious accusation,” Zenozarax said almost seriously before hissing through his teeth as a particularly large piece of his shirt was pulled from his skin. Faintly he smelled the scent of his own blood over the scorched smell of his clothes. An almost sweet note compared to the metallic scent of human blood, carrying a hint of a chemical smell.

But it felt all wrong. Still too distant. And he understood that it may always be like this. He had torn a rift between them, and it was so deep and so wide that it seemed impossible to cross.

Ravalor stayed silent.

The jacket slid to the ground and Zenozarax felt the tentative touch against the battered skin of his back, plucking away at his burned skin. There was no danger to him from doing so as only the izthra on his hand, arms and parts of his head was even able to establish a  connection.

“When did he rebuild you?”

Zenozarax’ eyes lingered on the floor, only focusing on the now careful touch, peeling away more scraps of fabric from his wounds, but even more so he focused on the sound of Ravalors voice.

Actually, even before I was trapped on Charon. I lost this Part on earth in 992, right at the beginning, and I knew that was very likely to happen, so I had a backup build. … but I wasn’t awoken until recently. That’s when I finally could free the Wizard. I was there at the battle at Mars too. Standing back because I knew what I was doing had a great chance of tearing myself to atoms before achieving anything. Never expecting it to happen by your order — even though I might should have.”

“I had to.”

“I know.”

And there was an absurd sense of acceptance from both of them. Zenozarax didn’t blame Ravalor for his multitude of attempted murders on his life and Ravalor had long accepted that this was how it was.

“You need to get this fixed. The weave is damaged quite badly.”

“And you need your leg fixed propper. You’re still limping.” Zenozarax turned back to Ravalor, already missing the other’s touch this close even though it had hurt. We’ll take care of it later.

Without another thought he stepped out of his boots and pants before shrugging off the rampaged base layer, and he felt disturbingly old as his back ached at doing so — a sentiment centuries of living among humans had imprinted onto him even though it was nonsense in his case. This body was still too young as to feel the actual wear and tear that came with a long age without being rebuilt.

The warm, almost hot, water promised comfort when he stepped into it but by the time it passed his waistline the pleasing sensation turned to stinging pain. Nevertheless he just let himself sink into the water, a painful groan escaping him as he leaned back. The water burned against the fringes of missing skin, leaning against it naturally didn’t improve it, but he just didn’t care.

He closed his eyes with a sigh.

Do you need anything else?

He heard Ravalor ask, not a tone of submissiveness or obligation, just the question of an old friend asking to help.

Would you stay for a moment? Zenozarax asked without even opening his eyes. He just listened for Ravalor.

A sense of almost unfamiliar peace took over his mind just knowing that Ravalor was here in the room with him. Lazily he opened his eyes again, seeing Ravalor who had sat down at the rim of the small pool, unashamedly watching him. His face was calm, thoughtful, but beyond that he could see the pain.

He had only ever seen that look once on his face, back in the tower. And he had hoped to never see it again. But in a twisted kind of fate, Ravalor was back in the same situation again. Having lost the trust in him and unsure of what to do about it. Even when he didn’t remember it, Ravalor had already once come to the conclusion that they would have to part ways. That same conclusion was now inevitable again. Maybe not today, but eventually.

I missed you— Zenozarax said, it was the only thing he really could say.

I know, Ravalor replied quietly. He didn’t have to say more. The fact that he was even here, for now, said enough.

Why must he think of him leaving again? Why was it the only thing that came again and again back to his mind? Why couldn’t he just enjoy that he was here, with him, again after all this time? From what he had been told it had been over 2000 years. And only a bit over a thousand since they had briefly talked down in the caverns beneath Treva. The short encounter after, before he tried to open the portal, he barely remembered as the Wizard’s memories were hazy by the dreadful influence of the elder gods and his own death.

2000 years.

Sometimes, when the Wizard’s memories were the most prominent, it felt longer than that, sometimes, when it was the Warrior’s, he couldn’t believe it had been that long.

When will you leave again?

The question that was seemingly straight ripped from his own thoughts saved Zenozarax from drowning in his own grief and bathwater. He looked back at Ravalor who now leaned against the wall behind him, the endlessly dark eyes laying on him with that familiar sense of regret and pain.

I think I’ll stay for a while, he finally answered quietly. If you would like that.

I think that would be good.

7 Quadirymir I

Like pitch black tendrils the dark frozen spires of the fortress pierced in utter silence through empty space. The Dark Citadel was a colossus, several millennia in the making and a testament to extreme carefulness.

Accumulated over thousands of years it held every tool and resource a heart or task would ask for. A shipyard to build up a fleet if one had the time. Storage that offered every material in abundance. Well — all but one.

Quadirymir knew better as to keep all his carefully collected stacks of izthra together in one place. Or even reveal how much he actually had. It was much safer like this and would avoid undesired betrayals on his own side. Chaos Wizards were a kleptocannibalistic pest like that, stealing and scavenging wherever they could get their hands on.

In between the vast summoning network the Dark Citadel provided, able to create every tool or material from the bare resources and elements stashed, was one piece of equipment that was the most valuable. The only piece that even with time could not easily be replaced should it ever get lost.

It was a device, a fine piece of magic, directly taken from Mezchinhar in a heist so daring it had by now been completely scratched from Mezchinhar’s record he was sure, turning it into nothing more than a legend at best. The reality was much less flashy and more hands down scheming, betrayal and burned through minds BUT — in the end he had gotten it.

Plugged straight from the most mystical circle of Mezhenxenenovu:  Mezchinhar’s glorified garbage heap. But it was also the place where all the broken wizards went to get taken apart. As far as Quadirymir was aware, izthra wasn’t a material rare in Mezchinhar itself, but if one could say one good thing about the First Circle then it was their adherence to efficiency. With the right tool, which he had, and a wizard skillful enough, one could manage to get a clean 1 ⁄ 3 yield from every dead Part. Not great, but more than one could get without the right equipment. Of course it was of no concern in Mezchinhar but they had enough wizards that needed something to do that even things that weren’t strictly needed became highly efficient.

This device held no great value inside of Mezchinhar, but it was the most important object outside of it. Because izthra was the only material they couldn’t get in abundance because it didn’t exist in the multiverse and couldn’t be synthesised with any magic they had or knew of. And the only one they, as wizards, vitally needed to survive.

This is ridiculous. Tell me you can see that? Quadirymir said theatrically disappointed.

Zenozarax just grunted a dismissive grunt and, surprisingly, stayed silent on the matter. One could argue that he was focusing, using the delicate device processing the body in front of him.

Each wizard’s body contained thousands upon thousands of kilometres of izthra, however, the individual strands were merely a small fraction of a hair’s thickness. Separating them from the artificial flesh and magic surrounding them was requiring a careful attention to detail.

But Quadirymir also knew very well that Zenozarax was absolutely capable of doing more than one thing at once — especially if it was talking back to him. He could probably still do that while asleep!

Something was up with the old wizard but he didn’t yet know what that was.

After Zenozarax’ Warrior had returned after his last failure he had seemed broken. He had been quiet. The pain so clearly in the defined lines of his face. He had been beautiful like that. It had taken months to rebuild his Wizard. But even then he had been more quiet. And from what little Quadirymir had managed to coax out of him he had understood how much that defeat had cost him. The level to which he had pushed himself to make it work — just to be stopped at the last moment nevertheless. It had broken something within the old wizard that had seemed irreparable.

Now however he seemed… more mellow than usual. Downright content. Hopeful even after the last year of near lethargic melancholy. And Quadirymir hated it.

Not only that — he was wearing a most ridiculous white and red robe. Which had taken Quadirymir a while to realise how much that bugged him. He was pretty sure he hadn’t seen him wear white in all of the last two thousand years — and that was something to take notice of. It meant something. Something was off. And he didn’t know what it was. And that was irritating.

Listen, Quadirymir said diplomatically, waving his hand as to disperse any bad air between them. A daringly offensive gesture among wizards — but it didn’t even make Zenozarax react. This was getting ridiculous. He walked around the work area to stand straight across Zenozarax.

This yield is pathetic. The maths doesn’t add up. This is not economical. How else do you want me to put it?

Relax. We still came up on top. The Warrior only needs a little patching up.

Oh that’s great. So all that for two and a half charred Parts of which you’ll need a good chunk to fix your other Part. He huffed in only more pretended outrage, Zenozarax barely glanced at him, only one eyebrow raised. Yeah okay, he didn’t believe it. Quadirymir wouldn’t either, that wasn’t the point.

He actually didn’t really care about the yield. He meant all he said, it was pathetic, but in truth his irritation lay elsewhere. He sighed and turned around, leaning halfway against the workcounter.

Turning to a more sweeter, less confrontational tone he said, I can’t put forth all the materials for all of you. You have to know that. This thing is amazing, but it can’t generate izthra from nothing. You need more parts. And you need to get over whatever problem it is you have and take all of them. Not one Part, all. That’s the only way this works long term and you know that.

So far it’s not been a problem.

No, it has. You’ve been back for not even one and a half years and already we had to rebuild you once. You don’t see it yet but things are tense out there right now especially for you. They are actively hunting you specifically. You will run into trouble, sooner rather than later. What happens if you lose one of your ships? Maybe four Parts in total? What you have right now would only be able to rebuild one of you. Maybe one and a half if you do the small ones first.

Then we better stay careful, Zenozarax said, still very much unimpressed by anything Quadirymir said.

Utterly learning resistant. Very well.

Quadirymir gave a long drawn out sigh, shaking his head.

Fine. He bounced himself off the counter and across the room to the wall panels, after a few prompts and a quick swipe the information appeared next to Zenozarax on the work table display.

What’s that?

That’s a way to really buff your ressources. If you do it right. Same deal as before. Mining rig, no escort, off the grid. Six wizards on this one.

Quadirymir walked back over to Zenozarax, watching the old wizard taking a break from the work to really examine the information.

How many more of those do you have?

Only a handful. Two others went not viable. They are obviously tightening up security, so if you want to move on this, you may want to do it soon. There’s a good window of opportunity very soon using the asteroid swarm here as cover for an approach.

How good is this information?

As of two days ago, solid, he said with a shrug. There always were risks. Even with information one minute old.

Zenozarax grunted again, but where he sounded dismissive before, now he sounded downright displeased. It was a good target. Passing it by would only be a reasonable course of action if he would be stable resource wise. But he wasn’t. Unless he had some hidden stashes himself that Quadirymir didn’t know about. Resources that the rabble he dragged around might have gathered before his return. But that seemed very unlikely to him. They were too … soft … as to really get out there and do what it took to be really safe for a long time.

We don’t need it. We’ll just lay low for a while. Zenozarax said and for a split moment Quadirymir felt his face slip into utter disbelief. But he just caught it as a strange tingling in the back of his mind alerted him to watch out. It was a part of his awareness that had been honed and crafted into his persona by centuries of being an Envoy. It was the sensation of something else going on. Something that wasn’t said nor shown but underlined every word and action he witnessed. It was imperative to find out what it was if one ever wanted to make a real impact on anything really.

Huh. He chuckled, leaning down with his elbows now on the counter, resting his head on his hands almost coyish. Okay. Unexpectedly, this weird sense of serenity doesn’t suit you, but fine. I get it. Lay low, get patched up, let the dust settle, focus on more important things.

There it was. The slightest twitch, almost Zenozarax had looked up. He didn’t, but it was enough. He didn’t answer either.

Quadirymir swallowed his grin as he rose up again. Good lords, you’re such a disappointment.

Careful there, I only let my mother call me that. Zenozarax murmured, still not looking up.

You know what, it’s almost tempting to get to Mez and find Leshodimar and tell him you said that.

Oh, please do. And tell me how that went.

Quadirymir chuckled as he walked out of the room he only added,

I’ll be waiting for you to come back grovelling at my feet, Grand Wizard. I’m looking forward to it.

Zenozarax stayed quiet in the way he always did when he rather wanted to strangle him than indulge an answer, and as Quadirymir glanced back he was still perfectly focused on his work. The frown on his face was not by focus but irritated displeasure which Quadirymir quite liked.

He turned away with a light smile and left Zenozarax to his work.

8 Pelagius II

The wizards had returned mostly unharmed and most had left again. The Twilight had gone to the Dark Citadel for some sort of repair or modification (as Pelagius didn’t know even half of the ships abilities or function it was hard to say if getting the CBD ship shaped was something to worry about).

Zenozarax’ Warrior had stayed here, even though he had been injured. They not only fixed ships on the Dark Citadel, but wizards too and it was also where they brought the scavenged Parts from their raids. Maybe he didn’t go there because his Wizard was there already and they tried to not be at the same place at the same time.

Nothing of that had been explicitly told to him with purpose, maybe if Zenozarax wouldn’t be so busy with other things he would have. But as it was, he hadn’t even seen him since his return. Back in Treva it had been near impossible to escape that wizard’s presence, and his chatter. Now there had already been weeks where he hadn’t seen him at all, and when he did there was an awkwardness to it, because Zenozarax didn’t want him to be here either. But neither of them had a choice in that matter. And Pelagius had accepted it (unlike someone else). The events had unfolded as they had and this was the result and the consequences of it. He couldn’t change that. He could only accept it, and deal with it accordingly.

He may wasn’t able to escape Zenozarax influence on a spiritual and physical level, given the curse, but the current distance to him was an improvement. With the only downside that he could no longer rely on that well of information.

Most he knew now he knew because he talked to people. And he listened. The humans knew just what they needed to know and didn’t seem too curious beyond that. One way or another this was their life, their family and society, and most seemed satisfied with it. The goblins were a much richer source of information because they seemed to want to know everything. They had drilled him good for any information and sensation related to his immortality. And so he had taken the chance to inquire about all the things he didn’t know in turn.

At first the extremely heavy accent of the goblins had been very hard to understand. Unlike the wizards that seemed effortlessly fluent in both their native tongues he had only seen a very few humans talking the goblin language. Hearing them talk amongst each other, with all the hissing and clicking sound he could understand why. Some nights laying in his bed he had out of curiosity tried to make those sounds too and failed. But, maybe if he kept trying. He actually already understood all of them, these humans and goblins alike, like they spoke languages he already knew intimately, and he suspected that had something to do with his connection to Zenozarax. Speaking it too, spontaneously fluent in a language he didn’t know he knew, had been an utterly bizarre experience at first but he had quickly gotten used to it. Which admittedly hadn’t made it any less bizarre, especially when he was absolutely certain he could, in theory, speak that goblin language if he could only get a grasp on how to even make those sounds.

As it was, the goblins seemed to have a much easier time speaking to them in a language the humans could actually understand, so he didn’t have to worry about actually speaking whatever that goblin language was.

He had been told that there actually existed translators — small devices that were apparently implanted somewhere into one’s skull that would translate foreign languages on the fly. While sounding impressively helpful, Pelagius had quite enough of anything being implanted into his body, so he outright despised the idea. The wizards, the Order ones, usually introduced these translators to populations under their watch and it sure was an amazing piece of magic to have access to, but, as Pelagius understood it, it was also one easy way of keeping track of persons of interest. Consequently the Chaos Wizards here didn’t like to use them seemingly on principle. And so learning languages the hard way it was, for most of them.

Then again, he assumed it to be much easier for the goblins because technically they didn’t have to relearn anything. They remembered how to speak their language from their parents before them and so on.

Sometimes Pelagius still felt his head buzzing with all the things that were just normal now. Given that, he should be glad that there wasn’t too much expected of him yet.

But he wasn’t.

He had been raised up and trained as a knight for most of his life. He had held an important and honourable position in the king’s guard. He had held an unfortunate but firm position at Zenozarax’ side for years. Then he had helped Ravalor.

And now… he didn’t do much of anything. He had been assigned to station security which had seemed like a good fit but as it turned out there wasn’t much need for it besides taking care of some minor squabbles or drunken ruckus.

At first it had been a somewhat welcome change. It was rather peaceful and surely, after everything he had been through, it was what he deserved. A break. But by now it felt more like a curse than the actual curse within him. Trapped on this flying fortress and bored to tears.

With Ravalor here now, already taking most of Zenozarax’ attention quite evidently, he wasn’t sure it would get any better. Then again, based on his own experience and what he had been told, things seemed to have a way to dramatically and unexpectedly change when that wizard was around.

But for now he took to the only really important task he had, even though he loathed it.

Politely he knocked on the door. There was a door ringer within the access panel but he never remembered using it. Knocking still felt more natural to him. As usual he wasn’t invited in, so he unlocked the door and let himself in.

He almost stopped right in the doorway, before taking another careful step forward.

Aeven stood in the middle of the room, but there was something so unnatural about it that Pelagius hardly could put into words what it was, like he had glimpsed a ghost. It didn’t look like Aeven had been moving, not caught in mid stride or halting at the knock. He stood with his back to the door, body tense, the breath harder than it should be, raising his shoulders and back with each of them.

Aeven? He asked carefully, closing and locking the door behind him. If he were to call for help it would arrive too late anyways and he in his immortal state really was much more suited to handle any outburst anyways. No reason to risk the rest of the station’s population.

At the sound of his voice, Aeven flinched violently, turning around and taking a few quick steps back till he stood with his back against the wall.

His eyes were wide, like prey facing down a predator they couldn’t escape. He looked physically healthy, but the expression in his face told a different story entirely.

He saw Aeven’s lips move, barely heard a whisper of words too quiet to understand as Aeven spoke to himself, rapidly breathlessly, not taking his eyes from him. And yet he didn’t even seem to really see him.

Have you eaten? Pelagius asked, halfway raising his hands in a non threatening motion. A brief glance at the meal he had brought in last night confirmed that, if he had, it couldn’t have been more than a few bites. You need to eat. You’ll starve otherwise. And that’s really unpleasant. Not that Aeven wouldn’t be aware of that at this point after having tested out the limits of his new immortal state quite frequently and violently already.

Pelagius was just picking up the old plate when he saw Aeven move in his peripheral vision. The plate clattered to the ground as just in time he turned to dodge a heavy punch.

Whoa — there… Pelagius swiftly stepped backwards, his steps feather light, almost bouncing as he kept himself ready to dodge a follow up attack. He had raised his own hands halfway. Aeven, are you listening?

Let me out of here. Aeven glared at him, his voice a threatening growl.

I can’t do that. Not when you’re like this. We talked about it, Pelagius said, slowly circling Aeven who kept his body turned toward him.

You’re a liar… Aeven hissed.

Why?

Because you are a lie.

Pelagius couldn’t help but scoff. Not that again. What do you want me to say, your highness? He said more biting than intended. This wasn’t his prince, he had never sworn loyalty to him. As far as he was concerned, this Aeven was the lie he accused him to be. Standing before him like a really tasteless joke. He felt the pity and disdain turn into that all too familiar flame of anger, anger that still wasn’t fully his own but it might as well be, that blamed this man for ruining everything. Even in that moment he knew how irrational that was because it assumed the impossible idea that everything would have been just fine had Zenozarax succeeded. If you keep doing this, nothing is going to change.

Silence! Aeven barked. His next action came utterly unexpected and caught Pelagius woefully off-guard as at once he grabbed the plate of food and hurled it at Pelagius. Barely able to raise his arms in time to avoid the plate as well as the food to hit him in the face, he lost his focus on Aeven for but a brief moment — but it was a mistake just the same. He realised Aeven was right there, he even saw the fist, but it crashed into his face before he had the chance to do anything about it.

He heard bones break and didn’t know if it was his or Aeven’s and he was hurled back against the wall by the force of the punch. Pain exploded in his face and drove tears into his eyes, he thought he even cursed, but he was for a moment too dazed to really hear or see anything. The strong grip he felt however shot a new massive dose of adrenalin through his body as he recognized the mortal danger he was in and his vision cleared at once, driven by sheer survival instinct. While he was immortal, being left dead here, with Aeven, was the last thing he wanted to happen.

Aeven had grabbed him by the collar and slammed him to the ground, the raw, near animalistic strength behind his grip was terrifying, ready to beat him to a pulp — but before that could happen, Pelagius managed to twist his body enough to get leverage and it earned Aeven a devastating kick into the stomach, which threw him backwards and away from Pelagius.

Pelagius scrambled up, slammed his hand against the door panel and rushed out, Aeven right on his heels he knew it, and the moment the door slammed shut at his command, he glared for just a fraction of a second into utter hatred, before the door locked shut. The banging against the sturdy metal echoed through the corridor. The yells were muffled.

Pelagius had to take a deep breath to calm his own mind. Aeven’s distress was palpable to him, he could feel it as much as he heard it.

He wouldn’t calm down on his own. He would bash against this door till his hands were shattered, his body broken and bloody. He would exhaust himself to death.

And even though Aeven may be immortal, Pelagius was not yet jaded enough to just let him do that to himself again.

He almost ran when he left. Unfortunately there was only one person who could calm Aeven now.

9 Zenozarax III (Warrior)

Ravalor slept. And Zenozarax found himself sitting at the side of the bed on a relatively plain armchair just watching the young wizard. It was clear proof of how much Ravalor still trusted him, that he hadn’t woken up as Zenozarax had entered. His subconscious awareness would know him to be here, but saw no threat in it. A questionable as well as purely subjective, maybe even illogical conclusion he must have come to, maybe out of hope and nostalgia alike.

Zenozarax knew to value this sign of trust more so than ever before. There had been a time he had taken it for granted. He had been wrong to do so.

Away from the struggles of the last months, Ravalor would sleep a lot now and not much at all. Often but never long or even effectively. Cut off from four Parts of himself, this fraction of who Ravalor was would be under an enormous amount of constant and agonising exhaustion. Every waking moment his mind was trying to compensate and fill in the blanks of what was simply missing, every restless hour it would try to store and process all the memories accumulated over months with no place to go.

Zenozarax had been there, he knew that suffering, but he had only been missing half of himself.

He could barely imagine the suffering that had let Ravalor make such a drastic choice and then stick with it.

What made you do it? he whispered.

Ravalor moved and Zenozarax felt an instant wave of regret having disturbed Ravalor’s sleep.

Ravalor turned from his back on his side, blinking, still sleepy, yet meeting Zenozarax’ eyes. There was no surprise, because he had already known him to be there.

There was this moment of silence again. The moment in which it seemed so strange and unbelievable that this was a moment that actually happened. Both of them, right here.

I still can’t believe you’re here. It doesn’t make sense to me, he said while Ravalor watched him quietly. It doesn’t make sense for you. You were always so orderly.

I always thought so, too. But, I’m not that wizard anymore, the Stargazer answered, a mere whisper. It hurt more than he could ever imagine. “If I ever were.”

I don’t think that’s true, Zenozarax said with a sombre smile that seemed to puzzle Ravalor. But he couldn’t answer the unspoken question. Or even begin to explain while even now, over two thousand years later mere words could strangle him.

“Maybe I was only compared to you,” Ravalor suggested. And maybe that was true. If he really would have been as orderly as Zenozarax accused him to be, they would have never done all the things they had done.

What happens when you die? Zenozarax asked, quietly.

Ravalor sighed, fully committing to being awake and rising halfway, leaning with his back against the pillows of the sprawling bed.

Pelagius told you about it? he asked, dodging the question.

I know what he knows.

So you are still connected.

Yes. And will be until I get that knife back, so, probably for eternity, Zenozarax answered freely, knowing the best way to coax Ravalor into answering a question was to just keep him talking. Eventually he’d come back around to it. If his diversions had been sufficiently answered.

Do you plan to get it back?

I don’t see how. I suspect you took it after, well, me going— Zenozarax made a maybe a little tone deaf exploding motion with his hand, overplaying the still agonising pain and grief the mere memory evoked within him. So it’s back in Mezkrov now. It’s still bound to me which means they can’t find another owner. It will stay there until time runs out. Or well, I die. Which now will be a very high priority for them. And that doesn’t make things easier.

But do you plan to get it back?

Zenozarax smirked grimly, leaning halfway to one side, resting his head in his hand. Sure. It’s right up there with the other good ruined plans.

Ravalor nodded, not taking the grim frustration personally even though he was taking a huge load of the blame for Zenozarax’ most recent downfalls.

So?

Ravalor pondered over his answer concerning his “deaths” for a moment, then said, It’s cold and dark. That’s all I really know.

Zenozarax slightly frowned. That’s all? There’s nothing there?

No, there is! Ravalor rose up further. In an instant there was something like urgent desperation in his tone, like it wasn’t the first time he had to explain what nobody believed him. I just — I can’t see it. I know it’s there, like right before my eyes. But it’s like I am just… not looking correctly.

Hm.

Ravalor looked away. He had folded his legs under the blanket, his fingers entwined lay on top of it, he looked at them now as if trying to figure out their mystery. As he spoke again Zenozarax understood the hesitation. And he also wished he had never asked in the first place.

I tried to see. To remember what I couldn’t. To understand why you were gone.

There was an unspoken question. They both knew it was there. Ravalor’s tone was pleading for him to answer it. And still begging for him not to.

He felt the tension in the Wizard’s thoughts watching him closely and also recognizing the minefield he had just entered. But he agreed, he wouldn’t lie. But the truth and the potential consequences of it scared him.

I made a mistake, Zenozarax finally said, and hopeful, as much as terrified, Ravalor looked back up to him. I made too many mistakes. And you helped me fix some of them. But this— despite all he chuckled dryly as he looked briefly at his own hands —curse, it was within you too. I didn’t want you to take this path. I didn’t want you to live in fear for the rest of your life. I wanted you to be safe.

You killed me. It wasn’t even a question.

Yes. His mouth felt dry.

Did I ask you to do it?

No. His heart burned. I begged you to come with me. But you refused because you needed to stay. Because it was the right thing to do.

Ravalor looked puzzled, maybe even betrayed.

Zenozarax had known it would come to this. But now that the time had come he didn’t feel prepared for it at all.

I’d have followed you, always.

No. Not where I was going. Not where I went. I went too far. You were right. And I couldn’t let you bear the weight of my mistakes. Not you— For a moment, as he shifted his posture, sinking more into his seat, he caught his fingers trailing over the golden necklace he wore. Demitalek used to have one just like it. He, the Warrior, had always worn it since that day. The Wizard would like to forget about it. But he wouldn’t allow himself to do so.

Ravalor stayed quiet for too long. Brows furrowed in heartbroken betrayal. And Zenozarax remembered that last look on his face, the moment he had begged him not to do it.

“Tell me about it,” Ravalor said. “All that happened after…”

Zenozarax hesitated. The pain in his heart flared up as he realised that he couldn’t do that. Not all of it.

The golden necklace felt heavy around his neck.

“Atladin needed to die. That was always my plan. But when we got caught, and what happened to you happened, I knew there was only one way left to get us out of there. I took this curse, this knowledge, and I killed them. But the power I unleashed in my ignorance was a ceaseless destruction. Bound to me and tearing myself apart. You helped me build that portal in the rift space beneath Treva, to banish this construct of my own making into hell. But to do so you took chaos into yourself as well. I wanted to leave it all behind us. But you were worried about the danger the portal posed. And you were hurt. Angry. Disappointed. Scared even. Rightfully so. And so you choose to stay.” Zenozarax closed with a deep breath before adding, “I couldn’t have you remember it. It would have destroyed that life you wanted to return to.”

“It did. Anyways,” Ravalor said quietly.

“But you are still alive.”

And Ravalor stayed quiet.

“Ravalor I—“, Zenozarax halted in his words.

The tightness in his chest grew, something screamed at him from the back of his mind as his body tensed up. The timing couldn’t be worse.

Zenozarax?

I need to go. He abruptly stood up. We will talk about this more, I promise, by the lords I promise, but I have to go now!

What’s happening? Ravalor, now alert, seemed to, thankfully, understand that something was indeed happening and Zenozarax wasn’t just trying to escape the conversation. By the lords he cursed himself to hell and back — he knew they needed to talk about this more. But he couldn’t ignore Aeven either.

I’ll explain later— I really need to take care of this. It’s important. I’ll be back soon!

He didn’t wait for an answer as he had already left the room.

The moment he did he almost ran straight into Pelagius. There was a stressed expression in the young knight’s face — but Zenozarax already knew why that was. Even before he told him.

He’s— I can’t calm him. Pelagius stepped out of his way then followed him promptly while Zenozarax already quickly walked down the narrow hallway to the crew quarters.

I know, he said grimly, unable to get rid of the tightness in his chest. Because he felt more than his own feelings.

He noticed the torn fabric of Pelagius’ uniform as well as the distinct bloom of a bruise on his face that would vanish soon enough.

The engineering bundle of Tarnaxes that was Thez, Taz and Fiz rolled past them scuttling through their legs and miraculously not making any of them stumble. Neither of them paid any attention to them as they didn’t do either.

Do you want me to…? Pelagius asked hesitatingly when they reached the door.

No, stay outside, Zenozarax just muttered and went inside, letting the door close behind him again.

Facing another problem of his own doing.

Interesting how often that happened nowadays. Maybe it should be a cause for concern.

The young man was breathing heavily, curled up, wedged into the corner of the room as far away from the door as possible. Arms slung around his knees, pressing them against his chest. His hands grasped tightly into the black fabric of the plain jumpsuit he wore. His knuckles and fingers were bloody and broken. Noticeable strands of the brown hair lay on the floor, blood on his temples.

As he heard the door, he looked at him. Eyes wide with panic, his breath quickening.

Aeven.

No. Aeven struggled backwards, trying to squeeze himself further into the corner, just to get away. But there was nowhere he could go. Go away. Leave me alone. No. NO!

Zenozarax walked closer toward him. The young voice broke in desperate panic.

And he kicked, shouted, even bit as Zenozarax kneeled down and took hold of him. But Zenozarax ignored all that as he firmly grasped Aeven’s hand and neck. Aeven’s eyes seemed bulging, sheer terror in the ashen face.

He kept holding the young man’s shaking hand, the other firmly but gently dug into the messy brown hair, keeping him close and still.

It’s going to be alright. You’ll be. I promise. It’s all good. You’re safe, Zenozarax said quietly, gentle but with no uncertainty. And with the cursed prince’s mind finding comfort within himself again, he felt the struggle against him die down. Then a hoarse gasp, a sob. The strong body was suddenly taken by helpless trembling.

Make it stop…

Zenozarax kept him close, caressing his back, letting him cry. It’s going to be alright, he just repeated.

There was a certain absurdity in this. A ridiculous irony. Holding the man who had desperately tried to kill him now close to his chest. He was broken and hurting. And that was Zenozarax’ fault.

He had done this. And now these were the consequences.

If he just would have killed him… but no. Once more he had let himself be compromised by his own emotions. There was no sense in blaming the Wizard for it when he knew he would have done the same.

Objectively he had known that this Aeven hadn’t been the same he had gotten to know in Treva. Not the same as the boy he had raised. The man that had trusted him. Subjectively he had been unable to cast the spell that would have torn Aeven to atoms for good.

He had just needed him to stop, to step aside, temporarily out of the picture. And that decision had undone him.

He had succeeded in plunging that knife into the young prince, the Hammer’s own ward shattering against the force of the knife — but it had left him open for a counter attack. That brief moment, enough to kill him before the knife could have ended it all.

Only in one aspect he had succeeded. He hadn’t killed Aeven. In hindsight it was a questionable success.

And that to the prince’s detriment.

Zenozarax knew the human mind well enough. He understood the impossible pain the young man was going through.

Having lost his planet. Everyone he loved. Fought and died. Having chosen and accepted his own death. Then resurrected, left within the fires of the Casm of Rodenborg for months. Dying and resurrecting over and over again a never ending torture. Just for it to end after all — taken in by the wizard he had died trying to kill. Soulbound to the one person who had brought all this misery upon him.

They were connected now.

As much as he was to Pelagius. Each of these men, bound by the knife’s curse, almost as much a part of him as the Wizard was.

And without the knife there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t make it undone, he couldn’t kill them even if he wanted to. They were bound to him, but he barely held any control over them without the knife.

He couldn’t fix Aeven. But he also couldn’t ignore him.

The tortured prince finally had calmed in his embrace, the breathless sobs reduced to a shuddering breath. Carefully Zenozarax let go of his hand, taking Aeven head, forcing him ever so gently to face him again. He saw the quickening of the young man’s breath right again, just to look him in the eyes set his fight or flight response on fire.

What do you need? He asked quietly. Aeven swallowed hard. But didn’t answer. He hadn’t really since they left earth.

I know you’re in pain. I want to help you.

Confusion still in the wide eyes, the underlying panic too. But also a numbness, now that the worst of the panic was fading. Taking his hands from Aeven’s face he took both of his hands instead, making sure they were as close as possible for their minds to find each other.

Is it the nightmares?

There was the smallest nod, hesitatingly, wearily.

Do you see them now?

Another nod. Firmer this time.

What do you see?

And for the first time, Aeven really answered him.

...death.

Your own? He gently tried to coax Aeven to continue. But a shadow fell over the deep sea that were his eyes. His head dropped, avoiding his eyes again. And he stayed quiet.

And Zenozarax knew this wasn’t the time yet. He let go of Aeven and stood up again.

I’ll have Pelagius bring you something to help you sleep.

10 Zenozarax IV (Wizard)

For most Chaos Wizards, the concept of spreading their Parts out as much as possible, to not have two of them at the same place, was even more vitally important than it was for the ones still linked to Mezchinhar.

But it was also, with every part, an increased risk of being found. So even between those trusted, it wasn’t unlikely to not freely share the amount of parts one possessed or worse their location.

By the fact of how Xaronzul had joined them, Zenozarax who had effectively become his soulturner was aware that he had three parts. The third, the Engineer, only appeared on the Edge of the Universe when both the Twilight and Dawnbreak were far away. Where he went when they were at dock, not even Zenozarax knew (even though he assumed him to be with the colony fleet). Not because Xaronzul didn’t trust him, but because it was safest this way should Mezchinhar ever get a hold of any of them.

Moakatar and Sukatar kept the existence of any other Parts even closer to their heart, with only ever having revealed two of them. Xaronzul’s theory, after careful deduction, was that their third Parts were living somewhere in an idyllic beach house sipping cocktails all day — which neither of the two had ever denied or confirmed. But if that was the case, good for them.

Quadirymir was hard to keep track of, Zenozarax assumed there to be at least three parts, if not four, but only one of those had kept a consistent face during the last millennia, and in due time even that one would change he was sure.

Zenozarax himself was the odd one out in that regard - with his history being well known and the fact of what happened on Charon, everyone was very much aware that at least until Charon, he really only had two Parts.

Which was something especially the young wizards that had chosen to follow him found puzzling.

Yes, having three parts would mean some further redundancy, that was true. Zenozarax wouldn’t deny that. Being only of two meant he was in mortal danger the very moment one part of him died. A state of being which was arguably quite the norm for most living beings in the multiverse, and while he had gotten used to it, the idea of truly dying frightened him now more than ever before.

But building a third part would cost them more resources than they had, take a considerable amount of time outside of Mezchinhar, and also, and frankly that was the most weighted argument against it; he didn’t really want a third part.

He had been alive for almost a billion years, and by now, this, his two Parts, were so firmly established into the idea of who he was, that the idea of so drastically changing himself seemed weird. He was of two — he couldn’t even properly conceive of three.

Maybe he was old fashioned like that.

Back in the day, three parts was usually all the parts a wizard would think they needed, and keeping it at two was just as common especially for wizards that usually stayed in Mezchinhar with only their Warrior travelling the multiverse at the Orders command.

He had passingly taken notice over time how three became the new two, four parts being not that uncommon and sometimes even five.

Ravalor was of five now. Even imagining it seemed outlandish to him. But then again. There was the Stargazer — and he was unstable, too unstable as that he was of use to Mezchinhar. And then there was the Scholar. Zenozarax now painfully understood that he was the very reason for the horrible state his most trusted friend was in. He had done this to him, driven him to this point.

His heart got heavy at the memory and the reminder that Ravalor had been there, in the tunnels, still after over two thousand years. So in reality Ravalor only had ever had the true range of motion with three of his five parts. Making that two when not counting the Warrior for Zenozarax knew too well that one had no real agency over their fate. That made it seem more reasonable.

Either way, right now he had only one Part of Ravalor on the Edge of the Universe. And that one was not okay. Not even physical which worried him on top of everything else.

Ravalor was still limping despite his best efforts to clear out the debris in his leg. Not unexpected, but unfortunate. It would be a hard sell to convince the others to offer up enough izthra to rebuild that leg properly for a wizard whose alignment was vague and unclear at best at this moment. If he were to return to Mezchinhar, which he’d need to do at some point (it was inevitable) then he’d be fixed up for free. So doing it now with their sparse resources would be a waste.

Xaronzul probably wouldn’t complain, the others would be harder to convince. And they would be right to object. It didn’t make sense logically — but subjectively he just wanted to…

What exactly? Make a symbolic effort to fix Ravalor? Was he really that arrogant to think that that would make much of a difference? Or was it just his emotion driven heart again, wanting this wizard to be okay?

I like that look on you.

Zenozarax’ face relaxed as he looked up. What look is that?

The dark, brooding one, Quadirymir said light heartedly as he strolled into the workshop.

I’ll make sure to be all smiles and rainbows then.

How can one wizard be so petty?” Quadiryimir sat down a little too close to him as to be accidental. “Honestly though, I’m worried about you.”

Zenozarax almost laughed. Quadirymir sounded absolutely genuine, of course he did, he was a god damn Envoy, but what he said was so outlandish that it wouldn’t pass as true even if one were to give him the benefit of the doubt.

It actually amused him. “Are you now? I didn’t take you for someone too worried about anyone else but yourself.”

“Which makes us rather similar I’d say, but it’s true,” Quadiryimir noted as he leaned forward a little, not wavering once in this tone. “Listen, in all honesty—”

He really needed to stop saying these things. They only worked on people who weren’t aware who he was. It had worked on him once too, until he had realised that Quadirymir had never spoken a honest word in his life. And Quadirymir knew that Zenozarax knew that and yet they kept up this exhausting charade.

And so Zenozarax found himself listening, looking for what ulterior motive had driven Quadirymir down here today.

“I am worried because you don’t seem very stable as of late. I know a lot of things didn’t go as you planned, and part of that is my fault I will not deny that. This weighs on you, naturally. Your big dream has passed you by, and you blame me for that. And I’m sorry for that. You won’t believe me, but I am.”

“You are sorry that I blame you?”

Quadirymir smiled. “I’m not sorry that I made a decision that was in all our best interest.”

“Right.”

“But that is besides the point.” Quadirymir rose back up. “First you’re indeed all smiles and rainbows. Now you’re suddenly all distant and brooding again for no reason. And I hate to see you like this too.” Zenozarax knew that was a lie. Usually the worse he felt the more questionably enamoured Quadirymir got with him. “You have your ships back but you rarely bring them here anymore bare some repairs. I thought you were ready to move on, but now you’re just bunked up in this lab day in and day out. Scavenging and scraping together this humble existence. That’s not you. Live a little. Do something.

And what would that be? Zenozarax finally laid down his tools.

Oh, no, you got me pegged all wrong here. I don’t want you to do anything in particular right now. At least, I don’t have any devious hidden plans for you. The suspicion is dripping right from your face so I know that’s what you’re thinking. But no! I’m just speaking as a friend. Go buy yourself a fancy new robe or one of those tooth achingly sweet treats from that one place you liked so much. I mean, just something, I don’t care.

Their eyes met for a long while, the bullshit was so thick one could almost cut it with a knife. And they both were aware of it.

But before any of them could say something more, a heavy tremor shocked the Dark Citadel and not a second later alarms blared. It was the first time Zenozarax heard them on this station.

Both of them were up to their feet immediately, the emergency screens that lit up all over the room reported within a fraction of a second an explosion in the docks.

An attack? Quadirymir asked tensely, looking for Zenozarax’ lead, suddenly all that playful bullshit had completely vanished from his voice, but Zenozarax didn’t look back at him. Spotting the relevant information before Quadirymir did.

That was the Twilight— and before Quadirymir could say anything else Zenozarax disappeared.

Just to momentarily reappear in absolute chaos in the docks. Gravity was gone, the Twilight hung dislodged from her drydock port in the vacuum, still tumbling, crashing into construction beams and support pylons. Her wide, dark pointy fins floated with the grace of death in the vacuum, but the long tail in its momentum crashing through a walkway was a quick reminder that it was tons of metal and magic in uncontrolled motion.

Zenozarax could hear and feel the grinding and crashing as it reverberated throughout the structure of the station as his boots settled down onto the catwalk. There was debris everywhere.

He pushed himself off the ground, stabilising himself in the vacuum around him and, with the marking in his arms lighting up, he took hold of the natural chaos surrounding the tumbling ship, thickening the dark matter around it till the ship slowed and came to a halt.

Then he saw Moakatar appear about 150 metres away from him in mid air, the hopefully only unconscious body of Esa at her side. As she saw him she raised her free hand, a light appeared and in rushing vaeh she said, Explosion near the CC and secondary docking clamps. Cause unclear. Chance of further explosions uncertain. I can’t find Xaronzul. Sukatar is evacuating the upper decks, she took some damage. The entire top is vented. There may still be goblins.

He nodded, acknowledging the brief report. Moakatar teleported again, appearing near the walkway and secured Esa with help of his mag boots on the grating floor. By then Zenozarax had already pushed himself forward. The fire the explosion had caused had died with the vanished air, now there was only a big hole where the command centre used to be. With the upper deck in this condition he couldn’t dare to teleport in, the chance to rematerialise within debris was too high. Quickly he pushed himself inside and landed on the floor where his own magic settled himself firmly on the ground despite the lack of gravity. Everything was slower still. As quick as he could he checked room to room, near some vents he found two unconscious goblins who appeared mostly unharmed besides some minor burns where their skin wasn’t covered by their fireproof robes. He immediately grabbed both of them and teleported back into the station.

He left them there as he returned back to the ship. Since these were goblins used to space, and properly adapted to it, this brief amount of vacuum hardly would kill them. But that window was running out quickly.

By the time he found another one, the young Habin Fen, he knew it was already too late. Nevertheless he brought him to the other too who already came by. He didn’t stay to see them realise their friend was already dead.

Back at the Twilight he finally saw Sukatar. Or at least he knew by context that it had to be Sukatar because most of her face and hair was gone, leaving one eye glowing and flickering, the other pitch black.

Are you alright? Zenozarax silently asked via a quick light from his own hand as she pushed towards him.

She answered. I’m fine. Though from the look on your face it probably doesn’t look fine. All vented rooms are checked. Everybody is out.

Good. I got Cab Fen and Jennax Fen out, Habin Fen was already dead. Sukatar’s destroyed face twitched to something that might have been a distraught expression if there had still been artificial muscles to make it. Zenozarax continued, Have you found Xaronzul?

No.

Alright, get inside and patched up. Me and Moa will find Xaronzul.

He was right in it.

We’ll find him.

Sukatar nodded and disappeared in a swirl of light. Only a moment after a bright light from the top left got his attention and he saw Moakatar flashing her light.

I got him.

The vacuum seemed clear up there and he teleported up, appearing next to Moakatar. And his heart sank.

She didn’t say it, she didn’t have to. This part of Xaronzul was dead. Half of his body was completely gone, the force of the explosion, the intense heat and debris hand torn his body apart. This wasn’t damage that was possible to repair.

Get him to the lab.

11 Ravalor III

Ravalor, feeling restless, considered leaving the room.

Zenozarax’ abrupt disappearance had left him with much to think about and even more he needed to talk about. He had asked his question. He had gotten an answer. Just the answer hadn’t really given him any of the closure he had hoped for.

Unless Zenozarax had drastically changed during the last two thousand years, which wizards of his age usually did not, Ravalor doubted Zenozarax had left him this abruptly just to flee the uncomfortable topic. He knew Zenozarax to be impressively grumpy being forced to talk about things he didn’t want to talk about, but he had never fled a conversation outright.

But he had sensed the reluctance this time. The Stargazer was closer now to what had happened than ever before. And the information was given to him in plain words — and not through the daring manipulations of his own mind.

There was a sense of irony and maybe bitterness to that. Then again, seen through a more deterministic lense, if he hadn’t done what he had done, never pursued this knowledge kept from him by death, it may would have been very unlikely for him to end up here.

Having nothing else to do, he just sat and waited at the bright, sleek and tastefully ornamented table that matched the idea of a highly advanced space station but kept true to Zenozarax’ preference for needlessly decorative stuff. It was a relatively large table with six chairs that were secured to the ground by strong magnets a simple touch of his hand could disable and enable at will.

Being in space, with the latent danger of ending up in zero gravity by a malfunction or routine maintenance was one of the biggest changes in everything surrounding him compared to the tower in Artlenburg. Here there were no open shelves, no knick-knacks that lay scattered on free standing chests or tables. The shelves that were here were all closed, many of them with plain see through fronts displaying the safely secured contents in them, but it still just had a different, more orderly feel to it. Only time would tell if that was just how Zenozarax’ Warrior was, or if it was a result of him being whole again.

He looked up and lost himself for a moment in the view. While everything in the room seemed a little more humble than he knew, the ceiling really was stunning no matter how often he looked at it. Composed from a fine layer of magical matter covering the entire ceiling and feathering out down the walls, the entire ceiling was a display not unlike those used for windows in Mezchihars space crafts.

Wizards usually had no real preference for windows since windows as a concept of looking outside didn’t exist in Mezchinhar — but they really liked to see space.

The display above glittered in the magnificent vista of an unknown nebula. The star nursery gleamed with billions of stars. There had been a little sense of disorientation the first time he had looked at it, as the room seemed to simply disappear into the openness of space, emulating a perfectly three dimensional viewing experience on what was not more than a few millimetres of magical matter.

Not to pay too much homage to his namesake he tore his eyes away from the ceiling again, shifting slightly on his seat.

Twice he had stood before the door, twice he had not found a good reason to pass it. In here he lacked nothing. He could sleep, there was mana if he needed it (though he felt it was making the aching in his knee worse), he could see to his appearance if he would choose so (which, besides cleaning the initial dirt from his skin, he saw no need to). He could make himself new clothing.

He looked down to his feet.

His pants were in tatters below his knees. And his boots were gone. At least one was, that of his previously almost completely destroyed leg. The other boot, burned almost to a crisp too, stood near the bed.

The floor wasn’t particularly warm or cold, and even if, it wouldn’t really matter. But, walking around with no shoes did feel weirdly undressed. He wondered when the last time would have been he really walked anywhere barefoot and after some time in his memories he realised that it would have been in his time in Artlenburg. There was a memory of Zenozarax forcing him in his enthusiastic way to really feel the sand and waves on his skin, building up his repository of sense based memories. He hadn’t really enjoyed that. But it still had been a very nice day, making it now a bittersweet memory.

He stood up and entered into the adjacent room, which was a walk-in closet as was to be expected from Zenozarax. He didn’t pay the plethora of clothes and accessories much attention beyond confirming his suspicion that this really was Zenozarax’ Warriors realm by the amount of uniform-esc clothing.  At the dressing area he still found the vanity cabinet he expected and, because wizards really never changed as it seemed, he found an extensive hand-sewing kit in the right drawer just as he had expected.

He set up the summoning circle to fashion him a new base layer, since his was ruined as well, and once it was done he undressed.

Putting the by now shoddy and shot through cargo vest aside with his belt and equally worn out shirt. The pants he put on the cabinet. Then he peeled himself out of the broken base layer he still wore since leaving Mezchinhar and replaced it with the new one the station had made.

It was a long sleeved design with the normal high collar, leaving only his hands and head uncovered by the fine magical weave. This one also came with the pointed integrated shoes, just like the one the Kingmaker used to wear. The barely existent profile was a noticeable change to the heavy combat boots he had worn before, but it felt still familiar.

He didn’t know if it was imagination or just the stark difference to the spent and worn out base layer before, but this one felt quite nice, for a moment almost velvety against his skin as it hugged his body closely and soon became unnoticeable, more like a second skin than a piece of clothing.

Then he went to work on the pants. Cutting off the no longer salvageable parts at knee high, he folded the hem up and quickly, with steady and sure hands, sewed it cleanly all the way around twice. Zenozarax never liked the idea of just disposing of a piece of clothing just because of a minor tear somewhere, and Ravalor had found necessity in being able to mend his own clothes down in the ancient tunnels. The Kingmaker had brought the Hermit new clothes now and then, but usually he tried to fix them himself. It was just something else to do. Sometimes he had gotten fabrics from the topside world for this or that need in his home, those he had sown himself too.

The Stargazer sighed lowly as he finished up the second leg. The melancholy those memories evoked was as poignant as it had been months ago.

The next thing he noticed was the cold in his body and a sharp stinging pain in his right leg. He instinctually flinched and first then realised his slumped over position over the vanity cabinet. Then he saw the needle sticking halfway in his leg.

He cursed and frowned as he pulled the needle out of his tight. He had slipped into the void without noticing again and the weight of his own hand still holding the needle had driven it into his leg without any consciousness being able to object to it or any pain to warn him.

The sting faded quickly as the small puncture wound resealed itself and the new base layer fixed the minor hole on its own.

Disgruntled, he chose to ignore that this had happened (leaving no lasting damages besides being reminded why Mezchinhar would never have given him something proper to do) and put on his clothes again.

He looked in the mirror and was reasonably satisfied with the result. His arms and legs covered in the black base layer worked surprisingly well with his shirt and the cargo pants that were now cut off above the knee.

Looks good. You seem to have developed a sense of style after all. Zenozarax’ voice cut through the silence and Ravalor spotted him in the mirror, standing at the entrance to the room. His clothes were different too, darker, which worried him, wondering if he had spent much more time in the void then he’d have thought. But then, it seemed unlikely Zenozarax would have just let him sit there…  

I think mine just never quite aligned with yours. I’ll have you know that the Wizard is breaking the customary fashion in Mezhestvo every day.

He’s wearing black, isn’t he?

Correct. The Stargazer smiled lightly for a brief moment, caught by the fondness of memories as he thought about his Wizard, before he turned around, keeping his face neutral again. Is everything alright?

Yes. There is — just this thing I have to take care of now. It’s because of the curse of the knife. It’s not so easy right now dealing with it.

Why is that? The Stargazer followed Zenozarax out of the closet and back into the main room. Zenozarax sat down on the pulled up chair at the table where Ravalor had sat before.

The curse makes it so that the wizard that is stabbed with it becomes part of the wielder — temporarily, till said wielder would choose to relinquish that control. But now we’re stuck like this.

I know, Pelagius told me, the Stargazer said gloomy, “Is he alright?” He stopped still about two metres away from Zenozarax, not feeling like joining him at the table.

“He is.” Zenozarax nodded, but not yet looking at him.

He also told me you’d let him go once everything was done.

I did say that, Zenozarax confirmed.

Did you mean it?

Finally Zenozarax looked up at him. Does it matter now? I can’t.

It does.

Then yes, I meant it.

Hm.

What?

How can you do that? Ravalor looked down at Zenozarax who met his eyes with a sense of tension.

Do what?’’ There was something like quiet alarm in Zenozarax’ voice, and Ravalor wondered how much of the pang of disdain he felt had resonated in his own words. But it didn’t matter. He felt that anger again. The frustration.

For so long you told me so often how the only thing you really wanted is to keep control over your own life, your choices and purpose. To be free. But you’re such a goddamn hypocrite. You take that same freedom and choice away from others just to serve your own goal. How can you do that? You want us to be free? By taking that freedom from others? Taking their choice away from them? From me. From Pelagius. Everyone that stands in your path. The people on Charon, on earth, the thousands you killed building up that spire. They are dead because of you, where is their freedom in that? Their choice?!

For a flash moment there was anger swiping across Zenozarax’ face, defiance, the first instinct to snap back and Ravalor braced for it, not willing to back down on this. But then Zenozarax expression softened, turning to a deep-seeded frown, words unspoken turning the furrow more brooding before eventually, Zenozarax looked away. Almost deflating onto the chair he sat on.

And at that moment, he just looked unimaginably tired.

“I never wanted any of that.”

“Yet you did it anyway.”

It had to be done… Zenozarax muttered, and the Stargazer hated how much of his own guilt was mirrored in those horrible words.

No, He just said, feeling the strength of his own anger fleeting like water running through his fingers as Zenozarax refused to give him the fight he had expected. Violence is always an option. But it’s always just that, an option.

Of course you’d quote Heshiva. He doesn’t even believe that himself, and anyone thinking he does is a naive fool. I wouldn’t have taken you for one. Zenozarax scoffed half-heartedly and then sighed deeply. As he looked back at Ravalor there was an unexpected sadness in his eyes. What if the only other option is to die? I don’t want to die, Ravalor.

“That doesn’t give you the right to kill anyone else.”

“But you can justify sacrificing the few for the good of the many?”

The Stargazer clenched his teeth, feeling that pain in his heart. There had been a time where he would have agreed. And a time where he’d have vehemently disagreed. Now he indeed felt stuck in a naïve denial about reality, like he could will all suffering to not exist anymore. He could imagine plenty of situations that would justify it, but he just didn’t want to. And he felt frustrated with himself about it. “No, I can’t.”

Zenozarax didn’t answer, and for the first time in his life Ravalor didn’t quite know how to read the expression in his face. Maybe it was regret, or pity, or the merciless perspective of a wizard that had already lived so much longer than he had. And nothing of that mattered - because he realised there was nothing Zenozarax could ever say to make what happened be okay, moral, or justifiable. No matter how much he wanted that argument to exist, his desperation to find it only entangled him only ever further in a delusion that would see both of them untainted in the end.

Why couldn’t you just… Ravalor tried to find the right words Stop. All this. The fight. Step back from it. Take your own freedom. Why do you have to make it into a vendetta against those who wronged you? They can’t find you if you are careful. We both know that.

It’s not that simple. I wish it were. But we can’t stop. I — Zenozarax froze up, a flash sparkling in his eyes as he clearly focused closely at some memories from his other Part. Ravalor immediately saw the tension and alarm in his old friend’s posture and face.

Zenozarax? What’s happening?

Zenozarax looked at him as he stood up, but by the gleam in his eyes his attention was elsewhere.

Come, follow me. Zenozarax was already on his way to the door and despite everything Ravalor found himself hurrying after him, his knee ached with every step but he ignored it as best he could. Before he could ask again Zenozarax said,

Something happened to the Twilight.

Your ship?

Yes.

Your Wizard?

No he’s safe, he wasn’t on board.

12 Zenozarax V (Warrior)

Zenozarax and Ravalor entered the command centre of the Edge of the Universe the very moment a flash lit up the room and Xaronzul appeared as his Engineer. He didn’t look very happy.

Moakatar and Sukatar were already present. All of them acknowledged Ravalor being with Zenozarax with not more than a glance, before ignoring his presence and refocusing on Zenozarax. They all met here because there was no private conversation to be had on the Dark Citadel. Or anywhere Quadirymir was for that matter.

Briefly he glanced back at Ravalor, now suddenly faced with three other chaos wizards, but if that made him nervous he didn’t show it by keeping that low neutral frown on his face, so Zenozarax refocused at the new problem at hand.

What happened? Zenozarax asked briskly into the tension.

Fuck if I know, Xaronzul said, noticeably (and understandably) agitated as he drove both hands through his short hair in a very clear this-is-so-bad motion. The goddamn thing must have exploded right in my face.

We were running the maintenance on the channelling device as usual, Moakatar added, being actually the one to answer Zenozarax’ question. After Little Halo there was a lot of wear and tear in the system, it barely held as is. There was an explosion tearing most of the CC apart. We lost Xaronzul and Habib Fen.

He heard all that, not much of it was new to him, and it still didn’t explain what happened.

Quadirymir, Sukatar said, like it would explain everything.

Yeah, there was that. But Zenozarax frowned.

Why would he do that?

Why wouldn’t he? Xaronzul paced restlessly through the CC. He was tense, nervous and primed for violence, seeking for something to lash out on. He had just lost a Part of himself — and they knew that was very bad in their current situation. Zenozarax also knew that in this state, Xaronzul would be bombarded with all sorts of impressions his mind could dream up, so he kept his own voice deliberately calm as he spoke again.

Yes, I hear you, and I don’t question that he could and  would if he saw any benefit in it, but that’s exactly it, why? Zenozarax said. He felt his own anger claw on his mind, but he kept it on a very short leash. Keep in mind the length he went to get me out of Charon—”

“Yes. You,” Sukatar interjected, they all knew what she meant. Zenozarax continued, his frown deepening,

“Fair, but why would he attack us now? I know why he betrayed me on earth, he doesn’t want things to change. But he doesn’t stand to gain anything by attacking us now— abruptly he fell silent and everyone’s eyes lay on him.

Or does he? Moakatar muttered.

He gave me the location of this station the other day. Zenozarax touched one of the panels of the centre command station and immediately the information of the target was displayed for all to see. Zenozarax noticed how Sukatar’s eyes narrowed, glancing at Ravalor who had kept perfectly silent so far, standing in the back like he was just a soldier on duty.

He is dissatisfied with our current approach. Says it’s not sustainable.

Not if he starts killing us it ain’t, Xaronzul sneered with a humourless laugh.

This all is assuming it was him. Which we don’t know. Not yet, and I doubt he would have left clues to the contrary. He’s too careful for that. So for now let’s accept the fact that it happened and consider what has to happen next.

Just accept it? We lost Habib and Tash there! Sukatar said angrily and Zenozarax felt her fury with every fibre of his being. It was comforting in a familiar way. Assuring him his own anger was far from unjustified. But they needed to be careful about this.

I don’t like it either, believe me. But with the situation being as it is now, we can not afford to openly accuse him. If we lose access to the Citadel now we’re halfway in a death spiral we can’t recover from.

Why is that? Ravalor had stepped up to them, mustering the still displayed target. A planet miner a little bigger than Little Halo, reporting six wizards on site.

We have enough izthra to rebuild Xaronzul’s part. But not much more. Not to also fix Sukatar’s injured Part, or to fix your leg. Or my back. Quadirymir possesses a device that allows us to reliably reclaim up to a third from any Part. If we cross him now, and whatever we do next fails, if more of us die, we lose the power to reclaim what we need to rebuild.

Do you think it’s appropriate to tell him all this? Sukatar said wearily meeting Ravalor’s eyes with a healthy amount of suspicion.

Ravalor.

The young wizard met his eyes attentively. He was bothered by this, Zenozarax could see it.

You naturally don’t want us to attack this station, yes?

Of course not.

But, right now, based on the information you have, you can see why we should and have to?

Ravalor stayed silent for a moment then nodded. I do.

Quadirymir wants me to take them whole. Every part of them. Corrupt their minds and command them to be reclaimed. Six wizards there, averaging to about 18 parts, enough to have enough Izthra to rebuild six Parts in turn. It would be a great backup on ressources.

Moakatar sighed. If you say it like that it almost makes me think he’s right.

He is, in that regard, Zenozarax conceded, But for it to be true, everything has to work out perfectly in just two minutes before the Order arrives, quicker even if there is a vanguard. High risk, high reward. Our approach is saver, but less effective. We go in, cut them off from their other Parts, and collect them, and then can safely retreat in the cover of the disruption field.

And the rest of them stay alive, Ravalor concluded.

Indeed. They lose a couple minutes of their memories but nobody really dies. Afterall, they can just have their Parts rebuilt in Mezchinhar. We can not.

Hm.

If all goes well, six parts that would give us two in turn. He gave Ravalor a moment to consider the conflict his own sense of order and rightfulness put upon this idea, then he asked, If we were to do this, would you keep me from doing it? Would you warn them?

He met his friend’s eyes again, the conflict was so plain to see. It wasn’t only a question of right and wrong, it was also the apparent fact that Ravalor, still, did not want to go back to Mezchinhar.

No, Ravalor eventually said. Of course, surrounded by “the enemy” he couldn’t say yes even if he intended to. Zenozarax was aware of that, and yet he didn’t want to believe that Ravalor would lie to him like this while meeting his eyes steadfast and unwaveringly.

Good. Then turning to Sukatar. So to answer your question, yes, I think it’s appropriate to tell him. He needs to understand this.

Just like that.

Yes. Just like that.

Ravalor looked at him again, and he knew they would need to talk about this more, later, in private.

First things first. The Twilight needs to be repaired as quickly as possible. I suggest transferring the Engineering staff from the Dawnbreak, temporarily.

Oh I don’t like that, Moakatar moaned dismayed. Having them all on the Dark Citadel.

You’ll keep a skeleton crew here to ready the Dawnbreak, but if we are correct, this is probably what Quadirymir wants. Us taking action. I’ll inform him of our decision. They should be safe. If it really was just an accident even more so. He paused looking at Xaronzul. We should also start rebuilding you as soon as possible.

Xaronzul just nodded, if he had any objections he naturally didn’t air them. Sukatar however did.

That will take one of him out of our options for quite a while. Shouldn’t we wait till afterwards?

If he loses another part, he’ll be seriously compromised. I don’t want to risk that. He stays.

Sukatar shook her head like scolding herself for not considering that in the first place. You’re right.

Zenozarax nodded. We’ll use the Dawnbreak for the assault. Having the Twilight as an emergency port point in the back this time. Xaronzul didn’t look too happy at the prospect that they would take his ship into battle without him. But he kept quiet and let Zenozarax continue, Last time was too messy, we need to be on point this time. Grab what we need as quickly as possible, take no risks, and be out of there before the fleet even arrives. With the structural data we got from Little Halo we should be able to get this done much quicker.

Sukatar, you oversee the repairs, get everyone where they need to be and keep an eye on them. I want nobody near that ship that we don’t know and trust. Especially not Quadirymir’s soldiers. You’ll be in the best place to find out what happened, but be careful.

“Understood,” Sukatar said.

Moakatar, you get the Dawnbreak battle ready, make sure the channelling devices are all set up and ready to fire. Without Xaronzul there will be extra strain on the system in the initial wave.

Moakatar nodded.

Xaronzul, meet with me on the Dark Citadel as soon as you can. I’ll prepare the creation chambers once the current situation is handled.

I’ll go right away. I can lend a hand.

Alright. I’ll also go and speak to Quadirymir. Dismissed.

He formally dismissed them more out of reflex than any sense of military order. He had been a Warrior, and a commanding officer at that, for millions of years. It was a habit that was hard to get rid of. And it did still serve him well.

The other wizards disappeared, Xaronzul and Sukatar by portal, Moakatar, staying close by, teleported directly.

Leaving only himself and Ravalor in the command centre.

You trust them a lot, Ravalor noted as he leaned against the console. A move that seemed at first oddly unfamiliar and too casual to Zenozarax, before he realised Ravalor was probably just resting his still hurting leg.

More than I’d have imagined possible out here. But they are loyal. They may not be very orderly wizards, not as you’d like them, but, yes, I trust them.

But not Quadirymir. Who is he? The name sounds familiar to me, Ravalor wondered.

I’m not surprised. That’s probably one of your impressions again. I felt the same. Zenozarax smiled weakly, joining Ravalor at the console. Resting for a moment. At the raised brows he added We fought him at Funnix. The name would have been kept from the basic reports.

I see. Ravalor crossed his arms, looking to the ground for a moment, but not really looking at it. I haven’t really thought about Funnix in a long time.

I have, Zenozarax said grimly. It’s where all of this really started.

Ravalor looked up, the question clear but unspoken, Zenozarax answered it naturally.

Funnix happened and Quadirymir told me I left an impression. My demotion and fall from grace followed. Then…

Zenozarax abruptly fell silent.

Then what?

I… have told you about Atladin before. But you don’t remember that, Zenozarax admitted. Atladin, as you know the scion before you, was tempted by chaos. And it was my fault, or so I thought. Atladin found his way to Quadirymir. Not by chance mind you, that wizard kept an eye on me. And I’m now no longer sure if Atladin’s fall to chaos was entirely his own choice. Quadirymir can be very persuasive.

It was Quadirymir who sent Atladin back to earth. I took chaos into me to defeat him and save us. And everything fell apart. I should have suspected it.

Quadirymir found me afterwards. Naturally. He took me in. Showed me the ropes so to speak and kept me safe even. Helped me rebuild this Part… he trailed off. A lot had happened after that too.

But yes, it all started at Funnix. A chance encounter. Drawing the interest of a wizard you don’t want interested in you.

He looked back to Ravalor. He can’t know about you. You are my weakness, and he knows that — he will bring us only suffering should he learn of this.

Why haven’t you… Ravalor frowned, maybe surprised over what he had wanted to ask.

Killed him yet? Zenozarax finished the sentence with a wry smile. With the current development I’m no longer sure if that is just your horribly pragmatic nature or the staggeringly uncharitable view you have of me.” Then he turned more serious again. Quadirymir is a problem, I have always known that. But he’s been doing this for a lot longer than I have. He has means and tendrils across the multiverse that have kept us safe and healthy so far. A vast network of information and contacts that is too valuable to lose. And that’s besides the value of the Dark Citadel, which is life linked to him. If we kill him, we lose the Citadel. If we try to tamper with it, he’ll know. So—

Zenozarax rose up from his leaned back position, standing up straight again and turning to Ravalor. – This is a textbook case of keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Is that what we’re doing now too? Ravalor asked, his voice was calm and steady.

Zenozarax shook his head ever so slightly.

I would never consider you my enemy.

I tried.

I know.

13 Pelagius III

Something had gone wrong.

There was a nervous buzzing all around the station of rumours and whispers, spread from the crew of the Dawnbreak down to even the kitchen staff. Upset like a colony of ants feeling the vibration in the earth with no way to differentiate between the step of a human or an earthquake.

The Twilight had gotten damaged and people had died. Moakatar had confirmed as much in a semi-public announcement a few hours earlier as rumours had started to grow dangerous. For the first time he had sensed the fear underlying all their lives. The quickness with wich worry had taken over the simple lives of these people.

Moakatar had spoken kindly and softly, trying to disperse the worry and stressing that they had no confirmed cause for the accident. Also noticeably stressing to call it an accident, not an attack.

But that didn’t quite fit the faint sense of tension and stress he knew Zenozarax was under right now.

Nevertheless, since the announcement he had seen none of the other wizards. The Dawnbreak was physically docked on the station right now, preparing for something. There was busying in the docks. Moakatar was there right now. But he had no good reason to go there besides curiosity, and really, he still didn’t feel very inclined to stick his nose deeper into any magical problem than absolutely necessary.

Moakatar had made her announcement in the Restaurant, and since then Pelagius had stayed there, officially keeping an eye on things in his position of station security. Sometimes he talked to this or that person who was still under the impression that he ought to know more, but mostly he had listened again.

The mug of tea he got earlier from the dispenser was kept at a constant pleasantly drinkable temperature by the mug it had come in. It was a perfectly normal item here, yet he still caught himself occasionally considering the thing just… fantastically extravagant. He took a small sip of the somewhat sour brew. It reminded him a little of rosehips.

He had taken the mug with his right hand, the magical inserts of his hand clicked softly against the strangely soft feeling shatterproof ceramic of the mug. The skin surrounding the insert looked much healthier now after Zenozarax had given his hand a little attention after picking Aeven and himself up. In what had felt like a previous life that had never been a priority — it had worked and that had been all that counted. Now bound together by curse and destiny for eternity as it seemed, Pelagius assumed the discomfort he had experienced due to the magical addition into his flesh and bones had started to grate on Zenozarax’ nerves too. At least he doubted the wizard had just done it from the goodness of his heart.

There was still a little sting, because the curse within him still didn’t quite want to accept this foreign part of his body that was so rudely forced into it — but it no longer felt like actively throwing a tantrum because of it. After years of constant pain in every digit and joining of his wrist and fingers, the slight soreness that was still left felt more than manageable and almost easy to ignore.

He had not asked Zenozarax to take it out.

Because despite the discomfort, he still felt safer with it and his sword (a new one since the original had been disintegrated alongside Treva. A memory he tried very hard to not think about). He was still immortal — but without it he would lose the only real ability he had to defend himself against any of the wizards. It was probably the same reason why Zenozarax in turn hadn’t even offered to take it out.

He heard the subtle change of the whispers in the room and looked up to the entrance.

A strange feeling sunk in his stomach.

Ravalor.

The wizard stood near one side of the wide entrance, only halfway turned to face it, quietly looking into it with a strangely distant look in his face as if he wasn’t really looking in the first place. Or as if what he saw barely made sense to him.

He looked almost exactly like the last time he had seen him back on earth. The clothes had changed a little, but most of it was still the same ruined and worn out pieces he had been wearing for the year they had been together.

Inevitably, the wizard’s eyes met his. Ravalor frowned slightly. Then he entered the restaurant. There was a slight limp every time he put weight on his left leg — though there was no recognition of pain in the wizard’s face when it happened.

Fancy meeting you here, Pelagius said with a forcefully neutral tone. He could see Ravalor struggle for an answer until eventually he said,

I heard you were here.

Here in the restaurant? Here on the station? Didn’t really matter, it was empty words, said in lieu of anything of substance. Pelagius nodded, offering Ravalor to sit. The wizard hesitated, then took him up on the offer.

You want some too? It’s good. Pelagius tilted the mug slightly in his hand.

I —

Let me get you one. He stood up before waiting for an answer and turning his back to Ravalor. He knew Ravalor had been about to politely decline, and he knew Ravalor didn’t really eat or drink much if anything besides mana, so it was pretty undeniable what he was doing; Fleeing the conversation at least for a few minutes longer, maybe to just finally get to terms with what he would want to say to Ravalor now that they had met again.

The strange machine conjuring up the beverage worked too quickly and he was on his way back with another steaming mug in his hand before he had come to a final conclusion anyways.

Thank you. Ravalor certainly didn’t actually want the tea but said it nevertheless.

It’s a good one. Reminds me of Rosehip, Pelagius repeated his earlier thoughts emptily.

Humouring him Ravalor actually took a small and very restrained sip. For a short moment he seemed thoughtful, like the taste reminded him of something pleasant. Kessler buds?

That’s what it says it is. Pelagius shrugged to imply that he had never heard of it.

A type of fungus actually, it grows these little egg-like buds, intensely poisonous to humans when eaten raw, but surprisingly sweet and high on caffeine once dried and properly prepared.

Pelagius grimaced into his tea. I preferred to think it was rosehip.

A silence set in that seemed to remind both of what they weren’t talking about. Because eventually Ravalor said,

I’m sorry for what has happened.

Hm, Pelagius acknowledged, then noted almost perfectly flatly, You left me behind.

Ravalor took a deep breath but didn’t meet his eyes. The weight of the accusation lay heavy on him, there was some comfort in the guilt he saw, but not much.

And I’m sorry for that too. Then hesitatingly he added, I wasn’t well. Neither mentally nor physically. But I shouldn’t have left you. I just couldn’t —

It’s alright, lay on Pelagius lips but he didn’t say it. Because besides the natural desire to avoid conflict if not strictly necessary, it wasn’t. He still remembered the mind bending sense of disappointment and betrayal. It was dull and distant now that the inevitable had taken hold of his life, but it was still there. At the same time he understood that Ravalor really had tried his best. Just that his best hadn’t been quite enough.

Wouldn’t have thought us both to end up here, to be honest, Pelagius said instead.

Me neither. Ravalor held his mug with both hands as if seeking subconsciously stability from it. And I’d have never… expected this.

What do you mean?

All this — it seems wrong. Ravalor frowned. Unreal, in a way

Pelagius smirked grimly. He knew more than one person that applied to currently. At least Ravalor seemed a lot more thoughtful about it than Aeven was.

In what way? he asked like he had had this conversation a dozen times over already. Ravalor watched the room for a moment before saying,

I didn’t expect people here. Not families. Cultists, yes, Astral Zombies, slaves to their will, soldiers, goblins — but not this. Why are they here? Why do they live here? They don’t look like prisoners? At the last question Ravalor looked at him, and there was concern there. As if he could only make sense of it if the answer was yes they are prisoners but he didn’t want to believe it.

They are not, Pelagius said. I guess technically I am, because I can’t leave. But they’re not. They are here because these are their people. Everything they know, their families, friends.

It still didn’t seem to make much sense to Ravalor.

Pelagius nodded over to the kitchen where one of the cooks was talking to a group of very young goblins. That’s Chief Burton, cook. Family has been with Xaronzul for generations. He doesn’t talk about it but from what I heard whatever home that family had before doesn’t exist anymore. Loreley, the blond one over there, is a lot more open about it, her story is similar. Family tales that speak of great battles in the sky and absolute destruction of homes and even planets for a few of these. He rolled the mug on its lower edge, making the tea splosh lightly from one side to the other. Like the people from earth. Caught in this war of yours, homes lost or destroyed — just that these people got saved. They don’t like your bunch. Wizards I mean, but they do trust these ones. Because they keep them safe as much as they can and because they fight against your side. And in turn they give them their loyalty. Easy as that.

He looked at the doorway as people came and went. Still with this unhealthy tension in their every word and whisper.

They don’t tell me, but I got the feeling there are a lot more of them. Not here, but out there somewhere.

Ravalor shook his head in disbelief. “But they aren’t safe. Not with chaos wizards around — if the Order finds them…”

Pelagius shrugged. “They don’t believe anywhere is safe. This place is only better because it is kept secret. And they know these wizards will do everything in their power to keep it so, because it’s their life on the line too.”

Ravalor kept quiet, pondering over his tea, and Pelagius had gotten used enough to his quiet nature to not read too much into it.

Do you know what happened?

Ravalor finally looked up. An accident as it seems.

That much we all know.

Ravalor nodded slightly as if to agree with that statement and seemed to assume that that was enough of an answer. As it turned out Pelagius wasn’t that used to Ravalor’s secretive nature as to not feel a sting of irritation.

But they both had changed. And so had their situation.

The always present and underlying desperation that had fueled every moment of their last months together was gone. So was some of the anger after rejoining Zenozarax, easing the until then restless curse within him. Gone too was the purpose that had driven Ravalor to do what he had done.

And Pelagius figured that they shared more in their current situation than they had ever before.

There was the suspicion of sabotage, Ravalor said quietly into the silence, much to Pelagius’ surprise. He leaned back forward, placing the mug back on the table and forgetting about it.

Quadirymir?

Ravalor looked at him, searching his face, carefully considering. Slightly he shook his head. I feel like there is so much here I can’t speak to yet out of ignorance. He told me about him, warned me of him — but there are still too many things now he doesn’t tell me. Ravalor’s fingers fidgeted around the rim of the mug, the frown on his face had turned concerned. He was bothered by this.

You’re still just you? Pelagius asked. I mean just this Part?

Ravalor nodded.

And you’re not like them? A Chaos Wizard?

No. The answer came a little too quick, a little too sharp, as to hide the ingrained destaine.

Pelagius shrugged. He shouldn’t even pretend to understand the strange machinations of what was going on here so he left it at that. Instead he said, There are a lot of things he doesn’t tell me now either. But whatever is going on right now, he isn’t happy about it.

I know.

Their conversation ended with that as Pelagius, somewhere deep in the strange shared impressions he got now, sensed that Aeven had just woken up. He stood up and exuded himself, saying that he had somewhere to be, but that they would talk later.

Ravalor nodded to that and so Pelagius left him and his tea in the restaurant.

14 Sukatar  I

The hole was fixed. That was a start.

The damage to the Twilight wasn’t as extensive as they had feared, but severe enough to doubt it was a simple malfunction. At least as far as Sukatar was concerned.

They had begun the repairs as soon as possible, but Sukatar had made sure to take a very detailed scan and visual record of the damage as well as getting access to all accessible visual feeds.

Besides her own memories, Moakatar’s would be most trustworthy, even with caution and paranoia running high, she would trust that wizard with her life.

Xaronzul’s memories would be most valuable, as the one directly at the point of the explosion and closest to whatever fault had occurred, but he had also died in that explosion. Hence the memories his other parts still had access to had an almost two second gap right before the explosion, cutting out the most crucial moment.

The soldier, Esa, had survived as well, his visual record would be the least susceptible to tampering, at least by Esa himself, but he had also been the furthest away and had not paid very much attention to that part of the CC.

Every wizard and soldier could freely share their memories if they wanted, but one could never be sure they hadn’t been altered. That was why Mezchinhar had their Mindcrawler. And sometimes Sukatar wished they had their own. She was aware that she probably only thought so because she had never met that wizard in her past (or at least she couldn’t remember it) — and so she kept that opinion to herself. But hell, she would even just be happy to have him for the sheer magical power or even the ungodly amount of izthra that undoubtedly had to be weaved into a wizard that large. The mere idea of a wizard with enough izthra shoved into himself to probably rebuild herself three times over was just ludicrous.

While Sukatar kept her Engineer working on the repairs to the Twilight still in the docks of the Dark Citadel, her Warrior on the Edge of the Universe dug into finding out what had happened. Reviewing footage, testing connections, speaking to survivors and even some of the Dark Citadel’s soldiers. The latter she shoved between the Engineer’s work because she would rather vaporise in the freezing nothingness of hell as to be present with two of her Parts on the Dark Citadel or anywhere else close to Quadirymir for that matter.

That one was trouble — they all knew that. And his clear obsession with Zenozarax appeared to become more of a problem than an advantage. But there was a reckoning coming. Slowly but steady. And if she could pin this one on that irritating piece of shit it would be a great first step to that. Once upon a time, when she had still been a Seeker in the Order, she had made a decorated career out of hunting down void trash like him — and she found a bitter comfort in falling back into that mindset like she had never stopped in the first place.

The array of screens before her showed a synchronised loop of the events leading up to the explosion. At her side was an estimated blast pattern pinpointing the source of the explosion and size by the damage it caused in accordance to the visual records she had.

Approaching the blast again she slowed the footage down once more. Her own memories filled in the conversation in the room at the time.

Cab and Jennax Fen spoke to Xaronzul, pointing out the power lines of the channelling device that ran through the subdeck and maintenance shafts to the engine room and which they had chosen to replace. She had put a mental pin in that. The use of the device was a strain on the entire system, depending on the level of chaos it could put an enormous amount of stress and wear on the existing wiring and systems. It was still working, but they rather replaced them long before they needed replacing instead of running into failure when they couldn’t afford it. After all, they weren’t short on any resources — besides izthra. Everything the multiverse could provide they had plenty enough of to be wasteful with it. It was unlikely something had failed due to bad maintenance, but a fault in the system still wasn’t impossible. The bathtub-curve of expected failures applied even to magical devices.

The goblins left for the maintenance shafts and Xaronzul stepped up to the front facing panels. Her own attention in the displayed memory was taken away from the front panels as Moakatar commented on the way the thrusters had performed at their Little Halo approach, noting a small failure of the starboard Sektor 3 cluster which had cut out for 0.34 seconds before the redundancies had kicked in. Another mental pin.

Sukatar herself had made a little joke at that, poking fun at Moakatar’s sense of perfectionism, though only in hushed whispers and only meant to be heard by Moakatar who had chuckled. Now Sukatar cursed herself for that joke because just as she had made it, the visual feed from Xaronzul’s memories turned black. Two seconds away from the blast and she was looking at Moakatar.

From the corner of Moakatar’s point of view she could see Xaronzul still standing at the panels. She slowed the visuals down even more. Esa had stood in the back at Nav control, having told them a few seconds earlier in that monotone voice of his that the docking clamps would be readjusted slightly. Followed by a slight vibration and a low thumb. She also put a pin in that. Esa was looking up to Xaronzul, another low thump, who in that moment had started to say something, turning towards her.

Can anyone tell me—

These were his last words. Had he noticed something? If so, he didn’t seem alarmed. A pin in that. Milliseconds before the blast Sukatar stopped the playback completely. She zoomed into the displayed panels as best as she could. The resolution wasn’t bad, but not exactly amazing either. Their subconscious mind picked up a lot more than they processed on the fly, and sometimes they could find information in their memories they had disregarded in the moment. But these subconscious details could be hazy — especially if they were this out of focus.

But from every view she had, Xaronzul till his death, Moakatar’s slightly off centred, Esa in the back, her own slowly turned forwards, even the static camera overseeing the CC; there was no flashing alarm. No errors. Not even a minor note telling of anything wrong with the system itself.

She hit play again, there was a slight vibration in the feeds accompanied by a third, low and dull sound (another pin) and within the fraction of a second the blast tore through the CC. Emitting from a point below the front panels where Xaronzul stood.

Carefully she checked through the logs again. Just making sure she wasn’t missing anything, but every task logged again gave no indication of any malfunction.

Layer upon layer of events were put over the timeline, and then she halted. Reversing the playback, she heard Esa tell them about the docking clamps again - then the slight vibration and dull thump right before the explosion. The specific layer was pulled up to the front of her mind, Esa’s control over the clamps with the exact time stamps. Three of them. Releasing, adjusting, reattaching. One after another. Each time a slight vibration in the ship followed by that dull thump. Only the last one happened at the exact moment the CC exploded.

Feverishly she checked which clamp Esa had adjusted last and tensely she wished through her teeth.

You piece of shit….

The last clamp had reattached itself right below the CC.

*

We need to follow up on that.

Sukatar had already stood up when her Warrior’s conclusion of the analysed footage came to her memories.

Already on it.

She left the repairs of the Twilight rest and, not wanting to vent the ship again or risk teleporting into the still present debris outside, left the ship through the airlock. The cold vacuum stung a little in the destroyed parts of her face and right arm where artificial nerve had fused ill together. Her right eye still wasn’t working correctly and she knew that it probably needed to be rebuilt as much as the weave of izthra that ran below the skin. Without it she felt weirdly numb on that side of her face and her hearing felt still distractingly one-sided. At least the latter wasn’t a problem out here in the vacuum of the docks.

Her heart sank as she saw the amount of drones and soldiers swarming the blown up dock. Pushing herself first off the ship and then steading herself in the vacuum with her own magic she made her way over to them. The soldiers naturally lacked the kind of magic that allowed Sukatar to move freely in the vacuum of space, so they relied on small thruster packs and magnetic boots.

She quickly spotted the soldier overseeing the repairs by the unassuming mark on his uniform. He stood near the side of one of the clamps, anchored to the structure by his boots and almost 110 degrees turned to Sukatar’s own orientation. He saw her and halted, a neutral but questioning look on his face. He didn’t stop her as she flew over to him and took his hand. The designation of this unit was CE-BI.

I need you to stop immediately. I need to check something at the docking clamps. I might have caused the accident.

She told him in Vaeh, the complete request was transmitted to the Soldier almost the very moment their hands touched.

CE-BI frowned slightly.

You have to speak to the Controller. I have orders, CE-BI said.

Yes, and now you have new ones. I need to have a look at these and you may be destroying valuable information that might prevent another accident like this.

You have to speak to the Controller.

I don’t. And you need to stop right now.

Their entire conversation happened within not more than two seconds when the magic in Sukatar’s fingertips lit up, a light burst flashed up in the soldiers eyes. Then she drew her hand back.

Ignoring the soldier who now went to get his datatab while he reordered the workers and drones to pause their work, she turned to what was left of the docking clamps.

She of course quickly found the one that had attached itself to the CC since it was the only one half blown up. The others had taken damage too as the Twilight had tore itself out of their grasp but for now those were of no interest to her. She waved CE-BI back over to her and he followed immediately.

Taking his hand again she said,

I want you to collect all the debris in the docks. First priority. Get this area safe again. Bring all you collect to this storage unit. Don’t recycle it yet, I want to have a look at it first.

The soldier acknowledged and she let go of him again to let him and the rest of the soldiers and drones get to work.

Focusing on the top part of the destroyed clamp, she ran a few different scans that checked from simple explosives to potentially hidden magical tampering.

A few of them came up positive, but with the lingering radiation in the air and the residue of the explosion of the Twilight’s systems itself she wasn’t too confident as to see any of them as sure confirmation yet. But she put a pin in that.

If she could find the missing parts of the clamp and check them the results could be more conclusive. If the cause for the explosion had been located directly at the clamp’s grasp, it surely would have left traces.

Sukatar was just running another scan, this time on the rough edge of the leftover clamp when suddenly, out of the blindspot on her right side, her hand was grabbed.

A screaming flash of alarm and terror shot through her body, she pushed up, janking her arm back — but the body holding her was firmly anchored to the metal of the clamp and the grasp unyielding.

And she looked directly into Quadirymir’s eyes, an amiable smile on his face. His hand still tightly grasped around her wrist with seemingly no intention of letting go.

I just got notified that someone’s been tampering with my workforce.

Sukatar felt nausea bloom in her stomach as Quadirymir used the faintest of connection between them to speak to her like this. Just the way she had done earlier with CE-BI. Just that she had the luxury of realising the mortal danger of it. Still connected to all her other parts, should Quadirymir overload her systems now with a corrupting burst of chaos, causing a cascade of errors that would immediately spread into her other parts, she would be truly dead.

Trying to calm her thoughts and focus on the fact that Quadirymir surely would be stupid enough to just kill her she answered.

I’m sorry. I’m just trying to be thorough. You know, ruling out all possible points of failure to prevent this from happening again. After all, we still don’t exactly know what happened.

Quadirymir smiled, almost saddened as he glanced towards the Twilight, like he was very much empathetic to what had happened, it looked genuine and friendly. Of course it did.

Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything else. But please don’t simply override them without checking with me first. They have purpose and function beyond this task.

It won’t happen again.

I would hope so.

For a moment it seemed as if Quadirymir was about to let go of her, and her heart rejoiced at the thought — the more tense she got when he didn’t. Instead he added.

I can fix that.

He nodded at her face.

I’m fine.

She said and then added reluctantly, Thank you.

Come now Su, I can appreciate pride, but there is no reason to carry that damage around like a badge of honour. I have a bit of izthra left I can spare.

Again, Thank you. I’ll consider it. But right now I need to focus on this.

As you wish. Consider it a standing offer until you have time. And please, if you need any assistance, tell me. I’m as invested in not having my station blown up.

Sukatar nodded and then, as Quadirymir was actually about to let go of her she instead grasped his hand, keeping him there. He looked reasonably surprised at that, but more amused than worried.

Speaking of, can you give me the feeds of the docks? From the cameras and drones? I only have an inside perspective right now.

She had to ask. If he agreed the data would be near useless she was sure, if there were any clue to be had Quadirymir would make sure to erase it before she got it. But if she didn’t ask, she might as well just tell him she suspected him. He probably knew that too.

Quadirymir didn’t miss a beat.

Of course, I’ll get them to you as quickly as possible.

Thank you.

Now she let go of him and with another charming smile and a swirl of light and dark he was gone again.

And Sukatar shuddered, and she would have let out a deep sigh of relief if it weren’t for the lack of a sigh-able atmosphere.

15 Ravalor IV

Ravalor sat on the wide sprawling bed, reading a book while leaning against the cushioned headpiece, framed by pillows. He had the blanket halfway tugged over his legs. It wasn’t cold in the room, but he found the additional comfort and warmth soothing on his aching knee. Not only was the padded surrounding helpful whenever he suddenly did slip into the void (uncharitable he’d say he had hit his head on the floor enough times already) but it was also a stark contrast to everything else he had ever experienced as this Part of himself. Back in Obermoor and later Mezchinhar, his quarters had always been very sparse and nothing but functional. Never uncomfortable but nothing more than sufficient either. Then in the Spire of Treva, he hadn’t really slept and when he did, it had been at desks or the sofa in rare cases, leaving the bed to Sasha and Pelagius. There he hadn’t considered the comfort of the room. It had been just tension all the time. And cold.

Now it was different. Now he was reminded of his time in Artlenburg. At times, he found himself lost in memories, when the soft light of the room, the warmth, and the magnificent bed lulled him into a long gone time and deep into the void.

One of the adjacent rooms was a plentiful library. And Ravalor, in lieu of anything else to do, had soon started to explore it with mild interest. It was a wide mix of historical text of places he never heard of and fantastical fiction in languages he didn’t know. Just sitting down and casually reading this or that book, getting to grasp a new language with the available language keys, learning about distant events, tales and legends, for once for no real reason but entertainment was …  

Well it wasn’t exactly relaxing. He was, at his core, still too tense for that, the situation didn’t allow him yet to fully fall into the sense of safety this room tried to convince him of. But there was still something calming about it.

The door opened with a light hiss and Zenozarax stepped in. They hadn’t seen each other since their last talk in the command centre. Evidently Zenozarax had a lot to take care of now and so Ravalor didn’t question his absence. Zenozarax however must have been here, probably while he had slept, because he was wearing a different outfit now. This was still Zenozarax’ Warrior, so the uniform was a lot more military than the Wizard would ever wear, and at the same time a lot more decorative than anything that was worn in the Order.

The white uniform from the beginning was gone for good it seemed, which was a shame, it had suited him very well and had felt familiar, and was now replaced with a very stern looking dark grey one, accentuated by silver embroidery and some sparkling accents of amethyst. The serious look on his face matched the outfit and Ravalor knew Zenozarax’s sense of expressive fashion well enough that the old wizard was feeling tense or even stressed. Grey had always been a colour of uncertainty. Purple carried a sense of defiance.

How are things? Ravalor asked and closed the book on his lap.

Not good. Not too bad either, though, Zenozarax admitted. Xaronzul is with me on the Dark Citadel preparing the creation chamber. No problems there. There was a quick funeral for Habib earlier, more for the comfort of the humans that knew him than the other goblins. They usually don’t do individual funerals like that.

“On the Twilight’s side we found out nothing new so far but at least nothing else has happened yet. I’m pretty sure I’m now doing exactly what Quadirymir wants but maybe that will ease the situation.

Hopefully, Ravalor agreed as he watched Zenozarax throw his pauldrons and cloak aside, followed by his jacket before he kicked off his boots. While he did so and apparently wanting to change the topic he asked, What are you reading?

The Calvinian Paradox, Ravalor said with a glance back at the spine of the book. Truth to be told he had picked it up before he had been able to translate the title because the cover looked sufficiently science-y.

Ah — what’s that then? The Calvinian Paradox I mean. Zenozarax put his boots aside and rose up, stretching his back and arms in a very human way.

You don’t know? These are your books, Ravalor asked, slightly puzzled. Or are you just collecting them because they are pretty?

Harsh. Zenozarax whistled through his teeth as he bluntly walked onto the bed and let himself drop down beside Ravalor, leaning against the headrest too. He took the book from Ravalor and gave it an inspecting look, even flipping through a few pages.

Truth to be told… okay, don’t laugh at me, I know it’s fucking sappy as shit, but — sometimes I just get them because I feel like you’d have liked them. He let the book drop back into Ravalor’s lap and leaned fully back. Ravalor didn’t miss the fact that the Warrior deliberately pointed out that it had been his Wizard by the “I” he had used. That made sense.

That really is very sappy.

Yeah, yeah. Zenozarax stayed quiet for a while and Ravalor assumed he could have gone back to reading. Then it would be how it always had been. But they weren’t there yet. And as to prove that Zenozarax finally said,

I’ve been thinking about what you said.

Hum?

Zenozarax turned his head to look at him. You called me a hypocrite.

Yes. I did, Ravalor said calmly. Now that the heat of the moment was gone it was easy to regret the bluntness of the words — but not the words themselves. He put the book aside next to him on the pillows. And to what conclusion did you come to?

I think, you have every right to call me that.

Alright, that’s a start. But I suppose you don’t agree?

Zenozarax frowned. Obviously he had thought about it a lot already, but now putting it to words he seemed still hesitant. I never did these things without reason. I wouldn’t have done it if there had been another way… I never enjoyed it. I never wanted to do it.

What about Pelagius? You could have let him go anytime. But you kept him around. You didn’t need him, afterall, you intended to kill him.

Would it been better had I succeeded? If I had killed him? Zenozarax raised his brows genuinely curious for an answer.

He had had this conversation with Pelagius before, and still he couldn’t quite decide which option was worse. But that wasn’t the point.

“No. It’s not about what did or did not happen to Pelagius. Right now it’s about what you did and what you intended. He was in your way and so you just wanted to kill him? That’s the same purpose oriented attitude you always accused Mezchinhar of, Ravalor said, but kept his voice deliberately calm.

Maybe. But as I said, I don’t really have the luxury of riding the high horse here. This is a fight I can’t get out of. And if these are the rules of engagement they put up, so be it, Zenozarax said, a brooding undertone in his voice.

Ravalor scoffed. That’s a poor excuse.

Not an excuse. You faced it yourself. You stood before me in my madness and were left with two bad choices. And you picked the one you deemed necessary. When Pelagius awoke from the dead, I could have killed him for good. But I let him live. Temporarily under my control till I would have been done.

I could have let you live too, back in Artlenburg. But you were so adamant, you wanted to stay, and they would have found out, they would have discontinued all of you. And so I killed that part of you to save your life. Even if that meant never seeing you again.

Ravalor thought about that for a moment. Then he said, You really believe you did me a favour? Zenozarax, you killed me!

Just that Part of you.

How can you say that when you know that’s not true? The Stargazer sat up propper, surprised over his own anger as he stared at Zenozarax. You killed me and the wizard I was then. I will never be that wizard again. That version of me you killed is dead! I had become someone making a choice you didn’t like, someone who disagreed with you, and you killed me for it!

That’s not… I just wanted to protect you, Zenozarax countered, but he couldn’t raise his voice against Ravalor’s anger.

For the first time in his life, Ravalor was completely overwhelmed by the frustrated anger he felt. He was so angry at Zenozarax for having done what he had done  but at the same time he could see it in every line in his face and the plea in his eyes that he genuinely thought he had done the wrong thing for the right reasons.

You shouldn’t have done it.

Maybe not. But how could you ask of me to just let you die? Zenozarax looked away, a sense of suffering in his face that soothed Ravalor’s anger even further — he wanted to stay angry as much as he desperately wanted to forgive him. But neither of the two would change anything about what had happened. Of course he didn’t want to be dead — even when at his lowest he had longed for it. He wasn’t ungrateful to be alive. That wasn’t the problem.

It’s not just about me… or Pelagius… Ravalor said, feeling his anger leaving not much but sober regret.

Zenozarax didn’t answer immediately — and for a moment Ravalor was caught off guard by the immense pain he saw in the brooding look on Zenozarax’ face.

Do you know why I returned to earth?

Ravalor kept quiet for a moment, not sure he really wanted to hear justifications afterall. But then he said, I know about the stellar alignment. Like on the other earth. It was the same time, wasn’t it?

It was. I never intended to get people killed there but I was aware there would be casualties. But it could have been a last, final battle. The end of this conflict.

No matter how noble you think your goals were, that’s not an excuse.

I’m not trying to make excuses, Ravalor, Zenozarax said sharply. I know you want me to, but I won’t, because I am not sorry for what I wanted to do. You haven’t seen this reality like I have. For as long as I have. It needs to stop. And if these actions are what is needed to achieve it, I will take them no matter the cost. If only you—” he abruptly fell silent, taking a deep breath.

I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t want any more people to die. Enough have already,” he said. “I don’t think— I would like to believe I couldn’t do it again. But I’ll never allow Mezchinhar to hold them as a shield against me. Which is exactly what they did on Charon. They allowed those humans to guard a chaos wizard’s Part whose only function was to bait an attack. They allowed a whole colony to settle around it. That was a risk they willingly put upon them.

It was true. There was no denying that.  

And for a moment Ravalor questioned if Zenozarax was doing the same now. Bringing him here, to this station, where so many innocent people lived. An insurance, banking on the assumption that Ravalor wouldn’t give up the location of this station to Mezchinhar, which would kill them all. But where that assumption would be right, in turn the destruction of Charon could not be blamed on Mezchinhar alone.

You didn’t have to destroy that moon.

I didn’t,” Zenozarax agreed unexpectedly. “And I didn’t have to try to release the mad gods on earth either. Zenozarax fell silent. For the first time there was a sense of discomfort in his face. I am sorry for what happened there. What I made you do. All the life that died. It didn’t need to happen. It was pointless. But… humourless he smiled, shaking his head. I was so goddamn angry. I couldn’t make it go away. Zenozarax halted, letting his head fall back against the headrest as he looked into the sparkling view of the nebular above them. It was like hot white glowing metal pressed into my heart, boiling my blood.

Ravalor shook his head. I know what happened to you… was cruel. But—

No. Zenozarax cut him off, turning his head towards him again, still resting back. You don’t know. It wasn’t my anger. Yes, I was angry and frustrated after what happened, but destroying earth? No. Why? What for? I do know myself, I know of my impulsive nature, my anger. But that, there, that wasn’t me.

What do you mean?

Before freeing myself from Charon I visited an old friend of mine. I planned to deconstruct the hell portal we built beneath Treva and I suspected they knew how.

“My plan had failed, and even though Quadirymir wanted me to take revenge, all I really wanted was to leave it behind me. But I couldn’t just turn my back on it. On you. Because I realised that you were bound to that portal. As long as it was there you wouldn’t be able to leave.

That’s… Ravalor fell silent, he didn’t even know what he had wanted to say. There was a well meant intention in there, but it paled against the fact that it definitely wasn’t what happened. Then why… what happened?

When you’re separated from your other Part like I was, it makes you vulnerable. You feel it now too, but it’s worse with the torture inflicted upon the missing Part. If your other Parts were to be in great peril, you’d feel it. My mind was weak and exhausted when I arrived there.

Once I asked about the portal they showed me to one they had built. It was open, and stable. Still thinking about it makes me shudder. I stared into that hell for lords only know how long. Because once I did, and it didn’t turn off, I couldn’t look away. And I let myself be influenced by powers beyond our understanding. It was my own recklessness and ignorance to the dangers the influence of the mad gods can still have on us. Even from hell.

The most terrifying thing was… I didn’t even notice. Not in the moment, not after. First when that rift space exploded and… whatever happened there happened, and I arrived at that other earth my mind was my own again. As if the connection had been cut and I could clearly see what had happened. What I had done. Zenozarax slightly shook his head, a grim frown on his face and a sense of shame in his voice.

The others noticed. But couldn’t stop me. It caused a fight actually. I was so… sure it needed to be done. Xaronzul was with me, he always will be even if he doesn’t agree with me. But both Sukatar and Moakatar refused to follow me into that battle. And they were right. I just couldn’t see it.

Zenozarax looked back at Ravalor. You’ve sensed them too, haven’t you? They saw you?

It was a hard pill to swallow, and indeed it sounded like a plea to temporary insanity. The only problem was that Ravalor had spoken with Zenozarax in that state and it was exactly what he had thought then. That there was something horribly wrong with him. It hadn’t made sense to him. And so he just nodded.

And then on the earth beyond the rift. After everything that happened — I had gotten a second chance. I couldn’t let it pass. I couldn’t allow anything to stop me. If I were to succeed, nothing like that would ever need to happen again. So I did whatever needed to be done.” For a moment Zenozarax stayed silent. There was deep pain there in his memories, grief and regret, Ravalor could see it clearly in his eyes. Eventually he added, “But even then I didn’t intend to leave it like that. There was a plan…

Ravalor frowned unhappily, it was like a particular bitter taste had settled on the back of his tongue that just wouldn’t go away.

All these justifications don’t make it okay. So many people died because of you.

And that wouldn’t go away either. No matter what Zenozarax said or did. It would always be true. But Ravalor knew well enough that there really was only one effective way to punish a wizard already outside the social bounds of Mezchinhar, and that was death. Because time and wealth were irrelevant to them. It left him at a point where he knew he either had to accept what had happened or see to it that Zenozarax got punished for what he had done. For centuries he had been so sure he would do that one day, that it was his purpose, that it was inevitable to bring Zenozarax to justice.

Now he realised that he never could have.

And making matters worse, Zenozarax smiled. But at least it wasn’t a happy smile. I can see now why you left Mezchinhar.

What’s that supposed to mean?

You’re still a very young wizard, and you brushed past a horrible truth now, Zenozarax said slowly and thoughtfully. I don’t think you understand the Order you are fighting for yet. I have been fighting, as a Warrior, a Firecommander and Grandmaster for millions of years. The amount of people that have died by my actions since I left Mezchinhar is but a very small footnote of the actual number of my service record. I don’t like it. But it’s a fact. They don’t matter in this war. I told you that before.

He had known that. He had felt it ever since he had stepped into the Multiverse the first time. He had noticed the omnipresent but uncaring nature of their rule. But… it wasn’t okay. It didn’t make it so just because that’s how it was.

No. I can’t accept that. And I know you don’t think they don’t matter. And if Mezchinhar thinks so, it should be only the more reason for you to do better! That’s why you’re here now aren’t you? You want to change it! To stop it. Ravalor urged desperately. He struggled with his words as if the right ones were slipping from the tip of his tongue before he said them. He understood he was pushing against a sense of morality that had been ingrained for millions of years. “There has to be another way!”

Zenozarax listened to him, he didn’t dismiss him outright but the weak smile felt patronising.

I’m sorry. Zenozarax shook his head. I don’t think I ever knew you to be this idealistic.

Ravalor looked away, frustration still burned in his heart. Zenozarax was right, yes he had changed, somewhere in the last two thousand years, with all the work in Obermoor; the efforts of the Kingmaker who fell into helping people he had no business with helping; the stubbornness of the Hermit to stay on earth, because he had known he needed to be there, to protect it from something he hadn’t known about; the time the Warrior had spent with the soldiers on that dark earth, waiting for Aeven and the effort to save him…. Somewhere in all that his sense of morality had changed. And he now realised that it had no place, not in Mezchinhar. Not with the Chaos Wizards. Not in the war they were fighting.

But it suits you. It won’t make your life easier, but I can see how that is who you are. Because you are still a kind wizard behind all that frowning.

Zenozarax, please…

I’ll try.

Hopefully Ravalor looked back to Zenozarax.

I’ll try to be better in your eyes. But I can’t promise anything. Not while we are still in danger. It may not be enough for you, but it is all I can do.

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear. What he wanted was Zenozarax to renounce his ways all together but he understood that it was too much to ask for. It was a sense of optimistic naivety he would expect from the likes of Aeven — but it seemed like he was guilty of it too. Maybe that was the fault of the very Part he was. But he also understood the reality of the life he now had gotten but a mere glimpse of.

So despite everything, he said, Thank you.

Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t done anything.

That’s exactly what I’m asking of you, is it not?

Zenozarax sighed dramatically and slid down a few centimetres against the headrest. Smartass. He muttered.

Ravalor acknowledged the shift in tone and mood as a hopeful attempt to end the topic. His comment had been meant to do the same. It still felt forced, unnatural in a way, filled with the knowledge that this was a topic one couldn’t simply move on from. But that was okay. They both had said their part and lingering on the topic for longer wouldn’t solve anything. Not before both had a chance to think about it.

16  Aeven  I

It wasn’t real.

Once more he had woken up torn out of a hell of fire and death, just to be once more caught in this nightmare.

His whole body trembled. His breath was flat and quick.

His bare feet felt that mildly warm floor under his soles. It felt real enough. The air tasted like space. Like the filtered atmosphere of a ship. It smelled real enough. The spacious cabin was barely furnished, but the bed was comfortable enough. The sheets were wrinkled and messy. It looked real enough.

Every sense of his body was telling him that he was awake. That this was real. But it wasn’t. He couldn’t be.

His heart hammered hard in his chest, instincts running array, urging him to flee, to escape — but he couldn’t. He was trapped here. In this room. In this nightmare.

The door was locked.

He couldn’t wake up.

A prickling sensation ran over his skin — fusing into vivid memories and it hurt, burned, ate into his skin. He gasped, his breath shuddered, hiccuped as he pressed his teeth together. His back hit against the wall.

Panic flared up in his stomach, whipping his heart into a painful gallop. He closed his eyes. Counting backwards from ten. Trying to calm his breathing.

It wasn’t real.

He opened his eyes.

And nothing had changed. The fact crashed into his desperate mind and he shouted, not more than a roar of incoherent anger and fear, clawing his fingers into his short cropped hair so hard his nails left bloody streaks on his scalp — but he didn’t notice that. Curled over himself, eyes pressed shut, his shallow breath made him dizzy. He said something, mumbling words he didn’t hear himself nor would he know what he even tried to say.

A sense of place emerged in his desperate thoughts. The idea of a ship. Was it the Summerville? Or that other ship, the one Ravalor had built. The Northforce? The place were he should be. Right now. He was supposed to be there. He was there…he was…

But none of that mattered anymore. Earth, his family, the Summerville, the Northforce, Ravalor… It was all gone. And dead. Like he was.

He was dead.

He had died.

It had been quick but painful. The scorching air had burned his lungs before the fire had taken him. The heat had been so intense that his eyes had cooked in their sockets and the blood and water of his body exploded in their vessels. The intense shock of pain had stopped his heart before the last scream of pain had pierced through his brain, which had lit up in an intense burst of light before his eyes before absolut darkness had taken him.

There could have been mercy in that darkness. To forget that pain forever and stop existing. A last sensation that should have vanished as quickly as it had come.

But then he had been alive again.

For but a brief moment, his consciousness flickered back into being. And he was taken apart by an explosion of pain in every fibre of his body. He couldn’t scream. It was hotter than he’d ever known it. He was burning. He was dying.

And then he had been dead again.

And then alive.

And then dead.

Alive.

Dead.

Alive.

Over, and over again. A hundred times. A thousand times. A million times. Burning, dying, living, burning…

The pain from his memories coursed through his body, expecting it to set in any moment now, to drag him back into that abyss of fire. He stumbled and fell. His stomach turned violently and he retched between violent coughs.

He just wanted to be home. But why even in this cursed fever dream of reality he knew still that they were dead. All of them. His mother and father, his little brother, his uncles and aunts, his cousins, all the friends he had.

In that last moment there had been closure. A hope of faith that he would see them again. Soothing the pain in his heart, knowing it was over. But then —

Purgatory. It was purgatory.

When had he ever betrayed his faith so much to deserve such a fate? He couldn’t understand it.

Curled onto his knees he cowered on the floor as a violent sob tore through his body. Tears burned in his eyes. He didn’t care. He cried. It didn’t matter.

He had given them everything! He had done everything they had ever asked of him! He had given his own life to make things right! He didn’t deserve this!

His body hurt, his lungs and throat hurt. Tears dripped down his nose. He stared at his bloody hands and reached for his chest. But there was nothing.

It was real. It was hell.

He couldn’t be here.

A low clicking sound tore him out of his daze. With an almost painful snap he was fully aware again, his mind focused and clear as he stumbled up back onto his feet and dashed forward. He had already reached the door at full speed when it opened.

For a moment he met the eyes of the other man, Pelagius he called himself, just another lie on top everything, a mirage of dark magic, and in that moment there was just a fraction of second enough time to dawn a sense of surprise before Aeven ran with full force into him and they both crashed against the opposite wall of the corridor.

Aeven didn’t linger with that, immediately he had pushed himself back and he ran. He heard his name be called after him. But he ran.

And ran. Down the corridor, then another, passing a hall, down some stairs, another corridor. There were people along the way. He didn’t really see them, almost didn’t feel them when he ran into them and pushed them out of the way. His mind was a hazy scream of rushing adrenalin and the panic of flight. He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t know where he could go. But that didn’t matter at that moment, he wasn’t thinking so far ahead. He only knew that he needed to go. To escape. To get away from here.

His steps became louder and reverberated in a large hall. The light was dazzling, blindingly so against his alert senses.

Aeven?!

Abruptly he stopped. His heart felt like it was about to explode in his chest. Sweat tickled on his upper lip and through the messy stubble.

The word, his name, the voice — it seemed to echo in his mind. He swallowed hard. Almost dreamlike he turned toward it. Staring the owner of the voice directly into his eyes. He felt reality shatter around him again.

No. It wasn’t real after all. Nothing of it was.

Ravalor…”

17 Ravalor  V

There was that moment again.

The moment when everything seemingly stopped making sense for but a heartbeat — before reality came crashing down with the merciless and logical throughline of everything that was happening.

When the Stargazer found himself in the corridor leading into the mess hall, drawn by the sound of shouting coming closer, and he suddenly stared into Aeven’s feverish blue eyes — he didn’t understand. For that one heartbeat he saw Aeven right before him, looking at him, but it just didn’t make sense.

In that moment, the world around him slowed to a crawl as every neural pathway in his body lit up, kicked into overdrive, desperate to explain the situation. Crawling through years of memories in a rush that made him feel feverish for but a second.

And the horrifying realisation hit him with such force it almost made him stagger. The crushing weight of highside flooded his mind and he couldn’t understand anymore how he couldn’t have seen it before. How he could have ignored this fact that now stared him right in the face.

He, the Stargazer, of all people should have known it. He had spent almost a year with Pelagius and yet it had never crossed his mind even once.

Aeven had died and the Warrior had done everything in his power to bring him back. Maybe he had succeeded, maybe not. But Aeven, the original Aeven from the earth he knew so well, had died. That had been a fact. The Northman had confirmed it. He himself had seen the Hammer having lost its light.

But he had also seen Pelagius die. Had known that not even nuclear annihilation had kept him from life for long. All just because of the curse from the knife.

Aeven had been stabbed with it too.

Of course he wasn’t dead.

Of course.

Horror, guilt and anger flooded his mind — horror and guilt as he realised where he had left him. And anger at Zenozarax.

But none of that he had time to express. None of that mattered in that moment as a flash of pain exploded in his awareness as his head slammed onto the ground as Aeven’s full weight crashed against him and they both fell to the ground.

But he was petrified. Even though he knew all that, he still didn’t really understand. Maybe he didn’t want to. As Aeven fist crashed into him he flinched, but he just didn’t understand.

Aeven, he said too quietly, as to just confirm it to himself. There was nothing but pure and animalistic panic in that face, now sprinkled with black drops of blood.

And so Aeven didn’t hear him. Didn’t stop.

Aeven! That wasn’t his voice. It was hard and sharp, bellowing through the hall.

Abruptly Aeven was torn off him. Ravalor twitched backwards as if suddenly waking from his daze to see Zenozarax who had taken hold of Aeven’s arm and pushed him to the ground, one knee on his back. Aeven trashed, yelled, screamed before Zenozarax managed to firmly grasped his hand.

And abruptly, there was silence.

It’s alright… Ravalor heard Zenozarax say quietly. Calm down. Everything is alright. Carefully Zenozarax took his weight off Aeven but kept his hand clasped around his. Then he looked to Ravalor.

Are you alright?

Ravalor only nodded. His body hurt, from his torso to his face, but besides superficial damages nothing had been broken. He saw that Zenozarax wanted to tend to him first and foremost, but reluctantly turned his attention back to Aeven. He helped him up, at least so much that he was sitting now, Zenozarax still kneeled beside him and was quietly talked to him. More than once Aeven flinched, trying to get away but Zenozarax didn’t let go of him.

Slowly Ravalor stood up. Only for a second he wavered as his left leg gave in a bit, but then he carefully walked over to Zenozarax and Aeven.

First now he noticed the people around. He saw Pelagius near them, there was blood on the base of his neck and a gritted tension in his face as he watched Zenozarax.

Zenozarax, Ravalor said quietly, barely audible to the other wizard over the murmur in the room. Why is he here…?

Where else would he be? Zenozarax hissed. Stressed. Defensive. Guilty. Couldn’t leave him in that bloody chasm now, could I?

He shouldn’t be here.

The fuck do you want me to do about it? Zenozarax snapped, anger burning in his eyes. I can’t change this! I would if I could but I can’t! I didn’t want to kill him and this is the consequence of that. So spare me that judgemental look of yours. The genuine anger directed at him made Ravalor stay silent. He had hit a nerve there and he didn’t quite understand what it was exactly yet.

The room had fallen silent. Everyone stared at the three people in its centre. Ravalor saw Aeven’s eyes jump anxiously from Zenozarax to him and back again, the lingering panic still palpable in every move.

You two… Ravalor saw the words quiver on Aeven’s lips more than he heard them. This isn’t real… it can’t be?

Come here. Zenozarax pulled Aeven up, being as gently as possible against the reluctance. Let’s get you back to your room, okay?

I can’t be like this.

The sudden sob startled Ravalor more than he would have expected. As the almost mindless façade of panic broke and he suddenly saw Aeven for what he had been truly reduced to. A man so broken, so hurting and confused that it had stripped down his sanity to bare brittle bones. The tatteres of his mind bound to his arch enemy after months of torture.

I know. I’m sorry, Zenozarax murmured, coaxing Aeven to move.

For a moment their eyes met, heavy silence between them, the angry defiance still sparking in Zenozarax’ eyes, but pain too. Regret for words spoken in anger and harsher than they were used to.

But this wasn’t the time. This wasn’t about them. This was about Aeven.

Zenozarax left with Aeven back the way Aeven had entered the hall first. Slowly the gathered crowd dispersed. Only Pelagius kept standing there, now looking at Ravalor.

Did you know about him? Ravalor asked, even though he already assumed the answer.

I did. He brought us here once you had disappeared, Pelagius said. I’ve been trying to take care of him. But it’s not easy. Some days are better. Some worse. Like this.

Ravalor frowned, stepping closer to Pelagius. His knee ached more now that his body tried to heal the damage Aeven had inflicted upon him. What is wrong with him?

I don’t know. I still don’t understand most of this. I’m just… trying to keep up. Pelagius sighed, his hand touching the back of his head and coming back with still wet blood on it. I don’t feel like doing a particular good job at it.

Do you have time? Ravalor asked.

Pelagius raised his brows. I do now.

Would you join me for a while?

Pelagius hesitated, but then nodded.

*

He brought Pelagius back to Zenozarax’ quarters. It didn’t seem to be the first time Pelagius was here and he didn’t comment on it. He just naturally took a seat before using a plain handkerchief to wipe the back of his head. The wound from a dull impact had already mostly healed thanks to the curse, but there was still a bit of blood.

Ravalor waited for Pelagius to finish while he went across the room for a glass of mana. His aching face really could need some help in that regard.

After taking a first good sip he leaned against the backrest of the sofa that was part of a large round sitting area around a circular low table. He kept standing to keep Pelagius in view, arms slightly crossed with the glass in one hand.

What are you doing to him?

Pelagius scoffed. What do you think? Torture?

No. At least I’d hope not.

I bring him food twice a day, but he rarely eats, I keep him company when he isn’t trying to tear my face off. I try to talk to him when he listens. I see to it that his clothes are cleaned and the room is fixed up everytime he does… something drastic. That really is all there is. All I can do. As I said, I don’t know what’s wrong with him. I don’t know how to make it better. He looks like Aeven — but I don’t know this man. And he doesn’t know me. My words hold no meaning to him, and that is at the best of times when he doesn’t think me an impostor or mere hallucination, Pelagius said with a bitter sense of frustration.

But Zenozarax can calm him down? Because of the curse?

Yes. Pelagius shrugged. But it doesn’t last for long and in a way it makes it worse. Seeing Zenozarax unsettles him more than anything else.

Of course it does. Ravalor could only imagine. Zenozarax was one thing to Aeven, and that one thing only: his ancestral arch enemy, evil incarnate. Since the time of Aeven VonTreva I, legend and history had made it clear that this wizard was to be defeated at all cost. And everything Zenozarax had done past that only solidified that notion and rightfully so.

He had stroked that same flame of destiny and righteous anger within Aeven when he had sent him after Zenozarax. In that moment, using him just like the others had, to take care of this problem while ignoring the loss he suffered for it. The Warrior had known there would be consequences for ignoring Aeven’s mental state after the destruction of earth. And now it was unimaginably worse.

Has he been on that earth the entire time? While we..?

Pelagius nodded grimly.

Trapped in the Casm of Rodenborg. He seemed to shudder at the thought. Knowing how this works, at least how it feels, this kind of immortality… When I die it still does hurt just the same. I can’t even begin to imagine how… unexpectedly Pelagius chuckled, but there was no humour in it. I wanted to say how he survived but he really had no choice about that. He just had to endure the pain, over and over again. The funny thing is—” his tone made it clear there was nothing funny about it “—While I fortunately don’t directly feel what he feels, I actually do feel better myself now that he’s out of there.

It was horrible. And as if he wasn’t already feeling guilty enough as it was he found that this one quite comfortably added to the list. It made his stomach feel tight and his heart heavy. He should have know. Put it together. Realised that it could have been be a possibility once he had understood how Pelagius was still alive.

Zenozarax entered the room. He didn’t seem surprised to not only find Ravalor here but Pelagius as well.

How is he? Pelagius asked, despite declaring earlier that he didn’t really know this Aeven, still showing concern for him.

Asleep now, Zenozarax said stiffly, a tense frown on his forehead as he walked over to Ravalor.

Has he broken anything?

Ravalor shook his head. Just superficial damage. He raised the glass in his hand a centimetre to make clear that he was taking care of it. Zenozarax now stood before him, mustering his face that seemed to still show signs of said damage based on the concern in Zenozarax’ face.

Why didn’t you tell me he’s here? Ravalor finally asked.

Zenozarax shook his head, taking off the cloak he wore to throw it aside on the sofa before he let himself drop down too. I would have, eventually. But I wanted to give you some time to acclimatise to everything. Before taking on feeling guilty for that one too.

Ravalor felt the sting. He rose up and went around the sofa too, sitting down a few metres away from Zenozarax just to meet his eyes more easily.

Pelagius stood up from the table. Do you want me to leave?

No, you can stay, Ravalor said before Zenozarax could have answered. This concerns you too.

He saw Pelagius’ eyes searching Zenozarax’ for a moment, as to make sure the other had no objection to it. Then he came over to them too and sat down.

Tell me what’s wrong with Aeven, Ravalor demanded firmly.

Zenozarax still frowned, now meeting both of Ravalor’s and Pelagius’ inquiring stares.

I’m not sure actually. The fact is that what happened to you, he nodded to Pelagius’, Wasn’t something I even knew was possible. But I do have a hypothesis.

When I stabbed Aeven with that Knife, I messed up, left myself open and that blasted Hammer got me. I do remember that very hazily and only thanks to the time dilation of that place. The very last moment is gone but I got enough. So — with Pelagius the Knife and curse had ample time to work together and synchronise with the new and altered body. But with Aeven, almost the same time that Knife hit him, I died and the curse lost the connecting link: Me.

Aeven is still bound to me, as is Pelagius. But I can’t control it anymore. I can calm the curse and realign it manually to an extent, give it a new instance of me to refer to, but I can’t do anything else to change it. He is fundamentally unstable.

Why isn’t it affecting me? Ravalor said tensely. The curse saw me when Pelagius took my hand. It’s how you found me. So it is active inside me too, yes?

No. It is active in a way yes, but you’re not under its will even should I get the knife back. You are, due to our preexisting connection, just another reference point that the curse acquired through Pelagius, you are now connected to the curse and I can see you as such, but you are not cursed yourself. It can’t spread like that. It only takes full control over the body which the knife pierces.

There was a bitter sense of relief in that. But it wasn’t helping Aeven.

All you said is a very magical problem. But what about his mental state? He needs help.

The reaction he got from both Pelagius and Zenozarax was varying degrees of Yeah no shit. as Pelagius quietly scoffed and Zenozarax shrugged his shoulders and said,

I’m not a fucking psychiatrist.

How come that’s a thing you never done?

Do I really strike you as someone who listened to other people’s problems for hours on end?

You’re listening to me.

Yeah, but — you’re you.

Right. Ravalor sighed. All things considered you would be a terrible choice anyways, given your history.

I tried, but — well. Now Pelagius shrugged.

The problem is that this Aeven currently has a tendency to try to beat people to pulp. Feel free to talk to him if you think it will do some good, but be ready to defend yourself this time, Zenozarax said plainly.

I’m… not good at it either, Ravalor noted and the murmured agreement to that from both the others was slightly irritating but it was true nonetheless.

Maybe, Pelagius said hesitatingly, we both go. He looked at Ravalor. He knows you and recognizes you. Even gave him pause for a moment. Back there it completely threw him off, but maybe in a more controlled and quiet moment it could work.

Zenozarax rose his brows meeting Ravalor’s eyes in a silent question.

It’s worth a try, the Stargazer said.

Then do it. But please wait till I’m back. You experienced first hand the strength behind his anger. Even with Pelagius I’d worry about your well being. You’re already damaged.

A poor choice of words Ravalor thought, but Zenozarax was right nevertheless. He understood the situation he was in now and that he had to be careful with the body he had, his aching knee reminded him every day of it.

Alright.

18 Zenozarax VI

I know he did it Sukatar growled as she keyed in the preflight checks.

But you have no proof? The Warrior stood front and centre in the CC of the Dawnbreak watching the front panels displaying the ship’s information and outside sensors.

Of course not. He’s good. But I just know he did it.

I never knew you to put your feelings before the facts.

Well, he brings out the worst in me, what can I say? He’s just special like that. She slammed down the nav control panel harder than necessary and the system chimed briefly — almost upset.

The poor Dawnbreak really didn’t do anything, Moakatar noted softly, despite the grim topic slightly smiling, trying to be as optimistic as ever. Don’t let it out on her.

My apologies, Sukatar murmured, and under Moakatar’s expecting gaze gave the panel a symbolic pat.

Good, Moakatar said happily and continued to run the checks and preheating sequences of the weapon arrays. If all went well they wouldn’t need them, but that was always a big if. She sounded carefree enough but Zenozarax knew both of these wizards well enough to recognize the tension in both.

Their banter was just a way to deal with the potential danger they were heading into once more.

*

The Wizard walked up to the centre of the Twilight’s CC where Sukatar stood. Her face had healed as much as was possible without reshaping, but the damage was still apparent.  

Keep her right on the edge. I don’t want you in any battle. Not without me and Xaronzul onboard.

Your confidence in us is flattering, Sukatar noted, but it was the same kind of banter that occurred on the Dawnbreak right now.

Take it as worry.

And not unfounded. There’s still something wrong here, Moakatar said from the side leaned over the panels there and Zenozarax stepped over to her.

Do we have to abort?

Don’t think so, but look at this. She pointed at the panels, displaying the crew manifest as taken by the Twilight’s automated sensors. Something must have been damaged or corrupted in the blast. I ran a bunch of checks and it doesn’t affect the flight or weapons systems, this is a different subsystem entirely. But there’s definitely a new error here.

He saw immediately what she was talking about. The Twilight was adamant that everyone on board was actually twice on board, sometimes even listed three times, and that not only included them, the wizards but also the essential crew of goblins, humans, drones and soldiers. Even more unsettlingly, a good third of all entries were listed with no detectable vital signs at all. It was an oddity, since this shipwide system shouldn’t have been affected by the blast in the CC at all — but Zenozarax agreed with Moakatar’s assessment that it shouldn’t affect the conflict to come. Maybe there had been some electromagnetic pulses in the explosion that had fried some of the sensors.

Isolated it for now, I don’t want anything trying to interact with the data like this. We’ll have to look into it once we’re back here. I don’t like sending her out with any fault but we’ll miss our window of opportunity if we postpone any longer.

Moakatar nodded and Zenozarax returned to Sukatar.

Don’t use the channelling device unless there is no other way. In your current state, even a small sphere will probably kill you.

I know.

The com line cracked for a moment as the cross dimensional connection snapped open and next he heard his own voice as the Warrior gave the final mission brief to both ships.

Attention. In 30 minutes we will jump both the Twilight and the Dawnbreak into the K-51 System. The Dawnbreak will appear in the shadows of this asteroid, the biggest of a small swarm of astroids circling the planet K-51-G, which by the time of porting passes the Planet at a distance of only 72.000 kilometres and 41.000 kilometres from the Planetary Miners Control Node.

The image of the system and its bodies appeared on the screens across the ships.

The Twilight will stay out of sight but at direct teleporting distance 148.000 kilometres away, relaying on their stealth capabilities and flying dark to keep out of sight. The Twilight will not engage in any battle and in case of an emergency you’re to use the nearest escape portals immediately to get to the other ship.

The Dawnbreak will approach the Planet K-51-G in dark flight and will engage the CBD the moment we make contact with the planet miner control centre. From that moment we will have about two minutes before the Twilight will have to leave. Once the CBD is engaged all fireteams will be engaged at their specified location. We do this quick and clean. All nonessential personnel are to leave the ship now.  Be ready and strapped in for the jump in 16 minutes.

Good Hunting.

The com line turned quiet and so did everyone onboard both ships as they made sure to finish all the pre-flight requisites.

Be careful, the Wizard said as a last point. And get back here safely.

Aye, sir, Sukatar promised and with a last nod the Wizard left the command centre of the Twilight and returned to the creation chamber where Xaronzul was waiting for him.

*

In a quiet mantra the Warrior went over his next actions, carefully calculating the amount of energy he could expend for each and rerunning the numbers again and again just to make sure. The countdown of their approach kept ticking down.

7 minutes left.

Once it reached zero he would take control over the Dawnbreak’s port systems and jump them into the system. They had already jumped into the right universe a few hours earlier since a cross dimensional jump was a much greater powerdrain than an in universe one and they needed all their strength. He needed all his strength.

Once they were there he had a few minutes to catch his breath and refocus — taking control of the Chaos Barrier channelling device. Without Xaronzul the draw of chaos would take longer to finish, consequently requiring more energy from himself. And he had to be very careful to not let it expand too far or too quickly or else it would draw too much energy from himself and effectively kill him. It was a task of trial and error he had failed at too many times already but it filled him with realistic optimism that this wouldn’t be one of those times. The variables were firmly set, there was no room for guesswork.

Once the CBD was engaged and stable he would feel the drain of his power the clearest. But he’d then take command of the first fireteam and immediately enter the station. Once they had control over the command centre and located the point of interest the three fireteams lead by him, Sukatar and Mokatar respectively would gather the Parts they needed and return to the ship. After that, Sukatar would jump them out of the sphere and back to the Edge of the Universe first to offload some people, himself included, before returning to the Dark Citadel with their valuable cargo.

They could alleviate the stress on his own powers by letting Moakatar do the initial jump but she was to preserve her energy in case of an emergency. If everything failed and both Zenozarax and Sukatar would become incapacitated, she was the one who would port them out.

4 minutes left.

All systems ready and secured for porting, Moakatar announced and turned on the port alert that immediately flooded the interior of the entire ship in a deep blue but crisply bright light that reminded everyone who wasn’t yet to secure themself and the things around them. TPM check.

Each of them touched a respective access panel close to them, making sure the Dawnbreak acknowledged everyone of them. TPM in the green, Moakatar confirmed.

3 minutes.

Zenozarax stood at the port controls, feet firmly anchored to the ground. Besides him Eso, Esa’s counterpart on the Dawnbreak, kept an eye on their set coordinates, making sure they weren’t carrying any unwanted momentum into the jump.

Commander, Eso said stiffly, tearing Zenozarax from his focus and he glanced over. Prescans show a three second difference to the previously given position. Requesting permission to adjust port location accordingly.

Zenozarax looked the data over quickly, it would put them about 50 metres further forward towards the station and asteroid. A very small change, probably unnecessary, but he nodded nevertheless. Do it.

2 minutes.

He primed the magic in his body and the ship itself, a low hum started to resonate to the entire hull of the Dawnbreak. It took two minutes to jump a ship from one place in the multiverse to another. No matter the size or power of said ship, it was always at least two minutes, more if the wizard doing it didn’t know what he was doing. But Zenozarax did.

Two minutes till the jump, and then two more in which even if they were prematurely spotted, they were saved from the fleet. Because not even the Leviathan herself could bend this rule of porting.

Ten seconds. Sukatar announced. The hum of the ship had turned to a pleasing and well harmonised song swinging in the air - if there would be any disharmonies now, he would abort the jump. But everything went perfectly.

3

2

1

The ship lit up, engulfed by a static sphere of a portal large enough to engulf it and immediately the Dawnbreak appeared in the K-51 system, nested safely out of direct sight of the station in the small swarm of asteroids.

Zenozarax sighed, taking his hands off the panel. Alright get ready for silent approach. Fireteams get into position for—

Then, just like the sentence Zenozarax didn’t got to finish, the Dawnbreak was cut in half.

The massive laser beam sliced indiscriminately through the asteroid swarm, cutting through metal, stone, ice and the ship in a vast and devastating sweep, missing the front facing command centre by only 50 metres. It happened so quickly that the explosion that followed seemed to come with an unnatural delay, as if the cut rooms, power lines and cables needed a moment to realise what had happened.

The air explosively vented, and was at the same time ignited by electrical fire and it tore the two cleanly separate parts of the ship apart, ripping the clean edge and all adjacent rooms into scrap in the process.

Shouting drowned out every alarm blaring on the command centre of the Twilight who saw the remains of the Dawnbreak on their view screens — and even more terrifyingly, they saw the Leviathan rise.

The massive colossus rose from below the shadow of the asteroid swarm, crashing through tons of rock and metal as if it didn’t even notice they were there. The massive laser cannon, Leviathan’s Wrath, still glowed molten hot — a bright horrific beacon in the cold emptiness of space, casting the entire asteroid field in blinding blue light and black shadows like a newborn star had bloomed right before them. Lights flashed all over its surface.

Eagles!

Scuttle the Dawnbreak! Esa get me a port point we need to get out of here now! Sukatar shouted over the blaring alarms. Teleport alarms pulsed in the ship — evacuations from the Dawnbreak of those that had survived. And hopefully nothing else.

If we engage the port she’s going to see us! Esa commented flatly.

PtP Warheads armed and ready, Moakatar said, seemingly unshaken by the situation. They could not allow anything on that ship to fall into Mezchinhar’s hands, least of all any of their parts. Sukatar didn’t know the status of any of the others, she just remembered her own part teleporting out of the burning inferno onto the Twilight.

Fire! Sukatar ordered as she already grasped the CBD, before them what was left of the Dawnbreak exploded in a massive nuclear explosion as their own warheads ignited inside her hull. Moa, you’re on Port! Get us out of here! I’ll get us time.

The massive draw of chaos of the CBD immediately assaulted her body the moment she triggered it. The unwieldy mass of sheer power rushed through the ship, through her, the pain flared up in every vein of izthra in her body and the worst in the parts of her face and arm where it was broken.

It was wild and unstable, coursing through her being in a mad rush drawing on her own power, feeding on her without restraint. The explosion of shaped chaos expanded with a hard snap around them.

A second later the lifeless body of Sukatar’s Engineer fell to the ground of the Twilight’s command centre.

Moakatar saw it happen but kept her mind blank and forcefully empty. Somewhere in the back of her mind she could see the consequences of this moment. But that wasn’t of concern now.

The sphere of chaos around them, unstable as it was, would give her enough time to fire up the port and get them back to the Edge of the Universe.

Sukatar’s Warrior, having made it from the Dawnbreak appeared on the bridge, ignoring the lifeless body of herself on the ground, and taking command of the ship again while the port countdown ticked down.

Moa are you alright?

She confirmed, yes all her parts were still alive, then Sukatar barked into the comsystem,

I need a casualty report! Where is Zenozarax? It was answered with an uncoordinated mess of answers.

The shipping manifest is still not working correctly, but I can’t see the commander on here, Esa said flatly.

And as the last seconds of the port countdown ticked by, the reports from the lower decks got clear and concise again, it became undeniable.

They had lost Zenozarax’ Warrior too.

19 Xaronzul I

Rebuilding a part of oneself was one of the most mind bogglingly boring things in the known multiverse and beyond. That was a purely objective and scientific fact. At least as far as Xaronzul was concerned.

He never liked the quiet. It left his weirdly wired brain to do whatever the heck it was it did with nothing to distract him from it. The out of place sensation, a smell that didn’t belong, a sound that nobody had made, sometimes even words spoken where nobody was. The worst were the small touches where nobody touched him. He preferred the small sensation of fluctuating temperature, even the little stings of pain. It all never really bothered him anymore, he wasn’t afraid of it anymore. He was no longer living in fear of what would happen if anyone would notice, because he no longer had to hide it now surrounded by those he trusted most and who knew and appreciated him just as he was, all technical flaws included. — However — if these sensations were the only things that happened around him, it was frankly massively-mildly annoying.

To fight the silence he had leaned over, reaching only barely over to the consoles without tearing his hand from the panel it was wrapped to and which was currently reading and interpreting his memories and core values to be remade into his now missing part. Once successful in reaching the panel he threw on some music that now blasted through the lab. He hummed along even though it really wasn’t hummable music.

The sitting still part was worse than the quiet.

His feet and free hand were constantly bouncing and twitching around, his eyes jumped from this point to another and then further and back again, as if he was expecting anything to change in the high roofed laboratory. It wouldn’t, he knew that. He was chained to this place for the next few weeks, no way around that. He planned to sleep for a good while of it — but currently sleep was the last thing on his restless mind.

He hated not being on the Dawnbreak right now. Not when all the others were putting their lives on the line basically for him to even get his missing part back. They had to work together to give each other that safety. A way to assure they were whole. He should be there, helping and making sure the others would have that same assurance.

His hum turned off-tune to the music, but against the industrial clashing of notes some would be hard pressed to even call music, it was barely noticeable.

He kicked the static pool of nanites in which his missing Part would be rebuilt in. He had no reason to do so, but he followed the impulse nevertheless. Just a second of something to do.

Suddenly the music turned off and Zenozarax’ voice appeared behind him. His body became still at once — he forced it to.

“Do I have to remind you to not interact with anything magical while the scan is going?”

“Sorry,” Xaronzul mumbled.

Zenozarax checked the panels with a light frown on his face. “Seems to be fine. Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t!” he promised and was utterly genuine about it. “Can you turn it back on though? When you leave again.”

“Sure. I should have considered it to begin with. I can get you something to read too if you want?” Zenozarax sat down to work through the queries that had come up in the scanning process.

“Nahh, I’m good.”

Xaronzul knew near nothing about what went into the process of rebuilding a part besides that it was, as mentioned, horribly boring but also that it was a bad idea to interrupt the Soulturner overseeing the process when they looked like this. Focused and busy.

So he went back to entertain himself with nothing but looking around. The overwhelming almost sweet smell of flash welding filled his nose for a moment, and he breathed out hard through his nose even though that didn’t help. He then successfully fought the sudden urge to reach into the nanite pool (for no good reason). He considered that a win on his part. Sensation after sensation assaulted his mind, but he didn’t let any of it show.

“Any news from the ships?” Dammit. That was a failure. No interruptions!

“I try not to think about it.”

“Yeah. Of course.” That was pretty normal. Any wizard with a warrior knew that sensation of forcefully ignoring the tension that could come with high pressure situations. Not paying much attention to it in the first place was one way of dealing with it. Especially if one had other important things to do too.

“They will make the jump in less than five minutes,” Zenozarax added despite his previous statement. “Did you notice any problems with the ship manifest on the Twilight in the past?”

“Huh? No, non. Why?”

“There seems to be an error in it. Nothing major. Just displaying entries double or thrice in some cases.”

“That’s odd.”

“Yeah. Doesn’t really make sense. Sukatar didn’t touch those systems.”

Xaronzul shrugged. “Might just be some splinter of the explosion wedged in a sensor.” He didn’t know much about most fine mechanical or magical tasks that required a steady hand so nobody ever expected him to fix these things in the first place.

Zenozarax scoffed amused, for a moment the tension was broken, “Crude, but actually possible.”

Then there was silence, and Xaronzul knew they were only two minutes away from making the jump, so Zenozarax would need to focus. Or at least to not provide any distraction to his Warrior.

Quietly he tapped the fingers of his free hand on his bouncing leg and quickly found the beat of the music again, humming almost inaudible along as if it was still playing. A low crawling sensation crept up his stationary arm, like something slimy with too many tentacles dragging itself up to his elbow. He ignored it.

He watched Zenozarax carefully, quietly looking out for any reaction to what was happening on the ship. It was dreadful, the moment of tension, waiting, not knowing and not being able to do anything about it either. Something whispered in his ears,

From hell’s heart he rises… to hell he returns,

and wailing in regret.  

He hummed along.

Then he stopped. As he saw Zenozarax froze in his movement, for a moment still as cast from stone, his expression faltered, a sense of profound shock, unmistakable in the bright lights.

And Xaronzul already knew things had gone horribly wrong.

What happened? He asked almost breathlessly, leaning forward as much as he could with the restraints on his left arm.

He’s dead.

Zenozarax looked up at him.

Xaronzul felt his own heart drop.

Somewhere to his right was a shrill wailing that made his face twitch, but he knew there was nothing there.

How?

I don’t know. Zenozarax rose up, but froze. Fuck. God dammit! He hit the rim of the pool so hard that it dented under the force and sparks of his own magic crackled from his fist.

What about the others?

I don’t know! Desperately Zenozarax turned back to him — the urge to do something clashing with the sudden fact of danger of being the only living Part left. He couldn’t go there.

I’ll find them. Find out what happened, Xaronzul said quickly.

*

Xaronzul, the Engineer, appeared through a portal on the Edge of the Universe — his arrival triggered an unscheduled portal alarm but it was lost in the already flashing amber alerts of an equally unannounced ship having ported to the station. It was only the Twilight, and no Order ships, which was an instant relief but the fact that the Dawnbreak wasn’t there and nobody had yet bothered to turn the alert off told him enough to raise the tension he felt to new levels.

Assuming the medical facilities to be pretty hectic right now he didn’t teleport there directly but quickly ran down the corridor, through two port doors and — indeed arrived into a very worldly kind of chaos.

Shouting of people greeted him, rolling tables were pushed here and there with medical supplies that were needed everywhere all at once. He saw people with burns, a few missing libs even. Others seemingly unconscious. Hopefully unconscious. The overwhelming scent of burned fabric, flesh, and hair mixed unwell with the familiar sweet scent of ozone and welded metal that clung to their bodies.

He spotted Moakatar in the hectic and quickly went over to her. Before he spoke he spotted Sukatar — or at least who had been a Part of Sukatar. He could already see that she was dead.

What happened?

Moakatar noticed him first as he spoke and turned to him. She held a datatab in her hands — the expression in her face void of any emotion. She always went like this when she was under pressure.

We were ambushed. The Leviathan was there. The Dawnbreak— she halted, maybe realising finally to whom she was talking We lost her. Had to destroy her. Zenozarax didn’t make it onto the Twilight, we don’t know if—

He’s dead. He knows. Xaronzul swallowed hard. Through a static portal that led to the docks more people came in.

Once everyone is here I want all soldiers to gather in G3 unless you are needed to assist here! Sukatar’s firm voice cut through the loud voices and wailing as she appeared through the portal carrying Jennax Fen whose skin was scorched by heavy plasma burns. He was still alive, at least he was breathing — that’s one lucky goblin. Or maybe a very unlucky one.

Xaronzul, Sukatar acknowledge him briskly as she put Jennax one one of the last free medical stretchers.

Can I help?

Give me those! She pointed over to one medical cabinet table and he quickly pulled it over. Get him out of the overalls. She rummaged through the supply as Xaronzul grabbed a pair of medical scissors and cut open the overalls, carefully peeling the fabric from burned flesh.

Jennax was barely conscious, which was probably a good thing. Sukatar arose from the cabinet and in quick succession injected the small body with three different vials, an oxygen booster, painkillers and paradoxically enough an immune suppressor. The latter would assure they had enough time to actually fix the damage before his overenthusiastic goblin physics would heal the damage too quickly or worse, adapt to something not desirable.

Hold him up here, like this. I need to get the fabric out before he starts to heal over.

I need to know what happened. He needs to know. Xaronzul held Jennax while Sukatar treated the burns.

The Leviathan was there. Waiting for us.

What do you mean?

They knew, Tash, they fucking knew exactly where we would be! They almost sliced directly through the CC!!

No, no, no, what do you mean, they knew? How?

Anger glared in her eyes as she squinted at him. For a moment Xaronzul almost feared she suspected him to have betrayed them.

By North— do you need help here? A third voice drew both their attention. Pelagius stood in the doorway to the medbay. Ravalor behind him. Both entered but while Pelagius came straight to them, Ravalor stopped one, two steps into the room looking wildly out of place as he watched the misery.

You!

A shrill sense of alarm flared up in the back of Xaronzul’s mind as he heard Sukatar hiss that one word. Pelagius abruptly stopped but then realised Sukatar hadn’t even meant him.

Ravalor was the last to notice.

Did you do this? Sukatar snapped at Ravalor who twitched back as Sukatar came directly towards him.

What are you talking about? Alarm filled Ravalor’s voice too, his hands were only halfway raised, undecided unsure, confused as to what was going on.

Did you tell Mezchinhar of our plan?!

Of course not!’

Sukatar had almost reached Ravalor, anger sizzling in the magic of her hands, Ravalor now completely on the defensive, hands raised, and if she had made one more step the situation would have escalated, but before that could have happened, Xaronzul had grabbed Sukatar hard by the arm and pulled her back.

Sukatar stumbled, catching herself — glaring at Xaronzul who now stood between her and Ravalor. The shrieking wailing in the room had grown almost deafening in that moment. But he finally realised that it wasn’t even real. Beyond some low sobs and groaning, the room had to be dead silent. The wailing was just in his head.

You have to stop that right now, he said, actually raising his own hands, ready to defend Ravalor from Sukatar if he had to.

The hell are you doing, Tash? Sukatar hissed. It’s the only explanation that makes sense! He knew.

He wasn’t the only one, Xaronzul countered calmly, watching her closely. You’re stressed out, you want to blame someone, but this ain’t it, brother.

She twitched, her hand sparked. Don’t you patronise me! She almost spat. You have no reason to trust that wizard!

I do. When Xaronzul spoke again, his words were slow but deliberate, steady even though he felt a trembling within his body. I trust Zenozarax. And Zenozarax trusts him. So trust him as well. I trust you too — but I need you to step back right now. And his tone left no room to doubt that it was a threat.

Su.

Sukatar winced as Moakatar’s soft voice tore her out of the stare down. Almost desperately she looked at Moakatar who now stood beside her and then, pushed her hands down.

Jennax, Moakatar said softly, nodding over to the medical stretchers.

A frustrated grimace drew Sukatar’s brows down. But then with a hearty Curse all of you! She hurried back to Jennax to continue to help him — with Moakatar’s help.

Thank you…

Xaronzul heard Ravalor mumble behind him and he turned around. For a moment he mustered the young but exhausted face. Yes, he didn’t know this wizard, he could make no judgement of his character. But he believed, with every fibre of his being, that Zenozarax would not risk all their lives like this, his own included, if he even only for a second would believe him to turn on them.

He’s important. A voice whispered and a strange scent tickled in his nose. His hand started to twitch.

Yes, he agreed quietly.

Ravalor looked at him for a moment, unsure of what to make of him or his answer. Then he asked, What happened?

They were ambushed by the Leviathan. We lost the Dawnbreak. Zenozarax’ Warrior is dead. Su’s Engineer as well and lords know how many of the crew. His crew. He gritted his teeth. He could name everyone still missing in the room. Too many — and he had to assume the worst.

Ravalor’s expression seemed nonexistent. There was no shock, not even a frown really. But there was something in his eyes. The way his gaze left Xaronzul, overlooking the medback, looking at Sukatar and Moakatar, the soldiers that still helped the wounded, doctors and nurses hurrying along, even the dead Part of Sukatar.

It was fascinating to watch him. The silent way he took in the situation, the thoughts it seemed to evoke. Xaronzul could see it in his eyes that Ravalor understood suddenly with absolute clarity the severity of the situation and how bad it was for them. And he saw, just the slightest change in his brows, a sign of sadness. Empathy.

I’m sorry. Ravalor said quietly.

Xaronzul rose his brows. So you did do it?

What? Ravalor’s attention snapped back at him, the stoic composure briefly broken by the sudden fear of being thrust right back into the same situation they had barely managed to divert. Of course not.

Then what are you sorry for?

Ravalor looked at him for a moment, and there was so much in his eyes, so much emotion that simply didn’t show in the rest of his face. Xaronzul found himself almost enchanted by it. Eventually Ravalor shook his head, keeping the thoughts unspoken, instead he said,

Tell me what I can do to help.

20 Zenozarax VII (Wizard)

Take this off, Xaronzul said tensely after a while.

They would waste time doing this, the scan wasn’t complete yet and would need to be painstakingly reinitialized if they interrupted it now. But Zenozarax didn’t remind Xaronzul of it, the grave tone in his voice told him enough as much as the crestfallen shock he himself felt, once more torn apart from his Warrior.

So he stopped the process and opened up the small restraint keeping Xaronzul’s hand in place.

The moment he took his hand away the aperture turned dark and the room silent. It turned the act more ominous than it had any right to be — and Zenozarax hated the tension in his guts it evoked.

Xaronzul stood up, leaned against the console. Then his hand touched Zenozarax’.

In the absolute silence Xaronzul told him very quickly and precisely what had just happened and what the situation was on the Edge of the Universe. There was overwhelming quality to the weight of information rushing in clinical cold Vaeh into his mind. Xaronzul also mentioned Sukatar’s suspicion of Ravalor.

For a flash he felt anger, but it faded quickly. As much as he knew his own temper, he understood Sukatar’s paranoia and the tension of the situation.

— I don’t think it was him, Xaronzul ended his report. I don’t think it was any of us either. But I think Sukatar is right, it doesn’t feel like bad luck. 

Zenozarax had to agree with that. But that left only one likely option. And it was the very reason Xaronzul spoke to him like this now. Because he didn’t want Quadirymir to hear them.

But it didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense at all, which was why Sukatar understandably had immediately suspected Ravalor, despite her own investigation into Quadirymir earlier. It was too outlandish.

— Why would he do this? Collude with Mezchinhar? Him of all wizards? For what?

— I don’t know. But the Leviathan missed the CC only by 50 metres. First strike. It was so precise. They must have known.

Zenozarax halted. Frowned. 50 metres. Xaronzul continued,

— But it’s the only thing that would explain it.

Was it? Ravalor was out of the question, he wouldn’t do that to him, he was certain. And nobody else had known. Only the crew had been brief minutes before. Why would any of them betray them? But why would Quadirymir?

— We have no way to prove it —

He sensed the objection before Xaronzul had even said it and overrode him on that as he continued

— I hate it as much as you do. Every atom of my body tells me to act and do something about it. But I can’t let myself or any of you do anything rash. Losing all of this, in this situation?

Xaronzul looked as unhappy about it as Zenozarax felt.

— You’re right.

— Right now and until we have at least a motivation we have to assume that either or both of the two events could have been mere accidents or coincidences. If this was him, we have to find out why he’s doing it and quickly. There has to be something he gets out of this… besides the pleasure of seeing us suffer.

— Maybe that’s enough for him?

— I don’t think so. He indulges his twisted mind more often than not, true, but he is not stupid and he never loses sight of the long game. Killing his own side won’t help him — unless there is something else. Maybe it would be about controlling me? But even that feels too vague.

The discussion turned quiet for a moment in which Zenozarax sensed the upset thoughts of Xaronzul more than he heard them. The young Wizard was angry, upset, afraid and grieving. But he controlled it well; the chaos around them barely moved.

— Okay. So what do we do now?

A good question. Zenozarax frowned. He wondered if confronting Quadirymir could actually work or if it was just a counterproductive impulse he had. He would have to talk to him one way or another and as soon as possible.

The silence of his Warrior was already starting to claw in the back of his mind. That distracting, crushing silence again. Like a chronic pain that had been eased just for a little while just to return on full force when one had finally started to cautiously get used to its absence.

He took a deep shuddering breath. Trying to accept it. And failed.

— We continue. We still can rebuild one Part of those we lost now. Moakatar is still whole, she’ll take care of the ship situation. And I’ll talk to Quadirymir.

— No matter what he says, we should rebuild you first. You’re the most powerful of us and you’re only of two. It’s the most logical, Xaronzul said.

Zenozarax nodded slightly. Yes it was logical. And he wanted almost nothing more than to just have his Warrior back. But it would also mean that he couldn’t leave this place for weeks.

Xaronzul, noticing the reluctance, then added,

— I’ll keep an eye on the Edge of the Universe. I’ll keep them safe. I’ll keep him safe.

*

Quadirymir.

Welcome my friend.

The sudden and very intense desire to punch that wizard in the face was almost impressive in the way only three very chipper and unbothered words could cause it.

Zenozarax however didn’t give into the desire. Not this time. Or, not yet.

He had found Quadirymir in the command centre of the Dark Citadel. It was his favourite place on the station from which he would monitor not only the station itself but all information his tendrils out in the multiverse would feed back here. There was never anything there Zenozarax wasn’t supposed to see. Monitoring who came in and who was in the room, Quadirymir undoubtedly made sure no sensitive information was shared without his approval first.

He seemed to be in a stellar mood, but that wasn’t unusual or very suspicious. Quadirymir was generally pretty content with his lot in life and Zenozarax had only once seen him even slightly nervous. It was an irritating amount of self confidence and ego that always rubbed him the wrong way. As Quadirymir noticed the grim look on Zenozarax’ own face however, his expression became more serious too — feigning a sense of respect.

Is something wrong? Quadirymir asked, standing up from his nonchalant sitting position at the main centre console.

We lost the Dawnbreak. And two of our parts. He didn’t mention the crew, Quadirymir wouldn’t care one way or another.

Quadirymir’s faces twitched to a slight frown, a slight bend of the head — Zenozarax hated both, because it looked absolutely genuine. Surprise, a hint of worry, and a bit of confusion, empathy maybe even. And since Quadirymir seemed to be incapable of the latter, all of it became a lie.

How? What happened?

The Leviathan ambushed us the moment we arrived. They were waiting, Zenozarax said, failing to keep his words free from anger. The only saving grace was that he ought to be angry either way, and Quadirymir had no reason to assume he was angry at him due to the suspicions hanging above his head.

I’m sorry, Quadirymir said, sitting back down but still facing Zenozarax who had come as close as reaching the centre of the room, no step further. A very safe and comfortable distance for both of them.

Zenozarax’ felt the corners of his mouth twitch, his teeth clenched tight. Every second he stared at this wizard, and left with the silence his Warrior had left, he felt the anger within him rising. Because no matter what he had said, he didn’t want to believe it all to be a coincidence either.

“They were waiting,” he repeated, his voice almost reduced to a growl. “If we hadn’t adjusted our port location, they would have sliced right through the CC and killed all three of us. They knew exactly where we would be.”

Quadirymir shook his head, willfully ignorant to the threat in Zenozarax tone. Was it K-51-G?

Yes, Zenozarax answered tight lipped.

Quadirymir checked something on the consoles as he said: I don’t— hesitated and began anew, They shouldn’t have been there. Not from the information I had. He looked back to Zenozarax. Then halted again.

You blame me??

Shouldn’t I? As you said, they shouldn’t have been there. Why didn’t you know? How did they find out?

Quadirymir actually frowned slightly, as if reacting to his competence and honour being put into question. He raised his hand, but not towards Zenozarax, instead pointing at the screens.

All this — isn’t infallible. It’s good, it’s vital — but I don’t always know everything. Especially not the movement of the Leviathan. Lords, you know that! She moves by order of the first circle directly and it is impossible to have anyone on board that ship without Nemoneleus being aware of it. It’s impossible. Believe me, it’s not like I didn’t try. Unless she is spotted, even I can’t know where she is, Quadirymir explained with an exhausted and desperate undertone like he was talking to a child that just didn’t want to understand. There was always that risk, so don’t you dare put your continuous failing and the consequences of your recklessness on me. After Fallrise and Little Halo we all knew they would be on high alert. And they knew K-51 was another likely target, not important, but isolated. They probably gambled. They could have waited anywhere, might as well be in a system that was at risk and in a place where a ship would most likely port to if entering the system. And you drew the short straw.

Yeah. There was that explanation. It was not an unlikely one. The odds would have been still in their favour, but simply being unlucky this time wasn’t impossible either. It was the very explanation why Zenozarax, despite his own prejudices, was still hesitant to blame Quadirymir outright. It was a solid explanation. It was an explanation that at least made sense. A greater than zero chance that it was just an unlucky coincidence after all.

50 metres.  

A very, very unlucky coincidence.

We did, he said, grim and bitter.

Then there was silence. Zenozarax knew why he was here, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to actually say the words. Every atom of his being struggled against it.

Eventually Quadirymir relieved him from that struggle as he said,

I joked before — and I’m sorry. I know this is a dire situation for you. I don’t actually want you to grovel and beg. Well, no that’s not true, I would love to see it, but that would only be for my own amusement. Quadirymir smiled gently, his arms now resting on the armrests of the chair as he kept on watching Zenozarax closely. Zenozarax recognized very well what he was doing. He didn’t believe the first part but the second was genuine. Cushioning the lies in truth.

You do need my help now. And I’m willing to give it to you.

But?

No but. Quadirymir shook his head, leaning back absolutely relaxed. It’s a token of my friendship to you. Since Charon our relationship has been rocky to say the least and it’s not like I don’t understand why. So see this as a way of me making up for that. I know it will take time for you to trust me again — but maybe this can be a step in that direction. I can give you the izthra you need, and you can use the Citadel as you see fit. No strings attached, Quadirymir assured him, then he stood up walking over to the side consoles.

I’ll give you enough for three parts, alright? With that you still have it will leave you still some spare to fix some minor injuries here and there.

That’s very generous, Zenozarax barely managed to press through his teeth.

Quadirymir glanced at him, a lopsided smirk on his face. By the lords, it’s eating you alive right now, isn’t it? He continued to enter something to the console. Depending on someone else doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It’s how we survive out here.

You lay it on a little thick there.

Quadirymir sighed and finished whatever he did at the console. You think so? That’s unfortunate. But I mean it. It’s just hard to get it across without people suspecting me of lying. You know, curse of the Envoy.

Yeah, right. That’s the only reason. Zenozarax kept it to himself. Instead he said, Actions speak louder than words.

Ah, Quadirymir chuckled, We’re rolling out the wisdom. But I guess you’re right. So here, storage block G564-B95. I transferred the promised amount of izthra there. If you need my assistance beyond that, you always know where to find me.

Appreciated.

Well, as you said, actions speak louder than words. Let’s see if you do. Quadirymir chuckled and went back to the chair. Ah, before I forget — will you need the docks? To repair the Twilight.

She didn’t take any damage.

Fortunate. Might want to give her a once-over nevertheless. Should I set the reconstruction of the Dawnbreak in motion?

I’ll oversee the process myself once my Warrior is rebuilt.

Oh… Quadirymir whistled through his teeth. I didn’t realise you lost a part of you too? My condolences.

Again, too thick. Zenozarax gave no answer to that as he turned around to leave.  

Keep me posted! Quadirymir smile was audible in his tone.

21 Ravalor VI

The Stargazer was alone again, back in Zenozarax’ rooms.

The situation in the medbay had calmed down and once no more critical cases needed to be handled he had sensed a dangerous silence taking hold, evidenced by the still poisonous glare of Sukatar. Consequently he had excused himself the moment he felt the perception of his presence turn from a needed help to that untrusted outsider again. Pelagius had stayed behind. They seemed to trust him — maybe they had gotten used to him enough to not question his involvement. Or the chaos wizard doubted that Pelagius could actually do any harm. Contrary to himself.

There was no way to prove he hadn’t done what Sukatar accused him of and so he just had to hope cooler heads would prevail. And he hoped to speak to Zenozarax soon. He had lost his Warrior again. He wasn’t whole and he was alone now.

And Ravalor suddenly worried about Zenozarax again in a way that would have been labelled as clearly insane by anyone during the last two thousand years — and maybe that would be still true now. Memories resurfaced from the Hermit, of his own pleas to Zenozarax back in Artlenburg, to rebuild the Warrior, to have that safety back. Memories of Zenozarax staunch refusal too. Back then, a choice of pride, stubbornness and maybe a fear Ravalor could not understand. But now it wasn’t a choice. Now Zenozarax was somewhere out there, and he wasn’t safe. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Ravalor sighed as he sat down onto the bed. Maybe he should try to sleep. Get his mind cleared. Zenozarax would return sooner or later and they could talk then.

He was exhausted, naturally, as usual, but he sensed a restlessness within him that probably would keep him from sleeping for a while.

He was purposeless. More so than ever before. Despite the title he had been given, even when he had been with the Wizard in Mezchinhar, there had always been something he could do to make himself at least a little useful. Some research here and there for the Hermit, some help with the summoning and creations of the Wizard. A very few times even running some errands inside of Mezchinhar for the Kingmaker, taking care of this or that request for materials or proposal that had to be filled out. Small tasked that didn’t mind his occasional slips into the void (besides the ingrained embarrassment of dropping down dead around other wizards). He hadn’t been completely useless.

He wanted to do something now too, but he didn’t know what that would be. He shouldn’t be here and so naturally there wasn’t anything obvious for him to do here.

With another deep breath he closed his eyes for a moment, searching the calm within him. He didn’t quite find it; instead a low chime tore him from his attempted mediation.

He opened his eyes again and naturally flicked his hands to bring up the floating panel next to him which was linked to Zenozarax’ quarters.

It was Xaronzul. Ravalor recognized the backdrop for the CC of the Edge of the Universe.

Sorry to disturb you but can you come see me? I’m in the CC, keeping an eye on things. I already briefed the others but — I thought it better to not have you there. No offence.

Non taken. It’s perfectly reasonable, Ravalor answered and Xaronzul gave him an appreciative nod.

Come see me if you have a moment.

I’m on my way.

Xaronzul nodded and closed the transmission and Ravalor made his way up to the CC.

He wondered why Xaronzul wanted to see him in person, but it was probably a question that would be answered naturally once he got there so he didn’t ponder too long about it. Even if not, it wasn’t unusual for wizards to prefer one on one conversation over distant communication. While most wizards preferred a healthy distance to any other wizards, they above anyone else knew too well of the ingrained lack of privacy of most artificial forms of communication. The drawback of being part of a people that could get access to almost all forms of encrypted or secure messages was the very reasonable assumption that no message was ever private and someone could always be listening.

He knew it was true for everything sent via the port and beacon network that originated in Mezchinhar. So at least there it was normal to assume that Mezchinhar knew.

And it was probably a sense of paranoia that was hard to shake even once was outside that influence.

On his way to the CC he didn’t meet many, and those that passed him mostly ignored him besides a constrained greeting here and there. They were busy with their own problems and the tragedy that had come over the Dawnbreak. Only twice he caught a suspicious glare of those that undoubtedly had heard what had transpired in the medbay.

He was worried about that. It was something that if not addressed could quickly fester in a relatively small population like this.

As he entered the Command Centre he found not only Xaronzul on the command chair, but also Pelagius leaning against the centre console, his arms crossed before his chest. The latter locked dead tired which the hearty yawn confirmed before both noticed him enter. Pelagius acknowledged him with a nod.

Xaronzul jumped up from the seat conveying a sense of nervous restlessness that put into question how it was possible he had been sitting in the first place, with his eyes jumping from Ravalor to Pelagius and back he said,

I won’t keep either of you too long but this concerns you two as well.

Ravalor went over joining Pelagius, or at least standing in the general direction as well so Xaronzul didn’t have to look back and forth across the room. Instead he now walked back and forth between them like he was about to reprimand them.

We have a way to rebuild all our parts, but it will take some time. Zenozarax and Sukatar won’t be here for the time being, and Moakatar will take care of the Twilight and Dawnbreak. So, me is all you got. For now. Try to tamper the excitement.

Ravalor felt a stone drop in his stomach. It was good news, but it was also terrible news.

That will take months.

Unfortunately, yes. Zenozarax assumes at most about 12 weeks for himself, Su and I will take longer. I haven’t died in a long time, Xaronzul confirmed grimly and briefly stopped in his pacing and looked past both Ravalor and Pelagius. Ravalor followed his gaze briefly but there was nothing there.

At first, the time Zenozarax estimated seemed very optimistic to Ravalor, but then he realised that this Part of Zenozarax, the Warrior, while having been rebuilt over thousand years ago, had only been alive and conscious for not even two years. That combined with the fact that Zenozarax was only of two would dramatically reduce the needed time to rebuild this Part despite his total age. The factors that would determine the needed time were numerous and sometimes vague to estimate, he knew that much from the memories of his Wizard, taking into account the lived memories, the number of parts, the age of the wizard and part in question, as well as the magic and expertise used for building them.

But Ravalor had to assume that Zenozarax, who had a lot more experience in the field of Soulturning, knew what he was talking about.

What about Sukatar? He then asked, getting Xaronzul’s attention back.

She calmed down some. I think she knows she overreacted, so as long as you don’t give here any more reasons for suspicion, you should be fine. As I said, she won’t be here for a while anyways, but if she approached you afterwards, be careful but maybe assume she’s come to apologise instead of murdering you.

That’s reassuring.

Never seen her like that, Pelagius noted, suppressing another yawn. For a moment I really thought she’d fight you.

Yeah. Xaronzul nodded grimly, crossing his arms as he started to slightly bounce on his heels. But she almost lost two Parts of herself there. Sacrificing one to get the Twilight out. I get it.

But there was something there that didn’t add up, Ravalor realised. Not with anything he had been told before.

How did you get the material? he asked suspiciously and Xaronzul shifted a bit, displaying a reflexive sense of immediate discomfort.

Quadirymir is helping us.

The sentence hung heavy in the air.

Is he now? How awfully altruistic of a wizard nobody trusts, Pelagius murmured, rightfully suspicious. Xaronzul must have seen the confusion in Ravalor’s face because seemingly unprompted he added,

Believe me, none of us likes it. But he has the means and we’re short on options.

A recurring theme, Pelagius murmured again more to himself than anyone else. He really seemed tired and it made him impressively cranky. Probably noticing it himself, he uncrossed his arms and stood up properly. What about Aeven?

Xaronzul looked at Pelagius, almost puzzled. What about him?

If Zenozarax won’t be here, we have no way of calming him down.

Xaronzul kept quiet for a moment and Ravalor realised that his other Part most likely was with Zenozarax right in this moment, because eventually he said,

Then he won’t. We can’t bring him there obviously and Zenozarax can’t come here while his Part is being rebuilt. He needs to be there. You’ll have to calm him down as best as you can — and if all else fails, keep him sedated.

Right. Just knock him out. Pelagius shook his head. Very well, if that’s all, I’m going to bed.

He’s not too happy about it either, Xaronzul said after him as Pelagius was already halfway through the room, waving his hand in a dismissive motion. Pelagius didn’t like it, but he was also too tired to argue. Then he was gone.

We’ll try to talk to him. Even without Zenozarax here, Ravalor said. Maybe that will help.

Alright. If you need me, you can always send me a message through the stations system.

Ravalor nodded, and was about to leave himself, but halted and asked, Is there anything I can do around here?

Huh, right. Xaronzul smiled weakly as he opened up the panels by the command chair. Getting tired of being a guest. Understandable. What can you do?

Ravalor felt himself straighten up almost reflexively. This Part was an Engineer. Mainly an Enchanter with a little bit of Alchemy. I worked with cyborgs for a while though I don’t think that will be too helpful here. I’m also a Pyromancer, Planeswalker, and somewhat of a Soulturner. Even though I never built any wizard so far.

So mostly engineering jobs one way or another. Should come in handy. I figure we can give you something to do around here that suits you. Let’s see. I won’t get you access to the station defences and the constructs — I think Su would murder me if I did that. But you could run a maintenance check on all the portdoors in here. It’s due and needs the touch of a wizard anyways.

Ravalor wanted to agree but then remembered something. On earth, the one where you picked up Pelagius, I’ve seen port doors that aren’t like the ones I know. They seemed to use a different kind of magic. Chaos based. Are these here the same?

Oh — yeah, of course. These are short distance only, not cross dimensional, since we usually can’t spare the izthra for something like that. Damit. Okay that’s a no go then because it won’t make any sense to you. Xaronzul thought for a moment. I’ll give it a thought as to where to put you that would suit your skills best, until then you might as well check in with Cebex Fen and Wolla Tarnax; They’re currently running engineering on here. They will have something to do for you.

Ravalor nodded. Hesitated again.

Is he safe?

Xaronzul sighed. How can I answer that? Really. Relative to us two he’s not. But officially he’s still with an ally of ours. So — make of that what you want. It’s not preferable but it’s what it is. We’ll try to be careful and I’ll try to keep him safe. Which includes keeping you safe as well, so please don’t do anything that could get you killed. That’s all I can say.

Ravalor pondered over that answer for a moment, struck by the curious realisation that Xaronzul obviously cared a whole lot for Zenozarax. And genuinely so. It stood in contrast to Pelagius who had reluctantly accepted Zenozarax as part of his life. Due to what happened between them he doubted Pelagius would consider Zenozarax a friend anytime soon or ever for that matter.

He seems important to you. You trust him. Why is that? Ravalor asked, genuinely curious.

Xaronzul went suddenly still. It was a stark difference to the constant motion before that Ravalor really first noticed by its absence.

I — hm, Xaronzul started and fell silent again. He almost killed me once, Xaronzul then said almost with pride and a grin — and both felt like pretence. Mezchinhar always was like — see, I didn’t quite … eh … fit. I think. Something’s not quite right with my brain.“ For a moment Xaronzul’s grin faltered, showing an honest frown, before he completely changed the topic  and expression back again, “But it’s okay. I had a run in with Zenozarax once, when he was still Grandmaster. T’was the scariest shit. Barely made it out alive. Came this close to that fucking knife. Lords he was quick. Never seen a wizard use portals that quickly. As he spoke almost excitedly now, Ravalor noticed for the first time the slight hint of the Mezaxen drawl in his words. It was faint, but a strange reminder that this wizard too had once just another wizard in Mezchinhar.

He impressed you? Ravalor concluded. The appreciation of Zenozarax seemed genuine, but there was something about the rambly story that felt off to him. Because it implied Xaronzul had been a chaos wizard long before Zenozarax, but none of their interactions, nor the way Xaronzul acted, had given him that impression so far.

Hell yeah. Xaronzul started bouncing on his heels again. Back to his normal self.  And it was clear to Ravalor that Xaronzul wouldn’t tell him any more of this topic. Just because they were chaos wizards didn’t mean they were just throwing around personal details without a care — Ravalor was slightly ashamed that he had almost expected it. In his mind they had been so different, so incompatible. Now he was here and it turned out they were still just wizards afterall.

Anyways, I’ll keep you in the loop if something out of the ordinary should happen. Xaronzul, obviously not eager to continue the conversation in the direction they were heading, chose to end it, and Ravalor didn’t fault him for it and took the hint. So he just nodded and said, Thank you, before leaving the CC.

He still didn’t feel like sleeping (except his mind crying out for it) so he took his time walking down back to Zenozarax’ room. He passed the hall that led into the restaurant, and he realised the hour was quite late by how few people were still around. He heard one or two voices from the restaurant itself. Here in the hall stood a couple speaking to each other quietly, an old man strolled down the hall in the opposite direction to him.

For a moment he met the old man’s eyes, who, just for a moment, stocked in his movement, but then smiled kindly at him. Greeted him. A low raspy voice marked by age. He wanted to return the greeting out of politeness as much as to make sure he wasn’t rude to those that didn’t yet see him as a threat.

But he didn’t even get so far as to open his mouth.

Utterly unexpected, flashes of images assaulted his senses with such force his body gave a jolt and he stumbled back. He fell but didn’t even notice. His eyes were wide open, yet he saw nothing of the corridor around him anymore as his head hit the floor.

Something was watching him. Someone.

Comforting green lights glimmered around him. Magical first, combining into one bright light, and even in his fragmented awareness within this vision he felt the horror creep up his spine as he recognized that all consuming brightness. The world shuddered. And changed.

The images before his eyes were familiar in their abstractness, but utterly different to what he had seen before. Then he was somewhere else. A dark hall, another person he couldn’t see or recognise, a shadow in the darkness which swam in the air like smoke.

And somewhere in his awareness there was Zenozarax too, bright and clear, familiar. But he felt his pain and anger. The shadow before him morphed, and so did the world around him.

Everything seemed to move backwards, time strained as it was drawn back.

— And then Ravalor died. —

He felt his death, the actual death of the wizard he was, not in body, but through these strange images, felt it like a blast of magic that pierced his body, his body failed. The Stargazer didn’t die — not really, not yet — only in these strange memories out of time and space he did.

Then darkness. Cold. Void.

22 Xaronzul II

Technically speaking it really wasn’t a good look to have Ravalor (whom he had promised to keep safe!) drop dead right on the first day of his watch over the Edge of the Universe.

It had caused a little upset in the moment — not least of all as Xaronzul had to tell Zenozarax about it. Paradoxically enough, Zenozarax of all people was the least startled by that fact and revealed that it wasn’t that paradoxical to begin with, since he had simply forgotten to mention that Ravalor — the Stargazer — had a tendency to just drop dead for undefined amounts of time.

Xaronzul had been a little upset about that oversight too — but frankly it paled against the relief.

With that knowledge he had seen to it that Ravalor’s “dead” body had been brought back to Zenozarax’ room. Even dead, Xaronzul hadn’t dared to touch him. Instead, after a brief request to engineering, a whole crowd of goblins had taken the chance to get their hands on a wizard. Very much literally in this case. And so Xaronzul had been followed by the barred body of Ravalor being carried by about twenty awe filled and murmuring goblins who, after being informed as well that Ravalor would wake up from the dead in due time on his own, had seemingly promoted him to some sort of messianic symbol.

It had taken a while to get them all to leave the room again once Ravalor had been put onto the large bed. Discussions of the need for candles had arisen quickly amongst the goblins and Xaronzul had to firmly remind them of the no-open-flames rule onboard this station. This barely had an effect. First when Xaronzul noted that Ravalor really didn’t seem the type to be comfortable to be worshipped, the fear of making Ravalor in any form uncomfortable dispersed the crowd and any notion of holding a vigil.

Eventually, after all prayers and well wishes had been conducted, and all sneaky touches of Ravalor’s hand stolen, Xaronzul was the last to leave. Just after setting up a quiet alarm that would ping him once there was movement in the room.

As Xaronzul had gotten increasingly nervous about the ongoing state of “Ravalor’s deadness” when reaching the 40 hour mark, Pelagius had thankfully explained to him that this was still fairly “normal”. That these episodes came without warning and could sometimes last several days.

It unsettled him slightly, because by all accounts and scans — Ravalor was dead. Completely shut down and non functional. Any other wizard, provided their body was unharmed and their minds not corrupted, would need the help of another wizard or Part to wake up from this state. That Ravalor was seemingly able to rise from the dead all on his own — once he felt like it — seemed a tad unorthodox to him. Maybe even a little unnatural.

It wasn’t like he himself was in any position to judge anyone for being weird. But there were levels. There was “hearing shit that wasn’t there”-weird and “literally waking up from death”-weird. Not the same. For sure.

It took another 20 hours before Ravalor finally woke up. And indeed he did so all on his own.

Xaronzul, who had figuratively chewed down his nails at this point, threw all politeness to the wind and teleported straight into the bedroom the moment he got the alert.

He arrived just to see Ravalor sit up properly in the bed. There was an expected sense of discomfort and worried confusion on his face. But no surprise. This really seemed to be normal for him. He obviously still didn’t like or enjoyed it though.

Are you alright? Xaronzul asked while his other Part promptly notified Zenozarax, in the vaguest terms, that Ravalor had woken up again. Both Zenozarax and Pelagius may have treated “Ravalor dying” as disturbingly normal but for Xaronzul it was still anything but.

Ravalor didn’t look at him. A frown drew a shadow over his face, but it seemed more confused or desperate than angry. Like in trance he touched the breast pocket of his shabby vest.

Ravalor? Xaronzul crouched down, trying to catch a glimpse of the other’s faces without having to get too close to him. It took another long couple of seconds before Ravalor finally spoke:

I’m going to die.

…

What?

Ravalor finally looked at him as if first now he noticed him. Someone, or something, is going to kill me, he said, his voice almost puzzled by that fact. I’ve seen it.

Okay, calm down— actually Ravalor seemed exceptionally calm, Xaronzul wasn’t. What do you mean you’ve seen it? A vision? You have visions? You see prophecy?

I didn’t use to, but since I am alone, I do. I have seen what would happen on earth — but I didn’t understand it then. But in this one… I died. Not here I think. Somewhere else, as if it happened at an yet unknown place. I didn’t really see anyone clearly, it’s more like I felt other entities close by. I think Zenozarax was there, and someone else.

Quadirymir?

I don’t know. It was all more like a shadow or a concept, not a person. Like…. Ravalor halted, frowning deeply. Like it wasn’t real… yet.

What does that mean? Xaronzul still kept a healthy distance but tried to watch out for any small change in the other face. He almost jumped when a creeping sensation touched him on his shoulder, but since his other senses assured him there was nobody behind him he ignored it.

A possibility? Ravalor concluded, though his tone wasn’t as firm to declare fact, only a mere guess. Something has changed. Something that could have me dead.

Beware the dead man…

The voices in Xaronzul’s head whispered impressively unhelpfully, but very persistently.

How?

I don’t know, Ravalor said with a sigh.

You are remarkably calm for someone who just prophesied his own death.

It is frustrating, Ravalor said downright unhappily.

Xaronzul rose his brows. That’s one word for it.

No, you don’t understand. I’ve been through this before. It’s not like a step by step manual. I don’t know why it might happen, I don’t know what I could do to either make it happen or prevent it. No matter what I do now, every decision could be exactly what would lead to that outcome or it might not. It— The sudden burst of words was unexpected and filled with anger. Clearly Ravalor could have continued if he hadn’t stopped himself by swallowing his breath and let the frown on his face tell the rest of his frustration.

...so what do we do then? Xaronzul asked carefully.

Ravalor shrugged exasperatedly. Nothing? Wait and see. Watch out for what may lead to it.

That seemed insufficient. Xaronzul frowned, focusing for a moment on the memory of his other part.

Zenozarax asked if you want him to come here? Given that both of them were right now bound to their respective scans, it was hard to communicate freely. But he got the point.

How long was I out?

About 60 hours.

And you’re already doing the scan?

Xaronzul nodded.

Then no. Keep doing it. I’m fine, for now. I think. The last prophecy I saw was months in advance. I don’t think the threat is imminent.

A moment of silence. Talking to Zenozarax was a nightmare right now, having to communicate over the Dark Citadel’s com systems they knew every word to be monitored and consequently had to be shrouded in several layers of bullshit.

Zenozarax wants me to tell you, and I paraphrase here to what I think he is saying, A) you know shitall about prophecies, imagine some colourful curses here and B) You should have told him that you’re still having them.

I didn’t until now!

Another moment of silence, the conversation halted by the transmission delay from Part to Part.

He said you should read up on it asap, there’s enough about it here in the library and he’ll set up a familiar to get you catched up. I’ll get it to you as soon as possible. And you should write your prophecy down and give it to me so I can get it to him, Xaronzul said dutifully then after having ended saying what he was supposed to say he added almost wonderingly, Seems like I’m a Pathfinder now. Mez was right after all, purpose sure does find one.

Ignoring his last remark Ravalor said, Alright. I will write it down.

He’ll get here as soon as possible.

We both know that’s still weeks from now.

Take it in spirit. And please don’t get yourself killed until then or else he’ll — okay, alright, that’s enough. I will not condone or convey casual and counterproductive threats of violence. Just don’t die.

I’ll try my best.

Please do. And until then we’ll keep an eye out for any new elements appearing on the board or …Quadirymir. If it is Quadirymir you should be safe as long as he doesn’t know about you. So that’s good.

Ravalor nodded as Xaronzul stood up.

“Xaronzul?“

“Yes?” he stopped, looking back down to Ravalor who still sat at the side of the bed.

“Can you tell me about Quadirymir?”

“I would. But there isn’t much and even less that will be helpful, frankly,” Xaronzul admitted. “He’s a lot older than you and me, obviously, but we don’t know who and when he was still back in Mezchinhar. He used to be an Envoy though, that much is clear. And he’s good at it.”

Without noticing it he had started to bounce on his heels again. With his hands stuffed into his overall’s pockets and looking at the ground with a frown, he thought carefully about his words before he continued.

“We’re both, you and I, a bit fucked up in the head, and that’s okay, yeah? But Quadirymir, he’s different. Dangerous like that. Stable yes, but twisted. He genuinely enjoys seeing people suffer. Which makes him pretty insufferable, ironically.” Xaronzul shrugged. “I try to stay away from him. Especially since earth.”

“What happened?”

As Xaronzul frowned, Ravalor quickly added, “From your point of view I mean. Between you and him.” Implying that he already knew what happened anyways and Xaronzul had no reason to assume he didn’t yet, and so he answered freely.

“Right. Quadirymir basically had Zenozarax get captured, aye. I knew he had a backup Part build, but Quadirymir refused to wake him. Hid him instead. He told me Zenozarax had planned for that to happen in case he was captured.”

“You didn’t believe that?”

Xaronzul shook his head. Against his hands in his pockets he felt a cold stickiness, triggered by memories of sensations a thousand years old. Dead black blood. It wasn’t really there of course.

“Not one second. Zenozarax would have told me.” He thought back to that fight between him and Quadirymir. How angry, scared, and desperate he had been of losing Zenozarax. “I wanted to kill him then and there. But then Zenozarax would have been truly gone. We went away after that. Away from Quadirymir.”

He shrugged. He raised one hand, slow at first, signalling a non threatening action to Ravalor before waving his fingers in the air between them. The hologram that spawned between them wasn’t very good or clean, the picture shown was slightly distorted as Xaronzul failed to keep the delicate control over the magical matter. But Quadirymir, at least the one Part Xaronzul had seen not too long ago, was still easily recognizable.

“That’s him,” he said, and then, seeing the thoughtful look on Ravalor’s face, asked tensely, “You’ve seen him before?”

“I don’t remember. But he looks familiar,” Ravalor murmured.

“Doesn’t have to mean much. Chances are good he took this face from some guy he found interesting,” Xaronzul said and let the hologram die. It was an instant relief in his mind. “He had this one for a long time now, his other Parts do switch appearance quite frequently. So I can’t really help you there. Even this one could change by tomorrow.”

“I understand. Thank you though,” Ravalor said, his head slightly lowered. Xaronzul put his hands on his hips, nodding in full honest seriousness as he said,

“May it help keep you safe. And really, try to do less of this. Or you’re going to melt my brain.”

At that Ravalor looked up at him again, and despite all, despite the genuine treat to his life and all the uncertainty that came with it, there wasn’t that neutral frown, there wasn’t the look of concern — ney — if Xaronzul would believe it there was the faintest hint of a smile. A careful appreciation of the genuine concern Xaronzul showed him.

“I’ll try.”

23 Ravalor  VII

Xaronzul had left Ravalor alone, only to briefly return not much later, putting a datatab on the table with a informal from Zenozarax before he was gone again. The very brief appearance had reasonably startled Ravalor as Xaronzul had simply teleported into the room and out again like he was just jumping around places for the fun of it.

He realised that he’d probably have to, tactfully, remind Xaronzul that these were still private quarters and he really ought to use the door. But he postponed that for another day.

Xaronzul seemed to be surprisingly but very genuinely invested in his well being, and Ravalor didn’t want to jeopardise that by immediately telling him to mind his distance.

He took the tab from the table and gave its contents a look. Commonly doing anything magical was strongly discouraged while doing the initial scan, which Zenozarax obviously had brazenly ignored now. He had to assume that Zenozarax, as a former Soulturner, knew what he was doing. There were plenty of additional works on prophecies and a select couple of actual prophecies. Some were marked important.

There was also a summoning spell written into the datatab labelled Summon me!

With a light amused smile he placed the tablet into the summoning network of the station and ran the spell.

Drawing the magical matter from the station, the familiar assembled in a shower of light before him — taking Zenozarax’ likeness and, by the way he stood and looked at him, his mannerisms too.

The familiar vaguely followed him away from the summoning circle back to the sitting area, and stood now halfway inside the coffee table without paying any attention to it. These familiars could be made to interact with the world around them to an extent, but this one was only visual, seemingly phasing through solid objects like a ghost. An optical illusion of a physical three dimensional form, but a convincing one.

Tell me about prophecies then. I’m listening, Ravalor prompted as he sat down onto the sprawling sofa.

About time, the familiar said with a click of his tongue. He should have expected this really. Leave it up to Zenozarax’ vanity to create a familiar that was exactly like him. What do you know already?

Ravalor shrugged slightly. Prophecies are visions of the future that some wizards can have. They usually don’t come true and you can’t rely on them.

The Familiar of Zenozarax pinched the bridge of his nose as to ward off an upcoming headache — a gesture that was already ridiculous for wizards and double as unnecessary for a familiar made from nothing but a fine dust of magical matter and light.

So you literally didn’t listen to me at all. Ever. That’s good to know.

Ravalor signed him to hurry on. Mannerisms or not it was still only a familiar and thus bound to Ravalor’s command.

A Prophecy is a path in time, the familiar began, then it knocked on the door. Politely the familiar stopped in its explanation, and after being called in, Pelagius entered.  

I heard you woke up— The knight stopped mid sentence and squinted slightly confused as he saw the ghostly appearance of Zenozarax. What is this?

A familiar. Magic put into form. Zenozarax sent it to explain prophecy to me.

... Ah. So he’s…

It’s not Zenozarax, just a conduit to convey some of what he knows. Proof enough of that was the fact that the familiar had not reacted to Pelagius at all. As far as the magical hologram was concerned he might as well not exist as it seemed. Instead. It contented itself with plucking away on its holographic robe — lords forbid there would be something awry with his very much artificial appearance.

Should I come back later?

You can stay if you want. It’s not too relevant to you, but if you’re interested? Ravalor said after a moment and offered Pelagius to sit. The knight followed the invitation but not without a sense of concern in his face.

Did you have another vision? That’s what knocked you out?

Ravalor nodded grimly. It would appear so. And after receiving an inquisitive glare from Pelagius he added, there seems to be the possibility that someone, somewhen, might try to kill me.

Oh, great, Pelagius groaned.

Ravalor merely shrugged. It’s vague and inconclusive. It might as well not happen at all. It was what he did and always had believed. But, considering what had happened concerning his last vision he felt not as firm in that belief anymore as he used to.

As to point that out, the familiar cleared its throat - or at least pretended to. May I?

Go ahead. Continue.

As I said, prophecies are a path in time — one of countless, but it is not random. They are always related to the Wizard who sees them. It is said that location plays a role into it as well, that you are more likely to see into the paths of times of a place the longer you stay there, but in the end it is always based on the path the wizard will take.

Ravalor listened attentively — for the first time when it came to this topic. Pelagius on the other hand listened with a deep frown. But neither interrupted the familiar and so it continued.

Prophesied events are big events — at least relative to the wizard in question. It doesn’t have to happen, but the fact that you are seeing it means that there are several paths in time already which all could lead to this event happening.  

It’s not always easy to see, but the initial prophecy relating to any event doesn’t occur without a trigger. The catch is, that trigger does not have to be directly linked to you. Let’s say you are on a space station, as you are, and somewhere out there in space some space junker decides to hurl a piece of space rock your way which would against all odds hit your station 5 years down the line. You could have a vision for the destruction of the station. In this case it’s simple — move the station out of the way until the visions stop and viola, crisis averted.  That’s an easy one with only two variables.

Now imagine a whole mesh of influences! That’s how it usually is. Influenced by not only your own actions but that of many other people too. You can end up in a situation where no matter what you do, since you do not command the actions of those other variables, your influence on this path in time might be minimal.

Is there a way to know? To see what causes it? Ravalor asked.

No. Unless you’re already aware of it you usually won’t be able to identify the cause until after it has been written to history. Hindsight and all that. The familiar waved his hand dismissively.

The visions I had on earth kept changing. Sometimes a little, occasionally stopping outright. That’s because some choices that were made by the variables at play, correct?

Yes.

The first one occurred shortly after I arrived on earth and just before I met Pelagius. But not when I made the decision to go there. And it was the vision which led me to the path of trying to use the spire in the first place. How does that make sense? Doesn’t that make it — well a self fulfilling prophecy?

The familiar of Zenozarax frowned, his arms crossed, looking from Ravalor to Pelagius. No, I don’t think so. From what I know, It appears to me that it probably was Pelagius’ arrival in the first place that made this chain of events possible. That the option had been there before, and you’d have come up with it eventually, but you wouldn’t have been able to do it on your own. Or, it would have been more unlikely, let’s put it like that.

Ravalor pondered that for a moment and there was logic to that. Pelagius had saved his life more than once during the time, so his part in all of it wasn’t negligible.

So if I hadn’t seen that light, or had decided against investigating, it wouldn’t have happened? Pelagius asked tensely.

The familiar rose a brow. In that moment, yes, it probably would have changed the likelihood. We can only assume that your arrival strengthened this particular outcome. But we don’t know what might have happened hadn’t you done that. We need to be careful when assuming any alternative events, or worse assuming a complete negation of one event by changing only one factor that led to it. The amount of variables at play is simply too large.

Pelagius stayed quiet, no longer looking directly at the familiar but a vague point at the table, his brows furrowed.

You’re not to blame, Ravalor said quietly.

The knight looked up, the frown eased a little. But you are?

Ravalor stayed quiet and so Pelagius said.

See. I thought we agreed that we all are in this together. Him included. Pelagius nodded to the familiar of Zenozarax.

I am merely a familiar. I have done nothing but tell you about prophecies, the familiar said reasonably aloof and almost outraged at the sudden accusation. Pelagius ignored the objection as he asked,

You wouldn’t have fixed it, right? You probably would have left Aeven and me rotting there if it weren’t for the curse?

The familiar frowned, the aloof attitude dropping from his face and being replaced by blank confusion.

I am sorry, I can’t answer that.

It doesn’t know, Ravalor said quietly. It has only a very small selection of Zenozarax’ memories, those he wanted me to hear about. It literally can’t answer any questions like that.

Sourly Pelagius scoffed. Figures.

Ravalor wasn’t sure if he was too unhappy about it. He wasn’t sure he’d have liked the answer. And so, to divert the question he said,

Is there anything else you wanted to tell me?

With a deep breath of relief the familiar nodded.

Only one thing, that is very important. A Prophecy can occur thousands of years in advance, but they can also tell of events just about to happen. Like the Prophecy of Grand Wizard Fanohelix, I marked that one down for you. One hour. That’s all he got — because of a chance encounter nobody could have seen coming. But once it happened, there was no way around what it would cause.

Ravalor felt a nervous tingling in his body. The idea that someone might just show up out of nowhere to kill him seemed outlandish to him, but without temporal reference in his vision he really couldn’t know.

What does it take into account? How… do we know?

The familiar looked at him plainly and almost tired. We don’t know. The strongest theory is that it’s just the actions of wizards. Others are sure it’s a lot more than that. Including everything we built and influenced. Maybe everything the lords created. Maybe more, maybe not only the actions of wizards but everything a wizard is aware of relating to the motivation of other living beings. This would imply a fundamental uncertainty since it would rely on the wizards personal judgment of said living beings. With the nature of prophecies being so elusive it is hard to test or make any conclusive statements.

I see.

The frown on Pelagius’ face seemed there to stay forever at this point as he asked, “So what are we going to do about it?”

Ravalor thought about that for a moment then said, “We keep going.”

“That didn’t turn out great the last time,” Pelagius reminded him grimly.

“No. But it’s the only thing we can do. Until I know more.”

24 Pelagius IV

It was the middle of the night and Pelagius was suddenly wide awake.

Horrible disorientation assaulted his mind as he struggled out of the blanket and almost fell out of his bed as he tried to stand up.

It had been well over a year since had last slept in his own bed back in Treva and almost four months since he had come to the station. And yet, when he was torn out of his sleep like this, his brain still struggled to remember that. Still expecting to be back there one day.

But this was not the day.

His heart beat hard and quick as he finally stood and regained clarity of his senses. God dammit. He hissed as he was already at the door and out in the corridor.

Aeven was awake. And the nightmare he found himself in hadn’t changed either.

Pelagius felt it as much as he could plainly hear it. The station was quiet, slumbering in its night cycle, so consequently the more pronounced was that clashing and shattering sound from the rooms down the hall.

For a brief moment he considered getting Ravalor; but Zenozarax’ quarters weren’t on this level and going there and back would take way too long. He had forgotten that he could send him a message via the stations com system. Most of his life the only way to notify someone quickly was to tell them directly or send someone to do so — using these novel forms of instant communication simply wasn’t something that was intuitive to him yet.

And at the end of the day and the middle of the night he wasn’t sure he wanted Ravalor to be there in the first place. But only in the way that one may consider the troubled and terminally ill to keep them from the sorrows outside their own. If Ravalor was going to die, best not have it be tonight by Aeven’s hands if he could avoid it.

Having learned his lesson of Aeven’s new trick, Pelagius braced himself, this time ready for the possibility that Aeven may charge at him. Then Pelagius opened the door.

The room was in shambles. Almost all lights were broken, smashed by brute force, only two were still flickering hectically like a stumbling heartbeat. And in the midst of the chaos was Aeven. Barefoot, wearing his plain black shirt and loose pants. Holding a bent piece of metal in his hand.

Pelagius tensed up. The piece of metal used to be part of one of the chairs, smashed to pieces by utterly inhuman strength and madness.

Aeven grip around it tightened as he met his eyes. The lights kept on flickering. There was a low hissing in the air. That couldn’t be good either.

Aeven, Pelagius said carefully, all the while readjusting his stance. What’s wrong?

Aeven’s face twitched. Maybe with disgust, maybe suspicion. It was hard to tell in the irregular light that threw nervous shadows over the young face.

Where is he? Aeven’s voice was raspy and low, like he had already screamed too much.

Zenozarax? He’s not here. And he won’t come, Pelagius said. Every muscle in his body was tense and ready to spring into action. Did you plan to kill him with that? He nodded to the rigid piece of metal. There was a dangerous sharp edge to it where the backrest had broken off. Aeven probably wouldn’t have been successful (even though as it turned out the wizards’ bodies seemed less indestructible than he had been made to believe) but he wouldn’t dare mock the attempt.

You still protect him. You’re still his pawn.

I’m telling you a fact, Pelagius countered calmly. Despite how it looked, Aeven was relatively lucid. Pelagius wasn’t sure that was a good thing right now. He isn’t here. He can’t come.

He will. Aeven murmured and he barely had finished the words when he snapped. It was a sudden explosion of motion, Aeven lunged forward, but, having expected it, Pelagius easily dodged the attack. The piece of metal hissed through the air, the force behind the swing made it clear that it carried murderous intent.

Carried by the momentum, Aeven immediately swung around, ready to block an incoming attack — at least if Pelagius would have had a weapon. Pelagius, who was under no illusion of being able to deal with this without causing harm, used his own momentum of the dodge to kick Aeven knee with full force from the side. A horrible crack filled the room followed by a roar of pain. But Aeven didn’t let go of the piece of metal. Aeven’s free hand grabbed him even before he had found sound footing again, the metal came from the right.

With both hands Pelagius took hold of Aeven’s arm who held him by the front of his shirt and he let himself drop. The metal piece swung over his head as Aeven, already unstable on one broken knee, lost his balance and stumbled forward and down with him.

Aeven was physically stronger than him, and he carried the makeshift weapon well, but Pelagius was quicker and very well trained in direct hand to hand combat. As Aeven fell, Pelagius, still holding onto the other’s arm, rolled over and Aeven slammed with his face into the ground. Using all his weight he bent Aeven’s arm back and pinned him down, using one of his feet to hold down the other hand still holding the piece of metal.

Listen. I’m not your enemy. You need to stop fighting me. We’re in this together, Pelagius said between heavy breaths. Aeven was firmly pinned down but he felt the sheer strength fighting him. If he found one sliver of leverage he would be able to break free. And so he spoke quickly. You want to kill him? Fine. I wish you could but you can’t. We are both bound to him. You can’t change that. And neither can I. Get that in your head! And stop this.

Aeven cursed him, not wanting to listen at all. Let go of me!

No! Not if you don’t start listening. This is pointless. We both can’t die!

Making no indication he had actually listened and without warning, Aeven buckled up, kicking himself up from his knees and throwing Pelagius off —

— the arm Pelagius had still held firmly audibly popped out of its socket. But it left Aeven still his fighting arm. Pelagius barely managed to roll aside as the metal piece came crashing down onto the very spot he had laid just a second ago. Not even trying to get up he instead pulled his knee up and his foot smashed into Aeven’s face.

Repelled backwards, Aeven was for a moment blinded by the exploding pain radiating from his nose and tears shot into his eyes. It gave Pelagius enough time to slam the side of his hand against Aeven wrist, the piece of metal fell from his hand, he grabbed it swiftly, crashed against Aeven, throwing him onto his back and with full force the piece of metal came down and impaled Aeven through his left shoulder. The inhuman force with which Pelagius drove the solid piece of metal down penetrated even the floor where it got firmly stuck.

Aeven looked downright surprised. Shocked even.

For a moment he didn’t even react to the intense pain now undoubtedly flashing through his arm and shoulder.

Pelagius, sitting on top of Aeven’s torso, who was firmly pinned to the ground, catched his breath.

I have no love for that wizard, Aeven. He made me kill everyone I’ve ever loved. He made me ravage and murder. Whole towns. Cities, he said between his breaths. I am not your enemy.

For the first time Aeven looked at him with a disturbing sense of clarity. As if he really saw and heard him, for the first time.

But you still help him. Aeven still tried to move, but his voice was now strained and unsteady, his face twitched in pain as he tried to move but the metal piece in his shoulder didn’t budge.

I have no choice, Pelagius hissed. And neither do you. We are stuck here, it’s horrible but it’s reality. This is real. We both should have died but we didn’t. Now we have to deal with this situation. You have to accept it.

“I won’t forgive him for what he has done!” Aeven shouted.

Pelagius grabbed Aeven’s shoulders and the prince winced in pain.

“That’s not what I’m asking of you! He is not to be forgiven! How can he? With what I told you, do you think I will ever be able to forgive him for what he made me do? Everyone I cared for died by my own hand because he made me do it. That can’t be forgiven. And I won’t.”

“Then what—”

“Peace. Of your own mind. Your anger and vengeance is tearing you apart, I know, but you have to let it go. He will set us free, I believe in that. But it won’t take away what happened. He will never be forgiven, because what happened can’t be forgiven. But it also can’t be made undone, no matter what you do. You have to accept it.”

“He needs to pay for what he did!”

“I agree with you.

Aeven fell silent, staring at him. Blood was pooling below his shoulder. His face was bloody and starting to swell.

Why don’t you kill him?

Pelagius looked down at Aeven whose eyes seemed more hazy now, distant, and in pain.

I can’t. And we need him, nobody else can stop this, Pelagius eventually said soberly and took a firm hold of the metal piece. With a hard pull he yanked it out of the floor and Aeven’s shoulder — the bent tip ripping through already damaged flesh making Aeven gasp in pain.

Then he stood up, not once taking his eyes from Aeven who kept laying on the floor, his breath was flat as the pool of blood grew — and Pelagius knew he had pierced an artery. So close to the still adrenaline flooded heart the blood oozed quickly out of the ugly wound.

Why doesn’t he kill me? Aeven mumbled, his consciousness slowly fading as the life drained out of him.

He can’t either. Pelagius picked up one of the still intact chairs and dropped down on it, watching Aeven die.

I shouldn’t… be alive…

That probably applies to most of us here. He lay the metal piece on the table where it left a smear of blood. But you are.

Ravalor said… Aeven head lulled to the side, his eyes were heavy and barely looking anymore. ... I must kill him. He has to die...

Pelagius smirked grimly, only short of scoffing to himself.

I don’t think he agrees with himself on that anymore.

There was a last twitch in Aeven’s face, a last shuddering breath. Then he was still. And dead.

Quietly Pelagius stood up and picked up Aeven from the floor to heave the limp body onto the bed. He used the restraints this time before he went to the panel at the door which had fortunately survived Aeven’s rampage.

With a few taps he was connected to engineering — at least the night shift, led by Wolla Tanax. The young goblin greeted him openly but reasonably weary given the lateness of the hour.

Can you send a few people here. Aeven made quite a mess, most lamps are broken. He’s down right now, but won’t be for long.

Wolla cursed lowly in her native tongue, then added I’m on my way.

25 Zenozarax VIII (Wizard)

This was woefully suboptimal.

It was terribly frustrating.

Mind-bogglingly irritating!

Figuratively chained to this god awful machine Zenozarax had never felt as helpless and maybe even useless, which in turn made him feel embarrassingly petulant and stubborn, which in turn annoyed and irritated him even more — and he still couldn’t do anything about it. It was a magnificently shitty spiral of frustration and he would swear he had never before been this irritated by doing nothing. While that was certainly not true, it was however the reason Zenozarax, for the first time in his long life, actually, really, truthfully reconsidered the possibility of building himself a third part in the future. But just maybe. And that was the biggest maybe. Given his age, it would easily double if not triple the amount of time needed to rebuild a part, which made it even more unappealing than it already was. But what he wouldn’t do to just have that extra range of motion now. To move freely with another part while the Warrior had to be rebuilt.

Adding to his own troubled thoughts Zenozarax sensed the distress and then the pain from Aeven and the correlating stress of Pelagius. Soon followed by the clear sensation of Aeven’s death. It was one way of taking care of it, he supposed. But he hated that feeling. No matter which of them two died, it felt like a ugly, numb spot appeared somewhere in his mind that he couldn’t ignore nor fix. It was different than the complete blindness of where his Warrior should be. But in a way no less unsettling.  

Zenozarax wondered what had happened. He wondered if Ravalor had been there too, and if so, he hoped he didn’t take any more damage. It was callous not to not worry about Aeven and Pelagius in that regard, but their effective immortality made that rather pointless.

Overall he had to hope this disturbance in his awareness wouldn’t negatively affect the delicate process of rebuilding his Warrior. It hadn’t (as far as he could notice) the last time as he had rebuilt the Wizard after the Hammer had vaporised him on earth. But now it felt different. Both Pelagius and Aeven felt closer than before he had picked them up and realigned the curse within them. Maybe that was good. Maybe not. He really could only hope for a good result.

Both Sukatar and Xaronzul were in their respective chambers to rebuild their own missing parts. Zenozarax was already tense enough as it was about that. He preferred to make sure himself the rebuilding went as flawless as possible for his companions, especially Xaronzul always needed careful attention in that regard given the ingrained natural miscommunication within his neural network. It wasn’t an issue with the body itself, so it could not be fixed like that, but it sure could be made worse by shoddy work.

But Zenozarax couldn’t allow his own progress on the Warrior to be left unattended. Not with Quadirymir being around. As someone who prided himself on total self-reliance, Quadirymir naturally was sufficiently skilled as a Soulturner himself even though Zenozarax doubted he’d ever have gotten a formal education in it. But he was good enough at it to pose a potential threat to the soundness of his new Part. Especially now that trust was very hard to come by.

So Zenozarax would see to his own build while he had asked Moakatar to see to Xaronzul and Sukatar when they needed her. Sukatar would probably be fine on her own, but Xaronzul (even if he wouldn’t need special attention) was as far removed from being a Soulturner as possible — he simply lacked the sense of detail for the job.

A communications request chimed on the console to his right and — having rerouted the controls to a more manual panel earlier that would allow him to at least accept these without having to use the magic of his hands, so he accepted it with the press of a plain button.

Heya, boss. Xaronzul spoke up the moment the link was established. Already from those two words Zenozarax knew Xaronzul to be horrifically bored.

Is something wrong?

No, nahh. Just checking in. Making sure nobody spontaneously died or something. You never know with this stuff.

So everyone on the Edge of the Universe was still alright one way or another.

Actually, in theory this is really safe. Zenozarax said as he leaned back. But I take it you’re bored?

What gave that away? Xaronzul chuckled. So, I was thinking about what you said about the familiar for the Twilight. I gave Moa the data you gave me. It did work, but there were some readings she got back that were a little odd. It’s sensitive system data so she doesn’t want to send it around all willi nilly.

Hm. If Xaronzul thought relaying the information of Ravalor’s newest prophecy here was risky, it was safe to assume that it would reveal too much about things Quadirymir wasn’t supposed to know about. That in and of itself told him enough and frankly he should have expected it. Anything revolving around Ravalor directly was sensitive information.

Odd in what way?

A short pause.

Inconclusive pretty much. Suddenly died on us and nobody knows why. Not sure if it’s something you put in, but she keeps looking, Xaronzul said.

Zenozarax frowned. Lords this was a horribly inefficient way to communicate. Right now he wanted to ask Xaronzul clear and precisely what exactly that was supposed to mean. Ravalor had seen him in that vision, he played a part in it? And it involved Ravalor dying? Or himself dying? He had to assume that was roughly what Xaronzul was saying.

A horribly thought occurred.

If the vision was still so vague, but Ravalor knew Zenozarax to be in it…

Zenozarax would like to believe Ravalor wouldn’t consider the possibility of Zenozarax being the one to kill him. But precedent had beaten them to it.

Of course, there was no way Zenozarax would do that now.

But, unfortunately, he had thought the same up until the moment he had actually killed Ravalor the first time. But that had been back then. There was definitely, for sure, no way he would ever do it again! But did Ravalor know that?

…

He needed to talk to him!

Hey, I know you’re probably all ’I need to fix it myself right now because it’s my ship’, but I think it’s fine. She will figure it out. Xaronzul said knowingly and with that he figuratively shot the sudden impulse to leave and talk to Ravalor, straight in both kneecaps, letting it crash painfully to the ground. Zenozarax cursed him quietly. But Xaronzul was right to keep him where he was.  

Alright. But keep me updated.

Sure thing.

What about the auxiliaries?

Xaronzul didn’t answer immediately, and Zenozarax sensed he didn’t immediately know what he was talking about. He just kept quiet, giving Xaronzul a moment to figure it out. Fortunately he did.

“Yeah… little trouble there with the usual, but nothing major. Just usual. Minor repairs needed, Xaronzul said, it sounded like he was frowning.

Hmhm.

There was—

A bright and dark swirl materialised before him and Zenozarax barely kept himself from ripping his hand from the panel by surprise. He felt a deep pang of irritation as he cut the connection to Xaronzul with his right hand and frowned at the wizard that had just appeared out of thin air before him.

The doors are locked for a reason, Zenozarax murmured, leaning back forcefully relaxed.

Figured as much, Quadirymir said chipper. Everything alright?

Splendid.

Quadirymir smirked, acknowledging and surly revelling in the obvious frustration and irritation his arrival had caused. Then ignoring all that and without invitation Quadirymir sat down not too far from him at the workstation that usually would be occupied by a soulturner at this point. Talk to me.

About what?

This. Quadirymir nodded to the pool. And everything out there.

That’s pretty broad, Zenozarax said, barely able to press the words through gritted teeth. It was a power play, plain and simple and no way around that. Both surely acknowledged it as such, Zenozarax bound to this device, inflicted with an artificial helplessness as long as he didn’t want to start over from scratch, and Quadirymir plainly ignoring the common courtesy and security protocols of not disturbing a fellow wizard while rebuilding a part. Maybe even a hint of threat in it — reminding Zenozarax that this was Quadirymir’s station, and he would go wherever the hell he pleased. And so, he acknowledged that fact by asking downright diplomatically, Anything specifically you’re looking for?

Oh, plenty. Quadirymir chuckled. But don’t worry, you don’t have to tell me anything. I usually figure it out on my own sooner or later.

Zenozarax gave him a shrug and expression that said as much as ’Then what the fuck do you want?’

Alright. Here’s one question for you. A thousand years ago, Xaronzul went up and stole the entire fleet. Now he has returned with your two flag ships. Where is the rest?  

I don’t know, Zenozarax said.

I don’t believe that.

But it’s true. And it really was, in a way. The rest of their ships, at least those that were still maintained and the few that had been built since, were with the colony fleet. And Zenozarax, right now, didn’t know where they were. It was safer this way. The fewer people knew the better. There was an encrypted port beacon there  allowing those who had access to the physical key to go there wherever they were. And currently the only one who could freely move between here and there was Xaronzul. But where there would be, Zenozarax couldn’t tell.

Quadirymir mustered his face, reading the truth behind his words. There was a benefit in being colloquially known as a bad liar. When he told an obfuscated truth he was usually believed.

Alright. Not out of reach but out of knowledge. Reasonable, Quadirymir concluded cirrectly. Here’s another one. After the jump to K-51 the Twilight ported out of there a little over two minutes after that. But she first showed up here hours later. Where would they have gone in the meantime?

Triage, Zenozarax said stiffly. There were wounded that had to be taken care of.

But you didn’t bring them here.

Are you suddenly a doctor in goblin physiology? I don’t think so. If you wouldn’t despise them so much, you’d know that any injuries need to be treated immediately and with great care. Care you wouldn’t bother giving them.

Quadirymir rolled his eyes. Fine. Good excuse.

Excuse?

Everything you’re telling me these days sounds like excuses and justifications. Quadirymir almost pouted, then abruptly a smile twitched on his lips.

Okay last question. Quadirymir stood up, making it definitive that this conversation was indeed soon over.

Is that a promise? Zenozarax still wanted to make sure.

Sure.” Quardirymir’s smile was radiant and unbothered by his tone as usual. “Do you have any idea of what Ravalor is up to these days?

An ice cold shudder shot through Zenozarax as he tried, good lords how he tried, to keep his face as neutral as possible. Even hearing Quadirymir utter the name was something he didn’t want to hear — ever. But right now, in this context, it felt dangerous. Because he feared that there was a reason behind the question.

No, Zenozarax said. Keeping the answer as short as possible. And again, it was literally partly true. He knew where one part of Ravalor was, but not what the whole of him was doing.

Why not? Quadirymir inquired, very slowly making a few steps to his side.

I thought it was the last question.

No no, this is part of the last one. Why don’t you know what Ravalor is up to? Quadirymir grinned, clearly delighted that, yes indeed, he was making Zenozarax uncomfortable right now. It was that last expression Zenozarax saw of him as Quadirymyr stepped out of his field of view. It made him even more tense.

Why would you need to know that? Zenozarax asked into the room.

I don’t need to know. But you should, and if you don’t, I want to understand it. Because with all your great dreams, your gloriously failed conquest — there was linchpin in all of these. And it wasn’t me. And so whatever you plan to do next, I find it utterly puzzling that you would not keep an eye on the one wizard that made you fail time and time again.

Zenozarax narrowed his eyes but stayed quiet. Fearing his words would betray him. But Quadirymir didn’t require an answer to continue. Suddenly his voice was right behind him and way too close.

Right in this moment, your beloved Scion is out there, fighting tooth and nail to resurrect the one glorious wielder of the Hammer Izarax to — well his true glory. You might have killed him, but you know how they are. Of course they had a backup. And now he’s hellbend on regaining full access to a tool whose only purpose is to kill us. And you — you’re not simply ignoring it, which would already be bad enough, no, you don’t even know about it in the first place. And whatever you plan to do next, whatever purpose you pick up will fail because of it. Quadirymir raised up, stepping forward again, back into his field of view and still watching him unnervingly closely. His tone had been nothing but factual and if anything openly puzzled. But now Zargohtrax could see there was unmistakable glee in his eyes.

Zenozarax felt his heart beating hard in his chest. He tried to breathe calmly, but he felt like even the slightest twitch of his body would not go unnoticed by Quadirymir.

How do you know that? About what he is doing?

It’s what I do. I kept an eye on him after your most recent, oh pardon me, your second most recent death. Quadirymir leaned back with crossed arms and a complacent smile.

This was bad. He had meant it wholeheartedly when he had told Ravalor that having drawn the attention of this wizard was bad. He had deliberately tried to stay away from Ravalor for that very reason.

What does that mean, keep an eye on him? What are you doing? If you laid a finger on—

Nothing, Quadirymir quickly assured him as he leaned back against the pool, seemingly outraged about the implication of him causing anything on the scale from mischief to genocide. I mean I haven’t caused him any harm if that’s what you want to imply. I meant it when I said I want to smoothen out our relationship. Killing Ravalor would be most counterproductive to that, don’t you think?

It would. His thoughts were rushing, considering that damn prophecy, Ravalor, on the Edge of the Universe, but also back in Mezchinhar, and back with the Hammer.

Listen to me. You don’t want to hear this, but it’s true. That wizard is dangerous — to you. And you need to be the one to deal with it. One way or another. Or else he will be your downfall sooner or later. If you let him continue beeing such a willful blindspot, he will kill you. I have seen him, Zenozarax, watched him, and he isn’t like us. He will never be like us.

Get out.

Zenozarax, I—

Out! He bellowed and Quadirymir jumped up. For a fraction of a second there was a nervous twitch in his eyes, maybe even the hint of a genuine frown. In his anger Zenozarax wanted it to be genuine, but he knew to not even trust those seemingly natural microexpressions.

Alright. I get it. Quadirymir stepped back. But at least you listened. Then he disappeared again in a swirl of light and dark light.

Zenozarax had listened. But he wished he hadn’t.

26 Ravalor VIII

There had been a sense of unexpected routine developing over the last days. Since Ravalor’s arguably very dramatic new vision not much of anything had happened.

No more visions, no unexpected turns of events, nobody trying to suddenly murder him. Which was good. Arguably it was really good.

His sleep rhythm was still non-existent because he couldn’t rely on the sense of exhaustion he felt to tell him when to sleep. It was just there and constant, and that was normal. For that reason he tried to not sleep too much. Since he didn’t fall asleep easily and when he slept he didn’t do so for long with no real benefit to it, it wasn’t too hard from a practical point of view. Even when subjectively he felt like spending every hour of every day in bed just to maybe find rest anyways.

So the Stargazer kept his attempts of sleep to the appropriate night hours, which had already once or twice ended up with him stubbornly laying in the large bed pretending to sleep.

The Edge of the universe ran on a 25 hour day with 9 of those putting the station in night mode, which included dim lights and a reduced noise floor.

In the morning he got up and dressed before spending the morning hours in Zenozarax’ study. He read and explored the texts Zenozarax had pointed out to him and beyond that. For imminent questions he consulted the familiar here and there, but most of the time he dedicated himself to quiet learning the way he enjoyed it the most. In solitude and with no interruptions.

For noon, like today,  he’d go and join Pelagius for lunch. Ravalor of course wasn’t eating but he took the chance to see and be seen. Usually he wouldn’t make such an effort to become part of any community (in any capacity), he was and had always been much more comfortable at the edge of civilization looking in. But the situation here was different. The population was too small and too gated to make staying outside of it possible without raising even more attention. The weak sense of hostilities after the destruction of the Dawnbreak had ebbed, but there was still some caution in the people’s eyes. He was used to that well enough.  

He also went here for lunch to listen to any news Pelagius had about the ongoing events within the station. Pelagius was part of the small group of station security, which usually took care of minor troubles only (besides the Aeven related troubles which where solely Pelagius’ responsibility), but if anything Pelagius took the job seriously and Ravalor had quickly learned that he was the right man for the job indeed. Pelagius was still considered an outsider to these people and yet he seemed to know about everything happening inside the station and everyone living in it. Ravalor had asked him how he knew all these things, to which Pelagius had shrugged and said I just listen and if I don’t know something I ask. That’s all.

The early afternoon after he spent mostly like the mornings, but allowed himself some more casual reading of Zenozarax’ library as well.

Once late afternoon came by he went to check in with Wolla Tanax. As Xaronzul had suggested he had asked chief engineer Cebex Fen if he could lend a hand on the station and the small goblin had looked at him like god had put upon him a great revelation. Eagerly he had been welcomed and promptly undergone an intense three hour interview reviewing his skillset. He was put on the evening shift which suited him just fine. Wolla Tanax was overseeing both the evening and the night shift and had taken a quick liking to him too. As it seemed he didn’t have to try very hard with most goblins here.

It was mostly menial work, but he enjoyed doing it. Replacing parts, fixing conduits, testing connections. Jobs that were important to the station, but not so important as to become a serious problem when he unexpectedly slipped into the void while doing them. It was like having a little bit of purpose here. And that felt nice.

Like his moments reading the books of Zenozarax’ library, it wasn’t yet pure enjoyment, but a part of him was looking forward to it. But his shift wouldn’t start for another five hours. Maybe he could join the afternoon one too, Ravalor wondered, but he had the feeling he had been, for now, deliberately put into a less dense work shift. Just for observation. So he didn’t want to overextend himself.

I think we could speak to him soon, Pelagius said after finishing a bite from his plate. He was a very polite dining partner, never talking with his mouth full and keeping the cutlery rested as he spoke. The plate with a decently sized chunk of meat, brown sauce and a side of diced red vegetables looked tasty enough, but based on Pelagius’ usual mindful way of eating it it was impossible to tell if he enjoyed it or not. He seems a lot calmer these last days. I think some of what I flung at him the other night actually stuck.

I hope so, Ravalor admitted. He sat across from Pelagius, hands folded on the table. From what you told me I’d like to not let it go out of hand like that when we talk to him.

Pelagius nodded thoughtfully while chewing another bite from his meat. Then he said, Me neither, but I don’t think you grasp yet how bad he can be. You experienced me at my worst, but Aeven — sometimes it’s like he loses all grasp on reality. You can’t reason him out of that, neither with words or fists.

Ravalor didn’t comment on that — because maybe Pelagius underestimated how bad his worst had been from the outside perspective the Stargazer had experienced first hand back on earth.

Pelagius put the knife and fork aside, wiped his hands on a napkin and went for the small pouch on his belt. He pulled a few folded pieces of paper out of it and shoved them over to Ravalor. That’s everything I could remember. I didn’t write a journal about all the things he said but it should give you an overview of where he’s at.

Thank you. Ravalor took the sheets and for now lay them aside. He had asked Pelagius to write down everything he remembered Aeven saying so far just to get a feel for what would be expecting him. And hopefully an idea of how to deal with it.

Frankly, it’s probably all of the worst times. You know, those that stick to your memories while the good times fade away, Pelagius mused before returning to his meal.

The Stargazer nodded thoughtfully before he said. I understand the sentiment, though it doesn’t work like that for us.

Pelagius mid-bite raised his brows, inviting him to explain while he kept on eating.

All memories are treated equally. They are always there, the good as well as the bad. We can choose to prioritise some for quick recollection, or we can choose to archive others, making them unlikely to come to mind by chance. But they will never be gone completely or fade away.

Pelagius, for a moment forgetting about his meal in astonishment, maybe even bewilderment, asked, You don’t… forget? Anything? Ever?

Ravalor shook his head. We only lose memories if, for example, I would die now.

Precarious subject, is it not, Pelagius murmured, but let Ravalor continue.

It’s the truth of the situation. The memories of this Part are not yet remembered by the rest of me and I’m not connected to them. So when I die, all my experiences will be lost to the void and I will never know what it is I did here. He told it in a perfectly detached way — but the mere idea scared the living hell out of him. Even though he could still see a sliver of temptation in it, or maybe that just made it worse. To just forget all the misery, the shame and guilt. But he’d also forget the good intentions, the people that had helped him along the way, Pelagius, Sasha, Yrsa and Breen, Gowen and his wife. And the sacrifices they had made. He would also forget finally, after two tousand years, learning what had happened to him, and to Zenozarax. The wizard he was now would simply die and disappear forever.

He was someone now. Someone separated from the wizard he used to be. Right at this moment there were two versions of who the wizard named Ravalor was. Both incomplete, but both with their own set of unique memories.

Hm. Pelagius frowned slightly, but he seemed to get the concept because he didn’t ask further, instead returned to his original question. But to be perfectly clear, as long as that doesn’t happen, you remember everything you ever did? Clearly? In detail?

I do. Ravalor confirmed but added as an asterisk, Though depending on whether or not they are active or passive memories and how old they are, it can take some time to recall them. Especially when they are not clearly associated with an unique event. I have memories I, as the Stargazer, am only subconsciously aware of right now. Let’s say some memories of my Engineer that occured while I wasn’t paying attention. He’d know about them and where to find them in an instant, but without him I don’t. I can still access them, I can find them and recall them, but I’d need to search them first because I don’t actively know what they are.

Pelagius’ brows had risen with every word a little bit further and by the time he ended he had apparently lost him for good. It was probably a rather abstract concept for someone who until not too long ago would have been already baffled by the concept of a lightbulb. Though, maybe he was giving Pelagius a little too less credit.

I think I get it. But, I don’t think I can wrap my head around the fact that you remember everything. Not only everything but everything from several points of view... I guess I’ll have to be more careful how I pick my words around you.

I don’t think you of all people would have to worry about that.

I take that as a compliment. Pelagius gathered the plate and cutlery and stood up. Alright, tell me when you’re ready to talk to Aeven, will you?

You’re not going to finish that? Ravalor nodded to the still half full plate.

It — isn’t bad, Pelagius said diplomatically, I’m just still getting used to the taste of this meat.

What is it?

Nothing I ever had and Gnash only grinned diabolically whenever I asked. I’m not yet convinced it isn’t human meat.

Ravalor stared at Pelagius utterly taken aback.

That was a joke. But really, the menu said volmer meat, and I have no idea what that is.

I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.

Oh great. So it is probably human.

I really doubt that.

Sure. Pelagius smirked lopsidedly and gave him a small nod and miniscule bow to accompany his goodbye. Until then. A polite relic from another time.

Ravalor nodded and watched Pelagius drop his plate whole into the recycler and then leave the restaurant.

Then he picked up the sheets of paper Pelagius had given him and began to read through its contents. The picture it painted of Aeven was grim.

Switching from very clear awareness to moments of utter illusion and decompensation. Questioning the reality he was now trapped in almost within every incident Pelagius had recalled.

How would one prove to him that this wasn’t just an illusion, a hallucination, a trick or scheme of cruel magic. How did one prove reality to be true to someone who desperately didn’t want to believe it to be so?

He didn’t dare to do this without a very solid plan of how to handle it because they would probably only have one chance. Aeven was already predisposed to the idea that he, Ravalor, might have betrayed him in some form or another after seeing him in the hall, at Zenozarax’ side.

So whatever they told Aeven next would need to be very convincing …

He quietly murmured to himself in frustration. He knew all those things as theoretical facts — what needed to be done was plain and simple. But then why did he fail to put these facts into actual words and sentences that would achieve the desired result?

Ah, an old voice muttered close to him, There you are.

Realising that the words were directed at him Ravalor looked up from the datatab — and saw the old man whom he had seen first and last shortly before his recent vision. The man smiled lightly behind the grey beard, his back was bent by age and his voice warm but raspy.

Do you mind if I sit? I can’t stand too long anymore, he asked and perplexed, Ravalor shook his head. Besides there being plenty of empty tables around, so far none of the station’s residents had gone out of their way to talk to him. The old man sat down, letting out a sigh of relief as he did. Then he asked,

How are you? Ravalor, right?

I’m… fine, Ravalor said carefully, unsure what to make of this unexpected interaction yet. He didn’t know this man, he had no idea what he would want to talk to him about, not even a context clue as to what his intentions were — this left the strands of his mind that always tried to predict every possible turn a conversation could go in a state of idling uncertainty. This he found woefully uncomfortable. But obviously it would be impressively rude to just stand up and leave right away.

That’s good. Very good. You gave me quite a scare there, son. You hit your head pretty hard, the old man said slowly, taking some deep breaths between his sentences.

You do know I’m a wizard right? Ravalor asked after a moment of brief hesitation.

I’m aware. The old man laughed hoarsely. Still, I don’t think hitting your head is something your kind does for fun?

No, it isn’t, Ravalor admitted. Then after a moment he asked, Do you need anything? It probably was a little rude too but the old man just chuckled.

Need? He shook his head. What is there for me to need here?” The man said and Ravalor almost wanted to point out that he wasn’t referring to the whole of the man’s life but he was also quite aware that the man apparently used his question to start on a tangent about something he just wanted to say for the sake of it. So Ravalor let him continue.

“There really is nothing. I am taken care of well, I don’t complain about that, no. It is good living, it is safe. But the young folk have little use for me anymore. Of course not. Look at them, busing around. They don’t pay attention— He looked into the restaurant. Ravalor followed his gaze and true, of the people coming in nobody paid either of them much attention beyond a passing glance. —and frankly, it can be a little lonely. So, would you humour me with some conversation? If you have the time?

Don’t you have family here? Ravalor only asked for politeness sake. In truth he would like this conversation to be over and return to things that mattered a lot more to him right now. In theory, as a wizard, he would be perfectly capable of entertaining a conversation and still do a lot of other things with his mind, but lacking four Parts of himself and being very, very tired, he felt barely capable of even following this one line of thoughts.

No. Not anymore. I’ve always thought of myself as more of a loner. Maybe I was wrong about that, the man said heavily. You are too, aren’t you? Most comfortable alone?

Ravalor hesitated to answer but said, I’d say so, yes. But here he was still sitting in the restaurant after Pelagius’ had gone, because the chatter of the people around reminded him of memories from the Warrior in Obermoor. Here he was still on this station, because the thought of returning to absolute solitude sent shivers down his spine.

You would. But are you?

I’m not sure anymore either, Ravalor admitted — surprised himself that he did so. The warm, and yet strangely sad smile of the old man was concerningly disarming. But maybe that was okay.

Is that why you came here? the old man asked.

Ravalor shook his head, not to deny but the answer to that question was too unclear even in his own mind.

Listen, son—

Ravalor was tempted to remind this old man that even while based on appearance the old man easily had 50 years on him, in reality he was at least about 4350 years younger than Ravalor. But in the end he didn’t do it — because frankly, he felt currently lacking in the assured sense of wisdom the old man conveyed.

— I know your kind well. Chaos Wizards.

I’m not, Ravalor interjected downright reflexively. A chaos wizard, I mean.

You aren’t? The old man’s eyebrows shot up. Oh. He muttered, clearly puzzled by that revelation. Oh you picked a peculiar place to be then. You shouldn’t be here, he concluded, rightfully so.

As if Ravalor didn’t know that. He didn’t answer.

Then what I wanted to say to you holds true even more. The old man sighed. Listen to me, Ravalor. You probably don’t want to hear this, but it’s true. These wizards are dangerous — to you. Out here, every wizard is to each other. I look at you and I can see that you aren’t like them. You probably never will be. And it will get you killed. It may get all of us killed.

Ravalor felt tense, a frown on his face.

You don’t want me to be here? he asked.

The old man shook his head. That’s not it. There is strength in numbers that is true. But with every wizard here, the risk for all of us increases. That is also true. And if you aren’t dedicated to the fight, you don’t belong here.

Ravalor stayed quiet again. There was no hostility in the man’s voice and Ravalor couldn’t figure out his intentions. When the silence stretched further, the old man smiled apologetically.

I apologise. I guess that’s why nobody is talking to me anymore. He chuckled hoarsely. It’s nothing personal against you. I just worry. This is still my home. My people. But I should get out of your hair. He pushed himself with his hands up, grimacing slightly as a particular bend of his back seemed to cause a pang of pain. Despite that, he lingered for a moment.

I didn’t mean to be as blunt. I don’t want you to just leave. I just worry you’re not aware of what staying means.

It’s alright, Ravalor said quietly.  

Good. Then I thank you for listening to me. The man stepped back. I’ll see you around. Or not. I don’t leave my cabin much, he muttered as he shuffled off slowly. The young folk passed him by in their comparative hecticness. Looking past him as he left and ignoring him.

27 Pelagius V

When Ravalor finally told him that he was ready to talk to Aeven, Ravalor had looked woefully unhappy about it and it probably implied that ready was a very subjective term in this instance.

Nevertheless they met up at Pelagius’ own quarters half an hour later. It was late afternoon, which Pelagius had determined to be the potentially best time to talk to Aeven based on previous experiences. The morning hours were always bad and the more tired he got the less rational he became.

Ravalor waited near the door, hands folded behind his back, waiting for Pelagius to get ready.

Do you have anything sharp on you? Anything that could be used as a weapon? Pelagius asked and Ravalor raised his brows and felt over the pockets of his vest.

A pen?

Better leave it. I don’t really want either of us having that thing rammed into our throats… or eyes. He can be unnervingly inventive, Pelagius said grimly as he removed his own sword belt.

Ravalor went over to the side table next to the door and emptied some of the pockets of his vest.  

There were a few knick knacks, some old and brittle wire, some magical devices that looked broken, at least as far as Pelagius’ expert opinion went. In fact all of it looked ancient and in his eyes more like trash than anything useful. He did notice a hint of discomfort on Ravalor’s face as he laid them out. May it be trash or not, Ravalor definitely was at least self-conscious about it. The last two things were the only ones that didn’t look broken. A fine cylinder and pen.

Pelagius recognized the pen with mild surprise.

Do all wizards have those?

Huh?

The pen. Zenozarax had one just like that. Same design.

Oh. Ravalor looked back at it, now very deliberately not looking back towards Pelagius. It’s actually his. I took it with me in Treva.

Ah, Pelagius said, perfectly satisfied with that answer because with all he had picked up this far, that wasn’t much of a revelation. But then Ravalor, uncharacteristically and unexpectedly, continued,

It’s actually from a set of four he had made. I used to have the other three but I lost one. He kept one because he only had one Part at the time. I was only of two back then, but he said statistically I’ll probably end up with three Parts. That’s why I got three.

I see. Pelagius raised a brow, slightly amused. It was unusual to hear Ravalor blurt out any personal detail like that, but he suspected he knew why it was happening now. Are you trying to procrastinate? He eventually asked.

Not a single muscle twitched in Ravalor’s face as he stayed quiet for about five seconds before he plainly said, Yes.

Understandable.” Pelagius couldn’t help but smile weakly. To be honest there is a part of me dreading this. But I think it has to be done.”

Toughfully Ravalor looked back down to the pen on the table. For a moment he seemed even amused, but not very happy about it, before he slightly shook his head and looked back up. “It does.”

Maybe try to look a little… friendly. Not so serious? Pelagius suggested as they left Pelagius’ cabin.

If Aeven already doubts I’m really who I say I am, I doubt me drastically changing my behaviour would help.

I’m not asking you to turn into a jester.

They stopped before Aeven’s door. Ignoring Pelagius’ last remark, Ravalor just said, Let me try to talk to him first. Only intervene if you see it necessary.

Alright.

Pelagius touched the panel to the doors side with the magical insert in his right hand and the door unlocked. Ravalor was right behind him when he entered.

Aeven sat at the foot end of his bed. He didn’t look as if they were interrupting him at anything. There was still the hint of sweat in the room that the air filter hadn’t fully dragged out. The wet black shirt stuck to Aeven’s body.

He wasn’t given much in the way of training equipment — he had lost that privilege after one incident that included said equipment almost smashing the door in. But he made do. And Pelagius was glad about it. Aeven was generally better when he was focused enough to exercise. Even more so if it wasn’t to the point of dropping down dead by exhaustion.

The moment Aeven spotted Ravalor behind Pelagius he jumped up from the bed. Every muscle of his body tensed up visibly, his breath quickened slightly.

Pelagius saw all of that clearly.

What do you want? Aeven stepped back. Why is he here? He soon had reached the back of the room, eyes still locked on Ravalor. The tension became palpable. They were walking on a knife’s edge now…

I was hurt. Badly, Ravalor said, much to Pelagius’ surprise. He had almost expected an It doesn’t matter but for once Ravalor seemed to understand that that would be a very bad answer. He needed to reach Aeven — quickly.

I was left alone, barely able to move myself anymore — and Zenozarax found me. He helped me and brought me here.

Pelagius carefully watched Aeven who visibly winced at the name. What Ravalor said was new to Pelagius too, so maybe it was the truth, maybe not. But it sounded genuine.

Why? Aeven croaked as if his voice had failed him for a moment. There was a tremble in his hand. This wasn’t good. Pelagius ever so briefly glanced at Ravalor, trying to see if he saw the danger too as Aeven staggered words continued. You— you told me… you… why?

Do you mind if I sit? Ravalor asked — catching both Pelagius and Aeven off guard. Pelagius now refrained from looking at Ravalor again, not daring to let Aeven out of his sight. Aeven had slightly raised his brows in confusion. Ravalor added, My leg is still not working right. It does hurt.

I won’t sit with you… Aeven said tensely, keeping to the safety of the wall. There was uncertainty and confusion in his face and voice.

I don’t expect you to. Ravalor pulled up one of the chairs and sat down at the table in the middle of the room, now in Pelagius’ view as well. Ravalor sighed.

And then, he started to talk.

I met Zenozarax for the first time, the first time I remember that is, over 2600 years ago when I became his student—

And then, leaving Pelagius nothing but utterly baffled, he didn’t stop talking.

He told Aeven seemingly everything. And Pelagius by the fact of the situation too. Told him about his time in Artlenburg, his time as Scion to Zenozarax and how important they had been to each other as the student teacher relationship had turned into a close  and valued friendship. Ravalor told him about a Wizard named Atladin and how everything had fallen apart then. Told him about his time in the tunnels as the Hermit. The time when Zenozarax reappeared and the first time he had met Aeven VonTreva I.

Pelagius felt a deep and painful sting in his heart when he heard about Aeven and his wife Folina. It was near unbearable pain — but also a slight sliver of relief, knowing that at least in one reality, they had been happy. They lived. It barely made sense, and maybe it made his pain worse, but at least…

There was no lingering with that fact while Ravalor almost mercilessly continued.

He spoke about conflict and the pain in his mind. Told him about wizards and their parts, how he had created this Part, the Stargazer, zo find his missing memories, and what happened to him when Zenozarax had attacked earth. And he told him about the decision the Hermit made, the role the Warrior played to bring Zenozarax down once and for all.

Then Ravalor told Aeven about the guilt and pain the destruction of earth had caused him, how he, the Stargazer had left himself behind. How he and Pelagius had tried to save the lost earth. He stressed that he had no idea that Aeven had been still alive. And he was sorry for that.

Only briefly Aeven’s eyes flicked to Pelagius during this time, where Pelagius only nodded to confirm that part. Even though he assumed it to be unnecessary.

Ravalor then told him how badly the resurrection of the sun had gone and how he had fled, in shame and shambles and  with broken legs, and hid far away to be forgotten in time. And how Zenozarax had found him.

He told about the Knife and everything that had happened since. He did not mention the prophecy, but he told Aeven about the destruction of the Dawnbreak and that Zenozarax wasn’t here now.

And when all was said and done, he ended with a heavy. That is why you and I are here. And he cleared his throat. His voice had turned raspy as if he had never spoken so much in one go in his entire life. And I’m sorry this has happened to you. Because I can’t see a way to make this right again.

Aeven had not interrupted Ravalor once. Wide eyed he had listened, by the end slumped against the wall behind him. A wet shine shimmered in his eyes — distraught desperation as maybe for the first time since he had been brought here, he could no longer convince himself that it was a lie. As this path of action and consequences was laid out before him, revealing himself as a mere pawn in a much greater conflict, the truth of reality became undeniable.

Wordless he slid down the wall. And he sat there, utterly defeated. His hands lay limp on the ground. He was no longer looking at either of them. His gaze hazy fixed to an undefined point before him on the ground.

Ravalor stood up.

Ravalor, Pelagius hissed, a warning of potential danger, because he had seen Aeven like this before and knew of the explosive temper that could lay behind the quiet façade. Ravalor ignored him.

Slowly he walked over to Aeven and making sure to stay in his field of view, he kneeled down next to him. He hesitated for but a brief moment, then he raised his hand and put it on Aeven’s shoulder.

Aeven’s flinched violently, his head jerked up to meet his eyes. But the moment he did look into the eternally black eyes of Ravalor, Aeven froze.

Ravalor… his voice quivered.

I’m not telling you things will be alright. Because I don’t know if they will be. Or even if they can be. Ravalor kept his hand right where it was, only slightly moving with every deep and shuddering breath Aeven took.

But you’re not alone. Not anymore.  Ravalor paused, as if to find the right words. You have no reason to trust …any of us, really. We don’t even know each other that well. But…

Pelagius heard the wavering in Ravalor’s words as his words failed him. He had said so much already but the uncertainty now turned him quiet. Pelagius musters Aeven carefully whose attention still lay exclusively on Ravalor. It was hard to tell if any of it had done any good.

Aeven took a deep breath and Pelagius tensed up. His body language changed, slightly, but he saw muscles tense up, his arm moving. But then he spoke, and his voice, while quiet, was clear,

You don’t want me to kill him anymore?

No. I don’t, Ravalor admitted.

Aeven shuddered.

Then what was it all for?

Pelagius saw Ravalor struggle trying to find an answer. But not even Pelagius himself would know what it would be. What could be said to that.

Pelagius cleared his throat. Maybe that’s enough for now.

Indeed, Ravalor muttered and tried to stand up, surely glad to have an exit presented to himself, but before he could have risen up, Aeven hand shot up and grabbed Ravalor’s. Pelagius saw the near bone breaking force in the grip by the white of Aeven knuckles and the flinch in Ravalor’s face and his own body tensed up, ready to leap forward in a moment’s notice.

Aeven, that’s enough! he said, but Aeven didn’t hear him.

What was it all for?! Aeven asked again, his voice raised dramatically, trembling.

Aeven— Ravalor began but Pelagius could already hear in the one word that he had no idea what to say. Let go.

Tell me! A jank went through Ravalor’s body as Aeven increased the tension of the grip and almost pulled him to the ground. Aeven was seconds away from losing control and Pelagius leaped forward, ready to get between the two, ready to defend Ravalor from Aeven if he had to—

But before he could have reached both, Ravalor’s other hand grasped Aeven’s which held his own wrist and before Aeven could have reacted a short but bright flash blinded Pelagius for a moment.

As the bright flare disappeared from his vision Aeven lay slumped over against the wall.

Did… you kill him? Pelagius muttered, having to admit to himself that for a moment he had forgotten Ravalor to be a wizard too.

No. He he’s just unconscious, Ravalor said, a bitter frown on his face as he finally stood up. He looked at Pelagius, then back to Aeven and the bed in the room.

He won’t be out for long then. We should—

By then Ravalor had already picked up Aeven’s body and brought him over to the bed. After putting him down he turned around. Yes. We should go.

28 Ravalor IX

Ravalor missed a lot of the two days after his conversation (or rather monologue to) Aeven. He had been thinking a lot which seemed to give his mind ample opportunity to slip into the void. It happened twice as far as he could tell, robbing him of almost a whole day in total. The second time was accentuated by another flash of visions which had not changed at all from the first time. The actors in it were still as vague and shadowy, the outcome, his death, just the same.

He chose to not pay too much attention to it now. Things hadn’t changed so he did not yet see any reason to get too alarmed.

When he had woken up now after the second time, with his freezing cold body slowly getting back to its normal functions, it was already past noon. He had missed his usual appointment with Pelagius.

Pelagius had checked in with Aeven yesterday, as he usually did when bringing him food, but described him as unresponsive and unwilling to talk.

Ravalor wasn’t quite sure what to do about that — or even if he had to do something about it. He had laid a lot on Aeven and he assumed it only fair to give the young and tortured man time to really grasp all he had said. Pressuring him into another conversation might as well be counterproductive.

But what did he know about things like this?

While Zenozarax had brazenly declared himself as definitely not being a psychologist, Ravalor felt talking to him about it would actually help. He was a lot better handling people and their emotions. More experienced, that was for sure.

After getting himself presentable again, which mainly consisted of brushing his hair (while his hair structure was so smooth it barely tangled naturally he still needed to get it into order occasionally, especially after sleeping), he left Zenozarax’ quarters and headed for the Restaurant. Based on the time, Pelagius could still be there, though he doubted it, but he found himself wanting to re-establish his routine.

He could mull over the memories of his conversation with Aeven there as well as in the quarters. And maybe the chatter and presence of others would keep his mind occupied enough to not slip into the void again.  There seemed to be a weak correlation between the level of silence around him and the likelihood of him dying temporarily — which was strengthened by the fact that he usually did not slip into the void while in a conversation. But he’d need more data to either confirm or deny it.

When he reached the Restaurant it only took a brief scan of the room to confirm that Pelagius was already gone. It wasn’t surprising, he would naturally not spend as long here when he was alone as when he was talking to him.

Nevertheless Ravalor entered and found an empty table in the far right corner that overlooked the entire Restaurant and sat down. He pulled his datatab from his vest and opened it up — even though for what he was contemplating now he wouldn’t need it. But at least he would look busy.

As it was still close enough to noon the Restaurant was quite busy, still people came in to get lunch and the room was filled with the ring of cutlery and chatter. It was constant and monotone enough to drift comfortably into the background of his awareness, and he found it actually easier to think like this. Even if there would be thousands of people here their chatter would not make up for the four that were missing from his mind, but it was as close of a substitute as he could get.

While he already held his datatab he wrote a quick note to Wolla Tanax to excuse his absence during the last shift and assured her that he’d be there tonight (or at least he intended to). She was probably asleep right now so he didn’t expect an answer.

He also considered writing Pelagius a message, inquiring about Aeven, but he concluded it to be pointless. While Pelagius had access to a datatab just like everyone else, as well as the com system of the station itself, he hadn’t answered any of the few messages Ravalor had sent him so far and whenever he inquired it turned out he wasn’t even reading them and that his datatab usually lay forgotten in his room.

He thought again about Aeven. Sooner rather than later he’d have to make a decision concerning how to proceed from here. So he needed a plan of how to do that.

Aeven was rightfully angry with him (he assumed anger wasn’t even sufficient to describe the sense of betrayal he must be feeling) because when he considered Aeven’s point of view it really put into question why anything of what happened needed to happen if in the end Zenozarax was allowed to live anyways. Aeven had lost everything, he had suffered pain unimaginable to the human mind. All for nothing.

Ravalor didn’t know how to recontextualize this any other way. He had apparently succeeded in convincing Aeven of the reality of the situation they were in, but had woefully ignored the consequence of what this reality meant for Aeven. There had been comfort in the illusion that nothing of it was real. But now it was. And Ravalor had to answer for it. Because he was the only wizard that would.

Over centuries the royal family of Treva had been used to do the circle’s bidding, a useful tool at their disposal. Even the Hermit, when he had sent Aeven into that twisted dimension, had used him just the same way.

He wondered what would happen were he to bring him back to Mezchinhar.

Had his own plan succeeded? Had the Warrior erased and killed that one Aeven from the Twilight Galaxy to save a copy of the very one that was imprisoned on this station now? Was there a second Aeven now, still wielding the mighty Izarax, returned into Mezchinhar’s service?

Between all that existential musing he found himself curious to find out what the Hammer would do if it would be presented with both Aeven. It had to be aware of both of them — the magic within it was too advanced as to ignore such a fact. And he wondered what it would do to Aeven. The new one. The magical nature of the Hammer had always had a strong effect on its wilder. The generational regenerative force that had kept Aeven VonTreva alive for hundreds of years was the most obvious. And so it would be easy to assume there to be a lot more nuanced influences they didn’t even know about.

A worry arose that asked if maybe the now forced separation to the Hammer was detrimental to this Aeven. It was near impossible to separate the Hammer from his wielder for long since the Hammer had a strong desire to get back to its owner, going so far as to influence the people around it to make it so. But it had two owners now. And it couldn’t be at two places at once.

If Aeven mental well being was dependent on the Hammer — he hated running this line of thought to the most drastic conclusion but he had to — it could mean that there couldn’t be two of them without either suffering for it.

He felt the tension in his jaw and forcefully relaxed it again. It was just a wild theory and he had no way of proving it — it was pointless to worry about it now when he still had enough current problems to worry about, even without his paranoia of expecting the worst explanation at all times.

That’s a brooding frown if I’ve ever seen one. The old voice tore him from his thoughts and he spotted the old man standing near his table, a tray of food hovered beside him. Do you mind if I join you?

Did he? Maybe. Probably. He wasn’t sure. And so he shook his head slightly. No, it’s okay.

You’ve been late today. Is everything alright? The old man asked as he sat down and led the tray onto the table. Ravalor wondered if he had been watching him. He hadn’t noticed the old man doing so, but then again, he was very easy to miss.  I wanted to apologise.

What for? Ravalor raised his brows.

The last time we spoke, I came off a little strong, I realised. I feel my words were more hostile than I intended them to be.

I didn’t take offence.

You’re too generous. The old man nodded while eating. His manners weren’t as stellar as Pelagius’, but acceptable. I realised that you are probably here because you’re not sure where you belong. Maybe you don’t even really want to be here?

I’m not a prisoner.

The old man smiled patronisingly. That’s not what I was trying to imply. When I came here, I didn’t want to be here either. But I had no other place to go. No home left to return to.

Ravalor stayed quiet.

The old man continued to eat and then said. You must have had a reason. What brought you here?

Ravalor considered the question for a moment, there was a very lengthy explanation, a chain of events that was very clear in his mind because he had laid it out for Aeven just two days earlier. But it wasn’t an answer he was willing to give this stranger, no matter how friendly he appeared, and so he just said, Bad life choices.

The old man laughed heartily, which made some small pieces of the food spray over the table. He really preferred Pelagius as a dinner partner.

Don’t we all know those? The old man snickered.

Ravalor kept quiet after that in the hope that if he gave the man less reason to talk he would finish his meal quicker and so leave him alone sooner. Alternatively, could just leave himself. He didn’t want to be rude though.

Do you mind if I… he raised the datatab halfway.

Oh not at all. I’m sure you must be busy. The man nodded, swirling his fork as to hurry him along in his ’work’.

For now the ruse seemed to work out, the man ate in silence and Ravalor pretended to do something on his datatab. From his peripheral vision he saw the man look at him on occasion, but he didn’t say anything.

He tried to return his thoughts to the problem at hand, Aeven, but before he could have sorted through it again, something happened.

It started as an utterly unfamiliar stinging sensation at the back of his skull. He paused his thoughts to notice it. The datatab in his hands lowered.

Is everything alright?

Ravalor heard the man ask. He hesitated. Not sure if it was. Je… nazo va… he muttered.

What? The man asked, he seemed amused, I don’t understand. But Ravalor didn’t understand why he asked. Didn’t realise he was speaking Teshvo.

There was a brightness to the world around him. Then he noticed the magic within his hands shone brightly. And realised his eyes did the same.

Do you know what is happening? The man asked, displaying a sense of calm Ravalor had completely lost in this very moment as utter confusion grew to concern and then terror.

Je ne layet va ato. Ravalor said quickly, he wasn’t doing anything, this wasn’t him. Ato— His words devolved into an erratic chirping set of tones as he slipped from Theshvo to Vaeh — a language that wasn’t meant to be spoken. And he still didn’t notice.

He still saw the old man before him, for a moment longer, saw a strange sense of fascination in the old weathered face. The smallest hint of a smile even. His whole body was frozen, his mind was on fire as a brightness filled every artificial nerve in his body. Every artificial function within him stopped with a last shudder.

For but a brief moment he sensed every of his other parts again. Felt an all consuming terror as his mind withered under the enormous might of something foreign.

And then.

Honorary High Wizard Ravalor, wizard of five, stopped existing.

29 Zenozarax IX

Things were actually going quite well all things considered. Zenozarax was making good progress and was further along in the process of rebuilding the Warrior than his careful estimation had predicted.

Rebuilding the Wizard after he had died on that twisted echo of earth had taken half an eternity since it had been the very same body since well before Kiochoan. The amount of new memories that had to be reassembled by the Warriors recollection alone had been enormous. Now the Warrior had died not even two years after having been awoken. It was a far more manageable amount of information.

It would still take a few more weeks, it all would depend on how well the final initialization process would go and how often he’d have to intervene in that — but still  so far he was ahead of schedule. And that was good. The sooner he was done here the sooner he could safely return to the Edge of the Universe and more importantly to Ravalor — and then deal with the other problems.

He trusted Xaronzul in his promise to keep Ravalor safe. Because once he had made this promise to him, Xaronzul would rather die trying than allow any harm to come to Ravalor. He knew to be careful of what he asked of Xaronzul, because he would do anything for him and he didn’t want to abuse this fact. Now he had put a great responsibility in Xaronzul’s hands — a responsibility that shouldn’t be his. He would need to make sure Xaronzul knew how much he appreciated it.

Zenozarax focused on weaving the izthra into his new Part’s body. It took all his concentration and skill because it was delicate work, prone to waste material if he wasn’t careful and risking a critical malfunction within his Warrior should he make any mistake.

And he almost made one as his concentration was suddenly interrupted by a low clapping sound. Abruptly he pulled his hands from the console, the magic of his hands died down and he turned around to face the source.

It was Quadirymir. Of course it was. Theatrically and slowly clapping his hands together two more times.

Congratulations. Or well — maybe condolences.

He hadn’t seen this nuisance since he had thrown him out of the lab - and he had hoped he wouldn’t again before he was finished with the Warrior. But so much for hope.

What are you talking about?

Ah right — of course. You don’t know. I keep forgetting. Quadirymir chuckled as he came closer. Too close to the nanite pool for Zenozarax’ taste but not close enough to justify any drastic measures.

What do I not know? Speak plainly.

Well— Quadirymir took one of the spare chairs in the room and let himself drop down, sprawling himself out on top of it with no care in the world. That crazy Scion of yours is actually doing it.

Doing what? He acknowledged that Quadirymir relished in making him drag every word from him. But what else was he to do?

I can’t speak to his motivation but he’s currently in Gorgon’s Row. And word has it the Orden is aware of that.  

Zenozarax felt an ice cold shudder. Why would he go there? He heard himself ask.

That’s a good question. It appears he’s looking for an artefact that is said to be there. An artefact that is able to dispel any curse and heal any injury. Very fancy.

The lord’s essence?

Ah, you know of it. Of course you do. Someone as old as you, with your experience. Come to think of it, you fought there once didn’t you? Quadirymir nodded approvingly, then leaned forward a bit. But here’s the curious part. Why would he need it? Now? His replacement Aeven hasn’t been injured as far as I know. Nor has he been cursed. Everyone else seemed fine last I saw them.

Zenozarax felt his thoughts racing.

Quadirymir didn’t know what had happened to Pelagius and Aeven, he didn’t know what an effect the knife had on humans nor that both were still alive. He only knew Zenozarax had killed Aeven and Aeven had killed him.

Ravalor had saved Aeven, at least a backup of him that would serve to wield the Hammer. Was it possible that this new Aeven was still connected to the original that was currently on the Edge of the Universe? Still distantly linked to the curse by magic or memory?

But more importantly, Quadirymir knew what Ravalor was doing — and in more detail than he found comfortable. He was too close.

The last known location of this artefact was near the wreckage of Fleetmaster Jesan’s Fleet, Quadirymir said.

I know. The last catastrophic attempt to retrieve the Lord’s essence. An entire fleet wiped out.  

However. That information is no longer correct.

The Orden has it?

No. It appears the fleet, at least what was left of it, was absorbed by a Remnant that passed through the debris field. So right now, following the assumed orbit of the wreckage fleet, Ravalor is heading directly towards a Remand in the front while the Orden is closing in from the back. I’m sorry. Quadirymir shrugged. But he watched him very closely. Just waiting for his reaction. Given the tension there I didn’t stick around to watch, but I think it’s safe to assume that he’ll not get out of this one.

How did he even know about this? What was he doing? How did the Orden know? Was it Quadirymir’s doing? Could he do something to prevent this? To stop it? Warn Ravalor? Abandon his vulnerable, unfinished Part to return to the Edge of the Universe right now, have the Stargazer reach out again to the rest of himself. Would he do it? He had to. It would risk everything. But he had to. Ravalor was in mortal danger and he didn’t even know.

All of these thoughts happened almost parallel in a fraction of a second.

And still — he was too slow.

Or maybe. Quadirymir’s timing was very well calculated.

Because he felt it. Before he could have acted on the intense impulse to save Ravalor no matter the cost — in the eternal connection he held to the young wizard — Zenozarax felt Ravalor disappear. Like a set of candles being blown out — where five should be and only four burned, suddenly the first vanished into darkness, then two more. The last lingered, flickered, struggling — and horrified he realised it was the Stargazer — disconnected from his other Parts but still vulnerable to the mystical magic of their lords. And then he was gone as well. Leaving only a horrible darkness where his light used to be.

Without warning, what he had always feared, what he tried to prevent at all cost, what he sacrificed everything for — had happened.

Zenozarax felt the world fall from under him. His heartbeat stumbled and stopped as horror and grief alike strangled him. He couldn’t breathe.

For the first time since they had shared that all too rare connection between them, the first time he had touched Ravalor’s hand, Ravalor was truly gone.

He hit the metal of the nanite pool with the back of his legs. His hand grasped its rim.

He couldn’t think. His mind was shattered, already burdened by his missing part, and now missing so much more. Someone that couldn’t be replaced.

The all consuming emptiness tore through his heart and drove him to his knees. The pain was blinding.

He needed to find out what happened. He needed to…

He couldn’t move.

In his dazed vision he saw legs appear, then a face. Eager, fascinated and dark eyes. A wicked smile.

Do you need help?

He couldn’t answer.

30 Xaronzul III

I’m going to fucking quit! Xaronzul exclaimed, brushing his hands through his hair. What the hell is wrong with him?

Moakatar acknowledged his distress with a brief and utterly calm glance. Hard to say, she said, continuing to examine the perfectly motionless body before her.

This wizard is going to kill me, you know that? How am I supposed to keep him safe if he keeps doing — stuff like this!? Xaronzul stepped closer to the work counter again, frowning at Ravalor as if he could react to his distress.

As it was, he could do nothing. After receiving notice of quite the commotion in the Restaurant, Pelagius as part of the  first responder to any troubles occurring on the station had found Ravalor like this. Unresponsive, but not dead the way he usually was.

He was still very much alive. He could be moved and lead, still walking on his own to some extent, but beyond that he seemed completely gone. His eyes and hands and every faint line of izthra in his body were glowing brightly. He didn’t react to either words or touches.

This has never happened before, not like this, Pelagius said, still standing close to the door, respectfully out of the way of both wizards. He looked ashen and tense.

That’s not comforting! Xaronzul said, distraught. You know how hard it is already to tell Zenozarax anything of what’s going on here? How am I supposed to tell him about this?

I wouldn’t. Not yet, Moakatar said quietly as she fixed some restraints around Ravalor’s arms, torso and legs.

What are you doing?

Safety precautions. I have a suspicion. And if I’m right, he’ll be the safest this way.  

Xaronzul seemed to relax a little You’ve seen this before?

Only heard it happened to a wizard I knew back in Mezchinhar, Moakatar corrected as she plugged down some diagnostic nodes on Ravalor’s hands and head. Even with gloves on she was careful not to touch him directly. It could be that he is currently under the influence of a Remnant.

The sense of hope fell from Xaronzul’s face. Are you shitting me? That’s bad.

It is, Moakatar confirmed.

Can… somebody explain to me why? Pelagius said, a strange tone of desperation in his voice. Xaronzul hadn’t been too sure about the relationship between Pelagius and Ravalor this far, there seemed to be some lingering resentment there, but right now he seemed genuinely worried about the wizard. Or maybe…

Are you alright?

Pelagius shuddered, if anything, now that he paid attention, Xaronzul thought he looked close to a panic attack.

I think he already knows, Pelagius said, no louder than a whisper. I can feel it. He’s not okay. Moakatar looked up - a dawn of realisation on her face, then to Xaronzul.

Alright — you stay put Tash, I’m going to take care of it. She said to him, referring to their other Parts  and then proceeded to run the diagnostic on Ravalor. The reading on the screen confirmed that was very much alive and aware to an extent but his brain was lit up like a quasar.

There are entities out there that are much older than we wizards. Entities that were created before us. Once we were beholden to these entities as they served the lords like we did. But now they roam the multiverse, dormant, sleeping, purposeless. But still dangerous to us. Moakatar explained with a slight frown, entering something on the panel.

Their effects on our minds can be dramatic and they can take over ourselves without us having even a chance to keep them from it. That’s why we need to keep our distance from them and if possible banish them to hell.

He’s been here the whole time, Pelagius said confused and stepped closer.

Not his other parts though, Xaronzul reminded him with a bitter grimace on his face.

But he’s not connected to them, right?

Which is probably the only reason he still is in this state. Moakatar said with a nod. Even disconnected, we’re still part of the same wizard. And this magic — these Remnants. This is beyond our understanding. They tap into something ancient within us. Something we have no control over. There are stories of entire fleets falling to them — and they take everything. Thousands of wizards’ Parts suddenly up and leaving, called by the remnants.

Dammit! Xaronzul cursed with such heartfelt passion that it made both Moakatar and Pelagius flinch. He’s dead.

No he isn’t, Moakatar muttered.

Might as well be. If the rest of him just got swooped up by a remnant, probably his warrior first, we can’t do anything. He’s not getting out of this.

Calm down. First of all, this isn’t your fault. Secondly, the only reason his Warrior should be encountering a Remnant is if Mezchinhar has found one and the Order is right now attempting to banish it. So, unless that goes horribly wrong and they give up, which Mezchinhar doesn’t do, he will get back to normal once the Remnant is through the portal and the connection is cut. By protocol his other parts should be kept safe and restrained in Mezchinhar already to keep them from going there too, it’s standard procedure for any wizard’s parts if their warrior is to encounter a remnant in a planned action. His Warrior will probably die, but Ravalor will be okay. We just have to wait. And keep this Part of him safe till then.

All three of them looked down at Ravalor whose eyes and magic still glowed unchanged.

They’re not using this to get him back, right? Xaronzul said quietly. Have him die there to rebuild him?

I don’t… I hope not. That would be cruel. Moakatar shook her head and Xaronzul didn’t have it in him to remind her that cruelty had never stopped Mezchinhar from doing anything.

It’s a bit unsettling isn’t it? Moakatar muttered. I wonder what he’s—

Ravalor’s mouth opened and a slow inhuman clicking sound started to fill the room.

Creepy, more like it, Xaronzul said but before he had even finished Moakatar shouted,

Don’t listen! Shut it out!

The intensity of the panicked request made Xaronzul act at once, a brief sense of disorientation flared through his senses as the world around him turned dead quiet. He saw Pelagius ask something, at least he saw his mouth move but he couldn’t hear him anymore. Ravalor’s mouth was still open.

Moakatar was at the consoles hectically inputting some adjustments to the system, as she was done and turned back to him he held out his hand for Moakatar to tell him what was going on.

Their fingertips touched and Moakatar said.

— That’s the Remnant speaking, ancient Vaeh. I don’t think we should be hearing it. Could be bad. I disabled the auditory sensors in here too. If he’s reaching out  it could cause all kinds of havoc in all systems. It is unlikely he’d find an access point, but not impossible.

— Yeah, no I get it. Smart move, he agreed.

— He’s probably going to stay like this - for a while.

— How are we going to find out when he stops if we can’t hear him?

Both looked almost unisono to Pelagius who looked visibly distressed, still saying something.

— Can you stay with him?  Notify me when anything changes? Moakatar asked.

— Of course! Wait— he added before Moakatar could pull her hand away. — Zenozarax?

— I can’t find him.

— What, he has to be with the Warrior?

— But he’s not. That’s all I know right now. I’ll find him!

Their hands separated again. Then Moakatar turned to Pelagius, and saw her mouth move too, probably telling him that they couldn’t hear him right now and then both left the room for a moment. After a short while Pelagius came back in, a much clearer sense of understanding in his face now. But also looking woefully unhappy.

Xaronzul was getting the feeling he always looked like that when anything magical happened.

Is he still doing it? Xaronzul asked, trying to shake the nagging tension and failed.

Pelagius said something, at least started before he stopped, looked at him and just nodded. He also raised his hand and made an increasingly quick circular motion.

Faster? Xaronzul asked and Pelagius nodded again.

Hm.

Both settled down, watching Ravalor. Xaronzul in utter silence. Well, almost. With absolutely no auditory input and nothing to do but wait, all the while his other part was as bored chained to the task of rebuilding his missing Part, the whisper in his mind became much stronger.

He knows. He saw.

Don’t blame the river, look for rain…

Drown him, he can’t breathe in the darkness.

Xaronzul clenched his teeth, suppressing the urge to scold his own brain for the absolute randomness of it.

Beware the dead man.

That again. It wasn’t unusual for his brain to get stuck on some phrases. He took notice of it because that was the only thing he could do. An at first pleasingly sweet scent filled his nose for a moment before it sharply turned to the biting scent of burned plastic and scorched metal, and the voices in his head nearly screamed at him,

Beware the dead man!

For fucks sake, calm down, he murmured to himself.

He noticed Pelagius looking at him questioningly and he just shook his head. The voices and the smell faded away again.

Only once a little later a sudden sensation of touch against his shoulder made him twitch, beyond that he managed to ignore it.

It had been almost an hour when the glow in Ravalor’s eyes and hands faded away. Pelagius had already stood up which made Xaronzul notice it as well.

Has he stopped? Xaronzul asked.

Pelagius shook his head. Ravalor’s mouth was still partly open, his eyes now black again staring for a moment towards the ceiling. Then they moved, twitching as his head shot up, trying to raise up, and Xaronzul saw the strength tear at the restraint, making the whole table move.

Xaronzul promptly reached for the console, sending a quick alert to Moakatar.

Kept back by the restraints, Ravalor fell back. But like he hadn’t noticed he tried again. And again. It looked like every time he fell back, he completely forgot again that he was restrained. Or…

Worried he mustered the restraints and hoped they would hold. Then Ravalor’s hands started to glow again.

I think you’ll be safer outside. Xaronzul said quickly to Pelagius who looked like he most certainly agreed. Pelagius was already out of his field of view as a bright strip of light started to form above Ravalor.

Oh no you don’t! Xaronzul cursed, raising his own hands wide immediately as Ravalor was about to create a portal to lords knew where, and without a second thought he grasped into the fabric of chaos around him and pulled it in, drawing it abruptly onto himself and flooding the room. The consoles and magic all immediately started to flicker, a few bursted in a shower of light. The sudden concentration of chaos energy in the room was so intense and so thick that he saw Ravalor’s body gasp as if he was drowning and in that same moment the strip of light that had been about to open into a portal shattered into a rain of sparks.

A grip on his shoulder tore apart his concentration and his grasp of the chaos slipped. This time it hadn’t been a hallucination. Moakatar was there, saying something as she went to the summoning circle. He looked at Ravalor. He looked dazed and confused, but his mouth was closed.

When Xaronzul turned his hearing back on it was an unexpected assault of noise. The damage his own spell had caused had left a hissing and crackling in the magic around them, an half dying alarm blared. The room reeked of burned plastic and scorched metal. Moakatar was at the summoning circle and she was speaking,

—just keep him there.

But Xaronzul didn’t really hear her. Between the sparking in the room, the alarm and the screaming in his head suddenly flaring up like wildfire he no longer knew if he had done the right thing. Not when he saw the concern in Moakatar’s face. He wanted to port, Xaronzul said quickly, feeling like he had to justify the chaos around him — in every sense of the word.

I should have considered that, Moakatar said breathlessly as she came back from the summoning circle.

Didn’t want to directly attack him. Risk damaging him like that. He quickly added.

That’s alright. You did good. We can fix this, Moakatar said gently as she closed a set of magic disrupting cuffs around Ravalor’s wrists.

He’s okay right?

I’m sure he will be, Moakatar said, after briefly looking up the broken panels, Xaronzul realised that she had no way of checking right now. But she no longer sounded even half as hopeful as she had before. For a moment he pressed his eyes shut, frowning as he tried to shut out the onslaught of false sensations. It had been a long time since it had gotten this bad.

Is everything — what happened? Pelagius had carefully opened the door, undoubtedly drawn by the sounds inside dying down.

We need to get him to the secondary labs down to level 3. Just to make sure he’s alright, Moakatar said, nodding to Pelagius who understood the cue to help her do that. With the amount of chaos around here we can’t use a portal. So we should hurry before he comes by again and starts chirping again.

Xaronzul took a deep breath and dragged himself by force out of his worried uncertainty. He needed to do something. I’ll go to the CC and clear your way. Turn off her ears too.

Moakatar nodded as she and Pelagius were already about to wheel the table out of the room. And Xaronzul promptly teleported to the Command Centre. Eaten alive by the worry of accidentally having harmed Ravalor.

31 Moakatar

Moakatar found the laboratory within the halls of creation on the Dark citadel, which Zenozarax had designated as his, empty besides the now innate nanite pool.

That fact alone was horrifying to her.

Within was still Zenozarax’ unfinished Warrior. But the Wizard was gone.

They had taken extreme care so far to not leave any of their Parts unattended. Xaronzul and Sukatar were still with their respective Parts as it should be.

But Zenozarax’ Warrior was alone and vulnerable.

Once she stood in the room herself she felt the very real reluctance to leave herself, knowing she needed someone to stay here — keep an eye on him. She gave the main access panel that connected to the station itself a touch, trying  to log a scheduled port from herself but the system denied her access.

Choosing to ignore all proper procedure she left the panel and moments later a portal appeared near her, and her Scholar appeared. The portal on the other side was dark and deliberately so, as to not give a hint to its location for the cameras which undoubtedly lined the room.

This was bad, she hated being here with two Parts, but it was the only way.

I’ll try to hurry, she promised her Scholar who nodded tensely. She had just come from the Edge of the Universe, and she knew Ravalor’s condition was not hopeless yet — but Zenozarax didn’t know that.

And she feared what he would do, what he was doing, right now, only knowing that Ravalor was gone. That he had left this room was already alarming enough.

Where would he even go? 

I don’t know… but I will find out! She promised herself. She had to. And so leaving her Scholar behind, she left the laboratory for the command centre.

What struck her as odd was that Zenozarax had not tried to talk to either of them to find out what had happened.

As she reached the CC she found it empty as well. And the restless feeling grew within her. Quadirymir was usually here, at least some part of him.

I need to talk to Quadirymir, she announced to the system and promptly was denied.

Is he on the station?

Denied.

Can you deliver a message to him?

Denied.

She breathed in deeply. As the stress on her thoughts rose she felt herself become calm and still. Focused.

She left the CC and entered the separated station control node where a few soldiers kept watch over the station’s general functions.

Do you need anything? One of them asked, his designation was CE-BI — Moakatar recognized him by name to be the one Sukatar had interacted with before out in the docks.

I need to speak to Quadirymir, where is he?

I’m not in the position to reveal that information. CE-BI said flatly, And you’re not authorised to contact him directly. Of course, CE-BI was under no other orders than the station itself. As he saw the determined expression on Moakatar’s face however, he took a step back. It seemed like CE-BI remembered his encounter with Sukatar. CE-BI wasn’t afraid of her, he was incapable of fear, but he was obviously told to not let them touch him anymore. But he still wanted to be helpful. Maybe there is another way. He said carefully.

Which would that be?

If you were to attack me — the controller would be notified. I would prefer if you would not try to tamper with my mind or kill me however.

Moakatar considered the option for a moment — she didn’t like it, already using CE-BI the way Su had done was questionable in her opinion. Just blasting this arguably uninvolved soldier who just followed his orders seemed more violent than she liked. But as it was — it was a good option.

I’m so sorry, she said, a bitter grimace in her face as she raised her hands, the two other soldiers, while aware that it had been CE-BI’s own suggestion but bound to their own commands, jumped up but by then the magical blast had already swept CE-BI from his feet. An alarm blared through the room and station and  two laser pistols were pointed at her immediately, covering CE-BIs motionless body on the ground.

You have to leave, one of them said, Or drastic measures will be taken. The laser guns would do her no harm, at least as long as her wards were up, but she was sure the soldier did not refer to the guns.

But before that could have happened, the alarm cut off and another voice appeared behind her. That of a young woman.

What do you think you’re doing?

Moakatar turned around to look Quadirymir in the eyes. He stood way too close, having teleported right behind her. This part of him, the body of a young woman on the early side of 20, was just a little taller than Moakatar herself. But with the same cruel look in the black eyes as all his parts.

Where is Zenozarax?

He’s not with his Warrior? Quadirymir asked, so sugar sweet it turned Moakatar’s stomach.

Don’t you dare pretend you don’t know that. Moakatar actually stepped forward, closing the distance between them even more.

Alright, but that puts into question how you know though. You never checked on him so far? Why now?

Moakatar froze, realising the trap she had just stumbled in out of worry.

There are some developments concerning the Dawnbreak he needs to know about, she said calmly.

Oh, I see. It was actually Quadirymir who made a step back, clasping his hands behind his back utterly relaxed. His face and tone gave no indication whether or not he believed her or not.

He’s fine. Quadirymir paused, a light smile Well, not fine. But he’s safe.

What’s wrong with him? Moakatar asked tensely. She could suspect in a way Quadirymir wouldn’t understand, in a way she wouldn’t be okay if anything were to happen to Sukatar, but what it would drive Zenozarax to do she didn’t know.

Well, as it seems Ravalor has just managed to get himself killed. Which is rather unfortunate all things considered. The timing really is bad. I was already suspecting a deep bond between them, but I was surprised how much it affected him. He needed help. And so I took care of him, Quadirymir said freely, taking a few steps to the consoles to the side of the room and pretending he was looking at something there.

Take me to him! Moakatar demanded. Ravalor wasn’t dead, he wasn’t gone yet, he could come back. Zenozarax needed to know that.

No.

Why not? What are you doing to him?

Quadirymir laughed and Moakatar wanted nothing more but to strangle him to death.

What am I doing to him? Nothing! My lords, you sound like I’m about to kill him. The fact is, he’s not well and in no state to speak to anyone. Especially not about something as trivial as some obscure problems with the Dawnbreak. Quadirymir looked at her, a horrible smile on his face.

He knows.

The thought flashed through Moakatar’s mind like a thunderstrike.

He knows, somehow he does. 

But it was impossible. She had to assume that Quadirymir, by nature of being the way he was, managed to put her into a situation where he could make her feel like he knew more than he should. That he knew that there was a secret but he was merely trying to get her to slip up and reveal what it was.

She swallowed hard,

Please, she said, even though she hated to beg in front of him. Quadirymir, let me see him. If what you say is true, he needs us. I fear what he’d do if it were true. Please.

Quadirymir mustered her for a while, while the malicious smile had vanished from the young face, there was still no denying that he quite enjoyed her distress. He didn’t even hide it.

Very well. Quadirymir sight almost dramatically. He’s in his quarters actually. See, I’m not your enemy here Moa, I want him to be okay. He’s safe, and I have an eye on him. I won’t let him run off in vengeance to get himself killed just like that.

Thank you! she said, and it was almost genuine, as she already teleported out of the room.

She appeared on the designated teleport point in Zenozarax’ quarters momentarily.

Quadirymir was there too, but this was who Moakatar knew as his Wizard. The one she usually interacted with if she had too. A young man with combed back hair and that same cursed look of malevolent joy in his eyes.

She spotted Zenozarax laying on his bed, on top of the covers.

He’s been like that since I found him, Quadirymir said, sounding downright bored as Moakatar approached the bed. I assume given how he wasn’t whole already, this loss threw him quite out of orbit. He’ll need a while to get to grips with it. Reorganise his own perception of things and himself.

Moakatar ignored Quadirymir (though should the worst case happen, he was probably correct in his assessment).

Carefully she sat down beside Zenozarax and took his hand. His dark eyes found hers for a moment, but she saw that he was elsewhere. Scattered and confused.

Don’t give him false hopes, Quadirymir said keeping up the appearance of not caring in the slightest.

Can you see me? Hear me? Zenozarax?

But she felt him slip away, unable to hold onto her presence.

He’s going to be alright. He’s not dead yet.

How did you know what happened? Moakatar asked, addressing Quadirymir without taking her eyes from Zenozarax.

Seen it happen, Quadirymir said.

Seen what happened?

Ravalor went to Gorgon’s Row. Alone. And encountered a Remnant. And that’s one less orderly wizard to worry about.

Moakatar felt a sudden shudder of horror as her hope crumbled. If Ravalor had been alone — there would be nobody to save him. Nobody to banish the old god to its final resting place. All she had promised was built on false hopes. If it was true — Ravalor was dead. His body was still alive, kept on the Edge of the Universe by firm restraints, but he wouldn’t return. He would never be the Wizard he used to be again. Unless Mezchinhar would dare to go there again…or…

If it’s true, if he doesn’t return, she said to Zenozarax via the faint connection between their fingers, there is still hope. These gods can be slain, they can be banished. As long as he still lives, there is hope. We can find him.

She felt something, maybe a glimmer of recognition, but it quickly faded away again.

I told him that wizard was dangerous to him, Quadirymir said casually into the quiet. But as always, he didn’t listen.

What would you have wanted him to do about it? Moakar asked as she looked up to Quadirymir who simply shrugged.

That one has always been his weakness. Since the first time I met him. I don’t understand why a wizard like him would take on such vulnerability, Quadirymir said wonderingly.

And for the first time since she knew him, Moakatar could believe that Quadirymir was actually genuine.

Have you never loved anyone? She asked, surprised about the gentleness in her voice, still keeping Zenozarax’ hand in hers, hoping it would help.

Quadirymir met her eyes. But stayed quiet. Thoughtful.

Or even cared? She added. I don’t even mean like a lover. Just someone that cared about you as much as you cared about them?

Quadirymir pondered over the question for a while longer. Why would I? It’s already dangerous enough for our parts as it is. Adding another set to that … just to end up like this? Nah.

I don’t believe you, Moakatar said.

Naturally. Quadirymir smiled, but Moakatar still saw something more. Another truth Quadirymir didn’t speak about. And she really considered who this wizard was. Why he had ended up where he was.

Does it pain you? she then asked, making Quadirymir raise his brows. You take great pleasure from hurting others. Seeing them suffer. What happens when you see them happy? What happens if you would actually like someone? Can you stand it seeing them happy?

Quadirymir laughed. Look at you. Do you want to redeem myself in your eyes? Feel sorry for me because I’m not like you?

No,” Moakatar said plainly, “I’m trying to understand why you would want to hurt us.

Oh, Moa. I’d never want to hurt you, Quadirymir scolded her gently, patronisingly, like she had no idea what she was talking about and topped it off with a good amount of belittling as he added, That would be like kicking a puppy. Accompanied by a chuckle.

Moakatar just watched him stand up calmly, knowing he just wanted to rile her up — but he could try all he wanted. She still felt stressed enough that his words couldn’t shake her.

Either way, it seems like you have things covered here so I can return to more pressing matters. Quadirymir theatricality shook out his hands as if he was eager to get back to work — on whatever that would be — and glad to be relieved of the duty of helping Zenozarax. Tell me if he gets better, alright?

That would be easier if I had the access to do that in the first place, she reminded him and his grin widened like she had just given him a heartfelt compliment.

Ah — sorry about that — I locked the station down when this happened to him. Just to be on the safe side. You know how he can be, Quadirymir said happily.

Right.

No worries, you’ll be able to use all the systems you need again in just a moment. After all, communication is important! He explained and before giving Moakatar a chance to respond disappeared into the familiar glimmer of light and dark sparks.

32 Pelagius VI

It took another hour of agonising tension in which he felt this mind blurring distress governing his every thought. Knowing and feeling that Zenozarax was in the worst state Pelagius had ever experienced. Realising just how much his own well being was tied to that wizard.

Two hours in which Ravalor kept making these weird sounds and occasionally tried to break free. It was rather unsettling, Pelagius had to agree with Moakatar on that.

Pelagius stayed with Ravalor during the entire time even when Moakatar left, confident that Ravalor could no longer break free no matter what he tried, Pelagius stayed. He understood now more than ever that he needed this wizard to be alive and fine. For all their sakes.

It reminded him of their days up in the spire of Treva. When he had kept watch over the Stargazers dead body, waiting for him to wake up. Making sure he was safe. He remembered his own anger and desperation when he felt Sasha taking this duty away from him. The anger that, while unnatural and cursed, in his memories it was his own. His own actions. His consequences.

Over four months had passed since Sasha had died.

They hadn’t been friends, not really, but his death still felt bitter. Inevitable even. Because even if they hadn’t done it, hadn’t tested the portal — once the explosion had torn Treva apart, he would have died either way. Like everyone else.

It made him think of Aeven. And the strange and tragic kinship of loss they shared. He hadn’t known what really had happened on that other earth, and hadn’t known of the extent of the destruction. A whole planet — gone.

He failed to imagine it. It didn’t make sense.

Kings and kingdoms, territory and power — it was all temporary, rising and falling within the history of the times. But the earth he had stood on and the sun above had always seemed … eternal to him. Something that would always be there even when he was gone. Now the might and gravitas of both had taken a hard toll in his perception.

He wondered how many of those on the station weren’t just hyperbolic when they spoke of having no home to return to. How many had lost the very planet they had lived on?

It filled him with a sense of fear. The idea that there really was no safe place — nowhere.

Ravalor became very still and quiet, and it fortunately tore Pelagius out of his dreadful musings. He stood up and walked over to the wizard.

His eyes were pitch black now.

All things considered, that was an improvement as it was more normal. Before Pelagius could have notified anyone of the change, life returned to Ravalor’s eyes.

The pitch black seemed to move, fine lines of light ran through it, a light glow against the dark, before settling into the milky white that revealed the iris. Then he blinked. Once. Twice.

An abrupt breath went through his body. And it felt to Pelagius like he took that same breath — as suddenly he knew with certainty that Ravalor was alive.

Ravalor? Pelagius looked for any sign of recognition or even that he had heard him.

Ravalor tried to move but was stopped once more by the restraints. And utter confusion appeared on his face.

What..?

Pelagius let out a deep breath of relief. I need you to talk to me. Make sure you’re really you.

Pelagius? What — what happened? Why am I— another pull against the restraints.

I can’t let you out of there, not before the others checked on you. You were… not yourself. For a while, Pelagius explained as he pressed the button that would notify both Xaronzul and Moakatar.

I don’t understand?

We suspect Remnant influence, Moakatar said — her voice behind him startled Pelagius who then had to appreciate the promptness of her response to being called. You were taken over for over two hours. We’re unclear when exactly it first happened because people first noticed when you started glowing and didn’t stop.

Moakatar went back to the console. You seem to be yourself again but… I think I’d like you to stay here for a while longer. Just to make sure it’s not something else piloting in there. She nodded to Ravalor’s head. “After what happened to Zenozarax last year, I’m not ready to have you now go on a god induced, murderous rampage too.”

Pelagius almost expected Ravalor to protest but he didn’t. The frown in his face however didn’t look too happy about it either.

Do you remember anything? Moakatar sat down beside Ravalor, an almost eager spark in her eyes. But it faltered as Ravalor answered.

Nothing… unusual. I was in the restaurant after I woke up from the void. I talked with someone I met there before. The next thing I remember is this now.

You actually talked to someone? Pelagius could help but smirk lopsidedly and in disbelief. He really felt like a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

Ravalor pursed his lips. Okay, admittedly they talked more to me than I did to them.

That makes more sense. Be careful, or you might actually make friends here.

Ravalor didn’t answer, but seemed thoughtful about it. And Pelagius guessed his off the cuff remark had hit a question Ravalor ought to be asking himself. He had been here for well over a month now. The people had accepted that he was here now. He had a job. A routine he followed. Now he even started to mingle with the residents.

All that didn’t give the impression he planned to leave anytime soon.

A chime came from the station’s systems and Moakatar briefly touched the panel, then Xaronzul’s voice came from the speakers.

Every alright down there?

Everything is under control, Moakatar confirmed.

Is he back with us?

He is, as it seems. Moakatar met Ravalor’s eyes for a moment.

A moment of quiet, Pelagius could vividly picture the sigh of relief of Xaronzul too.

Good, because ehh… Aeven just very formally and politely requested to talk to him.

He did? Pelagius asked, utterly surprised — by the look on the others’ faces they felt the same.

Request came directly through to the CC just now. Xaronzul confirmed.

Aeven had so far never requested to speak with anyone — he had been made aware of the possibility plenty of times, but this was the first time he actually used it.

I need to go, Ravalor said, looking at Moakatar. This is important.”

Moakatar was not happy with that. Alright. But I’ll not take these off for the time being, she said, referring to the cuffs as she started to loosen the restraints. And I’ll restrict your access to the station’s systems. Xaronzul kept you from porting to god knows where once and I don’t want to be the one having to explain to Zenozarax that you just went up and disappeared under the spell of some ancient god.

What if he needs to defend himself? Pelagius asked tensely. This wasn’t a good idea, not at all. Aeven requesting Ravalor was implying an unusual level of lucidity, but he didn’t believe for a second that Aeven might not snap and would try to gauge out Ravalor’s eyes when the conversation went south.

I can stand by if you want. And take your sword with you. I don’t want him to be able to use any magic yet. All this could be just the remnant having taken hold of who he is. If that is the case, he is still dangerous to all of us, you included, Moakatar said firmly leaving no room for discussion. Ravalor, freed from the restraints and finally able to sit up again, didn’t comment on it, neither to deny the accusation or note the fact that Moakatar spoke about him as if he wasn’t there.

Ravalor? Pelagius felt like Ravalor should be saying something to it himself.

She’s right.

She is? How can’t you know if you’re you or not?

Well, Ravalor said thoughtfully, one thumb massaging over the palm of the other hand like he tried to ease a cramp in the muscle. If I knew, if I’m not me right now, I don’t think I’d tell you. So you can’t know if I’m telling the truth. Furthermore, if it was a Remnant, their magic is closer to that of the Knife than anything we wizards can do. You were aware of the control Zenozarax enacted upon you — because you’re not a wizard. But this magic, if we’re controlled by it, we don’t know we’re not ourselves. We can’t realise that something has changed. He explained, pondering over the words.

I might not be me right now, musing about if I am me to pretend I am me.

Pelagius almost groaned. Ravalor might not be who he tought he is. Fine, great, so this was a thing now too. Words couldn’t convey how much he hated all this magical nonsense. God how he missed the time when the most magical oddity in his life had been the fireless light and heating in Treva.

We shouldn’t let him wait, Ravalor declared, apparently willing to assume for the moment that he was indeed himself — and if not — acting at least as he would if he were.

33 Aeven II

Aeven stared at the door, wondering if they would come.

He also doubted it, as parts of his mind still tried to cling to the idea that none of it was real.

The strange wave of panic and anxiety that had held his mind for the last few hours was suddenly gone. Now he felt … calm. At least more calm than he had  during… however long he had been here already. He took a deep breath as he looked at his hands. There was a trembling in them he couldn’t stop. Caused by the tightness in his stomach, which made it impossible to eat.

Paying attention to his own body, the body that was supposed to be dead, let his heart stumble unhealthy.

Another deep breath, raising his eyes, ignoring his body.

A click at the door. A hiss.

Then they entered. Ravalor. Followed by Pelagius.

The wizard looked ashen, more exhausted than he had ever seen him. It made him appear older than the Hermit he had so rarely met. But still younger than the one that had called himself the Warrior. His appearance had changed little since the last time they had seen each other — only now his wrists were accentuated by some slightly glowing cuffs. He had seen them before, in legends only, but still. While similar to the magical wristabs popular in the empire he recognized these to be magic disrupting cuffs. The tension in Ravalor’s hands and the light reaction of the underlying magic gave that clearly away.

Pelagius looked like he always did. Only that this was the first time Aeven had seen him wearing his sword at his hip.

His eyes narrowed as the door closed behind both of them.

You wanted to talk to me? Ravalor prompted.

What are those for? Aeven asked quietly, nodding down to the cuffs. Closely he watched the almost self-conscious way Ravalor reached for one of his wrists, the slight twitch in his face as the touch alone seemed to cause pain.

Just a precaution.

For what? Surely not against you knocking me out again.

I’m sorry about that. But you left me no choice.

Aeven scoffed lowly. Right. Attentively he noticed Pelagius taking a few steps to the side, taking a place where he was out of direct view to either of them but able to watch them both. His hand, the one with the magical inserts lay on the pommel of the sword.

So, what’s the plan now? Have him strike me down when there is another question you don’t want to answer?

No. Ravalor said, then, What did you want to talk about?

Will you answer me?

Your last question?

Aeven nodded.

Ravalor looked at him, calm, composed, tired.

I don’t really have an answer to that.

Why? It wasn’t right. Ravalor, the Hermit, the protector of Treva, always had an answer. Always found a solution. That was the tale he had been told. One may not like the answer nor the solution but he always had one.

We tried— Ravalor said slowly as if not yet sure what he was saying —to do the right thing. To save as many people as we could. You did everything right. I — I don’t know if I did. I don’t think so. But at that moment I thought it was the right thing to do. What had to be done. Your empire has been saved by the sacrifice of earth. The other earth was saved by the sacrifice of your life. This hasn’t changed.

Billions of people died. Somebody has to pay for that. The anger in his heart was cold and bitter as he saw the sorrow in Ravalor’s eyes. His face was still calm and almost emotionless — but it was there alright. There would be no justice…

You’re right, Ravalor said unexpectedly.

But he won’t. Aeven concluded.

Ravalor shook his head slightly. As he shifted the weight of his stance there was a small flinch of pain. There is a war going on here. It is older than you and me and even Zenozarax combined. He’s trying to end it. And… hesitation. And I’m no longer sure he isn’t right to try.

And it justifies all this? All that death? His fists were clenched as anger soared within him.

No, Ravalor said quickly, It merely explains it. If it weren’t for that eternal war between Order and Chaos, none of this ever would have happened. And as long as it continues, it will happen again. Over and over again.

Aeven kept quiet, a deep frown on his face, disdain, anger and frustration — it all twisted his mind, and yet, he let Ravalor continue. There was nothing else he could do.

I don’t approve of his methods so far. But maybe, with our help, we can change it. You’re a just man, Aeven. A good man. Your anger is as understandable, as much as it is justified. But… Ravalor looked away. He had never seen the wizard this uncomfortable, this desperate to escape the conversation or even this unsure of what to say.

You’re asking me to forgive him, Aeven said slowly, meeting Ravalor’s eyes again as he looked back. But you haven’t done that yourself yet, have you?

I don’t know… Ravalor admitted.

He remembered Pelagius’ words, glancing at the knight who still listened to them quietly and alert.

Acceptance. Not forgiveness.

But how was he supposed to just accept the death of his own family, of all those he loved so dearly, the death of his entire planet, billions of people?

He couldn’t do that. Not now when the pain was still a searing hot blade in his heart, and not later because he knew that wound would never heal completely.

Help me understand it, he finally said and stood up. This war of yours. Tell me about it. And sit. He pointed to the table as he walked toward it. He hadn’t really believed Ravalor when he had told him about his hurting leg the last time, but he could see it now in the way he stood and the way he shifted his weight to favour his right knee.

For a moment Ravalor hesitated, but then followed the invitation with a clear sense of relief. After he sat, and Aeven had taken the seat across from him, there was almost half a minute of silence — but Aeven sensed Ravalor was just pondering his answer. And so he let him.

And then he told him more about wizards than any human had ever known.

He told him about the Last Whisper that had made them who they were, and the divide caused by the emergence of the first Chaos wizards. Then the first fight, the Battle of Mezchinhar, which saw Order victorious, but just for a while. As war after war followed, and chaos caused almost the entire destruction of the known Multiverse. The eradication of Chaos out of Mezchinhar and the oath to protect time and space from this destruction forevermore. Now more recent the constant struggle and paranoia against the forces of chaos. He also told him of his own experience, the merciless nature of Mezchinhar against those that fell out of line, to make sure order was upheld.

But then he also told him about what he had learned by being here. Living with the enemy. Told him about the struggle of mere survival, to need for resources and the fact that they would never be safe.

So… Aeven said when Ravalor had ended his monologue. Mezchinhar fears the rise of chaos and the destruction it brings with it, the danger to time and space itself. So they are always hunting for the chaos wizards. And on the other hand, the chaos wizards, even those that by ideology are not opposed, have no choice but to fight back, because they need this Resource, izthra, to stay alive which can only be made in Mezchinhar and is otherwise just obtainable by taking it out of other wizards.

Ravalor nodded.

This war has been going on for almost two billion years.

Aeven felt the frown on his face deepen as he tried to wrap his head around that. History spanning a time of two billion years. It was a timeframe he barely was able to really comprehend, 2000 years he understood, the age of Treva. It was said human civilization first developed on earth 7.000 years ago. He still could imagine that. First signs of human life, 200.000 years ago, that was a long time ago. But how could he go from that — to two billion without these numbers losing any sense or meaning. Had there even been any life on earth at that point? He didn’t know. And even if he did he doubted it would help.

 How could a war last two billion years?

And you think it can be ended? How? There is no diplomatic way of ending it, surely. Otherwise he doubted it wouldn’t have ended by now. If what you say is true, if Mezchinhar believes the danger of chaos to be as severe as you say, they won’t just stop. And the Chaos Wizards won’t just stop and live out their days to eventually perish. Even if some would — it wouldn’t be enough. He had served in diplomatic functions before, had brokered peace treaties and ceasefires within the outer rim of the empire. Already the chances of success with any official army facing a guerrilla force with no set leader was slim. But when both sides had a valid cause for fighting, it became much harder, especially in a long standing fight. And these fronts had solidified over billions of years.  

“I don’t know if it’s possible. But I believe Zenozarax does think so,” Ravalor said. “How would you do it?”

“Hm.” Aeven pondered that. “How many chaos wizards are there?”

“Hard to say. But even if of all wizards only a percent, or even the fraction of a fraction of a percent turns to chaos, it could still be … billions if not trillions. Scattered out here.”

Aeven whistles through his teeth. “Alright. They aren’t unified. That should be the first step. You can’t discuss peace with billions of people individually and expect them to all agree. They need a leader they follow first, a leader at least a majority believes in. Have them manage their own elements of discontent.”

Ravalor vehemently shook his head. He looked downright terrified by that idea. “That’s not… No. The Order’s greatest advantage is the fact that these wizards are as scattered as they are. We dwarf them in numbers, but they are stronger than we are. The moment Mezchinhar learns of an effort to unify them, they will send every available force to stop it. It would be carnage. They can’t and they won’t allow that to happen.”

“Also,” Pelagius spoke for the first time, reminding both Ravalor and Aeven that he was still with them in the room. “I don’t get the feeling these wizards are particularly fond of a unified government.”

“That too,” Ravalor agreed, nodding for Pelagius to join them.

“What is his plan then?” Aeven asked and both Pelagius and him looked at Ravalor.

“Defeat Mezchinhar with sheer force. Or at least cripple them.”

“Alone?” Aeven rose a brow. “Can he do that?”

“He could have. If his plan had succeeded, and if he would have gained access to Mezchinhar afterwards. From all I know, the theoretical chaos power able to be generated by harnessing a stellar alignment correctly would be massive enough to cause considerable damage to Mezchihar if unleashed within.”

“But unless he’d kill every wizard of Order, it would only be temporary,” Aeven noted. “And consequently only strengthen the other side’s resolve. Confirming that Chaos is as dangerous as they say it is.There is no coming back from that, not when he strikes at the heart of the empire.” Aeven acknowledged the blatant parallel to what happened to the seat of his own power. His home. It would be nothing but an escalation.

“True…” Ravalor frowned slightly as if pointing it out just made him realise that there had to be something missing there. He didn’t really know.

“You should ask him about it.” Aeven suggested bitterly — but Ravalor didn’t seem to notice it.

“I can’t. Not right now. He’s still on the Dark Citadel, rebuilding his Warrior. But — his chance to do it has passed. An alignment like that of this many stars, is intensely rare. At least within the small part of the Multiverse we control. I have to assume they are occurring right now all across the multiverse, but Mezchinhar would make sure this information is guarded closely. If they even know about it.

Probably a good thing, Pelagius mused, now standing beside the table, hand still resting on his sword. I doubt directly playing into this circle of violence is the solution.

Agreed. Ravalor nodded. And I’ll talk to him as soon as I can.

Aeven listened to both of them quietly, having his arms crossed. Faintly he noticed the calm within him. The stillness of his fingers. He looked at both Ravalor and Pelagius, and for the first time they felt real to him. With the seriousness on their faces, pondering over a solution to a war, he saw something of the heroes he knew only from legends in them. But in a way that would inevitably happen once one actually met one’s heroes. Toppelt from that pedestal, reduced to ordinary men facing unwinnable odds and still fighting. Haunted, worn out, and with blood on their hands — but not yet willing to give up.

Neither of these two men was anything close to ordinary, neither was he anymore. Strange immortal beings of even stranger magic, facing problems of unimaginable scale that paled to any fight he had ever known. And still — the only thing they could do was to approach it as anyone else would. Observing, talking, planning, and acting once the right moment came.

Thank you, Aeven said quietly, gaining Ravalor’s attention again. For telling me all this.

Ravalor nodded slightly. Maybe a “you’re welcome” or “don’tmention it”.

Listen, Aeven, Pelagius said and met his eyes. If you stay like this, maybe you can get out of this room soon. But there are people here, good people, families, so… I’d have to know you’re not a danger to them anymore.

Yeah… Aeven mumbled more to himself than anyone else, missing the look of concern exchanged between Ravalor and Pelagius. I do feel better. More real, if that makes sense. But I’m still angry. And I’ve never been angry like this. It still feels like it’s not me.

I know, Pelagius said.

You still feel it too? Ravalor asked surprised and concerned alike and Aeven realised he was talking to Pelagius now.

I do. It’s better, I can control it now, but it’s not gone. Pelagius admitted grimly. Makes sense I suppose. Part of us is still part of Zenozarax and he of us. That won’t change. Not without the knife.

Ravalor stayed quiet for a while, thinking, then he stood up. That needs to be the topic for another day.

Ah, right, Pelagius checked the time on the wall display next to Aeven’s bed. Wolla is already waiting, I suppose. Are you sure you want to do that now?

Yes.

Who’s Wolla? Aeven had no idea what both of them were talking about or why Ravalor wouldn’t be sure of meeting this Wolla, but as he watched both men ready themselves to leave and felt a wave of regret.  

Head of the engineering night shifts, Pelagius said as Ravalor already approached the door. He’s been helping out around here.

You got a job?

Ravalor glanced at him, seemingly exasperated over the sheer sense of surprise in Aeven’s voice. Why is that so strange to you?

I don’t know, with the whole Hermit thing, I never pictured you doing anything but weird magical experiments and pondering orbs.

I have never pondered any orbs. I’m not a— he stocked, frowned slightly, then said, Why would you even think that?

Aeven shrugged, for the first time in months feeling a hint of amusement. And it felt wonderful.

Ravalor shook his head with a grumble, I’ll talk to you about that later too, before he left. For a moment after he met Pelagius’ eyes. He seemed pleased, almost hopeful. But there was also a strange sense of sadness Aeven couldn’t place.

This is good. The knight said. To see you like this. Feels better too.

Aeven nodded, unsure of what to answer, so Pelagius just said.

Until later. As I said, I’ll lock the door, but if you need anything, you know how to reach us.

Another nod, then Pelagius left too.

And Aeven was alone again. Taking a deep breath. Clinging hopefully to the light feeling within his heart.

34 Zenozarax X

Like a switch being flicked, Zenozarax’ mind suddenly fell into place again. For hours it had tried to make sense of the world around him and failed, overburdened not only by the loss of five Parts that were almost as close to him as his own, but also the lack of his very own second Part and the still lingering strain of the two entities that were Aeven and Pelagius, who had become Parts of himself as well. It had been too much. His mind had become too fractured as to function anymore.

He would have never expected it. Not like this. But in that moment, when his thoughts cleared again, he also realised how fine the line was he was walking.

But it didn’t matter now.

He didn’t know what had happened, but he knew one thing with absolute certainty: Ravalor was alive.

Then he felt a hand on his, and first then realised that he wasn’t alone. And that he wasn’t where he remembered being last.

Moa? He cleared his throat as he pushed himself up on his bed, but she didn’t let go of him.

— Are you alright? She asked him, her brows still raised in worry.

— What happened? Where is Ravalor?

— He just woke up again. He doesn’t know what happened. Quadirymir said it was a remnant.

— I know, he told me the same. But I couldn’t…

Then he froze - as he really realised where he was.

— The warrior!?

— He’s fine. I’m with him. I don’t think Quadirymir did anything. Nothing I can see.

— Can you stay with him? For a little while?

— Of course, for as long as you need—

But by then Zenozarax had already stood up fully and severed the faint connection of their hands.

Zenozarax? he heard her ask.

I’ll be back soon. I promise.

A portal snapped open to a familiar and dark place. For a moment he thought she would protest — but then she only nodded.

Through the portal he arrived in the dark adjacent chamber to the CC on the Edge of the Universe they had dedicated as the official port point on the station. He found Xaronzul in the control centre who almost fell from his chair the moment he saw him.

Zenozarax! Xaronzul jumped up, the disbelief of seeing him here taken over by such plain relief and joy that Zenozarax first now grasped that while his own mind had taken itself apart, everyone else had been horribly worried about him too. There was something comforting about that. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what else—

Where is he? Zenozarax asked and Xaronzul immediately snapped back to attention.

Talking to Aeven. At his request.

His own manic desire to make sure Ravalor was indeed alright suddenly calmed down. And he started to appreciate that… indeed, there was an utterly confusing, near novel feeling blooming within him.

Do you have a feed?

Xaronzul touched the panel and the security footage from Aeven’s cabin appeared on screen. And he was greeted to an utterly unexpected scene.

Both Aeven and Ravalor sat at the table in Aeven’s cabin, while Pelagius stood nearby. They were talking. Calmly and with no hint of Aeven’s usual volatile behaviour.

He did it… Zenozarax muttered.

He still felt the exhausting emptiness of where the Warrior should be but, adding to it the strain of the last few hours — there was something else. An unfamiliar sense of… equilibrium.

For the first time in months, in this strange connection he had now to not only Ravalor, but Pelagius and Aeven as well, he felt calm. They were alright. All three of them.

And it was a pleasing sensation — though he had no idea how to explain it. Or what had caused it. Because he had never felt him to be this calm. There was still anger and unrest, but it was distant now. Not as subdued as it was within Pelagius, but a major improvement to anything before.

And he only realised now how distracting the constant distress before had really been as his own mind seemed to sigh in relief.

You’re asking me to forgive him, Aeven said on the screen, still tense but calm. But you haven’t done that yourself yet, have you?

I don’t know… Ravalor answered.

Zenozarax felt a sting in his heart but still found a light smile on his face. He wouldn’t ask it of Ravalor, he didn’t even expect Ravalor to ever forgive him, and in the end it didn’t even matter. Just seeing him there, alive and as well as he could be given the circumstances, was enough to ease his mind.

Ravalor started to tell Aeven about — pretty much everything concerning Mezchinhar’s history. And Zenozarax found himself just listening along.

He’ll get in so much trouble if they find out he just did that. Holy shit, Xaronzul mumbled besides him. Indeed, Mezchinhar would not appreciate Ravalor laying their history bare to any living creature in the Multiverse, even if that one was the now immortal Prince of Treva.

Yes. But I can see why he’s doing it, Zenozarax said quietly as Aeven recapped what Ravalor had just told him and then, to both of their surprise, actually continued discussing a solution to the conflict at hand. He’s just given him a purpose again, Zenozarax almost said in disbelief and he wasn’t sure it was a good thing. In a way it seemed almost cruel to burden this man with yet another war, and one he couldn’t even win. But in the last months he had never seen Aeven this… present.

You don’t think he’d be fighting on our side, right? Xaronzul asked, the frown was implied in his tone.

I wouldn’t say Ravalor is either. And I think Aeven realised that. He’s not on our side, but he’s willing to trust Ravalor.

Xaronzul became very quiet, and as Zenozarax glanced at him he saw a thoughtful expression on his face. Then he said, Do you think you could do that? Unite us?

Zenozarax wanted to laugh, the idea was ridiculous to him and only spoke of Xaronzul’s relative youth to him — but he didn’t because he knew Xaronzul was serious and he wouldn’t want to belittle him like that.

Bring order into chaos? No. Even if it were possible, I won’t be the one to try. That’s not who I am, nor who I want to be, Zenozarax declared. And it would only turn me into a useful idiot for Mezchinhar who’d be too busy fighting his own side.

If you say so, Jezar. Xaronzul smirked weakly, having used very deliberately and probably for the first time the diminutive form of Zenozarax name which humorously translated to My king.

Zenozarax scoffed at that.

The conversation on screen came to an end. And nobody had been beaten to a bloody pulp.

I’ll be in my quarters. Please tell him to see me. Zenozarax said to Xaronzul who acknowledged and Zenozarax teleported directly into his quarters.

He was surprised for a moment. And then not really. He had been gone for weeks already — and Ravalor had started to leave his marks. It was subtle at first glance but undeniable. The way things were ordered more clearly, the dedicated study area with piles and piles of books and notes, a few extra books near the bed. Even the way the cushions were arranged.

It felt suddenly more like home than it had ever in the last thousand years he remembered. It granted him a moment of peace — as unearned as it was. Mindful, he turned to a set of drawers near the bed and took a pair of the Warrior’s gloves from them. The fine weaved material slipped over his fingers like water and for a moment he held one hand in the other.

The door opened. Ravalor stepped in.

You’re here? There was the same disbelief that had been in Xaronzul’s face before, but Ravalor sounded a lot more worried.

Of course I am, Zenozarax said as he crossed the distance between them, and by the time the door had closed behind Ravalor he had grabbed Ravalor’s head, holding him close before he simply hugged the young wizard. He couldn’t stop himself and wouldn’t.

Zenozarax? Ravalor now sounded alarmed even.

Never do that again. I beg of you, Zenozarax said with his head leaning into Ravalor’s shoulder.

What — Zenozarax what are you—

Zenozarax pushed himself halfway away from Ravalor but not letting go of his arms. He fears his hands would tremble if he did. I felt you die. And I couldn’t bear it. It tore me apart.

Realisation dawned in Ravalor’s face, guilt even I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened — I didn’t—

It’s alright. You’re fine now, Even though Zenozarax had no idea how. I shouldn’t stay too long, but we have to talk. So listen carefully.

Ravalor followed his suggestion and sat at the rim of the bed while Zenozarax kept standing.

Quadirymir is following your other Parts. He might as well be directly responsible for what just happened. You are in danger. I do not believe he has attacked you directly yet but he will cause all kinds of troubles for you that apparently could even get you killed.

Ravalor stared at him — whatever relief or optimism there had been had completely vanished from the dark eyes. What do you know? What are they doing?

Zenozarax felt the tension creep into every fiber of his body. He knew no matter what he told him now, Ravalor, the Stargazer, wouldn’t be able to change anything about it unless he were to return to Mezchinhar. Taking with him all he had learned so far. It wasn’t the trust in Ravalor that was in question — but what Mezchinhar would do once they learned of his return.

He told me that he’s been watching you, following you. He swears he hasn’t directly harmed you but I do not believe he’s capable of not causing mischief wherever he goes. I don’t know where you are — but I do know that apparently you managed to save Aeven. But as it seems, there are problems with that. Your Warrior went to Gorgon’s Row to retrieve the Lord’s Essence. An artefact that can allegedly lift any curse.

You think Aeven, this new Aeven, is still cursed?

I think something is wrong with him. They could still be connected, Zenozarax confirmed. Transferring a consciousness is already delicate work, adding to it the influence of not one but two artefacts of the lords with the Hammer and the Knife — I don’t think it impossible.

Did they succeed?

Zenozarax shrugged. That fact that you are speaking to me suggests they did manage to escape the Remnant. Beyond that I know as much as you. Last I remember Quadirymir saying is that he didn’t stay to watch it happen — but he’ll be curious as to what happened. Unfortunately, we’ll have to take everything he said with a grain of salt. Zenozarax frowned, his jaws clenched tight. He now knows of your importance to me. He may have suspected before but he now saw with his own eyes the true extent of it. I fear for the both of us. He will use you to get to me if he gets the chance, there is no doubt in my mind about that.

Ravalor stood up again, stepping up to him, meeting his eyes. He looked determined. Serious. But not afraid. Not anymore even though he should be now more than ever.

What can we do?

 You could go and warn them, Zenozarax suggested even though it was the last thing he wanted to happen. But Ravalor shook his head.

I can not return to them. Not anymore. If I return it will be the day this Part of me dies.

Don’t say that.

You know it’s the only way.

Yes he did. And the implication was horrible. Ravalor would take all of this with him into the void — to be forgotten by himself. Like none if it had ever happened. Like they had never talked like this.

But it was the only possible outcome to all of this. Be now or in years to come. One day, Ravalor would have to leave. To become whole again and end this suffering on his own mind.

But he wouldn’t allow him to die.

And so inevitably, the only other option flared up in his mind. Facing a problem he had known he’d need to take care of eventually. And the time had come.

Quadirymir had to die.

No matter the cost. No matter the consequences.

Do not speak of it. Not yet. Please. He raised his hand, but stopped himself before his fingertips could have touched Ravalor’s face. I just need a little more time. I’ll find a solution. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.

How?

I don’t know yet. But I will.

He’d need the help of the others, he’d need to call in some favours, he’d—

Ravalor grasped his shoulder before he could have made a step back, before he could have left. It startled him as much as the intensity in his friends eyes.

What do you intend?

There had been a time when Ravalor would have trusted a vague promise. A time where he had faith in him. But that time was over. He realised that now.

He needs to die.

35 Ravalor X

Ravalor was afraid, though he wouldn’t let it show. At least he thought he didn’t.

Once more he felt like his presence was the very reason things started to fall apart. Based on his lived experience it didn’t feel like superstition and more like an inevitable fact of his existence.

He needs to die.

Ravalor had known that, he saw it in the hard and feverish determination in Zenozarax’ eyes. And it was bad. He had not forgotten the reasons why it was a bad idea. Zenozarax was turned on a path that had him lose access to important information, resources and tools just because… Ravalor was in danger.

Don’t do anything rash, I beg of you, he said carefully as he let go of Zenozarax’ shoulder. There was something in Zenozarax’ eyes he couldn’t quite place as he looked at him, like memories that passed by, veiled and vague like the barges crossing by in the morning mist above the river Elba.

Why was he thinking of Treva now?

If what you say is true, and Quadirymir won’t attack them directly, trust in them. If the Warrior is with Aeven and the Hammer, he is much safer than I am. Aeven is a good man and he is capable.

It gave Zenozarax pause, he saw the flame of impulsive restlessness calm before his eyes, in the way Zenozarax’ expression changed, his brows relaxed and shoulders loosened.

Of course… Zenozarax muttered as if he had completely forgotten about the Hammer. That piece of shit…

Ravalor wanted to object, because while he could understand Zenozarax being not particularly well disposed towards the prince, he didn’t want him to talk about Aeven that way, but before he could diplomatically express that Zenozarax added,

I think you’re right. He’s not attacking you out of consideration for me, but because he can’t beat Aeven. Not while the Hammer is protecting him, making clear he was in fact not talking about Aeven but Quadirymir — and that made a lot more sense. Zenozarax also seemed surprisingly pleased about it. It was probably the first time in the existence of time that a chaos wizard was happy about the Hammer existing.

Alright — here’s what we’re going to do, Zenozarax said, I have to focus on finishing the work on the Warrior — I made good progress. It won’t be long now, that will give me back some flexibility to act.

Is he safe now?

Yes, Moakatar is with him. Zenozarax nodded  You’ll keep your head down and keep doing what you’re doing. Your progress with Aeven is remarkable.

You know about that?

Even if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I can feel it. Something has changed within him. For the better. Though I’m not sure it is wise to set him on a path of war he can’t win. Don’t give him false hopes.

I’m not, Ravalor said, hoping he was right. But he needed to understand why all of this has happened to him.

Given the result I do not disagree, Zenozarax conceded. Concerning the rest of you, I’ll talk to Sukatar. If anyone can find out what is going on there while not only avoiding the Order, but also yourself and Quadirymir, it’s her. I’ll not ask of her to take on this risk while she isn’t whole, but she might have means to get it done sooner nonetheless. Inside information will be hard to come by without using Quadirymir, but she has a few contacts of her own. At least she used to.

Sounds good. It would be comforting to learn what exactly was happening to the rest of himself. He felt comfortable with this course of action, it seemed relatively safe.

Alright. Zenozarax held both hands before this body, one wrapped around the other as he thought. Then he looked back at Ravalor. While I’m still here, please tell me of your vision. Clearly. What did you see?

Of what I saw almost nothing was clear. I saw shadows and figures, I saw you too, others I didn’t know, Ravalor said slowly, recalling the visions moment by moment. I was killed by magic.

Zenozarax shook his head. That’s too broad. Tell me about the details. The place? The shape of the shadows? The kind of magic?

I didn’t recognize where I was. I think it was a ship, or industrial site. No windows and dark. Of wizard design I would say.  I saw you too there with me, but I’m not sure you truly were there. But it wasn’t right. It felt — dangerous.

My presence? Zenozarax asked tensely.

I don’t… know. But I don’t think so. I don’t see who attacked me, all I see is that flash of light, blinding me to the figure behind. I think it to be the shape of a man. He was very close.

Short? Tall? Broad?

I really can’t tell. It’s like the figure itself isn’t really a figure yet. Like a stand-in.

Does the spell destroy your ward?

Ravalor blinked. No? There was no ward. The blast hits me right here — uninterrupted. He tapped his chest. “And I feel my entire self burn through.”

So either you are caught off guard completely, or it is someone you trust. Zenozarax concluded with a deep frown on his face. Which throws a wrench into my assumption that it’s Quadirymir. By now, if you ever were to meet him, you should know better than letting your guard down.

So far I don’t even know how most of him looks. Xaronzul showed me only one of his parts, Ravalor reminded him.

Without another word Zenozarax raised a row of panels from the magic in the room and three pictures taken straight from his memories appeared on them.

The first was a young man with combed back black hair. The second a young woman with similar hair and some similarities in the face. The third was an older man, clean shaved with ashen hair wearing the uniform of the Knights of Amunthon.

These are the three I currently know of. I am very certain there is a fourth, but how he may look I can not tell. Also, I can only speak to the appearance of these two he nodded to the young man and woman. He used the old man to infiltrate Charon. I haven’t seen him since. But he is an envoy and he does change his appearance frequently, often taking the face and life’s of those he killed.

Charming, Ravalor muttered.

Yeah, the ugly side of the whole Envoy business. Zenozarax murmured. Come to think of it, it all sucks.

Ravalor raised his brows slightly, picking up the implication that this was a normal thing to do — for all Envoys. Those in Mezchinhar too. But when he considered it closely, it didn’t even surprise him. Just another dreadful It has to be done everyone accepted as fact, he was sure.

Anyways. I doubt that if you run into him on his terms you won’t recognize him based on this. But just in case - stay aware. And watch out closely for any further changes in your vision. What happened here today, all you now know, might have changed it. Or stopped them all together.

Ravalor nodded. There was hope in that. Opening himself up to the uncertainty of not knowing was a lot more preferable when the predestined alternative prophesied his own death.

He saw Zenozarax hesitate, halting his words before he said them.

Must you go now? Ravalor asked.

I do. I should. Zenozarax answered. He didn’t want to, his own body seemed to fight him and the conviction in his words. It won’t be long now.

Be careful, He hesitated, and held out his hand with the palm turned up.

Zenozarax smiled and took his hand. And even though  the fine gloves prevented the connection between them he missed so dearly, the act itself was a small comfort. I always am.

Like hell you are, Ravalor muttered and despite the tension, or caused by it, Zenozarax actually laughed lightly. He had missed that sound and could help a slim smile himself. Come back.

I will.

Then Zenozarax vanished before his eyes and left an all too familiar silence behind. Ravalor sighed and sat down on the bed, thinking about what had just been said.

He took the moment to watch himself and especially his mind very closely as he let his memories replay. Just waiting for either void or vision to take him.

But his mind stayed his own.

A low chime got his attention and he immediately remembered where he was supposed to be right now. His shift in engineering had started over an hour ago. As he opened up the com channel however, it was Xaronzul’s voice.

I know you’re probably tired as all hell and I’d love to just let you sleep and all, afterall sleep is quite important and especially with the lack of some parts it really drains — and with what you’ve been through—

You’re not sleeping well either now, are you? Ravalor assumed with a thoughtful and mellow tone in his voice as he felt a strangely newfound acceptance of his new situation.

Of course not, Xaronzul murmured. But that’s besides the point. I would — well actually Moakatar suggested it — we think it would be good if you stay with me for a little while instead of being alone. You know  just to be on the safe side.

There was also a newfound respect for the people surrounding him. Who did care about him and each other. Who tried to live their lives and make this existence work. To be safe.

And acceptance that these were also people that had led to the death of countless people. And so had Mezchinhar. And he was part of it.

I understand. It’s reasonable. Just let me notify Wolla and I’ll be on my way. Are you in the CC? Ravalor stood up again.

Ayep.

I’ll be there momentarily.

You better. Xaronzul chuckled, he sounded relieved.

There was no going back now, nobody could undo what had happened. The only thing he could do was to move forward and try to make a difference. To change it. Even if only a little bit. Because that was all he could reasonably hope for.