O trusted blade, O truest friend! What worth in all this blood I shed? What worth in all these lies I reap? What worth in every stroke, every strike? What worth, what woe, what weight do my actions hold?
Loathsome giants, ye shed yourselves upon this blade of duplicitous rust, yet die and die for naught! What difference does it make if I butcher and slay these beasts of the hollowed north without grander purpose behind these strides?
Loathesome! These creatures and I have become one and the same! We strive toward slaughter without significance, barren of truth or higher faith.
Mine love, cast your gaze from me if you might peer between the arms of the Ascendancy! I am wilted. I am scorned of the woman I was and the blade I must be.
There is no salvation here. Not in mindless death. Not in this place of misery.
Home… I must step from these precious shadows mine and seek home. I must sever myself in a final blow. I cannot stay, for here is not the death of my flesh, but the forsaking of my soul!
Home, I must go. Home, where I will once again be whole…
—Psychomachia or The Shadow Before My Light (Award-winning Yellowstone Republic play about Legend-Inquisitor Jessica Hawgrave turning from blind vengeance toward faith and honor)
VIII-36
Psychomachia (I)
In the hours that followed, the atmosphere looming over the Mausoleum shifted from dread to a steady state of paranoia, layered with a rise of lingering curiosity.
Muvark capitulated because he had to, because there was no other true choice he could commit to, and because it was in his interest to do so. With everyone else dead or having fled, he was the de facto governing authority over the empire’s capital—yet his position as leader was more theoretical than not. Valor Thann had returned, after all, and once more the mechanisms of his people began to turn around the eddies of his mythology.
Currently, a Necrotech Dimensionalist painted layers of wards around Shiv's person to prevent any catastrophic reactions between his vitality and the Necromancy that served as the city's lifeblood. He, along with Adam and Legend-Accountant Muvark, shared an honor guard that watched and ensured the safety of their city while also serving as an official welcoming committee to the prodigal father of the Necrotechs as a people.
The Grand Reliquary of the Mausoleum stood as its centerpiece. It was a cornerstone of many districts, at once an attraction of cultural importance, a magical wellspring, and a military installation all at the same time. The Grand Reliquary did not loom over the Mausoleum as the Republic's landmarks did in the Yellowstone capital, nor did it stretch and swallow an unreasonable amount of space or flourish and dance like the awakened structures of London, allowed to frolic and fight of their own accord.
While the Grand Reliquary was, in parts, well-decorated, glorious, and resplendent, it was ultimately subdued in its design and shape. The most notable part of the structure was a hand made from countless lesser hands fused together in a grand effigy of bone reaching upward, while another inverted section plunged down into the main structure of the reliquary itself. As above, so below; seeking the sky, seeking the Great One beneath. The central mass of the reliquary was a thing of white, red, and gold, dotted with speckles of blue as a backdrop. There were figures painting visages of death, remarkable and notable Undying who had left their mark on the culture and were entombed before their final demise upon this grand effigy that held tales of their legends beyond their souls.
It was on six arching legs that the reliquary stood, a gap separating it from the ground rather than sporting any doorways. Yet the central mass was opened by a series of cracks, fissures glistening with corrosive mana that revealed spots of faintest blue behind—an attunement of loss, serving as a membrane for a core made up from the lore of souls.
Mana spilled forth from the gaps lining the reliquary, burrowing into the ground and coursing across the city. Shiv could feel the Necromancy flinching away from him, twisting and bending further wherever he walked. It was like the lore itself recognized him, or at least the threat he posed, understood that he and it could never coexist. As such, he exerted a pressure upon it that it couldn't return—and a part of him relished in that power. Yet something else drew his attention. His Severed Shadow sensed something within the reliquary, pushing upon him, calling to him. The Animancy within was true and bright, akin to a star held by a fraying cage, and he could feel it, for within that core of attuned soul-stuff was something else, a construct of vitality unlike anything else.
It sang to him, saw him as kindred, compelled him to come forth against all reason, against all sense of self-preservation for him, for the city, for this world.
“Shiv.” Adam's voice made the world tremble. It echoed forth from his divine anchor, shuddering the air and washing over Shiv’s senses. “Are you well?”
“Feel something coming from within the reliquary,” Shiv replied as he shook off his momentary stupor. He noted Muvark's discomfort and felt the honor guard accompanying him take three steps back. There were six among them, and not one was a Legend. All of them stood barren of the Necromancy that defined their kind, and that left them wary of the Grand Reliquary for whatever reason. Shiv could feel the tension inside them, but instead of being a single core feeding power to his Trespasser, it split along two paths: one going to him, while the other sneaked toward the reliquary itself. “A lot of vitality trapped by the Animancy.”
Muvark shifted, his expression giving way to surprise. “You can feel that, Legend-Deathless? Truly?”
“I can feel something. As for what, I can't give you an answer there. Can you?”
Yet it wasn't Muvark who spoke to Shiv. “I remember now,” Valor's voice sounded right next to Shiv, who barely caught himself before flinching, as his master hadn't been there until that very moment. He was about to raise his hackles in mock ire, but sensed something in Valor, a somberness to his mood as reminiscence took hold. Shiv forced discipline on himself, crushing down any jabs or complaints as he let Valor have this moment. The ancient Undying seemed young in a strange way. The mana-shaped facsimile of flesh and dark skin coating his bones shifted into an unreadable expression. “I remember this place. I remember the creation of this construct. I helped make this. I helped build this city. I helped… but so many others added to my labors. So many others gave their own heartblood to see…”
Muvark’s legs nearly buckled outward in a painful split as he finally realized who was standing next to him. “LEGEND V-V-VAL—”
“Give him a moment before you beg for your life,” Adam's voice rumbled from his shrine, interrupting Mubark's whimpering exercise with a rumble. The booming sound echoed in sync with the honor guard falling to a single knee and laying their weapons before themselves on the ground in an act of supreme supplication. The performance went unnoticed by Valor, but the surrender was genuine and born of terror.
“Rare that one is both valorized as an honored founding father and a nightmarish omen,” the Harbinger mused. “Just who was Valor Thann?”
Nihilist: You talk like you don’t already know the answer. We aren’t the same reckless idiot who fell from Blackedge. We’re not the same idiot who barely made it out of the prison. We’re not even the same guy who got off the throne. Skills evolve. So do people. The ones who don’t or won’t become Sullain. The ones who do are still here fighting. So it goes.
Valor's attention lingered on the reliquary only a few heartbeats longer, then he pulled away, and there was a snapping sensation in the air as Shiv felt something reaching back for Valor.
“Wait,” Shiv said. “Are those his legs? Is that what the reliquary holds?”
“Do you know the greatest beauty that longevity can offer you?” Valor suddenly said, once again before Muvark could answer Shiv. Yet, as Valor spoke, it was only with half a mind towards Shiv and Adam. This was as much a monologue as it was a lesson. “As time passes, you realize that there are parts of the world that remain unchanged, that want to decay but endure as long as they can. Then there are other parts of the world that constantly change, mutating faster than a cancer, faster and faster until it outpaces you entirely. I have always liked this city for that reason. The Mausoleum is not young or old. There is no unity in design or aesthetic or expression, not even age, but it is a complete whole nonetheless. It is incongruous, but connected along a similar foundation: Both the young and the old yearn to remain.”
At those words, a ripple of mana escaped Adam's temple. It was almost corrosive—but seemed more akin to a foam-film that washed over existence. As it spread out from the divine anchor, it coated the world in the shape of what came before.
“What comes with loss is remembrance,” Adam declared. The spell he cast continued to spread until it enveloped everything for a kilometer, and as the magic stabilized, figures past roused like a great mirage. Ghosts of people who were and now weren’t shifted about—but this was only the surface of the spell. Valor stood as a visage of death no longer; he was renewed of true flesh and skin, dressed in bone-white armor and a billowing cloak of darkness, and sporting a long waterfall of pitch-black hair.
The same fate befell Muvark, who was reduced from his corpulent vessel to a stout, bookish man who dressed in articles of velvet and plaid, clinging to books and forms tighter than a warrior would a blade. Then, the magic spread further. The nearby neighborhoods transformed. Some blocks were unmade, while others rose, and more fell, while quite a few remained just the same, giving credence to Valor's words. Shiv felt himself temporarily shrink—felt his skills briefly flicker and revert as he was reduced to the Pathless boy he was—before his Magical Resistance asserted itself and spared him a reckoning with his past.
The spell lasted a few seconds longer before it broke like the parting of a cloud. But just before the last of the conjurations collapsed, that old version of Valor caught sight of a woman and child standing mere strides away. They were shadows imprinted upon the film of mana, but the laughter of the boy betrayed his parentage and identity—Udraal held a distinctive voice. Silence, however, lived up to her name and stood an enigma still, until the illusion of the past broke, surrendering the world back to the present that was.
Valor gave a slight nod to Adam, while his empathetic core throbbed and ached. “My gratitude, Adam. My memory and point stand reinforced.”
“What the hells was that?” Shiv muttered.
“What my Necromancy became,” Adam answered softly, speaking via telepathy now. “I have been trying to re-learn how to cast spells, only to realize it is not the same lore anymore at all. It doesn’t always respond to me—I need a source of poignance and contrast to create a mana field, rather than just a place of loss.”
“But then you can turn someone back into who they were?”
“More like I draw a piece of your legend and have it temporarily overwrite who you are now.”
Shiv blinked. “That’s still disgusting. But kinda useful. Maybe we should have more fights near national monuments or other places of nostalgia.” His head slowly swiveled back to the Reliquary, and a devious grin took hold. “Muvark, how heavy do you think the Reliquary is?”
“Well, that depends. Without the legs—” Muvark began doing math in his head.
“Add the legs,” Shiv said. “They look more structurally sound than the body of the thing. I don’t want it to fall apart if I clutch too hard.”
“Shiv…” Adam sighed through his temple.
“No, Adam. I’m going to be smart about this—imagine me lifting it for a second, but then I throw that second into the future, and I temporally manifest the reliquary with you and Valor present so we can spray people with past-goop.”
“Please don’t call it that.”
“It’s foamy and stuff. It’s goop.”
“Legend-Deathless,” Muvark almost whimpered. “Stealing the Grand Reliquary is also…”
“I’m not really stealing; it’s tactical borrowing. I move it back across time when I’m done. It’ll blink back like nothing happened.”
“If only things were so simple.” Valor gave the weakest of chuckles. “Your urge to turn everything into a hammer is one of your finest traits. Alas, the reliquary is far more than a meager hammer, and if you lay your hand upon it, it will then try to take a piece of you in turn. And despite your considerable Magical Resistance, I do not think that is an ideal outcome for any of us.”
Shiv hummed. “I mean… I think I can survive the bang. I’ll get levels. Plenty of them.”
“How nice for you,” Adam seethed. “Almost worth the literal genocide that might result from the attempt.”
A horrible joke involving Roland and a certain city came to Shiv, but he decided not to go there—even though he was extremely tempted to. Uva patted him psionically in praise. “I am proud of your self-control, Shiv. I know how much you wanted to break social etiquette and agitate Adam.”
Nihilist: You should do it anyway. Talk about how you don’t want Roland to outdo you in terms of genocides—that any city he burned, you could burn twice as fast. Add how sooner or later, you’ll kill more Abyssals than him.
“Absolutely do not do that,” the Harbinger seethed. “Is there any worth to your suggestions, Nihilist?”
Nihilist: I bring a sense of fun-loving whimsy into his life. Someone has to, considering he has a golden pre-legendary stick lodged up his ass.
“Hey, Nihilist,” the girl who didn't exist said. “Go fuck yourself.”
Nihilist: Sure. Just wait for Shiv and Uva here to find another moment for themselves like last time—life becomes a stacked doll of self-fucking when that happens. Self-fucking with someone else inside our minds—pretty layered, now I think about it.
Uva began psionically whacking Shiv instead. “Sometimes, I wonder how you manage any thoughts at all in that chaotic hurricane you call a mind.”
“I do a lot of thinking in the future and smuggle it into him as false-intuition,” the Harbinger admitted with a groan of weariness.
“So,” Shiv said, trying to clear the awkwardness. “Valor. The other members of the First Coven—”
“Have been settled,” Valor answered casually.
“Settled,” Muvark repeated softly.
“Settled,” Valor reassured. “Do not ask for details, Legend-Accountant. Some truths can only disquiet. But you need not worry about your former companions any longer. Instead, you should concern yourself with your own safety and dignity. I knew your former mentor; he spoke highly of you. Quite a thing, considering his talent at accumulating wealth. That being said, I hope you only earned his praise rather than inherited his habits, because if so, there are other things we must discuss in private after my personal matters are at a resolution.”
An explosion of darkness consumed Muvark as his heart erupted with uncontrollable terror. “Needn’t worry,” Muvark breathed after a few seconds of making unintelligible noises. “You needn’t worry, Legend Valor. My only muse is the economy, not capital. My only want is service to the people, not personal glory.”
The Beast of the Ninth Circle went rabid back in the Gate. It snapped and bit blindly at the air—but still remained far removed from the situation, unable to punish its prey.
“So you say,” Valor replied without emotion. “But will words stand true through action?”
“Yes,” Muvark insisted.
“Then show me,” Valor said. “Grant us entry, and let me see what you have done to the facet of myself you have held as collateral.”
“Of course,” Muvark said all too fast. “Of course! Of course!”
On the precipice of the third “of course,” Muvark—and everyone else—found themselves interrupted by a new presence that appeared with as much suddenness as Valor mere seconds prior. The Faceless Queen—the Great One itself—emerged into reality without statement or declaration. Her sudden appearance caused the honor guard to explode into action. Spells and strikes curved into her person, yet never emerged. It was like every blow that struck was forgotten, consumed and lost in another space.
Before the honor guard could continue, Valor lifted a hand—and the Necrotech elites halted mid-action, obeying their cultural hero and boogeyman over the literal god that spawned them in a moment of divine irony.
“Valor,” the Great One greeted. Her arms were clasped behind her back, and her head was held high. Shiv noted that she was still in her older and taller form rather than the childlike figure he'd initially come to know her as. “I see you finally made it home. And all it took was a final push from another. Faith is a remarkable thing, even in the most figurative form. A boy believed in you, and with that, all your existential doubts and fears succumbed. Every mental and emotional barrier was cast aside. Quite a beautiful thing.”
A long silence was everyone's response. Any notion of humor or levity collapsed as Shiv, Adam, and Valor shifted closer together in the Great One’s effigy. “I had suspicions you would come,” Valor said. “I had hopes that you wouldn’t.”
The Great One nodded. “Understandable.”
“No,” Valor hissed back. “No, it is not understandable. Almost nothing you have done is understandable. What you are is not understandable.” The currents of his anger were secondary, but still true. A thousand years of faith lay broken, buried within his soul and psyche like shrapnel. A thousand years of faith, rendered little more than a sidenote to a grander duplicity in play. “I thought I understood you. Both of you. Both faces you occupy. I gave praise to the truth of you and slaked my blades on your deception in ignorance. Now, you stand before me at this instant… What do you want? What games do you play now? What pawn will you make of me?”
“Not a pawn, no.” The Great One’s voice softened. “I always appreciated you, Valor. This much, you can know is true. Just look to the Deathless if you need someone to confirm that for you.”
The Beast whispered its affirmation, and Shiv projected a reluctant pulse of telepathy to tell Valor as much. His demeanor didn’t change; the shell of honesty could hide a greater feat of manipulation within.
“It’s part of the reason why you’re still alive after so many years,” the Great One continued. “I heard your prayers. And when you needed me, I was there. When you were locked in that prison dimension, I opened a door. When you lay bleeding and broken beneath the Temple of Haaath-Vogaar, I saw you carried out. And when you were hopeless, I opened paths to you.”
“All to use me,” Valor whispered.
“Yes,” the Great One admitted. “But also because I appreciated you. The two things are not as far apart as your broken heart might want to believe.”
Muvark looked between Valor and the faceless woman who'd appeared out of nowhere with absolute confusion. Shiv empathized with the poor Legend-Accountant once again. Poor math-addled bastard was getting dragged into cosmic-tier bullshit and the grandparent of all conspiracies.
“How many others?” Valor asked.
“How many others do I aid?” The Great One huffed. “That’s beyond counting. It’s hard to convey the scale of the games I play to a mortal. But how many of them are like you? None. You’re the only one left of your generation. Of over a hundred generations. Most don’t live longer than a few centuries, Valor—even with divine intervention. I might’ve been the hand that tilted your fate sometimes, but you were miracle enough for yourself for most of this time. You always were.”
“I have no need for your praise or flattery,” Valor spat. “I want to know—”
“No, you don’t,” the Great One interrupted. “You really don’t. I know you. I know you too well. You are afraid of what you might find. You’re here, still, because you think you have to find out. So you can face your past, figure out what happened to your wife, why your son betrayed you. Why. Why. Why.” She smacked her nonexistent lips together with a sympathetic exhale. “You will regret this. When you claim the last piece of yourself. You will regret it. As will those who follow you. Like you told poor Muvark, some truths only give disquiet—”
“And from what degeneracy did this disquiet spill?” a voice thundered from Adam's temple—but it was not the man that spoke. The Sage had taken hold once more, and existence was drowned in disgust and loathing. The Harbinger gasped and sputtered as the sheer intensity of the Sage’s emotions crushed the skill past the threshold of incoherence. “For what reason do we discuss these matters upon the grave of your body, with a foundation for a broken world nested atop your unrotting corpse?”
“Hello to you as well, Sage,” the Great One said with a measure of annoyance. “I warned you about this one, Deathless. I suppose it will take more than just a few words for you to understand. So, I think I should warn more than just you this time. Adam Arrow. I’m sorry for what was forced upon you. I’m sorry that you inherited one of my greatest mistakes. Your fate is sealed, as was mine. Such was the way of things the moment I thought to meddle in the absolute—as Matthew Carter Thaen did the same thereafter. No way out of this. As Divinity made me rigid, the Heaven will consume you absolutely. If you wish to stay a mortal, you must die as one. Otherwise, you will have continuity, but a death of your personhood nonetheless. Even before the sword struck, the shield was seeping into me. Why, the Sage neglected to mention that it itself was a great part of my reason for the creation of Avalon at all. But that’s neither here nor there. Whatever fate is to befall you, that will come later. This is for the danger you face now: Valor. When you enter the Reliquary and claim that final piece of you, do not go into the dark alone.”
“Why?” Valor asked, his temper flaring while his voice remained measured. “Speak. For once, speak to me directly. Explain—”
“You’ll learn what you did to your beloved. What you tried to do to your child. And come to learn the man you actually were isn’t quite the same as the man you remember yourself to be.”
Shiv felt his Continuity Error quiver—but go still. Avalon was supposed to be in exile, but that felt—
“Shiv,” the Great One said. “Make sure the other two are not there when Valor completes himself. He will make corpses of everyone you love. Adam. Uva. The entire Gate. Perhaps Roland is uniquely suited to be the difference, but his absence will not be resolved soon enough for what is to follow.”
“How about you do that?” Shiv asked. “What the felling hell's the point of you being so cryptic if we already know—know…” He paused. “Wait. Is knowledge a danger to us here? Are you… Are you trying to protect us?”
The question came as a hunch, but the Great One refused to answer in detail. “Some truths hold more than disquiet. Some pasts aren’t quite done with the present. But the future is still yet to be decided. Valor. You’re going to need to come back together at some point, but how you do, and who you’ll be after is going to take a lot more than you.” The Great One looked up. “This is a gesture of goodwill. It’s the purest gesture I have made in quite some time. There is no greater game here beyond you, Valor. I want you to know that. I want you to know that all of it was your fault, but in the end, so little of it was your choice. And if things turn out for the worst, and tragedy takes you again, I want you to keep that in mind.” The Great One paused. “Time grows tight. You only have so long until the Challenger enters the fray. Before that, I think it is best that you give the remnants of the Core their final mercy. If you are cruel, you will reassemble yourself on their shores, Valor, when the moon is high. Using the Deathless as a distraction, enact your completion on them. You might not find peace at the end, but we will be one problem fewer.”
“Wait,” Valor said. “You—” The Great One vanished—like she always did—and Valor found himself reaching out for nothing.
Quest Gained: Destroy Valor Thann before he reassembles his soul.
Success: Grants you the power to shift to Path of the [.null]
Failure: Suffer the truth of First of the Undying—He Who Stills Eternity.
Whatever Shiv had intended to say died before it could leave his lips. Instead, he ran his tongue over them and glared at the Quest details. “Really want me to kill the people I care about, don’t you, System?” he growled.
“You got it too?” Adam breathed.
“I as well,” Uva whispered, her mind filling with ice-cold dread.
Valor looked on at where the Great One stood a moment before as his core oozed with stronger doubt than ever before. “Did she lie?” he asked finally, still not facing Shiv. “At any point?”
“No,” Shiv said, grimacing. “Not once. But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t holding something back.”
“Was your Beast roused at all?”
Shiv hesitated. “Didn’t even lift its head. I—whatever is waiting in that last piece of you, I think she’s actually worried.”
“So she is,” Valor said, the emotion in his tone unreadable. “Shiv. Adam. Wait here. Legend-Accountant. Disable the Reliquary’s wards. I wish to enter. I wish to face my fate—whatever fate it is. I reclaim my final self and then decide what is to come.”
“Valor,” Shiv began, reaching up to clasp his master by the shoulder, “you don’t have to rush this. We’re here. The city is open. You can do this at any time.”
“And how long shall I delay?” Valor asked. “How long shall we endure in fear of the unknowable? The pain must come, as our enemies do. There is no better time. There is no place of softer mercy or escape. I go forward. I evolve. I devolve. Perhaps both and the same.” An unsteadiness threatened to overcome Valor, but he held it at bay. Even so, his vulnerability was true, as from him seeped darkness born of dread. Dread of what was. Dread of what was to be again. “Stay here,” he repeated once more, his words almost unwilling. “I will return. I will return. And when I do… When I do, we must discuss how and where we are to face the calamity of my completion. And what to do about our Quests.”
“Quests?” Shiv said. “You mean—”
“No,” Valor interrupted, his voice fragile. “I know that you have all received Quests to slay me. Because I received one as well.”
“To eliminate all of us?” Adam answered with disbelief.
“No,” Valor said. “To end myself. To spare you. To spare everyone of who I was. Including myself.”
With that, Valor seized the Legend-Accountant and tore away toward the Reliquary, marching with the pace of a man trying to sprint to his gallows—desperate to see the end of things, for even a terrible culmination is better than the torture of eternal, forlorn ignorance.
***
Back aboard the Sky-Swallowing Carp. Another instance of Shiv leaned over a charcoal-black lump of meat. His ability to cook had been lost to him alongside his focus and calm. What lay ahead was more than his art could soothe. He needed to muster himself for Valor. He needed to close down for today, and then, he needed to—
“It breaks me, to see him like that.”
Shiv’s head snapped upward—his Pyromancy sparked. A plume of hollow flame surged—and froze before it ever got close to the intruder standing in his doorway. A miserable scowl spread across Shiv’s face as he craned his neck and gritted his teeth. “Now you show up.”
“Now, indeed.” Udraal took a long, awkward step into the kitchen as he wiggled his nose in disgust. “What better time than upon the precipice of my father’s potential funeral—or rebirth. That seems burned, by the way. I don’t think that should be the case. I thought chefs were supposed to know that.” Shiv glared at his creator, who grinned playfully and lifted his hands. “A joke. A joke.”
“I got a joke too,” Shiv said. “What’s the largest thing in this room you think I can fit up your ass?”
Udraal tilted his head. “With or without magic? Because if I help you, I’m quite certain I can hide this entire establishment. I don’t see the joke, however. Maybe try improving your Comedy Skill before—”
Time froze, and a snarl escaped Shiv as he lunged at his creator with Last Morsel raised high.