D.G. - Chapter 257 - CURSES ABOUND

The panic-induced scream of a seventh tier was no laughing matter for the tier five Olive, and especially tier four Mayalyn. Jiran’s aura was fully stretched out well in advance of the trio entering Malaniea’s tent. When he realized Olive’s sister had no intention of controlling herself, he firmed several layers of mana-laced soul-stuff into a tube, redirecting the sonic blast out of the tent and up into the air. His actions didn't save the back of the tent. Fabric tore and was ripped away, flying into the wind.

Under Jiran’s iron will, another whip-like tendril of aura stuffed itself inside Malaniea’s mouth, bringing her tantrum to an abrupt halt. Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared, struggling to draw breath. She jerked away from his aura’s touch as if burned. Mana Omnis allowed him to see through her skin to the trickle of energy within her manapool. There was no telltale flare of a skill activating, but he wasn’t about to let her go until she calmed down.

Olive rushed across the small interior, throwing her arms around her older sister, “Malaniea! What happened? Are you injured?”

Stiff as a board, the most talented diviner in the empire continued to point over Olive’s shoulder, directly at Jiran. Just to be sure, he looked over his shoulder, finding only empty air until the next tent a few meters away.

Olive attempted to dislodge the aura he’d wrapped around Malaniea but her knowledge of the soul was a pale shadow compared to his. Tears sprang to her eyes as she looked back at him, “Jiran, release her! She’s terrified.”

“That’s exactly why I’m still holding her. She nearly killed you.”

Mayalyn glided past him, gently but firmly pressing a hand against Olive’s shoulder. The princess resisted at first. Remembering Mayalyn could taste the emotions of those around her, Olive allowed herself to be pushed aside so Mayalyn could stand directly before Malaniea. With Jiran blocked from sight, the two locked eyes, and the much older woman’s frantic breaths caught in her throat. 

Mayalyn’s hands rose slowly. She gently cupped Malaniea’s cheeks, soothingly shushing her like she were a baby. The effect was instant. Malaniea fell against Mayalyn’s chest and her body was wracked with sobs. 

Jiran’s aura withdrew, forming a hard shell that guaranteed their privacy from all but the most powerful entities. Olive stood awkwardly, unsure what to do as her older sister bawled. Jiran approached her, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. The two wore helpless expressions that deepened as the minutes passed.

Eventually, Malaniea spoke between sniffles, “How could you bring him back? We’re doomed all over again.”

Olive knelt at Mayalyn’s side, caressing her sister’s arm. Her voice was as soothing as she could make it, “Bring who back? What are you talking about?”

“C-Calamity's… darling son,” Malaniea choked on the unfamiliar moniker, continuing as though each word were unwillingly torn from her lungs by a higher power, “The vortex of misfortune. Nought but suffering and death follow him. Our fath… Our father sacrificed himself to remove him from the tapestry. He was gone, and the weaves were clear. Now, the depths of darkness will return to claim the last of us.”

Jiran frowned, his minds whirling to piece together any coherent meaning behind her words.

Weaves, tapestry? Is she talking about the framework, or the future?

Jiran shook his head, speaking softly, “Are you talking about me?”

Malaniea whimpered, burrowing into Mayalyn for protection against his voice. Olive released a held breath, gathering her patience and trying again, “Sister, please. We’re trying to understand so we can help. Are you talking about Jiran? He’s not some… vortex of misfortune. He’s my consort. We’ve been promised. Father approved of him.”

“Then die together with him!” She shouted, suddenly fierce as a cornered animal, “But don’t take the rest of us with you! Leave. Take him and go! The longer he stays, the more danger he brings us all!”

Mayalyn’s head whipped around and she glared at Olive and Jiran. They got the hint and backed away while she placed her forehead against Malaniea’s, “You saw something. Tell us so we can prevent this fear you feel, from becoming reality.”

Malaniea was silent for long seconds before nodding. Her next words caused Jiran’s heart to skip a beat, “He is cursed. Misery and misfortune spring from him like an ocean. Hr is trapped in an endless vortex, drifting ever deeper toward the dark undertow. Those who reach out a hand to save him, are instead pulled in to delay the fate which should belong only to him.”

This is why I don’t like prophecies. Beyond me being cursed, how does any of that make sense?

Malaniea wasn’t done. She dared to break gazes with Mayalyn, glancing at Jiran with hate-filled eyes, “Did you think peering into the future so easily would come without cost? The more you use it, the more others must pay the price for you.”

The reality of what she was saying came crashing down on his shoulders. Jiran’s minds raced at unfathomable speeds, recalling too many instances to count where events took an unexpected turn for the worst. Not only himself, but his friends and family were constantly cast into danger to the point he often wondered how anyone managed to live as long as Lenton or the emperors.

Madra was a dangerous place, but his life in particular was plagued with constant instances of near-death as if the world itself were out to get him. Considering there was a time when Madra gave him quests that threw him directly into the fire, it was impossible to brush it all off as coincidence.

As the truth settled in, Jiran dropped to the floor, his gaze a thousand kilometers away, “Oh.”

Olive wasn’t having any of it. Her voice was tinged with fear-laced panic, “Can one of you please explain in words that make sense?!”

Both to confirm Malaniea’s words and appease Olive, Jiran did his best to be clear, “My unique ability: Foresight. It lets me perceive things a half-second into the future, speeds up my perception of time, and even warns me when my life is in danger. Lenton always talked about a curse associated with it, but I never knew for sure what it was. I think what she’s saying is that whenever I use Foresight, it puts someone near me in an equal amount of danger than it saved me from.”

Malaniea nodded, her voice a hiss brimming with condemnation, “That’s right. The king was never supposed to return to the empire. Our future was bright and clear as the endless skies. Your coming cast us all into nothingness! The emperors chose to bear the brunt of your curse, delaying the inevitable. Now, they are gone forever. Everyone around you will be plunged into constant danger for the crime of proximity to you—Calamity's darling son.”

She's right. I know she is. I can feel it in my gut.

Olive shook her head, denial written across her trembling features, “You can't take divination and prophecy at face value. Father knew and didn't push us apart. Instead, he demanded our union. He must know something that sister does not.”

Jiran took a deep breath, then hopped to his feet, “Don’t worry. I’m not about to rush off and abandon everyone out of fear. Knowing the danger is half the battle. I’m going to get some fresh air. Take your time.”

Jiran headed outside and waved away the gathered rankers who came to investigate Malaniea’s scream. Mayalyn joined him a moment later, melting into his side like glue. Her deliberations regarding the danger of his curse were crystal clear; she would not abandon him even if death were guaranteed. He wrapped an arm around her, enjoying the tufts of her ears tickling his neck.

Her tail lashed the air, marking her annoyance at Malaniea’s claims, “How much of what she said is true?”

“Probably all of it. The soul is a mysterious place. Inside mine is an entire galaxy of potential. The memories of millions of lives. And the soulwall that's supposed to keep all that from leaking into reality has a big fat hole in it. Madra did her best to seal it, but every time I use Foresight, something leaks out and I have no control over what damage it causes to the world around me.”

“Well. You better cut it out then!” She playfully knuckled his ribs, earning a chuckle.

“For sure.”

Jiran played with his mana as they hugged in contemplative silence. Moments before Olive ducked through the tent’s flaps and joined them, a world-shattering idea occurred to him. Immediately, all his minds but one dove into the implications of what he’d thought of, while the last focused on Olive.

Spending more time with her sister hadn’t cheered her mood. She frowned at the dirt, words escaping her. Knowing what was eating her alive, Jiran grabbed her chin and lifted her face until their eyes met, “I know someone who can tell us for sure if Emperor Dominus is alive.” Olive’s eyes widened but Jiran didn’t give her a chance to interrupt, “She knew about my curse, too. If anyone can give us a little guidance, it’s her. Reaching her might be a bit difficult though.”

“How do you know someone that powerful? Divination of those above one’s tier isn’t usually possible. If all the emperors are gone, like sister said, then—”

“The Mother of all Timberlings.”

Mayalyn shivered, remembering well the giant figure that dwarfed the Valley of Melodies and first warned Jiran of the Graymin King’s invasion. Having not been there to see it, Olive’s forehead crinkled cutely, “They only have one mother? How does that work?”

Jiran snorted gently, releasing Mayalyn and lifting them into the air with his aura, “It's more of an expression. Sort of. They're mating habits are a bit peculiar, but they definitely give birth in a similar fashion to us.”

Olive’s eyes narrowed and her voice lowered dangerously, “How, exactly, do you know about their mating habits?”

Mayalyn threw herself back into his squishy aura, stretching languidly, “Fear not. If our Aajiran crossed the line, I would have gutted him.”

Mostly appeased, Olive squished her lips to one side, “Valid point. I suppose you're off the hook for now…” It was impossible to miss the warning in her tone, not that he needed it.

Jiran’s aura gripped the synapses of the framework—an invisible latticework of density that not only held the vastness of Madra together, but also worked as a highway for mana, intent, and Teleportations. He rapidly pulled them high into the sky. Their combined weight, easily surpassing forty tons, only required a slight exertion on his Manabody—a mixture of mana and soulwall that Jiran recently learned was much more complex than previously imagined.

Originally, he thought the Manabody and aura were interchangeable words used to describe the same thing. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Aura was merely the topmost layer of the soulwall, and once injected with mana, had the capacity to be controlled and directly interact with reality. 

The Manabody, as his status called it, was the entire system of soul, soulwall, skill sigils, soul-space, and aura. The skill sigils were his newest discovery. Locating one of the truly massive constructs imprinted on his soulwall, and injecting it with excess mana, had allowed him to supercharge Enthralling Touch, overwhelming the tier nine Templari and stealing their mana despite them being four tiers above him.

Above the ruined city of Sanctum Santorum, Mana Omnis turned the people below into pinpoints of color as their manapools blazed in Jiran’s sight. Most of their manapools were empty, making the people harder to distinguish. Finding one in particular wasn’t exactly simple. Unfortunately, Jiran had ‘died’ since the last time he saw the man he was searching for, so the connection he had left with Gaze of Pediamus was broken.

“Who are you looking for?” Olive wondered while closely examining Jiran’s face as if he were more interesting than the majestic view.

Finding the man, Jiran pointed, “Possibly the last sane person alive who knows where we’re going next.”

“I see. Thanks for clearing that up,” Olive deadpanned.

“Any time.”

His aura loosened its grip on the framework and they plummeted toward the ground. Jiran grinned widely at Olive and she looked away, embarrassed by their proximity and not at all concerned by the rapid acceleration. Mayalyn perked up instantly, a huge, sharp-fanged smile splitting her face as she spread her limbs wide to feel the air blasting against her skin.

Jiran caught them well above the ground and floated them inside a run down shack in a destitute part of the city. His aura reached through the floor and gripped a trapdoor, easily ripping it free with a loud screech of metal. The barest trickle of his abundant mana slid free from his skin. So as not to cause an explosion, he formed a shoddy mental image of sunlight and applied it to the speck of mana. Elemental Castigation promptly turned it into a floating light with the intensity of a torch. 

Jiran freely controlled the flames of his creation, manipulating them to follow. After floating the group down a long set of stairs, they touched down on smooth tiles. At the end of the hallway before them was a ruined doorway leading to a sparsely decorated chamber. Within, a man lay unconscious on the floor.

Mana Omnis could still see the remnants of Jiran’s Mana Venom polluting the man’s manapool and brain. 

Recognition dawned and Olive gasped, “Deacon Mathayes?”

“You know him well?” Jiran had only met the man once and was less than impressed with his zealous fanaticism.

“Certainly not,” Olive snorted, “He’s a cowardly dirtlicker who doesn’t deserve to draw breath. What could we possibly want from him?”

“Why, the location of all those tier seven beasts the church used to create the Templari, of course. I didn’t get a chance to tell you with all the commotion, but I upgraded one of my skills. I’ve got some experiments to run, and if I’m right about how it works, you two might be tiering up by the end of the day.”