*************
Wyatt Graves
I stagger forward, each step a battle against exhaustion, dehydration, and the gnawing ache of starvation. Blodwyn has done what he can, but time is relentless. Our internal cycle of motion is gradually running itself dry as our Ether saturation builds up without rest. My vision blurs as I navigate the treacherous terrain, one hand brushing against the rocky cliff that guides our path. At this point, my hand has scratched so much rock that I barely even feel the sensation of stone on my palm. I can only hope we're close to the waters.
Beside me, my injured companion lies unconscious, their breathing shallow and ragged. The heavy burden of Virgil's body strains my already weakened frame. Any other day, and he'd be like a feather to carry. But I'm so thirsty.
My broken prosthetic clings desperately to their form, nestled under his coat so that I don't drop him. I've been feeding Virgil my own blood more and more as he slowly regains his strength, trying to keep him alive, but my strength wanes with each drop I sacrifice. Blodwyn can usually regenerate the missing life instantly, but he's so focused on keeping us hidden that he can't split his fixation. He's not all that good at Ether control yet, despite his natural edge.
I can't help but stare at the crimson storm of swirling sand composed of countless infinitesimal insects as it perpetually engulfs us. The passive grind of the sand against my flesh gnaws at me, too. Virgil's pale frame couldn't handle it, so I relinquished Adumbral to him. The toughness of the coat guards against the grinding winds, but it is torn in many places. It's probably better for him to have than not have, though.
Monstrous creatures lurk beneath and on the shifting sands, waiting to pounce on any sign of weakness. I rely on my enhanced senses to evade their detection, my very survival dependent on my ability to remain hidden within the swarm of insects that conceals us. But the toll it takes on me is immense.
Not to mention that the thing that found us before is still out there. I haven't seen it yet, but it's there. Every once in a while, I hear a hum or a hymn that pierces through the sands. It gives me the adrenaline to press on.
One agonizing step at a time, I throw us further and further from the last place I heard the noise. But just as I think of the creature, a rock falls in front of me. Ether roars to life within me as Blodywyn groans, having to isolate and quiet the effort.
I stare at the fallen rock in caution, but my paranoia quickly falls, only for the ominous hymn of the relentless pursuer to reverberate through the desolation. Its haunting notes settle within the confines of my mind as I can almost imagine its following words.
"Strike two."
Shaking my head, I force myself forward with Virgil beside me. Every step is a battle, a war waged against my own limitations. I carry the weight of Virgil, his life hanging by a thread, and it fuels my determination to keep moving forward. I can't let him die. I can't. I just can't. I already saw what Vernon's death did to his family. They can't lose him, too.
I can't lose him.
A Daydream tosses aside my exhaustion as I Temper my sense of pain, shutting it off entirely. This means I won't be able to use Painsforge, but then I can't hide with it anyway.
As I run along the cliff, however, the crimson storm of minuscule, voracious insects whirls around us, each grain of sand a venomous, biting reminder of what they are. The sharp, stinging bites on my exposed flesh refuse to back away even if they don't see me as I target, but I refuse to back down, either.
Desperation is a persistent whisper in the back of my mind, urging me to propel beyond my limits to escape the relentless pursuit, but I have to be careful. If I use too much Ether, Blodwyn will likely lose his grip on his Power. Silence only works so long as he has Ether to silence with.
"You can run, birdie. You can hide. You can even die. But... I'll find you no matter."
The creature leaves an almost church-like hymn with a threat as it seems to thrive on our suffering, savoring the chase as if it feeds off our desperation and exhaustion. I don't know what it truly wants. It must have some kind of mind, seeing as it can speak. Perhaps it's a sick and twisted person with a Sigil like Alexos, capable of growing through other's suffering.
No matter the case, the humming echo has me force myself even harder, not with more Ether but simply with more physical effort, dragging Virgil along with me.
However, in my frantic struggle to outpace the pursuer, I make a mistake. I push off the rough cliff face for a boost of speed, only to cut my hand upon the sharp rocks, my blood-slick hand leaving behind a trail of crimson as I do. The pain surges through my body, and the worry that nags at the fringes of my thoughts deepens. The red mark, a literal trail to me, is etched on the stone. I might have just damned us.
Gritting my teeth, I stare at it for only a moment.
I have no choice but to keep moving. I use the back of my wounded hand to guide me along the cliff's face, the stinging scrape of my blood against the rock a constant tolling bell of the peril I am running from.
"Ooooooh! Birrrrrrdie!"
The voice drops a whole octave, becoming a grim call for me. It echoes off the insects playing as sand before bouncing off the cliff into me, making it almost impossible to tell where the creature is coming from.
But I quickly learn where from.
Another bout of laughter, more like a high-pitched squeal, originates from in front of me. I squint my eyes to gaze forward through the fog of crimson dust, but all I can see of the figure are a pair of boots sticking out the bottom. For a moment, I consider using Insight to figure out what it is, but I quickly toss away the notion. There is a chance it would discover it, and then I'm dead. I think it's only playing with me because it can't sense a Sigil or any Ether from us, thanks to Blodwyn.
Then, the instant after I decide, the shoes disappear as the creature steps back into the sands, leaving me a warning just as before.
"This still counts as strike two, birdie. I am longing for the third. I might recommend, however, that you leave the cliff. It makes the chase... boring."
The voice echoes into the sands, ricocheting off everything until it slams me in the back, almost knocking me to my knees from the force. Coughing up sand, I regain my balance as I gaze at the wall one last time.
Whatever it is, it's right. The cliff makes it easy to escape but, at the same time, almost effortless to be found. Before I leave the ridge, however, I place my palm against the rocks one last time. My blood sticks to the wall like paint as I step away, leaving the guide behind in case I have to return.
Trudging into the unknowable fog of incarnadine, I wrap Virgil's arm over my shoulders, carrying him with both hands. After just twenty steps, I glance backward, only to meet swirling dust impenetrable to my sight.
The cliff is gone. I've left it behind. If I get caught again by that thing, I'm dead. Based on its speed, tone, and simple ability to survive here, it has to be an Angel of some kind. At the very least, Virgil has to be awake if we are to fight it. His head is cleared of Ether, but I don't know how long until I can save more.
There is only one thing I can do to guarantee that I'm moving in the direction that I need to be, though. All my ideas are crazy, things that would hardly make sense even to a madman. Only a madman would be in a sandstorm like this, though.
"Lily."
I cough through the sand and the cloth covering my face, bringing the Colt to my face. She doesn't respond verbally, but I know she can still act.
"Find a soul. However far it is. Please use that as an anchor. If I ever swerve from a straight line, nudge me into it with a Rosethorn. Blodwyn, make sure you Silence her Ether, too. If we are found here, we are dead. There is no hiding. There is no running."
Lily responds with a slight budding thorn that pokes into the flesh of my palm, not even drawing blood. Good. She understands.
Hefting Virgil, I continue treading through the sandstorm as the winds slowly increase even further as I'm away from the cliff. In less than ten seconds, the first Rosethorn digs into the flesh of my left hand, guiding me back into position.
This... this won't be easy.
********************
Timemi 'Metal Witch'
Sand slides against light rock, tapping upon my sandals. The gritty feeling is uncomfortable, and I spin my head to gaze at the three I'm forced to be with. Though... I cannot say I would prefer any others. We're running out of time to make a God from our races, and our contenders are very few. Besides Uncle Tirun and Grandaunt Temer, we have so few people with any chance of making it other than Father and me.
If only Father hadn't been so injured!
The frustration gnaws at me as I stare at the very thing that did it to him. The vast Wasteland, birthed by the only mortal to ever fight a God and win, something less impressive than becoming a God, stretches from the edges of our Motherland all the way down to the Old Waters, now called Lawless Lake. Three whole human Territories have been devoured by the one that they thought would protect them.
"How ironic."
A hand nudges me alongside a voice from above me. Gazing upward, I find Anodra, the eldest daughter of the now-dead Viceroy.
"What, Timemi?"
I scoff and step aside, refusing to look up at her. Just because I'm short doesn't mean I have to be looked down upon. I mean, so what if I'm a little under four feet? That doesn't make me any less of a Sigiled. Or an Architect. And just because Anodra is twice my height doesn't make her any better than me. I'll show them why Father chose me for Heaven's Door.
"The sands. The God of Desolation only managed to make things worse for his people while ascending. How pathetic."
Another hand graces my shoulder, and I nearly attack out of the disrespect. The filthy, scabbed palm of Natos slides against me as I pivot and point my palm to him, showing the bit of steel that slides out of my flesh. I never go anywhere without steel somewhere in my body, even if I have to open some skin.
"Oh! I'm sorry, Timemi, but don't you think you shouldn't insult him? The God of Desolation is treated with utmost care even by the Lords. I think we should leave him off as a subject of our discussion or vitriol, even if he was once human."
I almost attack him just for his cowardice. How can one of the three most talented demons be this... this thing? So cordial and cowardly...
His body is scarred, scabbed, and burnt all over like a pig. The demon is so skinny he might as well be a stick, and yet...
He's probably the strongest between all four of us; even his other demon companion, Bemola, would get destroyed were he to take the fight seriously. Though, she, too, finds him miserable. His strength is the only reason I allowed him to come.
"Really, Natos? The Lords sent us four on this mission to investigate the human choices for Heaven's Door in hopes that someone has found or will find the answer from their eldest. If you are this spineless, why don't you just die? I could name a dozen of our brethren that deserve this slot more than you."
Bemola's ice-cold tone fits her cerulean eyes and slightly bluish skin. It's almost as if she's an ice sculpture with eagle-like eyes and the claws of a raptor. Her appearance is the most unsettling. I've always hated demons, but this is more than our racial divisions. If we don't have a God by the time the God of Desolation returns...
He will kill us all. We can't even say his name in fear of the God hearing it due to the convergence of Ether and Sigils. It makes this all so brutally frustrating.
I stare at Natos as he fumbles to make a reply, only to fall silent.
"I-You-I..."
We all shake our heads. What a pathetic demon. He might as well be human with how he acts like one. So gutless. Perhaps I should free him of those that he has... no. Keep the hate down for now. Our goal is Killian's son, the bearer of Demonsbane, and the next Monster.
"Anodra?"
I still don't look at her as I call her name, refusing to glance up for even a second, but she does respond to me.
"Yes? Is it time to go?"
I give Natos one last look before giving up on him. If he dies, he dies. The Wastes offer zero pity to anyone. In fact, the stronger one is, the more resistance they meet. Even Father can't cross the divide anymore. To reach the hinterlands of humanity, one would now have to meet the Sea's Shadow on his home ground or traverse the cursed Pained Peaks upon the ocean's edge. There is also the option of heading north to the pole to traverse around the Wastes, but that is equally dangerous. Father has told me many times not to even approach the northern peak of the globe.
Either way, it's a travel that is treacherous, even for those such as us Powers.
But we must go. Father, Behemoth, Leviathan, and Ytern are heavily injured from their clash with the God of Desolation. It is up to us to see the other side, report back, and find out any secrets they might be hiding.
That doesn't mean the fight was a total loss, however. Father told me a crucial secret. The Mother Below has hidden all the requirements to reach Godhood by disrupting the convergence of Sigils to those at the peak. It's easy, as once you become a Dominion, the Lighthouses can no longer house you.
It's always been a guessing game for those figures on how to move forward, and only the Devil and V—Desolation found the way through the dark.
But because they now know for a fact that it's the Mother Below stopping the synergy, they can leave the realm to find another where it is easier to advance. After all, when your resonance is high enough, you don't even need to kill anymore. The Sigil will find its way to you when you are ready. At least, that's what Father has told me.
They all have to wait until their recoveries are over, however. Plus, they have to go far enough away that the Mother Below won't hold any power there. How far that is, I have no clue, but the journey will be long. And... Father isn't even sure he's in the same place the others are. He and Ytern are grossly underpowered compared to the Lords, Desolation before his ascension, and Killian Graves, who, the last time he appeared, was only a Virtue.
We both believe there is another feat that has to be done. Maybe not a fourth Absolution, but something else that holds him back. And we came to the conclusion that it has to be a Sirza. The power of those world-shattering skills is awe-inspiring, but Father doesn't possess one.
He knows more skills than anyone else in the entire world. From summoning Otherplanars and Gods to sealing demons to conjuring food, he can do it all. But he doesn't have one significant skill to turn a fight. Well, I'd say summoning a God is one, but apparently, it is more of a baited call. They can choose to answer or not.
Just as a Dzil is needed to become a Virtue, a Sirza is likely necessary to become a God.
"Timemi? Stop being lost in thought. I don't care how big your head is."
Bemola insults me, but I shrug it off. I'm proud of my big head. It shows how wise I am. Any Pymgy man would be honored to serve me. Glancing at her for a mere moment, I lie through my teeth.
"I was considering how best to proceed. Whether going straight for Gravecross or Lawless Lake after a shortcut through the Wastes would be the best move."
The chilly demon pouts her lip, tilting her head slightly as she follows up her question with another.
"And your conclusion, Witch?"
I squint at the sands, not quite peering through them but doing it anyway. There is a chance I'll see something important. Either way, the destination is obvious. How these fools couldn't realize it is beyond me.
"We'll go for the Sea's Shadow. He has a child that he's been training just as those of the Heaven's Door have. He may be an imposter, but there is something to learn from every fool. From there, we investigate and find the others. A Graves is never hard to detect due to their violent natures, and I'm sure the Bladed Monster will show himself in due time."
They all listen to my words with rapt attention, especially Natos. At least he knows how to follow orders. Turning my back to them as I allow the metal under my skin to float out and coat my form, I continue into the storm.
Plinks of sand on steel armor ring out a thousand times per second, but the case keeps me safe. Metal has always protected me. It's our family's secret Sigil combination and skills. These other fools can't comprehend the power of experimentation, observations, and deep thought over generations of Sigileds.
Ether isn't something to learn on your own. It's something to develop with your family. Only those with relatively short lifespans would understand. Humans kind of do, but they're too stupid to process it. Only the rare few are capable, namely the Underground Tree. For a while, we used to think he was a rebel Pygmy due to his intelligence. Turns out he is just a wise old man. How disappointing.
I continue to walk into the sandstorm, splitting my thoughts and motion in twain, but I don't hear footsteps behind me.
"Come on! We can't waste time! If you slow me down, I'll kill you!"
Screaming out behind me finally gets them moving as Bemola and Anodra follow right behind me. Bemola's ice guards her flesh, while Anodra's armor does the same. Natos shivers at the edge of the storm for several moments before rushing to catch up.
A slight smile draws onto my face as I see his Ether up close for the first time ever. Light glares off every piece of his flesh, burning some parts and melting others as the radiance gathers like a liquid, covering him in some kind of gel that protects him against the sands.
If I were to call it something... I'd call it... radiantly annoying.
Why does it have to be so Creator-dammed bright!?
*************
Wyatt Graves
I stagger forward, each step a battle against exhaustion, dehydration, and the gnawing ache of starvation. Blodwyn has done what he can, but time is relentless. Our internal cycle of motion is gradually running itself dry as our Ether saturation builds up without rest. My vision blurs as I navigate the treacherous terrain, one hand brushing against the rocky cliff that guides our path. At this point, my hand has scratched so much rock that I barely even feel the sensation of stone on my palm. I can only hope we're close to the waters.
Beside me, my injured companion lies unconscious, their breathing shallow and ragged. The heavy burden of Virgil's body strains my already weakened frame. Any other day, and he'd be like a feather to carry. But I'm so thirsty.
My broken prosthetic clings desperately to their form, nestled under his coat so that I don't drop him. I've been feeding Virgil my own blood more and more as he slowly regains his strength, trying to keep him alive, but my strength wanes with each drop I sacrifice. Blodwyn can usually regenerate the missing life instantly, but he's so focused on keeping us hidden that he can't split his fixation. He's not all that good at Ether control yet, despite his natural edge.
I can't help but stare at the crimson storm of swirling sand composed of countless infinitesimal insects as it perpetually engulfs us. The passive grind of the sand against my flesh gnaws at me, too. Virgil's pale frame couldn't handle it, so I relinquished Adumbral to him. The toughness of the coat guards against the grinding winds, but it is torn in many places. It's probably better for him to have than not have, though.
Monstrous creatures lurk beneath and on the shifting sands, waiting to pounce on any sign of weakness. I rely on my enhanced senses to evade their detection, my very survival dependent on my ability to remain hidden within the swarm of insects that conceals us. But the toll it takes on me is immense.
Not to mention that the thing that found us before is still out there. I haven't seen it yet, but it's there. Every once in a while, I hear a hum or a hymn that pierces through the sands. It gives me the adrenaline to press on.
One agonizing step at a time, I throw us further and further from the last place I heard the noise. But just as I think of the creature, a rock falls in front of me. Ether roars to life within me as Blodywyn groans, having to isolate and quiet the effort.
I stare at the fallen rock in caution, but my paranoia quickly falls, only for the ominous hymn of the relentless pursuer to reverberate through the desolation. Its haunting notes settle within the confines of my mind as I can almost imagine its following words.
"Strike two."
Shaking my head, I force myself forward with Virgil beside me. Every step is a battle, a war waged against my own limitations. I carry the weight of Virgil, his life hanging by a thread, and it fuels my determination to keep moving forward. I can't let him die. I can't. I just can't. I already saw what Vernon's death did to his family. They can't lose him, too.
I can't lose him.
A Daydream tosses aside my exhaustion as I Temper my sense of pain, shutting it off entirely. This means I won't be able to use Painsforge, but then I can't hide with it anyway.
As I run along the cliff, however, the crimson storm of minuscule, voracious insects whirls around us, each grain of sand a venomous, biting reminder of what they are. The sharp, stinging bites on my exposed flesh refuse to back away even if they don't see me as I target, but I refuse to back down, either.
Desperation is a persistent whisper in the back of my mind, urging me to propel beyond my limits to escape the relentless pursuit, but I have to be careful. If I use too much Ether, Blodwyn will likely lose his grip on his Power. Silence only works so long as he has Ether to silence with.
"You can run, birdie. You can hide. You can even die. But... I'll find you no matter."
The creature leaves an almost church-like hymn with a threat as it seems to thrive on our suffering, savoring the chase as if it feeds off our desperation and exhaustion. I don't know what it truly wants. It must have some kind of mind, seeing as it can speak. Perhaps it's a sick and twisted person with a Sigil like Alexos, capable of growing through other's suffering.
No matter the case, the humming echo has me force myself even harder, not with more Ether but simply with more physical effort, dragging Virgil along with me.
However, in my frantic struggle to outpace the pursuer, I make a mistake. I push off the rough cliff face for a boost of speed, only to cut my hand upon the sharp rocks, my blood-slick hand leaving behind a trail of crimson as I do. The pain surges through my body, and the worry that nags at the fringes of my thoughts deepens. The red mark, a literal trail to me, is etched on the stone. I might have just damned us.
Gritting my teeth, I stare at it for only a moment.
I have no choice but to keep moving. I use the back of my wounded hand to guide me along the cliff's face, the stinging scrape of my blood against the rock a constant tolling bell of the peril I am running from.
"Ooooooh! Birrrrrrdie!"
The voice drops a whole octave, becoming a grim call for me. It echoes off the insects playing as sand before bouncing off the cliff into me, making it almost impossible to tell where the creature is coming from.
But I quickly learn where from.
Another bout of laughter, more like a high-pitched squeal, originates from in front of me. I squint my eyes to gaze forward through the fog of crimson dust, but all I can see of the figure are a pair of boots sticking out the bottom. For a moment, I consider using Insight to figure out what it is, but I quickly toss away the notion. There is a chance it would discover it, and then I'm dead. I think it's only playing with me because it can't sense a Sigil or any Ether from us, thanks to Blodwyn.
Then, the instant after I decide, the shoes disappear as the creature steps back into the sands, leaving me a warning just as before.
"This still counts as strike two, birdie. I am longing for the third. I might recommend, however, that you leave the cliff. It makes the chase... boring."
The voice echoes into the sands, ricocheting off everything until it slams me in the back, almost knocking me to my knees from the force. Coughing up sand, I regain my balance as I gaze at the wall one last time.
Whatever it is, it's right. The cliff makes it easy to escape but, at the same time, almost effortless to be found. Before I leave the ridge, however, I place my palm against the rocks one last time. My blood sticks to the wall like paint as I step away, leaving the guide behind in case I have to return.
Trudging into the unknowable fog of incarnadine, I wrap Virgil's arm over my shoulders, carrying him with both hands. After just twenty steps, I glance backward, only to meet swirling dust impenetrable to my sight.
The cliff is gone. I've left it behind. If I get caught again by that thing, I'm dead. Based on its speed, tone, and simple ability to survive here, it has to be an Angel of some kind. At the very least, Virgil has to be awake if we are to fight it. His head is cleared of Ether, but I don't know how long until I can save more.
There is only one thing I can do to guarantee that I'm moving in the direction that I need to be, though. All my ideas are crazy, things that would hardly make sense even to a madman. Only a madman would be in a sandstorm like this, though.
"Lily."
I cough through the sand and the cloth covering my face, bringing the Colt to my face. She doesn't respond verbally, but I know she can still act.
"Find a soul. However far it is. Please use that as an anchor. If I ever swerve from a straight line, nudge me into it with a Rosethorn. Blodwyn, make sure you Silence her Ether, too. If we are found here, we are dead. There is no hiding. There is no running."
Lily responds with a slight budding thorn that pokes into the flesh of my palm, not even drawing blood. Good. She understands.
Hefting Virgil, I continue treading through the sandstorm as the winds slowly increase even further as I'm away from the cliff. In less than ten seconds, the first Rosethorn digs into the flesh of my left hand, guiding me back into position.
This... this won't be easy.
********************
Timemi 'Metal Witch'
Sand slides against light rock, tapping upon my sandals. The gritty feeling is uncomfortable, and I spin my head to gaze at the three I'm forced to be with. Though... I cannot say I would prefer any others. We're running out of time to make a God from our races, and our contenders are very few. Besides Uncle Tirun and Grandaunt Temer, we have so few people with any chance of making it other than Father and me.
If only Father hadn't been so injured!
The frustration gnaws at me as I stare at the very thing that did it to him. The vast Wasteland, birthed by the only mortal to ever fight a God and win, something less impressive than becoming a God, stretches from the edges of our Motherland all the way down to the Old Waters, now called Lawless Lake. Three whole human Territories have been devoured by the one that they thought would protect them.
"How ironic."
A hand nudges me alongside a voice from above me. Gazing upward, I find Anodra, the eldest daughter of the now-dead Viceroy.
"What, Timemi?"
I scoff and step aside, refusing to look up at her. Just because I'm short doesn't mean I have to be looked down upon. I mean, so what if I'm a little under four feet? That doesn't make me any less of a Sigiled. Or an Architect. And just because Anodra is twice my height doesn't make her any better than me. I'll show them why Father chose me for Heaven's Door.
"The sands. The God of Desolation only managed to make things worse for his people while ascending. How pathetic."
Another hand graces my shoulder, and I nearly attack out of the disrespect. The filthy, scabbed palm of Natos slides against me as I pivot and point my palm to him, showing the bit of steel that slides out of my flesh. I never go anywhere without steel somewhere in my body, even if I have to open some skin.
"Oh! I'm sorry, Timemi, but don't you think you shouldn't insult him? The God of Desolation is treated with utmost care even by the Lords. I think we should leave him off as a subject of our discussion or vitriol, even if he was once human."
I almost attack him just for his cowardice. How can one of the three most talented demons be this... this thing? So cordial and cowardly...
His body is scarred, scabbed, and burnt all over like a pig. The demon is so skinny he might as well be a stick, and yet...
He's probably the strongest between all four of us; even his other demon companion, Bemola, would get destroyed were he to take the fight seriously. Though, she, too, finds him miserable. His strength is the only reason I allowed him to come.
"Really, Natos? The Lords sent us four on this mission to investigate the human choices for Heaven's Door in hopes that someone has found or will find the answer from their eldest. If you are this spineless, why don't you just die? I could name a dozen of our brethren that deserve this slot more than you."
Bemola's ice-cold tone fits her cerulean eyes and slightly bluish skin. It's almost as if she's an ice sculpture with eagle-like eyes and the claws of a raptor. Her appearance is the most unsettling. I've always hated demons, but this is more than our racial divisions. If we don't have a God by the time the God of Desolation returns...
He will kill us all. We can't even say his name in fear of the God hearing it due to the convergence of Ether and Sigils. It makes this all so brutally frustrating.
I stare at Natos as he fumbles to make a reply, only to fall silent.
"I-You-I..."
We all shake our heads. What a pathetic demon. He might as well be human with how he acts like one. So gutless. Perhaps I should free him of those that he has... no. Keep the hate down for now. Our goal is Killian's son, the bearer of Demonsbane, and the next Monster.
"Anodra?"
I still don't look at her as I call her name, refusing to glance up for even a second, but she does respond to me.
"Yes? Is it time to go?"
I give Natos one last look before giving up on him. If he dies, he dies. The Wastes offer zero pity to anyone. In fact, the stronger one is, the more resistance they meet. Even Father can't cross the divide anymore. To reach the hinterlands of humanity, one would now have to meet the Sea's Shadow on his home ground or traverse the cursed Pained Peaks upon the ocean's edge. There is also the option of heading north to the pole to traverse around the Wastes, but that is equally dangerous. Father has told me many times not to even approach the northern peak of the globe.
Either way, it's a travel that is treacherous, even for those such as us Powers.
But we must go. Father, Behemoth, Leviathan, and Ytern are heavily injured from their clash with the God of Desolation. It is up to us to see the other side, report back, and find out any secrets they might be hiding.
That doesn't mean the fight was a total loss, however. Father told me a crucial secret. The Mother Below has hidden all the requirements to reach Godhood by disrupting the convergence of Sigils to those at the peak. It's easy, as once you become a Dominion, the Lighthouses can no longer house you.
It's always been a guessing game for those figures on how to move forward, and only the Devil and V—Desolation found the way through the dark.
But because they now know for a fact that it's the Mother Below stopping the synergy, they can leave the realm to find another where it is easier to advance. After all, when your resonance is high enough, you don't even need to kill anymore. The Sigil will find its way to you when you are ready. At least, that's what Father has told me.
They all have to wait until their recoveries are over, however. Plus, they have to go far enough away that the Mother Below won't hold any power there. How far that is, I have no clue, but the journey will be long. And... Father isn't even sure he's in the same place the others are. He and Ytern are grossly underpowered compared to the Lords, Desolation before his ascension, and Killian Graves, who, the last time he appeared, was only a Virtue.
We both believe there is another feat that has to be done. Maybe not a fourth Absolution, but something else that holds him back. And we came to the conclusion that it has to be a Sirza. The power of those world-shattering skills is awe-inspiring, but Father doesn't possess one.
He knows more skills than anyone else in the entire world. From summoning Otherplanars and Gods to sealing demons to conjuring food, he can do it all. But he doesn't have one significant skill to turn a fight. Well, I'd say summoning a God is one, but apparently, it is more of a baited call. They can choose to answer or not.
Just as a Dzil is needed to become a Virtue, a Sirza is likely necessary to become a God.
"Timemi? Stop being lost in thought. I don't care how big your head is."
Bemola insults me, but I shrug it off. I'm proud of my big head. It shows how wise I am. Any Pymgy man would be honored to serve me. Glancing at her for a mere moment, I lie through my teeth.
"I was considering how best to proceed. Whether going straight for Gravecross or Lawless Lake after a shortcut through the Wastes would be the best move."
The chilly demon pouts her lip, tilting her head slightly as she follows up her question with another.
"And your conclusion, Witch?"
I squint at the sands, not quite peering through them but doing it anyway. There is a chance I'll see something important. Either way, the destination is obvious. How these fools couldn't realize it is beyond me.
"We'll go for the Sea's Shadow. He has a child that he's been training just as those of the Heaven's Door have. He may be an imposter, but there is something to learn from every fool. From there, we investigate and find the others. A Graves is never hard to detect due to their violent natures, and I'm sure the Bladed Monster will show himself in due time."
They all listen to my words with rapt attention, especially Natos. At least he knows how to follow orders. Turning my back to them as I allow the metal under my skin to float out and coat my form, I continue into the storm.
Plinks of sand on steel armor ring out a thousand times per second, but the case keeps me safe. Metal has always protected me. It's our family's secret Sigil combination and skills. These other fools can't comprehend the power of experimentation, observations, and deep thought over generations of Sigileds.
Ether isn't something to learn on your own. It's something to develop with your family. Only those with relatively short lifespans would understand. Humans kind of do, but they're too stupid to process it. Only the rare few are capable, namely the Underground Tree. For a while, we used to think he was a rebel Pygmy due to his intelligence. Turns out he is just a wise old man. How disappointing.
I continue to walk into the sandstorm, splitting my thoughts and motion in twain, but I don't hear footsteps behind me.
"Come on! We can't waste time! If you slow me down, I'll kill you!"
Screaming out behind me finally gets them moving as Bemola and Anodra follow right behind me. Bemola's ice guards her flesh, while Anodra's armor does the same. Natos shivers at the edge of the storm for several moments before rushing to catch up.
A slight smile draws onto my face as I see his Ether up close for the first time ever. Light glares off every piece of his flesh, burning some parts and melting others as the radiance gathers like a liquid, covering him in some kind of gel that protects him against the sands.
If I were to call it something... I'd call it... radiantly annoying.
Why does it have to be so Creator-dammed bright!?
