Aetherfall (46-47-48)

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AN: Surprise! Managed to squeeze them through.

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[046]

Liam possessed only a handful of memorable experiences from his time doing office work. At a ripe and fresh thirty-odd years of life, he had a little over a decade's worth of time spent in that space with off-white cubicle walls, buzzing office lights, and the clicking sound of keyboards from computers twenty years past their expiration date. Yet out of the muck of flavorless hours wasted within a dozen different equally bland companies, Liam distinctly remembered the day when Gabrielle Green came to his little corner of Helheim.

Gabrielle Greene was the boss of the boss of the boss of Liam’s boss. She was a woman twenty years his senior and with the impetus of a scalpel. Cold, sharp, precise, and deadly. She could have served as a palliative against summer heat, a mere glare from her blue eyes chilling a room. When she spoke, you could be assured someone would suffer consequences. To the people on Liam’s level, she was a myth, a horror story you would share between hushed whispers.

And that day she’d visited him, specifically.

The meeting was brief; she told him exactly two things.

First, she congratulated him on the finance report he’d made during his free time. She praised his ability to spot how management had been misusing the department's resources, and she even pointed out that his reporting system would be integrated into every department moving forward.

The second was that he, and everyone in his department, were fired effective immediately.

Understanding what had transpired didn’t come to him until years later when he stumbled upon a picture of his old department head on a fishing trip with the now new CEO of the same company. After that, it was easy enough to connect the dots. His report had been a heavy blow to the department head, and the friends further up the ladder chose to respond by unleashing Greene on the problem.

Liam had come to the breakfast fully expecting Aisha al-Hakim to be some variation of Greene: a ruthlessly competent woman, one who’d been tasked to deal with him by someone further up the chain of command. After all, only the Vizier could appoint or fire an Amil, and the guy possessed several blessings from several deities, Thalgrim included among them, making him an easy in for many of the Gods to have an influential pawn within the politics of the Caliphate.

In short, he’d imagined that staying as a guest had been a “well done, good game”, and now the guillotine was coming his way.

What he got was… not that.

On one hand, Aisha al-Hakim was a charming woman around his age, if not maybe a couple of years his senior. She was smart, intensely so, and there was something about how her smile would dimple sometimes that made her almost disarming and easy to approach. On the other hand, there was an intensity to her gaze whenever she looked at the silver ring on his right hand, or the way she used silence as a way to draw the conversation out, it left him feeling off-balance and almost as if being interrogated.

The questions were sharp, and frequently aimed at subjects Liam was trying to not talk about for his own safety if nothing else. If anything, he suspected that the spell she cast, the one that left her with dimly glowing eyes, had been something intended to sniff secrets out and detect lies. He was walking on eggshells, and he couldn’t risk a slip-up where it might lead to suspicion.

Maybe this was what Wolf had meant with a hunt devoid of violence.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, but where did you come from? I’d thought that, with your complexion, you were perhaps from the Ice-Mountains, but the journey from there would’ve taken years.” She took a small bite from her fish, a well-spiced mackerel, with olive oil on top. “How could you have protected yourself from the sun so thoroughly during your travels?”

“I had a bit of a teleportation mishap.” Escaping soldiers of the Weaver’s church. “And there wasn’t much direct sunlight within the Twilight Jungle.” Rust-moss light didn’t tan due to a lack of UV. “But even so, I get burned easily, so I tend to stick to the shade whenever I can, otherwise I’m just flip-flopping between deathly pale and tomato red.”

Aisha laughed, a soft lilt. “You would’ve been quite popular within the diwan.”

“I can’t say I’m familiar with the term.”

"It is those near and around the sultan, not the harem, but those who aid in carrying out his will, while also ensuring the Caliphate runs smoothly." Another small bite of fish, letting out a bored sigh. "They are a whimsical bunch, but I’m sure someone as exotic as you would have garnered a fair share of favors." Her gaze traveled down his right shoulder to the silver ring. "Though I wouldn’t recommend staying there too long, as all things are prone to become entangled in politics."

Liam swallowed. She had meant the court, and he knew exactly how that situation would have turned out. The Caliphate was no stranger to slavery, and anyone in possession of traits that were a bit too alluring was at risk of meeting the business end of a branding tool. Worse still, the politics of the court were ruthless, and one preferred method of attacking your opponent was to damage their “exotic” property.

"And you were part of the court?" he asked, trying to potentially dig out some usable detail from her.

"I was fortunate enough to catch the Vizier’s eye during my time as a katib, that is, a scribe," she made a flourish with her right hand as if holding an invisible quill. "Your vocabulary is an odd one. Did you perhaps learn Caliphate-common at a temple?"

Liam relaxed a little with this new line of inquiry. "Why? Do I mispronounce some of the words?"

"Not technically, rather, it is of the older formal Caliphate-common. It is the sort of pronunciation among imams and sheikhs, that is, priests and temple elders," she gave a slight dimpled smile as she sipped at her tea. "I must admit that speaking to you in such a casual setting is disorienting to a degree. Part of me is half expecting a lecture about showing proper respect to someone carrying a divine blessing."

They shared a laugh, Liam’s more a half-hearted chuckle, as his gaze discreetly checked their surroundings. When his focus returned to her, he caught her eyes lingering on the silver ring.

He glanced at the machalite stones, not sensing anything amiss, wondering if maybe he had put it on the wrong finger. "Is there something wrong?" He was fairly sure he had followed the traditional customs, but now he wasn’t so sure.

Aisha’s dark skin took a barely perceptible darker hue as her eyes snapped up to his. "Nothing wrong," she spoke urgently, emerald eyes still glowing with faint traces of the spell she had cast at the beginning of their meal. "No, nothing wrong," she reiterated with a slight cough, taking a measured sip from her tea. "You said you weren’t a mage?"

"Unfortunately, I never had the chance to learn." He would have probably killed for the chance to have actual magic as a kid, but then again, so would everyone he had ever known.

"And you do now?" Aisha’s perfectly groomed brow rose slightly.

There was a brief moment of panic; he definitely did not want her finding out that he was practicing with a divine tool made by what she would call a demon. But at the same time, he couldn’t outright lie without risking whatever she had going from catching it. "Your skill at the craft is quite inspiring. I’d certainly hope to be able to make spells look like works of art like you do."

Aisha’s dark complexion made it near impossible for Liam to catch the blush, but he did notice a slight hitch in her voice. "I am only a second-circle mage; my spell-knots are not as grand as you make them out to be."

The proclamation nearly made him choke on the flatbread.

It was like finding the missing piece of the puzzle.

"You mastered a single high-ranking spell."

The typical way to gauge a mage’s capabilities was through how broad their knowledge was, knowledge that could not grow deeper without corresponding skill. But there were only two ways to broaden that knowledge: either learn new spell-knots from teachers or manuscripts, or experiment and find new ones on your own. The latter of the two was an incredibly expensive and dangerous endeavor.

The Amil had grown up as a scribe, embroiled in politics, with little time or reason to do more than merely take what she’d learned and refine it.

“What of it?” Aisha’s voice came brusquely, shooting him an icy glare.

“You mastered a high-ranking spell!” Liam leaned forward, grasping her hands tightly, a smile so wide his cheeks ached. “Don’t you see? Learning a spell and mastering it are two entirely different things. To master a spell of high complexity requires a level of skill only a fourth-circle mage could possess!” It was only when their eyes met, and he saw how close their faces were that he appeared to realize what he was doing, pulling away quickly. “Ah, excuse me.”

“W-Whatever for?” She pulled her teacup up to her lips to hide her flustered expression. “Your enthusiasm is… there is nothing wrong with it. Even if your claims are a tad exaggerated.”

Liam frowned. “You have the skill to become a fourth-circle mage, if not higher.” Even if he lacked the knowledge to be sure, an aspect of a literal multi-billion-year-old deity had confirmed it.

“Perhaps a matter to consider another time.” Aisha deflected, taking a very long gulp from her tea and avoiding eye contact. “If… if it is not too bold of me to ask, what would your goals be by any chance? What will Liam do once his business in Doeta is finished?”

“Oh, uhm…” He scratched his cheek, quietly cataloging what she would undoubtedly become aware of through her own contacts. “A friend of mine confirmed that Nuremo fell to a monster attack and the city’s basically empty, so I was thinking of gathering as large a labor force as I could get away with and head over.”

Aisha hesitated. “The monster has yet to be dealt with.”

“I’m not interested in fighting the monster.” Apparently, the news of its ‘defeat’ had yet to spread, which meant they still had a first-mover advantage once they got there. Hopefully, it’d be enough to strong-arm others into staying away. “We’ll wait if we have to, but the goal is to start repairs and secure the place.” He shrugged. “My friend has hopes that once everything settles, titles start getting thrown around.”

She perked up a little. “Nuremo is not too far from Doeta,” she claimed thoughtfully, glancing at him from over the lip of her cup before taking a long sip. “But you haven’t spoken of your goals, only your friend’s.”

“This project is kind of a big deal, with lots of potential to go really well or horribly wrong,” he grinned a little. “My goals will mostly depend on whether they’ll be in a position to help me out or not.”

After all, there was no sense in asking Maridah to return the favor if she was under the pantheon’s boot.

“I see…” Aisha kept looking at him as if he were a puzzle, flickering back down to the ring. “And where would I fit into your plans?”

“Uhm…” He glanced at the ring, then up at her. “I… am not sure what you mean?”

The Amil paused, confusion apparent in her eyes as her hand reflexively reached out to the jade pendant that hung around her neck, a design that Liam immediately recognized as the same one Grauch had worn. The confusion turned to shock, eyes widening into what could only be horror.

“I am not-!” The words were choked out, stopping at an abrupt trill. Her eyes kept staring down at the ring and then up at his face. “I-I was informed I have important matters to attend to.”

She turned around and walked away in a rush.

Liam sat there, dumbfounded and staring in the general direction of her departure. He was left entirely uncertain about what had just happened. The words played back in a loop, stuck and entirely unable to escape.

A gentle cough startled him, and he saw Grauch emerge. “The Amil apologizes for her departure and expresses her desire that this not ruin your meal,” he spoke smoothly, bowing slightly. “She also wished for you to enjoy the festivities.”

“Thanks?” He kept staring at the platters with food in front of him.

Yeah, maybe he needed to clear his head a little too.

---

Aisha al-Hakim had stormed directly into her study, her abaya barely tight enough to keep her from making a full run for it. She slammed the door behind her, not bothering to order the servants to leave, for they had known to make a run for it the instant they had seen her approach.

The woman rushed to her desk and sat down.

She smoothed her hijab, the mantle on her shoulders, and then stared directly ahead.

Old habits rushed into place, her face became an embodiment of stoicism, her back straightened, and she became the image of self-control and poise. For but a moment, she was the Amil, the one who had ruled over the coin purses of every man, woman, and child in the city. She was a representative of the Vizier, her word was practically law, thus her every action was measured and calculated. Hers was the hand that could bring ruin or fortune to any she so pleased within this city.

The next moment, she was Aisha al-Hakim, the woman who had forgotten all about the subtle interrogation she was supposed to carry out because she had stupidly spent the whole meal quietly marveling at the swirls and stars hidden right under her guest's skin. Only to then remember at the last second, and humiliate herself by bungling up and leaving the man believing she was somehow insinuating a proposal!

Proposing! Her! When she had volunteered to become Amil of such a distant place to escape the nightmare of her family trying to marry her off.

The worst part was that she had no one but herself to blame. Her servant had used the pendant to warn her about the meaning of rings to the man's culture at the very start of the meal. Yet her gaze had been unable to escape the pull of the glowing art he wore on his arm; she had been so lost in the beauty of those swirls that she had needed to be reminded about it when her blunder hadn't clicked immediately.

It was the kind of mistake not even a fresh-eyed alim would have made.

Her forehead met the desk with a thud.

"What is wrong with me?" She groaned out for no one but herself to hear.

"Nothing is wrong with you."

The voice startled Aisha; she made to move but froze as her eyes fell upon the lone figure opposite her desk.

An image of herself, yet more. It was a copy of Aisha in the same way that a master copied their student's work and improved upon it. This woman was older, regal, adorned in gold and jewels befitting a sultana, possessing a presence that imposed itself upon the very air around her. Yet there was one thing that was not there; this image, seated across from Aisha, had white eyes that glowed with power.

"Nothing is wrong with you, Aisha al-Hakim, fateful encounters are always... memorable."

"Who are you?" She spoke, barely able to remain composed, her mind spinning as she wondered whether this was an attack or...

"You know who I am, Aisha, it was I who wove your escape from your father's obsessive clutches. I was the one that made the Vizier's gaze turn your way when a spot opened among his scribes."

Eyes widened, words choked, Aisha restrained her first impulse to throw herself down to her knees. "If you are who you claim you are..."

"'Trust but verify' is an adage older than the Caliphate, I will not fault you for questioning me." She made a dismissive gesture, as if throwing away some undesirable thing over to the side. "One of my high-priestesses has come to the city. She will be meeting with the followers of my temple by noon." The mirror Aisha leaned forward, placing a coin on the table. "Call upon her and give her this token; she will verify its origin, and my words."

She dared not touch the piece of silver, or even look upon it, instead focusing on the supposed deity.

"I..." Aisha hesitated.

"Fret not for formality, girl; if I cared for it, I would have not come to you in a moment of privacy." The Weaver's lips curled into the same stern line Aisha's mother used whenever there was a reason to scold her. "The man you met, Liam, is in grave danger. Two demons have been shadowing his every step since he left the Twilight Jungle, whispering promises into his ear. The calamity they serve seeks to sink roots into this city and corrupt it from within."

"Is Liam-"

"He is an unwitting accomplice, but under their influence all the same," the Weaver dismissed her concerns. "You must not act any differently than you already have. The demons are cowardly things and dare not expose their presence. They will keep their distance from him if you are nearby, but only if they feel that their ploy is not being unraveled." A scowl formed. "If they suspect anything amiss, he will be their first victim."

Aisha’s mind spun with implications and emotions she’d never thought she would have to battle. If this was truly the Weaver… no, she would verify. The problem presented to her was that she was the Amil; she had power over the economics of the city, not the military. If any of the books she’d read on the matter proved true, then just one demon could prove a calamity to the city as a whole, but two!? And they were chasing after Liam. Was-

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she met the Weaver’s gaze with a stern look. “What would you need of me?”

"There are illegal gambling establishments within the city; have them raided the day after tomorrow," the Goddess handed Aisha a list of locations, each of them was known to her. The reason those dens had remained standing was that tax-dodgers often used them, so it let her have a finger on the city’s pulse. "The only thing you will need to do afterwards is to bring that human to this room, and my priestess will cleanse him of corruption," the Goddess continued, lips twisting into a grin. "I will ensure the demons will be unable to find him when the time is right."

“I will inform the other temples as well.”

The Weaver stirred at Aisha’s words, hastily gesturing for her to silence. “Speak to no one of the details of this conversation save my high priestess, and only mention of my presence here to my priests." There was a moment of hesitation on the part of the Goddess as she stood up. "I’ve shared this with you, girl, because I trust you will be discreet." Her hand made an aggravated quick gesture. "Do this well, and I will see to it that you receive ample rewards."

She motioned at herself as if hinting at such a future before she vanished, leaving only the silver coin behind.

Aisha grit her teeth as she watched the spot the supposed deity had occupied, feeling a reminiscent wave of irritation. She had a few choice words she would’ve wished to speak, but dared not blaspheme when a god might still be listening. She would’ve also questioned why she wasn’t supposed to contact the other temples but knew better than to ignore the warning. It would not be the first time she was expected to follow strict instructions, though this time she wouldn’t be taking them to heart without at least getting a dozen priests from her temple to confirm this had indeed been the Weaver.

And… it wasn’t as if the command had been too outrageous. Just clean up some illegal gambling dens and get Liam to meet a high priest in private.

Aisha’s gaze fell on the “token” her uninvited guest had left behind.

The silver coin tinkled on her desk. It was like no coin she’d seen before, as its surface was intricately decorated with jewels smaller than grains of sand. The pattern depicted on the face of the coin was a web of intertwined knots with hundreds of crossings, a spell-knot of some sort, of a complexity far above anything Aisha had ever seen. The object almost seemed to vibrate with the power contained within, and though she felt tempted, she dared not look upon it through her divination spell.

Whatever was inside the coin felt dangerous in the same way a naked blade would be. A threat looming in wait for someone to use.

The Amil studiously turned to look away from the coin, covering it with a piece of silk cloth. Her mind turned back to the conversation, carefully going over every word, brows furrowed in concentration.

What had she meant with her encounter with Liam being a fated one? The question made her oddly more nervous than the prospect of having demons in her city. No, that should not be her concern right now. A cult was a threat to all, and as the Amil, she would protect Doeta.

As to Liam… he was her guest; as his host, she could not ignore his safety either.

She nodded with some reassurance, feeling that it was a far more reasonable explanation than the alternative she dared not think of.

-

[047]

The first thing Liam did when he finished breakfast was to get back to his quarters and prepare to head out for the day. The clothes he'd worn for the meal were a bit too fancy for walking around all over the place, especially since he had plans to enjoy the festivities to their fullest.

As he put everything together, he paused when he checked on the tiny marble of aether inside one of the secret pockets of his “improvised” armor. Had it shrunk? It wasn’t much, but it was enough for him to suspect he might have touched the little ball with his right hand, leaving his guests to suck up on the mana-rich meal.

Concerned this might have extended elsewhere, he used the aether-marble on his two divine tools to verify whether they were fully charged or not. The rope ignored the aether, not even taking a bite, but the knife gobbled from it until the amount of aether he had left halved. Liam was a bit startled at this; he could’ve sworn the first thing he’d done upon discovering the stash from the collector was to fill both divine tools to the brim. If both had needed refilling, then it would’ve made sense due to his right hand having messed things up. But only the knife had.

A trickle of paranoia wormed its way in. The knife was monumentally dangerous, and he’d made sure not to leave it out of sight, always within reach. Why had it been missing charges? His inability to recall why that might be was part of the reason for concern, mostly because the knife could’ve been used to erase the memory. But he still had the knife, and... there wasn’t much else he could do. Hopefully, this was just due to some sort of accidental activation or during some experimenting.

Putting the thought aside, he sheathed the knife into his boot and strapped its handle in so that it’d be impossible to fall off by accident. Then he tied the spell-knot rope around his waist under his pants, carefully making sure that even if it activated, it wouldn’t just rip him in half, and then put on his now-clean traveling gear.

Ready to go and roaring to get on with the festivities, he set out towards the gate.

Yet activity near the storage building caught his attention, and upon his approach, he saw Imani there. The leonid was in a training area of some sort, wielding a large stick and twirling it around as she smacked it against a wooden post. Her four feline paws danced back and forth as her human-ish half kept leaning forward and back, each twist and turn an attack or a dodge against an invisible opponent.

Her ear perked up and her head snapped, locking onto Liam with ferocious sharpness, freezing on the spot.

He stopped and took half a step back.

“Oh.” Imani lowered the staff, her face relaxing. “Are you leaving? Can I come?”

“Sure...?” Liam put up a friendly smile. “Are you alright?”

She didn’t answer, glancing down at the wooden weapon. “I’ll be back in a minute.” And immediately ran off, kicking dust in her wake as she rushed towards the guest quarters.

Much to Liam’s surprise, she’d been true to her word. Within nearly a minute she’d returned in an equally desperate sprint, drenched from head to paw and dripping all over the place as she hadn’t even bothered to change equipment, merely putting on two sheathed scimitars at her waist.

Noticing the desperate look in her eyes, he didn’t ask questions and only led the way out of the compound. It wasn’t until they’d made it a few blocks away that she took one very long look around and let out a long sigh. Imani slumped her shoulders and combed her dreadlocks back between her fingers as she stared up and muttered something under her breath.

“Are you alright?” Liam asked again, this time with some genuine concern.

“The air is dry, and I don’t mind it,” she said, squeezing some water out of her clothes.

“I meant in general. You seem… tense.”

Imani regarded him for a moment before shaking her head. “That place has more luxuries than my tribe could see within a lifetime.” She shook her head. “The scents are too strong, the pillows too soft, the water so pure, the food too full of sugar or spice, everything is too clean, and the servants too… servile.” The leonid visibly shuddered. “It feels like a honeytrap, waiting to close its jaws around you.”

“I…” Liam scratched his cheek awkwardly, sympathizing a little with her feelings of being overwhelmed. “Would you like to look for an alternative? We don’t need to stick together if you’re-”

“I can tolerate it,” she proclaimed firmly. “I was hired to be your bodyguard, and that place is…” Slowing down, she glanced around, lowering her voice. “It is dangerous for us.”

“Dangerous?”

“Because we… have the Guardian,” Imani spoke, giving him a very meaningful look.

Right, she was trying to convey their situation with Bunny. She was an aspect of a non-pantheonic deity, so for all intents and purposes, she would be seen as basically an enemy of the state… a status that would extend to them if they were found out.

Liam shrugged. “Well, my plans for the day are to eat everything that is tasty and have as much fun as I can. Neither of which lead back to the Amil’s place.”

“A crowd is… better, and the guardian might be nearer too,” Imani nodded, relaxing somewhat. “I will take this opportunity to seek out possible recruits.”

“You sure you don’t want to… and she’s gone.”

Liam’s shoulders slumped as she left; he’d wanted to see her let loose, but thus far the leonid appeared trapped between slightly-nervous and overly-nervous. Grumbling to himself, he made a mental note to forcefully put Imani on paid leave at some point. Maybe that way she’d finally take a breather… though as things were, she’d likely head off away from them during that time-out.

Grumbling to himself and promising he’d one day have a relaxed chat with a relaxed Imani, he set out to the first and most important part of the competition: the climbing. It had been the biggest feature of this whole thing, and apparently important enough that anyone who reached the top would get to meet the Emir in person (though the monetary compensation was based on the order).

So he asked around and got pointed at the district nearest the port, as apparently that was the side of the peak that was the most vertical.

Though the streets near the Amil’s place were relatively empty (seemingly kept that way by guards), everywhere else was packed to the gills. The scent of food was so pervasive it choked out the air, thick meats and vegetables getting cooked at every other stall. Every stall owner was either engaged in a haggling match with a customer or shouting for their wares to draw in new ones.

It was a beautiful, deafening cacophony to the senses, one that would’ve driven Liam mad if he were forced to live through it, but that right here and right now filled him to the brim with excitement. Every single stop had something to draw his eye, his ear, or his nose. He wasn’t hungry, yet every food stand left his mouth watering, calling him with a siren’s song promising a fuller belly.

He’d made sure to bring his own cup and utensils, tucked away in a pouch and waiting for their chance to shine.

The real stars of the show were the ice-cream food stands. There had to be no more than a dozen throughout the city, each of them sporting their own guards. The ice-cream would be freshly made, with the owner pouring a thin layer of juice on a super-cold sheet of copper and using spatulas to scrape and mix everything. The whole process looked like trying to chop a slushy that hardened into a frappe after about a minute.

Liam didn’t get a chance to get a close look at the metal they used, but he was fairly certain it was either enchanted or it had a very big block of ice directly underneath. Whatever the case, the crowd around the stands was packed, everyone practically throwing coins at the vendors just to get some of the tasty treat into their cups.

Making a quick mental note on the matter, he continued onwards.

It wasn’t hard to find the place; it was a plaza at the edge of the city, with the plaza itself wrapping around the inner edge of the smaller beak. It was there where a crowd had gathered, men and women of a wide range of races stood near the center of the plaza, right in the shade of the beak. Outside, there were many others, watching and milling about. Apparently the competition had not yet started, but it was on its way.

“You come for the competition too?”

A gruff voice startled him, and he turned to look at an orc. The guy was easily a meter taller than Liam, with a wiry body made of sinew, grayish-green skin, and small scars, copper-adorned tusks peeking out from his thick lower lip, and a face that was otherwise flatter than a brick wall.

“Mostly to see how far up I can get,” Liam cheerily confirmed, stepping into the open area of the plaza alongside the stranger. “Name’s Liam.”

“Wolf,” the orc growled out.

He gave Wolf a long look, trying to imagine how the aspect felt about this whole thing. “Green doesn’t suit you.”

“I agree, black is better,” she answered with a humorless chuckle, her gaze following the lip of the beak all the way up, uttering her words in one of the many obscure languages Liam had been taught by Maridah. “Is your hunt going well?”

“What hunt?”

“Ah,” Wolf chuckled darkly. “So you are the one being hunted.” She smirked at him before turning to look ahead. “I believe I will not be keeping your pace; it would be too slow.”

Though he agreed, he also felt himself bristle a little as he followed her gaze. The locals had set up checkpoints on the way up, wooden cabins fixed onto the beak itself rather than the ropes that hung from the inside of it. Each checkpoint was at the same height as the ropes, with the first one being a couple of dozen meters up, the second at a hundred, the third at three hundred, the fourth at six hundred, and the last at nearly over a kilometer.

“Yeah, I don’t think I can make it past the second checkpoint,” he doubted he’d make it that far in a climb that was this vertical. Hell, doing so in more inclined trees had left him completely wrecked.

“I recommend getting off at the first one regardless; the competition is fierce this year, lots of gold in the betting rooms,” the aspect-pretending-to-be-a-male-orc eyed him with amber eyes. “There are many bets on how many people will fall before the third checkpoint.”

He’d been about to ask what was significant about that particular detail, but they’d reached the throng of competitors and the guards had started hushing everyone. One of the guards, wearing a beak-like insignia on their turban, spoke up to the crowd teetering at the edge of the plaza. “If anyone else wishes to participate, this is your last chance to join and put your name down!”

Several more hurried along, at which point the guards started asking for names and giving each of them a number. They used paint to plaster the participant’s number on their shirts and backs. Liam gave his name and was given the number 187, while Wolf gave some weird guttural-sounding name and was given 188. The numbers were drawn in a glyph-like system that reminded Liam of Nordic runes.

All in all, there were around three hundred participants.

“Listen up! No pushing, no grappling, no dropping, no magic, no enchantments, and no flying!” the guard with the adorned turban declared, the final part being punctuated by his eyes fixating on the handful of winged people that were participating. “Each checkpoint is a place where you can rest for as long as you like, and from where you’ll be allowed to walk off. There is no shame in not reaching the top!”

His hand pointed upwards, whistling loudly. At the sound, someone on the second checkpoint leaned over the edge and released a bright red light. It was a flare of some kind.

“Free water and food on checkpoint two.” Another whistle, and checkpoint three released a green light. “Anyone who reaches checkpoint three gets a silver coin. Do not underestimate this; most competitors that reach checkpoint three do so by sundown. Anyone wishing to continue on to checkpoint four will be loaned one of these.” The guard pulled out a set of silver manacles. “They are enchanted to save your life if you fall down, but if you do fall down, you will be expected to pay the cost of recharging the enchantment, which will be twelve gold pieces. Steal it and that’ll be sixty.” When he spoke the amount, the crowd of participants shuddered. “If you fall without one of these, we might be able to catch you, but we also might miss. Whatever the case, at least make it amusing!”

His voice turned into an almost bark-like laugh, one echoed by the contestants. A great deal of the people near and around Liam were talking to one another in amicable laughs, a few of them retelling some of the gruesome fates of the people from last year. Liam grimaced at the thought of it, wondering whether the Emir’s people only gave the enchanted manacles after the third checkpoint merely because they didn’t have enough of them… or to keep the macabre accidents as part of the amusement.

Next to him, Wolf appeared solely focused on the wall they were meant to climb, opening and closing her hands.

Another whistle, and another flare lit up further up.

“Checkpoint four gives any contestant that makes it there a gold coin. And three gold coins if you reach checkpoint five.” Another long whistle, and this time a flare lit up at the very cusp of the smaller beak. “Make it to the top before the third sundown, and you will get a hundred gold coins. Make it up at all and you’ll get to meet the Emir!”

All around them, the crowd cheered, both the participants and the observers.

“Now get to it!”

And they were off.

In an orderly fashion.

The edge of the beak had several rows of steps and handholds carved into it, some being more worn than others. It had likely been the method used in the older years to more easily get to the top (at least when you didn’t have a mage to just fly you up, or wings).

Participants would gather into a line for each of the rows, no one looking willing or interested in using alternate paths. Clearly, this was going off of marathon rules, finishing the race would take too long for a first-to-climb advantage to matter much.

Right as it was their turn, Liam noticed the sharpness of the footholds, every hole looking freshly carved, with no sign of wear.

“Must be some pretty hard stuff.” He wondered idly whether the holes had been made by magic, and if the material from the beak was usable.

“A divine tool was used to make these,” Wolf commented as she poked at the handhold, testing her grip.

“Yeah, that would explain why I haven’t seen any buildings or soldiers sporting pieces of the beak. The stuff must be frustratingly hard to carve.” He mimicked Wolf, taking hold of the nearest hole and testing how comfortable it was to grasp.

A low rumbling sound echoed all around them, the ground shook, and the vibrations traveled up the beak, knocking down some dust from further up. It was gone as quickly as it came, barely a second, one where everyone had stopped, hesitating.

“Well, that’s not ominous at all,” Liam chuckled as he tentatively began to climb.

Wolf’s eyes narrowed as she watched him carefully.

-

[048]

Throughout his life, Liam had consistently categorized himself as definitely not an adrenaline junkie. Just looking at a clip of some crazy people doing acrobatics at the edge of a rooftop would make him change tabs to something else. There was just something about the possibility of that sheer drop that made his heart clench tight and made him feel woozy.

Something had changed since that time.

Liam was barely a few meters off the ground, and his heart was already pumping like a drum. There was just something about this climb that made his veins feel as if they were full of fire, something that hadn’t been present back in the jungle when he had been climbing those trees. Maybe it was that there was literally nothing between him and the ground, or perhaps that earlier shake had just primed him.

Even when he was perfectly aware his body would not hold out even to the halfway point, his gaze kept trailing the faint curve of the beak’s lip all the way to the top. The higher one went, the easier the climb would become as it would lose some of the steepness, but it was such a monumental way up that it was a rise that would take several days to pull off.

“Pace yourself, breathe,” Wolf’s voice came in softly, the large orcish hand pressing his back slightly. She had opted to stick around after that rumble, and Liam was very thankful for it. “The adrenaline is useful, but it will muddle your thoughts. Be wary of your footing, make sure it is placed correctly before trusting your weight on it.”

“Right, thanks,” he heaved a little; his fingers were shaking a bit.

She had chosen to stick to his side throughout the climb, though she didn’t explain why. Perhaps the shudder had made her nervous, it had certainly caused a fair share of the participants to opt not to participate.

“With your gut and your legs,” she continued the lesson, showing how she pushed her body up by keeping her hips close to the wall. “This wall leans slightly forward; you could climb it without using your hands if you had the technique. Do not lean away from the wall unless you want to tire your arms needlessly.”

Wolf made rock climbing look like it was effortless; she was practically crawling her way up the wall as she remained at his side while just about everyone else was moving past them. Liam still felt slightly disoriented over how her voice was this gruff and deep grumble, but she probably hated it even more than he ever could, so the comment was tucked away.

Their rise kept at a steady pace; there were several climbers that had remained mostly stuck beneath Liam and Wolf, clearly not too happy about being there and not rushing further ahead. Yet one look from Wolf was all it took to shut them up before they started anything.

“Take a rest.”

“I’m fine,” Liam commented a bit more brusquely than he’d intended.

“In climbing, you don’t rest when you’re tired; you rest so you last longer. This is not a sprint,” her stare was flat and unamused, yet her tone neutral.

Taking a deep breath, Liam nodded, slowing to a stop as he sought a comfortable way to lean into the wall. “Feels like we’ve barely moved,” his gaze kept looking up at the peak of the beak; the progress had been imperceptible, the angle not making it easy to spot the checkpoints.

“You may look down if you’d like to prove yourself wrong,” she chuckled darkly.

“I am not doing that,” he half-laughed, putting his hands back in place. “Ready to-”

Wolf’s hand shoved him against the wall and pinned him in place, and a split second later, everything began to shake violently. The tremors ran up Liam’s fingers and feet, threatening to shake him loose.

Shrieks erupted from above and below them.

Liam’s heart might have been pumping fast before, but now it was trying to stampede its way out of his ribcage. Confusion and cries for help broke out from amongst the participants.

Two voices were fast approaching from above, and Liam barely had the time to notice two shadows rushing past them, with the screams continuing all the way down until they came to a very abrupt halt.

The trembling stopped, but his heart didn’t slow down any, his jaw was shut so tightly that his ears were ringing.

“Breathe.” This time, Wolf’s voice came directly into his mind, bringing with it a soft breeze. “In and out, focus on your right arm, loosen it, I’ve got you. Loosen your arm and relax it. Once you move it back, do the same with your left.” She guided him through the motions, first his arms, then his legs. “Now open your eyes, and don’t look down.”

“I will permit fear to pass over me and through me.” With a slightly shaky grip, he looked up again, forcing his body to relax, even with his trembling grip.

“Just so,” she spoke with her male voice, the pressure of her hand against his back loosened, allowing him room to breathe and continue his way up.

“Not my words,” he said, chuckling slightly.

“Wisdom is wisdom, no matter where it comes from,” she glanced at him. “There is not much further until the first checkpoint.”

Indeed it was, and almost every contestant had chosen to get off there. The tiny wooden hut was nearly over capacity with everyone crammed shoulder to shoulder in their attempt to get down. The wood creaked and swayed, and the guards desperately tried to keep everyone from moving. The only way down aside from climbing your way down was a pulley elevator with only enough room for five people at a time, with each round trip taking several minutes.

“We wait here,” Wolf declared with a sternness to her voice as she stared at the hut with a critical eye.

As she said this, everything began to tremble again, and this time Liam had made the mistake of looking down. It wasn’t just some light shake; it was an earthquake all across the city, with dust falling off of buildings and some of them showing obvious cracks. Down at street level, people were screaming and running, and in one place, a fire had broken out.

Yet Liam caught sight of something else, of the gap in the beak narrowing ever so slightly. He would’ve thought it an illusion, a trick of his eyes, if not for how the ropes spanning the whole city of Doeta had visibly sagged a little.

And on the first checkpoint, the people were starting to panic, even as the guard tried to regain control. Until, either by intention or accident, he was shoved off. The uniformed volar’s limbs flailed wildly, but this time the people below were prepared. Two winged citizens took to the air, intercepting the man and turning his certain doom into a clumsy and painful crash.

“ENOUGH!” Wolf’s commanding voice rang out with the power of a bomb and the ferocity of a charging beast. It sent chills down Liam’s spine and froze the panicking people on the shack. “Let’s get you off of this, little man.”

Without asking for permission, she stepped onto the wooden house, pulling Liam with her.

And shoving him into the pulley elevator, which was basically a glorified large bucket with a tiny door. “Stay safe,” she commanded right as the elevator started to go down, returning to the wall to keep climbing.

There were others on the shack that looked like they might have wanted to complain, but one look from the orc kept them quiet. Liam’s hands were still shaking, gripping the bucket as he was lowered all the way back down to ground level. His steps out of the wooden elevator had a tremble to them, and his adrenaline was still running hot.

The beak had closed a tiny bit.

All around him, the city was in a strange half-panicked state; people were looking around with antsy energy, the children had very quickly hurried in search of their parents, while the guards were running around trying to address the tiny disaster that had just unfolded. Smoke rose towards the sky, bending and swirling as it caressed the inside of the beak; a few buildings had cracked, a few others had bits of them fall off, but by the looks of it, the destruction had not been cataclysmic by any degree.

Yet he could hear people whispering, some pointing up at the sky.

As the minutes bled by, eventually turning into an hour without a single tremble, the nerves began to die down, and the crowd began to tentatively return to a semblance of normality. The guards had stopped rushing everywhere and were now dealing with the opportunists who had sought to use the panic as a chance to steal something or another; the rest milled about, approaching older people to speak reassurances.

Two hours without a single rumble, and Liam opted to do the same, albeit now with a bit more wariness of what might be overhead. He was absolutely certain that this was the first time any of them had even imagined the possibility of the beak closing at a rate that could be observed within the span of seconds. And that was because there was no reason why the beak should have moved so abruptly.

Not unless the spell holding the monster in place had... flickered.

As if something had disrupted it, ever so slightly, ever so briefly.

"It... can't have been me... right?" He glanced at his own hands.

---

“It was Liam, wasn’t it?” Bunny asked, telepathically reaching out to her fellow aspect. She was far too amused to be really bothered about how a third of her betting pools had been ruined.

Too many mortals had chosen to quit, and many of them were people meant to cheat their way into a specific position in the race. All because of some little rumbling and a couple of dead mortals. As if a mortal dying was anything out of the ordinary! It was the one consistent thing they were good at!

Cowards, the lot of them.

Fortunately, though the blow was a bitter pill to swallow, it hadn’t been enough to ruin the whole project.

Boy, would the bitch-boss be PISSED if they lost all their gold.

“It was like a drop of acid touching a tree, burning a hole.” Wolf responded from the beak itself, as she continued to restrain herself and pretend she couldn’t just run her way to the top.

“Do you figure he could actually lift the curse and awaken the monster?” Her mental tone held an edge of concern in it. Having such a thing fully awakened would not be good news for anyone, but it would be especially bad news for them.

Because at that point, the pantheon would notice the calamity and descend in full force, and there was no way Origin would be able to hide quickly enough.

“It would take too long.” Wolf’s voice held a pondering edge to it. “Then again, the curse wouldn’t need to be fully lifted, just enough for the monster to be able to break it on its own. Maybe it would suffice if he spent a month hugging the thing.”

Bunny whistled in amusement. “You’re awfully murderous, feeling irritated?”

“Every second I spend in this form is a millennia worth of agony I intend to unleash upon you.” Though Wolf growled the words out, there was only the barest margin of humor in the tone.

“I don’t know why, when after all this time, you’re finally looking on the outside how you’ve always been on the inside.” Bunny cackled. “A big brute.”

“Careful, or I’ll make a snack out of you.” The huntress’ voice had a vague false threat somewhere hidden in it, but it was a fangless jest.

She chuckled. “I wonder how the fate-bitch will react to this.” She snickered at the thought.

“Stick to the plan, Bunny,” Wolf snarled. “No thinking about the Weaver.”

“And no thinking about the tiny hole in our memories.”

“Trust in Origin,” they added in unison, one holding a serious tone, the other a droll one.

The connection was cut off, and Bunny sighed, picking up a large wooden mallet. “And if Origin said to me, ‘Hammer away at these things until they’re tender but not broken,’ who am I to complain?” She swung, watching the stone crack with a grin.

There was just something profoundly satisfying about breaking things.

---

If Thalgrim had nails to bite, she would have chewed through them entirely.

They-Who-Ate-Space had moved.

The curse keeping it frozen in place had flickered, just long enough to let it nudge a little. Just enough to awaken its consciousness as it became aware that something had happened. It was still immobile, still helpless, but now it would only be a matter of time before it escaped.

An ever-shortening amount of time.

Because the curse hadn’t just been dealt a blow, it had been infected. The damage dealt to its core functions was like a disease, spreading and growing at an exponential rate. Right now, that meant there was very little of note, but once it reached a tipping point, it would spread so fast that it would shatter.

All of it because of that human’s ability to unmake fate.

Just getting him to meet the Amil of that tiny city had been a minor miracle. All of it made possible thanks to the leonid being the one who had killed the collector. Through that faint connection, she’d taken the fate of the murder towards the source, the daughter of the mortal.

Even then it had nearly failed.

If there was such a thing as a God above Gods, Thalgrim prayed to them. She prayed that the fateless high-priestess could, by killing the fateless mortal, bring this corruption to a full stop, to cure this looming catastrophe.

Everything needed to go as intended, every weave needed to find a place.

She just needed to make sense of her adversary’s plan. The mortal had to have something prepared, she just needed to connect the dots, feel the threads and the direction they were taking, and either subvert or play into each one. But why... why was the other aspect weakening the foundations of one of the buildings the mortals used for hot baths?

There were too many unknowns, the threads of fate leading to the future were ever weaker, her vision of the events within the mortal city ever cloudier. The Merchant God was already suspecting something was amiss, and with this mortal city being eroded, the Sentinel would also become aware of this corruption once the monster stirred.

Thalgrim had to figure it out while there was still time.

Otherwise… otherwise, she could lose everything.

---

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