***************************
Eli 'Underground Tree' Weiss
I tread wearily through the hallowed halls of the most ancient estate in all of humanity. This place... deep within Onyx Gate, inside the walled section of Primary, had its very first brick placed by the First himself. I pause at the entrance, not even admiring its beauty. Air fills my lungs as the scrambling pain in my mind rises. Time is ticking. Soon, the device in my head will end it all.
But not yet.
Vincent may be a god, but there is still so much work to be done. A hundred of me would not be enough.
So, I continue, heading more profoundly into the building passed from Prime to Prime in history before eventually ending with the Harveys. After all, their family has held the title the longest. Once vibrant with the echoes of life of a millennium ago, the place is now burdened by the weight of my own deeds. The anticipation of being regarded as the strongest, the leader in times of desperation, now that Vincent is beyond us, should bring some sense of accomplishment. Yet, all I feel is a profound sorrow that clings to my very being.
So many have fallen and sacrificed in the pursuit of what I deemed necessary for the greater good. The balance between lives saved and lives lost becomes an enigmatic puzzle, and I can't help but question the validity of my actions. Have I truly done good, or have I merely justified my deeds with a skewed perspective of righteousness?
Would the young man who embarked upon this road still recognize me?
Do I even recognize myself?
I stop beside a large mirror, one that holds my entire body in its frame. I'm disheveled and injured; one may even call me a plebe. The eyes I was once proud of for their clarity struggle to function after months of these current Ails. They are fogged, long replaced by other beings' eyes in a partially vain attempt at power.
The Harveys passing me in the hall cast fleeting glances my way, seeking acknowledgment or guidance in this dire time. I wave them off, a silent plea for solitude as I grapple with the weight of my conscience. They can't see my thoughts, and I force it so. Not a hint of my emotions leak as remorse tugs at the edges of my thoughts. To them, it looks as though I am fixing my coat.
"Leave me be. I would like quiet for my planning."
No sound meets my ask, but it is not meant for the Harveys remaining here. Many of them, in fact, most of them, are beyond the 4th Sigil, but they do not matter. The plea is for my shadow, the Silent Scorpion.
And so, I continue through the estate. This is the first time I've been here since... since when?
Since Vincent last appeared thirty-five years ago? I think so... None of the current Pillars of humanity would remember that time. Or at least, they were not capable when that meeting occurred. Ed would have remembered it had he been here, Marshall, too. But alas, they have bled so that I can be.
Finally, I step into the grand hall, a scene of faded opulence. The long table, once set for sixteen, now stands lonely and dusty. This is where we would meet. Where we always did—the Pillars. Once upon a time, there were sixteen of us. I vividly recall all their smiles, the belief in the power we had, the unshakable might we possessed with our Wastelander at the helm. That didn't last very long.
Sighing into the solitude, I lower myself onto a creaky chair, surrounded by the flickering glow of candles that dance with shadows. Placing myself at the head of the table is unfulfilling. It is... lonely. It is depressing to be here.
The thought slaps a smile on my face.
It's ironic and directly against what I'm feeling, but I can't help it.
The loneliness, the depression, and the emptiness.
They mean that I didn't do it all just to sit at the top. I never thought I did, but there was always a lingering wisp in the back of my mind. I was... worried I'd fall prey to the woes of lesser men—the faults of power and greed.
I'm no saint, nor am I without problems, but at least in this, I was honest. The needle aimed at my heart from my oath with the Devil as my proctor holds steady, unwavering at the past.
A profoundly filling breath fills my lungs as I fall back into the seat, feeling the Ether around me. The Harvey Estate holds more Arca than any other place in the known world. Fifteen Arca from Powers and three from Virtues, gathered by my close friend over his long life along with those who came before him. He has more Arcas, too, but he bestowed them to the civilizations beyond the Endless. According to him, they needed the strength far more than us to survive. I am rarely in a situation to argue with him, and I did not decide to die on that hill. Fifteen should be enough.
I retrieve the object that has allowed me to come this far as I ponder on how important it will be in the coming times.
A small pendant rests in my hands, made of the densest and most durable material known to man. The object was given to me before Vincent embarked on a journey which has no end, only an oblivion.
Godflesh.
The muscle, skin, or whatever part of a fallen God it is made of is unknown due to its blackened color, but the pendant itself is what is unique. It is the mark of a Prime, passed from one to the next. But that is not all.
It is not simply a medallion. Godflesh bears its own unique properties. The more powerful the God it comes from, the more incredible the effects. And the Godflesh here? It is from the Goddess Of Mud from her fall millennia ago. Not quite an Arca, but particular in its own ways, the Primare bestows three abilities to its bearer. To me.
The first and the most magnificent is a vast connection to the Ether of reality. It is likely tapping into a pool of talent that one did not know they had. I'm unsure of the specifics, but I will be testing them soon. Based on the texts I had access to, it likely holds a sea of Ether that one can use that doesn't provoke any Ether saturation. After all, the human body cannot contain the Ether of a God. It either destroys or ignores. I also believe this is how the Darklight of the Mother Below functions. It is part of her, but it also possesses the Ether that can only be produced by a God, allowing the mortal to gather additional power beyond their Sigil.
The second trait bestowed is hiding the bearer from other God's vision. While holding this, neither the Mother Below nor any of her lackeys can view me. It's perfect for concocting my schemes. It even stops her from seeing me through the eyes of other beings. Without it... all my machinations would be null and void beneath her omniscience of this planet. As far as I know, scarce few are hidden from her eyes. Vincent was one, but so was Ytern. Beyond those two, I am unaware of anyone else. Not even Killian could hide his twisted flesh.
And the final one is a little... less important for me. For Vincent, it was essential—downright life-saving. It gives the holder an innate sense of where the full corpse of the God it comes from is. And... that God in question, the true name forgotten beyond the title, is beneath these very floors. It helped my friend find home after many years away.
No matter how far. No matter where I go. No matter what darkness I might find myself in, I can always orient myself home. It offers me a profound sense of comfort.
With this pendant, none of the Harveys will question me. They will allow me to come and take the things stored inside. Even the hidden Angel that Vincent placed within his family. There is nothing they can do to me.
But that simply belies the inquiry.
What will I do next?
Vincent is waging a war far beyond where we can touch, nestled deeply within the Bridge Of The Gods. Is there nothing I can do to help him? Not directly, no.
If I were to become a Dominion, I could join the battle in my own way, even if only minorly. But that's not enough. Now that leaks are forming in the mesh of Gods, I must only wait for the right one to fall. Then... becoming a Demigod is not the end.
More can lie beyond that. Vincent is merely the cannonball that slams the whole world into high gear. I, however, will be the one to save him and the world at the most critical time.
Yet, how will I perform the acts needed to rise that high? My third is still beyond me. Even if a fallen God were to lighten the load, the task is daunting. Perhaps...
I could reignite the flames of war between the races? No. That won't work. We're too separated now due to the wasteland. Dammit, Vincent. Why did you have to make it that massive?!
It'd take months to get a team capable of dealing some severe damage through. Though... maybe after the Gods fall, other avenues of power will open other than violence. However, I don't believe I have the time to pursue them even if they do.
Killing, stealing, and war have always been the fastest way to money, power, and fame. I don't see this being any different.
So... if I can't find the other races, then what do we do? Venture into the oceans? No, that would be suicide. Only Vincent could manage to cross the Endless. The creatures in the depths of the waters could threaten even him as a Dominion. I've heard horrific stories from the man himself, how he nearly met his end countless times amid those waters. What hope would I have to compete? I'm not naive enough to believe I'm that skilled.
What then? Delve into Pained Peaks? Fight against the lingering shadows of the past Demigods that fell there?
That's... actually not an awful idea. There is always a chance that those shadows break out when provoked too often. The last time one did, the Pygmie's Creator had to step in and throw it into the Endless. It's probably not the best move here. Too much danger is just as useless as not enough. I don't want to die, after all.
I suppose I could also cross Lawless Lake to fight Pygmies against my deal with Maddox. It wasn't a promise to the Devil, so I can break it as I please without physical repercussions.
But... do I want another enemy when I already have so many? The Slumbering are eyeing my stature with venomous eyes. They think I don't know they exist, but I do. What kind of information lord would I be if I didn't? Nothing hides from me. Nothing. Still, if I gain too many foes... they might strike on their own. Hmm...
Maddox did fulfill his side of the deal after all, raiding the Nahullo, demons, and Pygmies while Vincent distracted their most powerful figures. The bastard even managed to kill two Virtues.
Or... or I can finally deal with that rebellion. I wanted to spare them from Vincent's battle due to the fact they were human and still had potential in this game against the Gods. But... perhaps this is their potential—to be stepping stones for my rise.
It's callous. It's... downright evil. But...
It is necessary. The least evil in the world is brutal math.
Yet...
I believe now, despite the harsh and rapid times, is the best time to wait. Patience is a virtue few can demonstrate. I'll wait a little while and strike whenever someone grows weak enough to exploit. I find it hard to imagine Maddox, Lennon, or any of the other Angels sitting still. I shall lay waste to them the moment a chance arises. Whether it's Maddox, Lennon, or Johnny. I need to get things into motion to spark my rise.
"Clarence?"
Still, that doesn't mean the rebellion shouldn't have some eyes on them. My voice echoes into the chamber as Clarence Love peeks his tanned head through, nodding toward me. I wave my hand at him, getting him to follow me inside and to join me at the table.
Once he sits beside me, confusion on his face evident despite his attempt to hide his genuine emotions, I begin to expunge my ideas. He's my most trusted... confidant, and I could use a second opinion.
"We will be clamping down on that rebellion soon, Clarence. The only one that I would like to live through it all is the Inventor. Earl... Earl Garner, I believe, is his name. When all the dust settles, Vincent could use his mind."
Clarence's eyes flicker across my eyes before he raises a question to me, unafraid of voicing his opinion. Just how I like it. A leader without advisors is nothing but an unfeeling king. Humanity doesn't do kings. We haven't for a very, very long time. They do not go well when a single man can topple armies. It leads to unbridled tyranny and consolidation of power.
"Then why did you save them before? Wouldn't it have been better to kill them?"
I sigh, noticing his question has a simple answer. He didn't manage to poke a hole in my thought process in the slightest.
"Killing them was a worst-case scenario after Vincent's rise. I was not anticipating the land he devoured to reach all the way to the northernmost outpost of the Nahullo, to the edge of Lawless Lake, and even to the depths of the Wilds. Those men and women are talented, terribly so. But without anything to fight, Clarence, when the Gods fall, we can only kill our own."
I watch as the man's gaze wavers for a moment. Even he doesn't like the idea of killing our own. These aren't bad people. For the most part, at least. The deadliest assassin has done much of my dirty work, but his only requirement is that I have proof. Proof that those he is killing are beyond saving. That what he is to do must be done.
My mouth opens again as I try to reassure him, even if I don't mean a word of what I'm spouting.
"Now, I must repeat, this is a last-case, absolute worst-case scenario. I know how I worded it did not sound like it, but that is because I am still formulating our next steps. It took decades to get us here. If other races come in, parts of the sands condense, or another threat arises, we will use them to grow."
The notion of it being a worst-case calms my assassin. And with his nod, I continue a bit further.
"Regardless, we are to wait. Practice whatever you feel will make progress. Ingratiate yourself with the Arca within these halls. I give you full authority to use any of them—even the Virtued ones. You may disseminate them as you please, too, to those you feel worthy of them and capable of wielding them. Though... remember, only Tyron, Cloud, and Brimstone are not aligned with any of the Slumbering."
This gets Clarence's lips shifting into a wide grin. He knows about one of the Arca stored here. Qone's Edge—an Arca of the rarest type. A weapon, or more specifically, a dagger, his favorite tool.
I push my chair out from the table as I stand, extending my hand out to the man. I may not owe him my life, but he has been a solid soldier, one that I wish I had many more of.
"Thank you, sir."
He even thanks me for the privilege of using the Arcas here. I shake my head and inform him of the future.
"Once the Gods fall, the world will become chaotic. People will rise in Sigil like you've never seen before. It's already happening. Angels will still be rare, but they will not be the one in many millions like they were before. These tools will provide us with an edge in the times to come. And we will use that edge to rise. Joseph, Sylvia, and Parker will be here soon. So will Cloud and Brimstone. We have to stick together. Our survival will lead to the survival of our race. Do you understand?"
Clarence hesitates for only a fraction of a second before agreeing, cementing himself into this coming chaos. I step forward and thump a hand on his shoulder, tightening my grasp to hold him in place.
"I need to become a God as soon as possible to aid Vincent. He alone cannot finish the job. He needs backup."
************************
Autumn 'Riptide' Adkins
My teeth practically claw at my fingernails as I curse myself for being so stupid. I challenge my brother into a fight. I wasn't even that drunk. The emotions... they just took over me. It felt as if I didn't do that then and there that I would never get the chance to do so.
But not all things are bad. I gave Virgil some of my extra coins, partly as thanks and mainly to help. Yet all they've done is buy food, relax, and enjoy themselves. The three haven't trained at all. Wyatt hasn't practiced or dueled Virgil this past day.
I know there are three more full days until the duel, but still... where is that madman I knew before?
No... I'm being unreasonable. Wyatt is decompressing after weeks of struggling against the Pale Lady. So are Virgil and Abraham. It makes sense. They need to unwind. They need to mourn.
But I can't watch it. It's eating me inside.
My hand slides against the lock to my room in this tavern as I slip out, hiding my feminine form with a cloak from the bastards that populate this place. In most other places, being a woman isn't too bad. Hell, it was better in the affluent regions of Blackreach. The men were quite lovely. Chivalrous, in fact. I'd have doors opened, free food, and even kind gestures constantly given to me.
Here? My father couldn't have brought worse men together if he tried. I've had dozens attempt to assault me, even after knowing who I am. They merely assume my father wouldn't care and that I'm powerless to defend myself. How fucking stupid. He might not care, but how could the Sea's Shadow raise a weakling?
Shaking my head, I rapidly traverse the nightly roads of Kingstown toward the beach. I won't tell those three, but I only found them because I was considering suicide amongst those waves. They are calming. Embracing. Kind.
I wish I was more like them.
My knees hit the sand before I even recognize I reach them. The granules dig into my skin. I breathe in and enjoy the sensation for a little while, listening to the tides.
Wonderful. So peaceful. So endearing.
I could just get lost in the noise and the sensations.
"Hey... Autumn. I thought I'd find you here. You and Rhuger both loved the sea more than any of us."
Ryder's voice forces the peace to a screeching halt. I twist my head toward the man standing still amid the sand as my Ether roars to life, liquid seeping from my pores. Tides are forming my weapons as I glare at the man.
"You here to finish the fight early?"
My twin shakes his head as he plops down beside me with a burst of sand around him shifting from his sudden weight, gazing out into the waves and ignoring my heated stare. The man doesn't seem to care how I feel about him at all, preferring to speak his mind.
"I came here to say something. I haven't told father this. I haven't told anyone this but Feldman. I'm dying, sister. A brain tumor. It's in the very core of my brain, with no way to fix it. I called you back... to give you a gift. But... I cannot simply bestow it anymore."
The organ in my chest halts for several shaking moments as I creak my head to look him directly in the eye. Ryder's eyes are unfocused, regretful, and hopeless. My brother...
He is telling the truth. He is dying.
The realization sends pangs deep into my chest even after all he's done. Ryder dying? It hurts to even imagine. This duel between the two of us would, of course, leave one dead or near dead, but I never honestly imagined I'd win. I just had to try.
My stomach remains in a pit as I croak out a few words.
"The Falling Rain. You were going to give it to me?"
Ryder's head sinks up and down as he flashes the weapon to me. The beautiful Colt, the fifth of all the Lumens, Falling Rain, nestles itself softly into his holster. My teeth chatter at the sight.
"Yes. I was. Father doesn't need it. And... you will be the only one of us three to live to our thirties. I had thought becoming an Angel might cure me, but it only slowed things down. Yet... I will now have to fight you to the death. And if I do not give it my all, I worry Father will simply kill us both. Before... I wanted to kill any who might oppose you to guarantee your position. Now..."
I can't help but gulp at imagining it. It would not be the first time he killed both kids for not fighting as he asked. The bastard has plenty more young ones coming, not that they will likely have the time to mature due to the passing times.
"I am sorry, Ryder. I... fucked things up. I messed up real bad."
I don't even manage to tell my twin that someone else will fight him, and that stabs me even more profoundly in my chest. All I can do is twist and hug the man, wishing we were born under a different roof. Hell... any roof other than the falling rain at sea.
"It's okay, Autumn. It's okay. You can beat me. I have faith. Just remember... I can't see out of the corners of my eyes, and my hands tremble after I fight for too long. Use that. Use those hints... and kill me so that you may live."
***************************
Eli 'Underground Tree' Weiss
I tread wearily through the hallowed halls of the most ancient estate in all of humanity. This place... deep within Onyx Gate, inside the walled section of Primary, had its very first brick placed by the First himself. I pause at the entrance, not even admiring its beauty. Air fills my lungs as the scrambling pain in my mind rises. Time is ticking. Soon, the device in my head will end it all.
But not yet.
Vincent may be a god, but there is still so much work to be done. A hundred of me would not be enough.
So, I continue, heading more profoundly into the building passed from Prime to Prime in history before eventually ending with the Harveys. After all, their family has held the title the longest. Once vibrant with the echoes of life of a millennium ago, the place is now burdened by the weight of my own deeds. The anticipation of being regarded as the strongest, the leader in times of desperation, now that Vincent is beyond us, should bring some sense of accomplishment. Yet, all I feel is a profound sorrow that clings to my very being.
So many have fallen and sacrificed in the pursuit of what I deemed necessary for the greater good. The balance between lives saved and lives lost becomes an enigmatic puzzle, and I can't help but question the validity of my actions. Have I truly done good, or have I merely justified my deeds with a skewed perspective of righteousness?
Would the young man who embarked upon this road still recognize me?
Do I even recognize myself?
I stop beside a large mirror, one that holds my entire body in its frame. I'm disheveled and injured; one may even call me a plebe. The eyes I was once proud of for their clarity struggle to function after months of these current Ails. They are fogged, long replaced by other beings' eyes in a partially vain attempt at power.
The Harveys passing me in the hall cast fleeting glances my way, seeking acknowledgment or guidance in this dire time. I wave them off, a silent plea for solitude as I grapple with the weight of my conscience. They can't see my thoughts, and I force it so. Not a hint of my emotions leak as remorse tugs at the edges of my thoughts. To them, it looks as though I am fixing my coat.
"Leave me be. I would like quiet for my planning."
No sound meets my ask, but it is not meant for the Harveys remaining here. Many of them, in fact, most of them, are beyond the 4th Sigil, but they do not matter. The plea is for my shadow, the Silent Scorpion.
And so, I continue through the estate. This is the first time I've been here since... since when?
Since Vincent last appeared thirty-five years ago? I think so... None of the current Pillars of humanity would remember that time. Or at least, they were not capable when that meeting occurred. Ed would have remembered it had he been here, Marshall, too. But alas, they have bled so that I can be.
Finally, I step into the grand hall, a scene of faded opulence. The long table, once set for sixteen, now stands lonely and dusty. This is where we would meet. Where we always did—the Pillars. Once upon a time, there were sixteen of us. I vividly recall all their smiles, the belief in the power we had, the unshakable might we possessed with our Wastelander at the helm. That didn't last very long.
Sighing into the solitude, I lower myself onto a creaky chair, surrounded by the flickering glow of candles that dance with shadows. Placing myself at the head of the table is unfulfilling. It is... lonely. It is depressing to be here.
The thought slaps a smile on my face.
It's ironic and directly against what I'm feeling, but I can't help it.
The loneliness, the depression, and the emptiness.
They mean that I didn't do it all just to sit at the top. I never thought I did, but there was always a lingering wisp in the back of my mind. I was... worried I'd fall prey to the woes of lesser men—the faults of power and greed.
I'm no saint, nor am I without problems, but at least in this, I was honest. The needle aimed at my heart from my oath with the Devil as my proctor holds steady, unwavering at the past.
A profoundly filling breath fills my lungs as I fall back into the seat, feeling the Ether around me. The Harvey Estate holds more Arca than any other place in the known world. Fifteen Arca from Powers and three from Virtues, gathered by my close friend over his long life along with those who came before him. He has more Arcas, too, but he bestowed them to the civilizations beyond the Endless. According to him, they needed the strength far more than us to survive. I am rarely in a situation to argue with him, and I did not decide to die on that hill. Fifteen should be enough.
I retrieve the object that has allowed me to come this far as I ponder on how important it will be in the coming times.
A small pendant rests in my hands, made of the densest and most durable material known to man. The object was given to me before Vincent embarked on a journey which has no end, only an oblivion.
Godflesh.
The muscle, skin, or whatever part of a fallen God it is made of is unknown due to its blackened color, but the pendant itself is what is unique. It is the mark of a Prime, passed from one to the next. But that is not all.
It is not simply a medallion. Godflesh bears its own unique properties. The more powerful the God it comes from, the more incredible the effects. And the Godflesh here? It is from the Goddess Of Mud from her fall millennia ago. Not quite an Arca, but particular in its own ways, the Primare bestows three abilities to its bearer. To me.
The first and the most magnificent is a vast connection to the Ether of reality. It is likely tapping into a pool of talent that one did not know they had. I'm unsure of the specifics, but I will be testing them soon. Based on the texts I had access to, it likely holds a sea of Ether that one can use that doesn't provoke any Ether saturation. After all, the human body cannot contain the Ether of a God. It either destroys or ignores. I also believe this is how the Darklight of the Mother Below functions. It is part of her, but it also possesses the Ether that can only be produced by a God, allowing the mortal to gather additional power beyond their Sigil.
The second trait bestowed is hiding the bearer from other God's vision. While holding this, neither the Mother Below nor any of her lackeys can view me. It's perfect for concocting my schemes. It even stops her from seeing me through the eyes of other beings. Without it... all my machinations would be null and void beneath her omniscience of this planet. As far as I know, scarce few are hidden from her eyes. Vincent was one, but so was Ytern. Beyond those two, I am unaware of anyone else. Not even Killian could hide his twisted flesh.
And the final one is a little... less important for me. For Vincent, it was essential—downright life-saving. It gives the holder an innate sense of where the full corpse of the God it comes from is. And... that God in question, the true name forgotten beyond the title, is beneath these very floors. It helped my friend find home after many years away.
No matter how far. No matter where I go. No matter what darkness I might find myself in, I can always orient myself home. It offers me a profound sense of comfort.
With this pendant, none of the Harveys will question me. They will allow me to come and take the things stored inside. Even the hidden Angel that Vincent placed within his family. There is nothing they can do to me.
But that simply belies the inquiry.
What will I do next?
Vincent is waging a war far beyond where we can touch, nestled deeply within the Bridge Of The Gods. Is there nothing I can do to help him? Not directly, no.
If I were to become a Dominion, I could join the battle in my own way, even if only minorly. But that's not enough. Now that leaks are forming in the mesh of Gods, I must only wait for the right one to fall. Then... becoming a Demigod is not the end.
More can lie beyond that. Vincent is merely the cannonball that slams the whole world into high gear. I, however, will be the one to save him and the world at the most critical time.
Yet, how will I perform the acts needed to rise that high? My third is still beyond me. Even if a fallen God were to lighten the load, the task is daunting. Perhaps...
I could reignite the flames of war between the races? No. That won't work. We're too separated now due to the wasteland. Dammit, Vincent. Why did you have to make it that massive?!
It'd take months to get a team capable of dealing some severe damage through. Though... maybe after the Gods fall, other avenues of power will open other than violence. However, I don't believe I have the time to pursue them even if they do.
Killing, stealing, and war have always been the fastest way to money, power, and fame. I don't see this being any different.
So... if I can't find the other races, then what do we do? Venture into the oceans? No, that would be suicide. Only Vincent could manage to cross the Endless. The creatures in the depths of the waters could threaten even him as a Dominion. I've heard horrific stories from the man himself, how he nearly met his end countless times amid those waters. What hope would I have to compete? I'm not naive enough to believe I'm that skilled.
What then? Delve into Pained Peaks? Fight against the lingering shadows of the past Demigods that fell there?
That's... actually not an awful idea. There is always a chance that those shadows break out when provoked too often. The last time one did, the Pygmie's Creator had to step in and throw it into the Endless. It's probably not the best move here. Too much danger is just as useless as not enough. I don't want to die, after all.
I suppose I could also cross Lawless Lake to fight Pygmies against my deal with Maddox. It wasn't a promise to the Devil, so I can break it as I please without physical repercussions.
But... do I want another enemy when I already have so many? The Slumbering are eyeing my stature with venomous eyes. They think I don't know they exist, but I do. What kind of information lord would I be if I didn't? Nothing hides from me. Nothing. Still, if I gain too many foes... they might strike on their own. Hmm...
Maddox did fulfill his side of the deal after all, raiding the Nahullo, demons, and Pygmies while Vincent distracted their most powerful figures. The bastard even managed to kill two Virtues.
Or... or I can finally deal with that rebellion. I wanted to spare them from Vincent's battle due to the fact they were human and still had potential in this game against the Gods. But... perhaps this is their potential—to be stepping stones for my rise.
It's callous. It's... downright evil. But...
It is necessary. The least evil in the world is brutal math.
Yet...
I believe now, despite the harsh and rapid times, is the best time to wait. Patience is a virtue few can demonstrate. I'll wait a little while and strike whenever someone grows weak enough to exploit. I find it hard to imagine Maddox, Lennon, or any of the other Angels sitting still. I shall lay waste to them the moment a chance arises. Whether it's Maddox, Lennon, or Johnny. I need to get things into motion to spark my rise.
"Clarence?"
Still, that doesn't mean the rebellion shouldn't have some eyes on them. My voice echoes into the chamber as Clarence Love peeks his tanned head through, nodding toward me. I wave my hand at him, getting him to follow me inside and to join me at the table.
Once he sits beside me, confusion on his face evident despite his attempt to hide his genuine emotions, I begin to expunge my ideas. He's my most trusted... confidant, and I could use a second opinion.
"We will be clamping down on that rebellion soon, Clarence. The only one that I would like to live through it all is the Inventor. Earl... Earl Garner, I believe, is his name. When all the dust settles, Vincent could use his mind."
Clarence's eyes flicker across my eyes before he raises a question to me, unafraid of voicing his opinion. Just how I like it. A leader without advisors is nothing but an unfeeling king. Humanity doesn't do kings. We haven't for a very, very long time. They do not go well when a single man can topple armies. It leads to unbridled tyranny and consolidation of power.
"Then why did you save them before? Wouldn't it have been better to kill them?"
I sigh, noticing his question has a simple answer. He didn't manage to poke a hole in my thought process in the slightest.
"Killing them was a worst-case scenario after Vincent's rise. I was not anticipating the land he devoured to reach all the way to the northernmost outpost of the Nahullo, to the edge of Lawless Lake, and even to the depths of the Wilds. Those men and women are talented, terribly so. But without anything to fight, Clarence, when the Gods fall, we can only kill our own."
I watch as the man's gaze wavers for a moment. Even he doesn't like the idea of killing our own. These aren't bad people. For the most part, at least. The deadliest assassin has done much of my dirty work, but his only requirement is that I have proof. Proof that those he is killing are beyond saving. That what he is to do must be done.
My mouth opens again as I try to reassure him, even if I don't mean a word of what I'm spouting.
"Now, I must repeat, this is a last-case, absolute worst-case scenario. I know how I worded it did not sound like it, but that is because I am still formulating our next steps. It took decades to get us here. If other races come in, parts of the sands condense, or another threat arises, we will use them to grow."
The notion of it being a worst-case calms my assassin. And with his nod, I continue a bit further.
"Regardless, we are to wait. Practice whatever you feel will make progress. Ingratiate yourself with the Arca within these halls. I give you full authority to use any of them—even the Virtued ones. You may disseminate them as you please, too, to those you feel worthy of them and capable of wielding them. Though... remember, only Tyron, Cloud, and Brimstone are not aligned with any of the Slumbering."
This gets Clarence's lips shifting into a wide grin. He knows about one of the Arca stored here. Qone's Edge—an Arca of the rarest type. A weapon, or more specifically, a dagger, his favorite tool.
I push my chair out from the table as I stand, extending my hand out to the man. I may not owe him my life, but he has been a solid soldier, one that I wish I had many more of.
"Thank you, sir."
He even thanks me for the privilege of using the Arcas here. I shake my head and inform him of the future.
"Once the Gods fall, the world will become chaotic. People will rise in Sigil like you've never seen before. It's already happening. Angels will still be rare, but they will not be the one in many millions like they were before. These tools will provide us with an edge in the times to come. And we will use that edge to rise. Joseph, Sylvia, and Parker will be here soon. So will Cloud and Brimstone. We have to stick together. Our survival will lead to the survival of our race. Do you understand?"
Clarence hesitates for only a fraction of a second before agreeing, cementing himself into this coming chaos. I step forward and thump a hand on his shoulder, tightening my grasp to hold him in place.
"I need to become a God as soon as possible to aid Vincent. He alone cannot finish the job. He needs backup."
************************
Autumn 'Riptide' Adkins
My teeth practically claw at my fingernails as I curse myself for being so stupid. I challenge my brother into a fight. I wasn't even that drunk. The emotions... they just took over me. It felt as if I didn't do that then and there that I would never get the chance to do so.
But not all things are bad. I gave Virgil some of my extra coins, partly as thanks and mainly to help. Yet all they've done is buy food, relax, and enjoy themselves. The three haven't trained at all. Wyatt hasn't practiced or dueled Virgil this past day.
I know there are three more full days until the duel, but still... where is that madman I knew before?
No... I'm being unreasonable. Wyatt is decompressing after weeks of struggling against the Pale Lady. So are Virgil and Abraham. It makes sense. They need to unwind. They need to mourn.
But I can't watch it. It's eating me inside.
My hand slides against the lock to my room in this tavern as I slip out, hiding my feminine form with a cloak from the bastards that populate this place. In most other places, being a woman isn't too bad. Hell, it was better in the affluent regions of Blackreach. The men were quite lovely. Chivalrous, in fact. I'd have doors opened, free food, and even kind gestures constantly given to me.
Here? My father couldn't have brought worse men together if he tried. I've had dozens attempt to assault me, even after knowing who I am. They merely assume my father wouldn't care and that I'm powerless to defend myself. How fucking stupid. He might not care, but how could the Sea's Shadow raise a weakling?
Shaking my head, I rapidly traverse the nightly roads of Kingstown toward the beach. I won't tell those three, but I only found them because I was considering suicide amongst those waves. They are calming. Embracing. Kind.
I wish I was more like them.
My knees hit the sand before I even recognize I reach them. The granules dig into my skin. I breathe in and enjoy the sensation for a little while, listening to the tides.
Wonderful. So peaceful. So endearing.
I could just get lost in the noise and the sensations.
"Hey... Autumn. I thought I'd find you here. You and Rhuger both loved the sea more than any of us."
Ryder's voice forces the peace to a screeching halt. I twist my head toward the man standing still amid the sand as my Ether roars to life, liquid seeping from my pores. Tides are forming my weapons as I glare at the man.
"You here to finish the fight early?"
My twin shakes his head as he plops down beside me with a burst of sand around him shifting from his sudden weight, gazing out into the waves and ignoring my heated stare. The man doesn't seem to care how I feel about him at all, preferring to speak his mind.
"I came here to say something. I haven't told father this. I haven't told anyone this but Feldman. I'm dying, sister. A brain tumor. It's in the very core of my brain, with no way to fix it. I called you back... to give you a gift. But... I cannot simply bestow it anymore."
The organ in my chest halts for several shaking moments as I creak my head to look him directly in the eye. Ryder's eyes are unfocused, regretful, and hopeless. My brother...
He is telling the truth. He is dying.
The realization sends pangs deep into my chest even after all he's done. Ryder dying? It hurts to even imagine. This duel between the two of us would, of course, leave one dead or near dead, but I never honestly imagined I'd win. I just had to try.
My stomach remains in a pit as I croak out a few words.
"The Falling Rain. You were going to give it to me?"
Ryder's head sinks up and down as he flashes the weapon to me. The beautiful Colt, the fifth of all the Lumens, Falling Rain, nestles itself softly into his holster. My teeth chatter at the sight.
"Yes. I was. Father doesn't need it. And... you will be the only one of us three to live to our thirties. I had thought becoming an Angel might cure me, but it only slowed things down. Yet... I will now have to fight you to the death. And if I do not give it my all, I worry Father will simply kill us both. Before... I wanted to kill any who might oppose you to guarantee your position. Now..."
I can't help but gulp at imagining it. It would not be the first time he killed both kids for not fighting as he asked. The bastard has plenty more young ones coming, not that they will likely have the time to mature due to the passing times.
"I am sorry, Ryder. I... fucked things up. I messed up real bad."
I don't even manage to tell my twin that someone else will fight him, and that stabs me even more profoundly in my chest. All I can do is twist and hug the man, wishing we were born under a different roof. Hell... any roof other than the falling rain at sea.
"It's okay, Autumn. It's okay. You can beat me. I have faith. Just remember... I can't see out of the corners of my eyes, and my hands tremble after I fight for too long. Use that. Use those hints... and kill me so that you may live."
