3 Ravalor II

30.12.2023

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.

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