Aetherfall (52-53-54)

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AN: Starting next week I will be posting the chapters per day. Meaning that their schedule will be Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

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[052]

Liam had not slept a wink, staring up at the geometrical patterns on the ceiling of his room. A smile was plastered on his face, and he couldn’t properly summon the energy to change it. Spending the night absently playing around with the magical-knot-rope had caused more failures than successes, but without an outlet for the restlessness, he would’ve probably gone and done something stupid.

Like marching up to Aisha’s room and knocking on the door.

But even the magical piece of training rope wasn’t capable of keeping him rooted forever. Eventually, he just couldn’t wait for the day to start, and without anything else to turn his thoughts away from the encounter with Aisha last night, he set out to take a very long dip in the baths of the guest quarters.

He hadn’t been expecting Imani to be there.

The leonid was in the process of leaving one of the shallow dips, a carved-out half-tub in the stone that allowed the leonid to just soak the feline part of her body while preventing her upper torso from getting wet. The feline wore a simple shirt and was focused on her gear, using the water of the tub to lightly moisten and scrub some pieces of leather.

“Beautiful morning!” Liam cheerily proclaimed as he paused halfway to the bath. “Are those paw-boots?”

“Yes,” she commented, dipping her fingers into the water and applying it carefully. “The cobbler said this would help make them comfortable.” The way she said it, Liam would’ve figured the boots were responsible for murdering her family.

“I’m guessing they were expensive.”

“Very.” Imani growled, rubbing the leather with her thumbs.

Liam wanted to ask why she’d bought boots when she’d gone without them thus far, but for all he knew, she hadn’t gotten them earlier simply because she couldn’t afford them. So he switched tracks. “One way to help mold them, moisture aside, is to just wear them down.”

“Yes, the cobbler said that.” Imani’s gaze remained fixed on the four tiny boots.

“Then how about training with them?” Liam asked. “I’d be happy to get some practice in. I definitely could do with some experience, and maybe the boots could help make it a fairer spar.”

Imani looked up at him with a baffled expression. “Why would you wear my boots?” The genuine nature of her question lingered in the air, the mercenary’s stare almost demanding a response.

Coughing to clear his throat, he gestured at them. “I wouldn’t be wearing them; you would.”

Her expression remained vacantly expecting an answer. “But they are uncomfortable; I would not be a better fighter with them.”

“And you are the better fighter?” he said tentatively.

“But…” Staring down at the boots and then back up at him, her brows knit in confusion. “You defeated me when I was possessed.”

“By sheer dumb luck.” Cocking his head, he gestured for her to follow. “Come on, I’ll show you just how many times over you would’ve killed me had you been able to think straight.”

---

Two hours and more bruises than he could care to count later, Liam now knew how it felt to be a guac that had been tossed into a box full of rocks and then thrown downhill. He would probably look the part soon enough; there were several nasty purple spots that were worsening by the minute.

Sparring against a fully aware Imani was akin to giving a fighting game a go. Except Liam’s character was controlled by someone who had no clue what they were doing, while Imani’s was a try-hard pro. He’d managed to land exactly five blows throughout the whole session, while the leonid mopped the training grounds with him.

Maybe she’d just been trying really hard to wipe the smile off his face.

“I don’t think I could keep going even if I wanted to,” he called out as he lay flat on the ground, covered in sweat and dirt, breathing hard. If her goal had been to get rid of the smile, then she’d lost. Liam was still feeling like he wanted to laugh out loud and run… ok, maybe limp around a bit and then collapse.

But the smile wasn’t going away. In that, and that alone, he’d won.

“I believe you,” she said, staring down at him with a worried look.

Or maybe she suspected he was holding back and had kept pushing until she’d gone a bit overboard. Whatever the case, Liam was just thankful that the sparring weapons had their ends wrapped in cloth. Otherwise, he’d probably need to spend the rest of the day bedridden.

“What do you think?” he groaned, sitting up while ignoring the way his ribs ached. “Maybe I’ll get a chance to land a whack on you one of these days?”

Imani gripped her staff. “You… are not suited for fighting like this.”

“Oh? And how would you suggest I fight?”

“Not at all, you will die,” her response came in a deadpan. “But your way of approaching the training…” Clenching her hand, she glanced down at the tiny bruise on her knuckles, the one spot he’d nearly managed to hit a couple of times. “I will have to think about this. Leonid forms of combat are not suited for two-legs like you.”

Liam immediately perked up. “You’re considering training me?”

“It is easier to protect someone capable of defending themselves,” she turned to leave, then stopped abruptly. “Contract rates will not change.”

And she marched off towards the guest quarters, leaving him with doubt on whether or not she would’ve charged less had he been competent when it came to fighting. Or maybe she’d charge more? He was amusingly indulging in the train of thought when a short figure approached, looming over his prone form.

All of that wasn’t as important as what felt like his first successful step towards getting Imani out of her shell! The future was looking bright indeed, maybe soon he’d get her to open up.

“Would you need assistance, sir?”

“Oh, Grauch! Good morning,” Liam smiled up at the draxani. “I wouldn’t want to keep you away from any work you might have.”

“No worries, sir, I’ve been instructed to prioritize the Amil’s guests,” he paused, bowing slightly and lowering his voice to a whisper. “And I’d much rather be here than aid the house-alchemist in making more fertilizer.”

“Then I think I’m going to need your presence for the next…”

“Hour, sir.”

“Yeah, an hour sounds about right.”

Despite the cool-sounding title, the house alchemist was the person literally in charge of the shittier jobs. Their work would gravitate around waste management, disposal, and what could be roughly translated as recycling. There were fancier aspects to their jobs if you were in a prestigious enough household, such as testing for poisons, concocting medicines, and the like, but these were often the exceptions to the norm.

The “real” alchemists (the ones who tried to create magical-based potions and used enchanted tools) were the people in charge of taking monster corpses and producing low-grade aether from them. Those guys tended to carry some prestige, and some were even fully fledged noble families depending on where you happened to live. They tightly guarded the methods of their work, only teaching them to a select few. Meanwhile, the “owned” alchemists mostly learned about their trade through temples, as deities happened to hold a vested interest in hygiene for their mortal followers.

In short, deities made sure their mortals were potty-trained.

Frankly, it was one of the first signs of whether a budding follower-empowered spirit could make it for long enough to become a deity. If you don’t take care of your mortals and help them learn about the things they can’t easily notice (either due to limited senses or their lifespans), then you were going to get gobbled up sooner or later.

This form of symbiosis was also one of a handful of big reasons why civilization often didn’t technologically progress past a certain point. The reliance on the gods' wisdom often led to too much power in the hands of the divine, and when a magical industrial revolution came knocking, gods did not like it.

It also tended to awaken the continent-gobbling monsters.

Those were fun, albeit somewhat terrifying, now that he was actually living here.

“You appear to be in a good mood, sir,” Grauch commented as Liam sat shirtless at the steps of his room.

His bodyguard was cleaning up and tending to her boots out of sight, somewhere in the bathing area.

“Thanks!” Liam chirped, carefully applying the ointment Grauch had given him, gritting his teeth. “On a completely unrelated topic of conversation, would Miss Aisha be available for breakfast?”

“Unfortunately not, sir,” Grauch replied. Even when he spoke with a perfectly neutral tone, Grauch still managed to convey a feeling of amusement

and regret. “The Amil's work has drawn her away earlier today, and I do not know how long she will remain busy. Would you like to make a request?”

“She’s probably up to her ears in work with the festivities,” he waved it off, letting out a little sigh while scratching his chin in thought.

Today would be the parade day, so there would be that same problem that had popped up yesterday, mainly, that there would be priests walking all over the place. Especially around their precious, beautifully enchanted, powerful divine artifacts.

Liam really wanted to get an eyeful of those… especially with the magic… Ruffling his hair, he couldn’t reasonably think up any way for him to get around the priests’ “blessing sensors”. Maybe if he pretended to be from some other temple…? Impossible, the city is too small, they probably all know one another by name.

“I guess it’ll have to be breakfast for one… unless…” his gaze traveled towards the garden. “Does Imani typically eat alone?”

“Though I am not one to pry, to my understanding she prefers eating in the city, sir.”

“Yeah… yeah, that checks out.” Probably fear of being poisoned.

At some point, he would need to figure out how much of this was just natural paranoia and how much something that had emerged out of the current situation. According to his notes, the leonid held the potential to become a very talented mercenary commander, basically leading her own force and selling their talents to the highest bidder. But had some proclivity for extreme carefulness been what had guaranteed that level of success while hampering her from progressing further?

“I will bring today’s meal, then.”

Applying more ointment on his knuckles and watching Grauch leave, Liam mostly grumbled to himself, trying to figure out if there was anything else he could do today. His best bet would probably be to go about the emptier parts of the city, further away from the parade, to explore the tiny streets…

“Sir, it appears you have received a message.”

Grauch startled him, having returned faster than Liam had expected, carrying a wooden tray with food, as well as a piece of parchment. The draxani put both down next to him and moved to stand at the side.

“Who sent it?” The parchment was cheap and brittle, the kind of stuff that looked closer to dried leaves than to anything actually processed.

“A young volar, though he appeared to have been sent by someone else.” Clearing his throat, he leaned closer. “The contents are also not in a language I’ve seen before.”

Liam could understand why.

Because it was written in plain English.

Depart, promise a swift return, but don’t. Wait till dusk.

Bid the cat to remain.

Trust the scheme, ignore the holes.

Erase your epiphanies after incinerating this.

-A shadow.

It was like a bucket of ice water.

Erase your epiphanies after incinerating this.

His hand reached for the divine knife, safely tucked into his boot; he caressed its hilt with his right hand. No tingling, no sense of mana, it was empty. It was empty because he’d used it, made himself forget.

“You know, I think I’m going to take a walk,” Liam declared, taking a bite out of a piece of bread and reaching for his meal. “Say, could you tell Imani to wait? I don’t think I’ll be out for long, I just need to clear my thoughts a bit.”

“Certainly, sir.” Grauch betrayed no outward sign of having noticed Liam’s tension, but it would’ve been impossible to miss.

Because right about now he wanted to make a run for it.

Ignore the holes.

They were under attack, and their enemy was either confirmed to have mind-readers, or it was very likely to be the case. Both were Thalgrim's favorite, and if Liam’s fate was nonexistent, then it was one of her best information-gathering options short of sending an aspect. The longer he remained aware of this fact, the likelier it would be that they could catch on that they were doing something.

A shadow.

It was one thing to send aspects, but if Maridah was in the city… a city with three temples. Liam hurried his steps. Maybe Thalgrim wouldn’t make a move out of concern of getting other deities to realize something was going on. But if either the Sentinel or the Warrior noticed her presence here… he didn’t want to imagine what might unfold, not least of which because Doeta would become collateral.

Trust the scheme.

But… did the plan account for Aisha?

Or was she caught in the crossfire?

“Shit.”

--

[053] (special)

Aisha al-Hakim didn’t storm into the temple of the Weaver; to call it such would have been both an exaggeration and an understatement. No, the Amil of Doeta strode into the building at the crack of dawn, right as the procession had left, taking steps with the certainty of someone who owned the building. The storm was in her wake, as priests attempting to stop her were engaged by scribes and guards, with discussions breaking out loudly and quickly dying into impotent whimpers.

“The temple is not open for visits,” they said.

“The elder and most of our brethren are in the procession,” they'd added.

Yet, the scribes would show paperwork bearing the seal of the Emir and that of the Amil.

Those blessed by the Weaver might have high standing within the city, but they all hissed and cowered before the parchment as if its very existence were blasphemous. For all the gifts Gods gave to their most fervent followers, none of their blessings could save them from the greatest cardinal sin: unpaid taxes.

They took immediate reprieve on a singular fact, that the parchment was not addressed to “whomever it may concern,” but rather pinpointed the target of this incursion into their place of worship. It was a singular target, one who’d never left the boundaries of the temple out of a belief that the stone walls would protect them.

Today was the day that the tax-woman had come to collect.

Seeing the force of her entrance, and fearing to become the next victim, the priests and devout happily guided her steps towards the library. Their anger turned into morbid curiosity at the fate of the recluse who’d rarely bothered to participate in prayer, too preoccupied with the contents of ancient books and crumbling parchment.

Aisha’s boots marched down the stone stairs with finality, following the meek katib apprentice as he held a piece of glowing rust-moss over his head. The boy had tried to speak of the history of the building, but his words had died in his throat with one look.

Not that he could’ve told Aisha anything she did not already know.

She’d been a katib herself, once, in the temple of the Merchant. It had been there where she’d learned her scriptures and where she’d become proficient with coin. The temple in the capital had been far grander than this structure, but the fundamentals were much the same.

The temple of the Weaver was larger underground than it was above it, as was the habit for most temples. It was built with stone and stainless steel, wondrous metal that it was. The insides were enchanted, reinforced every decade at the hand of a high priest from abroad. The structure itself was made to last millennia, and the temple of the Weaver was as old as Doeta itself, the only changes to the structure throughout its long life being minor expansions above ground.

The temple library was barely worth note for something this old within such a small city. Roughly two hundred rows of enchanted shelves, each of them containing magics to preserve their contents, as well as protect them from both fire and moss. The glow of the mana made it painfully clear how much tax-exempt aether the temple bought to maintain its pools of wisdom. Still, the contents of the library were just passable in size, enough to justify requiring multiple people whose sole job was to memorize every inch of it.

One of whom she was about to meet.

“Hafiz Riaz should not be too far now,” the katib promised, hurrying his steps once he felt Aisha’s cold stare against the back of his head.

Just as he said, a dim light in the far corner brought their attention, a wrinkled figure hunched over a desk, rust-moss his sole source of light as he leisurely scribbled with ink-stained fingers on a piece of parchment, muttering under his breath.

“Hafiz Riaz, you have a guest,” the boy said, bowing slightly.

“Tell them they can leave me a letter, I will-”

“She is here, Hafiz Riaz. The Amil is here.”

Aisha didn’t grin, but she very much enjoyed the way the old volar shuddered at the mention of her title. Pale scales that had not seen sunlight in years shifted, and milky eyes turned to look her way. Horror followed; as impossible as it might have been, the scales on the volar man’s face paled. Aisha imagined he would’ve gone chalk white were he human.

“You may leave, boy,” she dismissed the katib, waiting for the sound of the closing door before she stepped closer to Riaz.

“Y-you cannot do anything to me, not on holy grounds!” he hastily declared, eyes darting around in search of the guards he feared were sure to come and pick him up.

“What you owe would see someone of a lower station executed,” Aisha declared coldly, suppressing the smile as every syllable made him flinch. A sentencing, a nail in his coffin. “Hiding here protected you, but only because coming to collect was not worth the effort.” Her voice dripped with contempt, not an ounce of sympathy to be found within.

The purpose of her words was clear and simple: she had use for him.

“Is this why you came to my home? To thre-”

The flare of bravado died when Aisha loomed closer, putting down a singular piece of parchment on the table. His eyes flickered down at it, hesitant. “You have until noon,” she whispered the words with cold venom.

Picking up the piece of parchment with shaking hands, Riaz looked over the contents of the information she sought him to deliver.

“Y-yes, this can be done,” he quickly said.

On the face of it, there was nothing illegal about the request, as it merely required him to create summaries of that which the library contained about demons and the nature of their corruption. But to ask through normal channels would take time, and likely result in nosy elders seeking to sanitize the contents of the result. It was time she did not have, and meddling she would not tolerate.

“Yes, what?” she growled.

“Yes, my Amil,” he whimpered.

Aisha looked down on the man and turned to leave.

One temple down, two to go.

---

After the spar with Liam, Imani Sharpclaw had been left caught up in her own thoughts. So much had spiraled out of control after she’d been rescued by the human, twice in quick succession.

During the short few days coming to Doeta, the leonid had taken every opportunity to observe the human closely. To try and understand him… and more importantly, what he meant to the demon that had remained perched on his shoulder or lap at every hour of the day.

The answer hadn’t come to her until she’d remembered one of the very first clients she’d worked for as a mercenary. It was a decrepit old dwarf merchant who traveled with his every worldly possession, moving from city to city in search of something profitable to take to the next destination. The man had hired Imani as he was seeking to traverse the Sharp-Stone Isthmus, a place often frequented by lesser monsters.

Out of everything the dwarf had owned, there was one thing that he’d loved above all others: his pet brown fox. The dwarf cared for the animal like a pampered child, hand-feeding it treats, laughing whenever the fox barked, crying when it got hurt. It was a relationship Imani had not understood, and still didn’t. Had they stumbled into trouble, she would’ve thrown the furry brown thing at a monster if it meant buying the man time to escape.

Imani remembered the fury the dwarf had shown when she’d shared her thoughts on the matter. She’d since learned to keep her opinions about pets to herself, but watching Liam and the demon disguised as a rabbit, it had become increasingly clear that this was very much the exact situation.

Liam was the demon’s pet human.

It made things terrifyingly precarious.

Demons were worse than monsters, having all the power, but also being wickedly cunning. She’d seen their cruelty with her very eyes, lesser tribes that were not wiped out overnight, but that were slowly destroyed, one mortal at a time, with only the last survivor escaping to spread the story. To warn the other tribes of what awaited them if they did not submit to the demon’s authority.

So, in Imani’s mind, the only thing that could be more terrifying than a demon was a demon that possessed the same irrational concerns that a pet-owner did. And the black rabbit had very specifically ordered her to protect him in case the Amil broke hospitality.

Every moment felt like she was walking on the edge of a scimitar. The Amil might not be the ruler of the city, but she was powerful, and powerful people could make some random foreign mercenary disappear without consequences. It meant Imani couldn’t just trap Liam in his room and expect things to go well for her.

The mercenary played her role carefully, dutifully, and strictly. She did not sleep nor eat while within the Amil’s estate; she watched. It was only when Liam left for the city that the leonid would relax, taking to the quieter parts of the city to catch some sleep. She’d told the human she was recruiting folk, but the truth was that seeking people willing to give labor for coin would be far better after the celebration.

People weren’t going to look for work while being merry and dancing on the street; that was something for when they woke hungry, with a half-empty purse, and a gambling debt looming overhead.

Imani growled at herself, checking the sharpness of her blades for what felt like the thirtieth time in two days. The human had left, but only briefly, claiming a prompt return. It was… irritating; it would be a long day ahead if Liam chose to just stay in the manor.

Maybe another spar could help her relax.

The man flailed around like a suffocating fish; there was not a shred of technique or skill in his movements. It was only marginally almost bearable to watch when he had a chance to think, which was thrice-over the reason Imani had not let him do that. Despite the mess, and the fact that any cub in her tribe would have been able to kill him in their sleep, he had still managed to land blows on her. Five in total, each one of them borne out of some unexpected change in how he attacked.

It had left Imani with the gut feeling that he wasn’t a completely lost cause despite his age. Though it did make her wonder if, perhaps, those tiny flashes of insight and adaptability were the reason why the demons had taken him as a pet.

She quickly tossed the thought away. The very idea of a demon capable of pity or compassion was one she dared not indulge.

Imani’s meditation came to an end when she heard a commotion at the gate of the estate. Fully expecting this to be pertaining to her charge, she sheathed her blade and put on her uncomfortable leather boots. They had stretched a little since that morning and could certainly do with some more fitting now that she had dampened them properly.

The clumsy crunch of sand signaled the arrival of the human, accompanied by the draxani.

Bundling up her gear, she stepped out of the baths, approaching Liam as he walked towards the guest quarters. She slowed down, though, when she noticed that the draxani servant appeared mildly uncomfortable, stiff. The two rounded the main road into the area, and Liam was… off.

“You may leave now,”

“At once, sir.” The draxani quickly bowed and hastily walked off.

Imani looked at Liam and felt none of the usual mild wonderment he always gave off, and certainly none of the warmth. The man’s demeanor had not changed, his posture, his steps, his voice, everything was exactly as it had been before, yet there was something about him that was… detached, cold.

Her hand reached for the pommel of her blade.

“You are sharp.” The human moved closer, switching from Caliphate-common to Imani’s mother tongue. “Had you not been able to sense at least this much, I don’t think I would have allowed Liam to keep you around.” For a fraction of a second, his voice shifted to something imposing, dominating, impossible to ignore or disobey. His eyes vanished, replaced by holes filled with blackness.

Then he returned to his cold self.

“Whisperer.” Imani descended to her knees without a second thought, her head bowed until it touched the ground, cold sweat breaking out. She would have thrown her blade away if it were not firmly sheathed at her hip.

“Now now, no need for formalities.” He chuckled.

“I wouldn’t dare presume.” She swallowed.

“Raise your head, little cat.” The Whisperer spoke, a single digit caressing Imani’s chin, pulling her up to her full height.

Even when she towered above the demon wearing Liam’s skin, Imani felt insignificant. “Is… he…?”

“I merely took his appearance,” the Whisperer commented idly, an amused smile crossing his lips. “Now that your fate has fully eroded, I have a need for your services.” The smile turned into a grin. “Of course, you will be compensated accordingly, after you fulfill this task.”

Imani nodded hesitantly, bowing.

She’d say she didn’t have much option, but the reality was that becoming a mercenary had been her choice. In the end, she was merely working for the highest bidder. And though demons were many things—cruel, vindictive, cunning, and dangerous—in Imani’s experience, they were far more generous.

After all, if you prayed to a demon, they answered.

---

Bunny sat on the rope that held one of the watchtowers aloft over the city, her current form that of a small bird. The aspect could've easily spotted the procession, but she was focused on a human woman with a green turban and dark skin.

The Amil of Doeta marched around the city with an obsessive determination Bunny hadn’t even seen in ants. The aspect loathed watching the mortal, hated how her aura shimmered with that touch of Liam’s own. It was like watching a pig that had been given fine clothes and left loose in a mud pit.

Her feathers rustled at the thought.

She’d spent every waking moment with him, at his side, day and night, keeping him safe, keeping him company. And for what? For his affections to go to the first female of his species he stumbled upon? He wasn’t even planning to stay human! What was the point of taking in a mortal lover if they were going to eat dirt in less than a century?

If he’d just picked someone worthy, Bunny wouldn’t have thought to complain. Maybe a sultana, or if he’d stolen a high-priestess from some of the uppity assholes, Bunny would’ve even been willing to accept a sixth-circle mage. Those would’ve been fitting bed-warmers, maybe even proper servants.

But no.

It had to be a dumb, coin-obsessed pig.

“Ooh, look at me, I’m a fourth-circle mage!” Bunny mocked in tweets, hopping back and forth on the rope, claws scratching at the enchanted fabric. “Watch me as I spend my day writing numbers about how large my useless pile of gold is!” Grumbling, she glared down at her. “I bet the only thing the cow is good at is laying on her big butt and letting others do the work. She can’t even vibrate!”

The self-tweet-based muttering continued for a good minute. She regretted not being able to perfectly mimic biological functions like Wolf could; otherwise, she would’ve taken the liberty of dropping a smelly present on the mortal’s head.

Bunny’s musings over whether dropping a brick on her would be an equivalently good idea were brought to an end when Origin told her to go spend some time with Liam. The Goddess had sensed him use the divine knife, and now it was Bunny’s job to keep him from poking at the holes.

Normally it was annoying how mortals couldn’t help themselves from thinking or feeling things, but in this instance, Bunny was more than happy to help.

A good way to end the day when she was going to have to go about the city making sure none of the bets were getting screwed with. Wolf had found a few of the contestants wore enchanted communication jewels, meaning it was now Bunny’s business to hunt down the mortals on the other end and take their toys from them.

--

[054]

Once upon a time, Liam had visited a carnival in a small town. It involved all the stereotypical things: overpriced deep-fried everything, cheap and squeaky rides, carnie games meant to separate you from your money under false hopes of big plushies, and it even had its own roving theater. Most of the shows were music in some shape or form, with a couple of clowns doing physical comedy and a handful of mildly impressive stunts.

Doeta’s musicians and acrobats gave more or less the same kind of vibes, just switched up to something that wouldn’t have been out of place in a Renaissance fair. Liam was vaguely aware that the various artists were trying to impress, and most of the crowd felt wowed, but to him, it felt… eh.

His home world had been spoiled for choice when it came to entertainment of the daring variety. Gymnasts and magicians could purchase far more expensive and specialized gear. Stunts could be practiced in safer environments, with better-equipped medics just one call away if something did go wrong. By contrast, in this world, there existed magic and enchanted tools, but most everything was so monumentally unaffordable to the common citizen that they might as well be myths.

All of this combined into a singular truth, that the most “intense” thing to happen upon any of the three stages Liam visited that day was when one of them threw a fistful of flour into an open flame to make a small fireball.

By contrast, the music was a better source of amusement, though here too there was a bit too easy to feel spoiled. Another point for the homeworld, with playlists several hundred songs in length, all the variety in the world at the click of a button. By contrast, here there would be two, maybe three, musicians beating drums and flute to a rhythm. And though the tunes were decent, microphones and speakers would’ve made it actually possible to listen to them.

Or maybe everything interesting was happening near and around the procession. In which case it might as well not be happening at all.

Maybe he was just having an intense case of first-world problems; he certainly missed having internet access.

In the end, the shows were more enjoyable for the ambiance than anything else. The people laughing and dancing, the children trying to copy them, the mostly awkward teenagers milling about working up the nerve to ask someone else to dance… It was a hundred tiny stories unfolding, each contained within their own little pieces of the world.

Calm.

Nice.

The juice was the true MVP of the event, keeping his focus on the here and now rather than on the guy singing songs weaved with jokes that flew over Liam’s head. Something about fishing and shellfish and lonely time out when the waters are calm? He suspected they’d been making puns, but the translation was not able to get it through.

Liam felt as if he was forgetting something important.

“You look bored,” Bunny whispered into his ear.

He held back from visibly flinching. “Must you sneak up on me every time?” He asked, glancing over at Bunny’s

‘human’ form as she cheekily grinned at him.

“You would’ve noticed if you weren’t so distracted,” she grabbed his arm. “Come on, there’s not much day left, and if you’re going to do nothing, then you might as well do nothing with your best friend in the world.”

“In this world,” he emphasized.

Bunny stuck her tongue out at him. “We’ll see who ranks highest when all is said and done.”

Tomorrow. He blinked at the word as they walked down the street. “Aisha, the Amil, is important to me.” Why had he said that? But now that he had, he felt it was the right course of action. “I thought I might tell you first.”

The aspect visibly twitched. “As your bestest friend, my opinion on the matter is that you can do better than her.”

“Maybe, maybe she can do better than me,” he shrugged. “Just thought to let you know, and hoping you'd tell the others since I can’t.”

“When you say ‘important’, how much are we talking?” Bunny asked hesitantly. “Is this just some random fun, or are you looking to start a lineage?”

“It’s definitely very premature to ask that,” he laughed, poking at her shoulder and drawing an annoyed sound out of the aspect. “For all I know, this could just keep going until we find out we’re incompatible in some important way.”

“That can be arranged.”

“What?” he asked.

“What?”

Bunny looked at him with an innocent smile hiding devilish intentions. Liam flicked her nose, watching her fluster and pout as she turned to look away. “Don’t make me invent spray bottles.”

“All I’m saying is that maybe you should satisfy your mortal urges before you let your hormones do the thinking for you. Don’t just jump at the twelfth pretty face to look your way with fun intentions.”

“Twelfth?”

“You’re exotic and walked around a packed city. Someone was bound to notice sooner or later. I noticed their noticing,” Bunny took a step away from him, keeping out of his reach. “All I’m saying is that I can be your sniffing-Bunny. With me at your side, we can find you some pretty thing that also happens to get hot every time she sees a bucket of goat milk. Then it’s just a sweet word here, a wink there and BAM! Your head’s all cleared up and you realize you were just pent up!”

“Keep it up and I am going to demote you.”

“Pshhh, you’d need other friends to be able to demote me,” Bunny waved him off.

“Grauch could take the spot.” He didn’t intend to sound hurt, but it came out that way.

“The servant lizard!?” Wide-eyed and indignant, she punched his shoulder hard enough to nearly make him trip and spill his juice cup. “You take that back.”

“Ow, ok, ok,” he rubbed his shoulder, relenting at the sudden seriousness in her eyes. “But he is a great dude overall.”

Bunny looked at him tentatively and pouted. “He’s a servant; he can’t really be anything other than nice.”

“And that’s not your situation?”

“Totally different,” she quickly countered. “Being your best friend is useful to Origin. You having an invested personal attachment to her goals and wellbeing is considered a boon in her books. I won’t deny that.”

“But?” he prompted.

“There is no ‘but’, Liam, other than mine,” Bunny answered with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “A servant is forced to be nice out of fear of punishment. I am nice to you because I want to be nice; that doesn’t mean I won’t tell you that I’ve seen malnourished trees sturdier than you. Because I have.”

“Mhm,” he gave her an unamused look. “And you want to be nice because it’s useful, and as an aspect, you want to be useful.”

“Unlike you mortals, I was made with a purpose, and I want to fulfill it,” Bunny huffed. “I want to be useful… to a certain degree at least.” She rolled her eyes, spinning on the next step. “I could be a lot more useful and nicer, buuuuut you don’t want that.”

Liam’s smile became a little brittle at her proclamation; it wasn’t a surprise, just not exactly pleasant. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little vindictive. “And what happens if being my friend is no longer useful to Origin? What if she deigned I’m not worth it?”

“Well, of course, I’d-” Bunny froze mid-step. There was a brief moment of panic as she looked at him. “I-” Swallowing hard, she reached out to grab his hand, squeezing it. “I won’t… I-” she whispered so softly he almost missed it, voice faltering.

“Ok, that was a little mean of me,” he patted her turban. “You know what? I’ll tell you another of those big secrets as compensation. But it’ll have to be away from prying ears.”

She immediately lit up with a million-watt smile. “I know just the spot.”

---

Getting out of Doeta was easy enough, though Liam noted that the guards appeared reluctant to let him through. Perhaps it was because he was carrying the Amil’s token, or maybe it was something else. Whatever the case, they didn’t push the subject and let him through when a small group of fishermen marched straight out.

Bunny made an offhand comment about a cow being jealous but didn’t elaborate on what she meant by that.

Doeta’s port was anemic; clearly, the city wasn’t a bustling center of trade. The beak-engulfed city had a small cobblestone road, half a mile long, leading down to what could be argued to be a fort. All the stone and hand labor the citizens had saved on walls for the city had been spent in creating a large block of rocks in the rough shape of a squat castle.

This castle was built around a "bite" of water, where Liam could only spot two ships and dozens of tiny personal-use boats. There was barely any activity, with just a few lights moving back and forth as the day approached its end.

Bunny did not bring him toward the fort but instead curved down the slope away from it, towards an odd rock formation that had a west-facing cliff. The orange sky reflected on the lake, creating an odd shimmer that left Liam covering his eyes to avoid getting blinded. "I guess I did need extra vitamin D," he muttered under his breath, feeling the warm wind and biting sunlight.

"It’s not too far, and I can guarantee it's a safe spot; just don’t ask me how or why," she said, pulling him away from the cobblestone road, leading him with a bit more enthusiasm.

Looking at the formation, Liam tried to make sense of it. At first, it looked like just any other conglomeration of rocks, but as he watched closer, he noticed how the stone had a very peculiar look about it, as if... "This thing came out during the fight with the giant worm!" It was a rock, just a rock, but one that had been part of the soil, with its many layers. Except that rather than follow the layering pattern of everything around it, it was sticking out vertically.

As if it had been dug out and dropped by something gigantic. The rock formation was large enough to fit a shopping mall in it. Liam stared in awe, wondering how much larger it had been before the millions of years' worth of erosion. It gave him a shiver, just trying to think of the scale of the battles deities could get themselves into. He could throw numbers all day, but nothing compared to standing next to a literal chunk of debris left behind from such a cataclysmic encounter.

Bunny gave him a minute before poking his ribs.

“You promised a secret.”

Liam’s eyes had not left the rock, caressing it, feeling the rough surface, barely able to grasp the weight of the thing. “Ask away. I reserve the right to tell you I can’t or won’t answer, but think of me…” He gave her a cheeky grin. “Well, think of me as the creator of this world. What is the biggest question you can think of?”

“Look at you, pretending to be all high and mighty. You’re not the god of me!” Bunny poked him some more, rapidly tickling his ribs until he let out a snort. “But very well, I shall thus ask you about the greatest secret mortals have: death.”

“That one… hm. How much about death do you know? How much has Origin told you?”

“Wait, she knows?”

“Too many death-cults and necromancers work with secrets for her not to have a pretty good picture of what happens when a mortal dies,” he shrugged.

“Ugh. Fine.” Bunny crossed her arms dejectedly. “Give me the brief version, and I’ll ask something else.”

“The super brief version is that when mortals were first made, they weren’t quite that mortal. Their souls had been made out of chunks of God's body, so in a very vague way, they were aspects. Aspects that could reproduce without supervision,” he chuckled darkly. “Things didn't go well for the Gods of that Age, and when the next group showed up, they learned their lesson and worked to implement mortality, which was not easy. It took several attempts to change the mortals enough for the concept to take hold, but true resurrection was discovered an Age or so later, which wasn’t appreciated when some of the God-defying heroes could just come back over and over. So they built the Infinite Vault, which is where all mortal souls end up,” he shrugged. “Then the Librarian was left in charge, and they’re basically the oldest entity in this world since no one’s been able to take the title from them ever since.”

“And Origin knows them?”

“She knows of them,” he nodded along. “For anyone alive, God or mortal, to get to the Infinite Vault, you need permission from the Librarian. Which they do not like to do, since every time they’ve let someone in, something went down.”

Bunny perked up. “Oh! I think I know what to ask. What happens in the Infinite Vault?”

“If you catch the Librarian’s attention on the way in, you become a Keeper and help protect and maintain the place,” he answered. “If not, you just spend most of your time asleep. Souls are not where most of the consciousness emerges from; without a body, you’re mostly a bundle of memories without direction…” His gaze trailed to a blotch of soot on his left palm, one in the shape of an arrow pointing at his forearm. “Hm?”

He’d been about to pull the sleeve up, but Bunny’s hand clamped down on the cloth, her grip tight.

“Bunny?”

“I need you to trust in us, Liam,” she spoke emphatically, squeezing. “This is really important. You have to trust me on this.”

“But-”

“I know that when you trusted Origin, things didn’t turn out too well; she broke that trust.” Slowly, she let go, amber eyes regarding him carefully. “I’m asking you to trust in me, as your friend. I swear it on everything that I am.”

A creeping feeling rose up his spine. “And… bad things happen if I don’t.” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, feeling like he’d been hit by a wave of nausea. “I’ve erased my memories, haven’t I? Repeatedly.” Because he couldn’t run around with the awareness that they were planning something. Every second spent with that knowledge was a moment risking some stray thought making it out to someone with telepathy or some other means of special perception.

“You told us about the Weaver, how she operates, who she is,” Bunny leaned closer. “Of her design.”

“Shit.” He pawed at his face, closing his eyes. “Then you know…”

“That she is an imagined ideal you’d conjured up when you were at your most toxic,” Bunny sat down, crossing her legs, carefully putting her hands on her knees. “I’m not going to forcefully erase your memories about this exchange, Liam. But if you can’t trust us, trust me, then it’s better if we make a run for it while we still can.”

“When is everything going to go down?”

“I don’t know, and even if I did, I couldn’t tell you. Not knowing is the only way we win this. We need to be genuinely caught by surprise; we can’t fake that, not to a God. Only Origin could fake it, which is why only Origin knows the details.”

“Because if the Weaver doesn’t feel like she’s in control, she’ll cut her losses and wait for a better opportunity,” he stomped his foot down. “At least tell me Aisha-”

“I’ll tell Origin you’ll be angry if she’s a target, but I can’t do much else. If we stay, if we proceed with the plan, we both need to forget this exchange happened,” she gave him an apologetic smile. “

There’s no middle-ground. We can’t do this without your trust. Either we stay or we go.”

Liam’s gaze lingered on his covered sleeve, scowling at it. “Tell Origin that this sort of plan isn’t going to work out next time. Once I know we’ve tried it once-”

“She knows.”

“And I really need something to block out telepaths-”

“She knows.”

“And-”

“Liam.”

“At least…” Liam gritted his teeth. “At least ask Origin, I need to know. Was me and Aisha… planned? Did I know about her, or…?”

Closing her eyes, Bunny let out a begrudging sigh. “Fine, give me a moment.” There was a slight wiggle in her turban before she looked up at him again. “She says that you knew Aisha existed because she was a footnote in the collector’s background, but not much else. There was no plan for both of you to…” Bunny grimaced, as if tasting a bug. “...hit it off.” With a grumble, she petulantly crossed her arms. “That’s it, no more. Time to choose.”

Swallowing, he closed his eyes. “A leap of faith, right?” he muttered, reaching to his boot and pulling out the knife. “I’m really not suited for this sort of plan.”

“We know. You’ve been intentionally leaving the knife empty as a way to give yourself hints,” Bunny muttered in irritation, pulling out a marble of aether and handing it over. “Now come on, we both need to erase this exchange, hopefully it’s the last slip-up. If you think it’s hard dealing with memory loss, imagine it for someone who can’t forget. I can see the holes, and I’d rather keep them at a minimum.”

She rubbed her finger against his left palm, erasing the soot arrow; a tingle in his arm warned him she’d likely done the same with the rest of whatever he’d left there.

“That makes two of us.” With a flicker of thought, and using the sunlight upon the blade, Liam braced, focusing on deleting everything since discovering the arrow of soot.

A flash of light as he sheathed the knife again, and a sense of release washed over him. Liam’s thoughts muddled, and he blinked as he regained his focus, staring up at the orange clouds.

“I said you still owe me an answer,” Bunny said, cuddled into a rabbit form upon his chest. “It doesn’t count if Origin already knows.”

It took a moment for him to regain his train of thought, a momentary slip as he wondered how long they’d lain there looking up at the sky. But as he did, his gaze caught a singular red star, bright enough to shine even though the sun had yet to fully set. His lips curled into a smirk.

“This one is a secret only one other person knows about.” He raised his finger, pointing at the red star, as he chuckled. “The aether meteor is a god. A very angry and very old god. Old and powerful, so much so that the current pantheon will be impotent, entirely unable to stop or even deflect it.”

“No way!” The aspect excitedly vibrated on his chest, gazing up at the red twinkle far overhead. “Wait, you created him as a way to kill the Weaver, didn’t you?”

“It gets the ball rolling in that direction, so to speak,” he chuckled, though his smile became brittle. “Because one of the best ways to counter someone with control over the coin-toss is to smack them with some lightning.”

They shared a laugh, even as Liam’s mind dwelt on Thalgrim. On the kind of person he’d been when he’d written her into existence, the unconscious self-loathing and insecurities that to this day still gnawed at him. The two of them spent the following hours just talking about nothing, watching as night fell and all the other stars twinkled into existence.

“Time to go,” Bunny called out once a chill had settled in.

Neither of them moved. Some part of Liam didn’t want to go, a trepidation clung to him, as if something terrifying awaited if he left the safety of the rocks. Yet he could not bring himself to stretch his time there either.

The aspect walked him to the estate through dark streets, saying her goodbyes before vanishing into the city. Liam was greeted by weary guards, too late for even Grouch to come and guide him to the guest quarters.

Even Imani was nowhere to be seen, most likely having retreated to her own room.

Quietly he washed himself, and though he couldn’t shake off the anxiousness gripping him, eventually he grew too tired and fell asleep.

---

AN: And here... we... go...

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