Brent Stinebaker
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IV-23 Trust (II)
🕑 Added 2025-09-21 19:06:31 +0000 UTCPeople don't want to know what hides in the dark.
There's nothing wrong with that. There's nothing wrong with the fear, with the paranoia, with the ignorance. It's there to keep you safe. It's wired into us, evolutionarily or in our programming as well.
You don't belong there.
You know that if you did, you would be able to see, you would be able to move to the place. You wouldn't be so blind, and the things that live in the darkness? They're not blind. They can see you just fine. The dark is not the dark to them. It's just their own. It's just a shame that we don't get a choice anymore.
Ignorance is not enough, even if it's understandable. It does not protect us. Ignorance is everywhere, darkness is everywhere, darkness is light. That was the fluke.
I was taken during my time in the Abyss. Taken by something that crawled up from the deepest depths. A Primal Gate. To another place. A place that was ruled by the idea of darkness. A place of eternal cyclical decay. A place where shadows linger in a state of half-death. In this living void, I saw entire dimensions swallowed by shadows—shadows that feed on flesh and fear and screaming hearts.
They were changed. But beautiful. They were lightless. And they learned to survive even in this place of eternal darkness and deception. They did it by tapping into the dark. Wearing the dark. Hiding from the dark using the dark itself. I learned from them. I became like them. I understood that darkness has a darkness of its own.
Even the things that live in ignorance cannot possibly know everything. I hid in its body and I learned how it moved, how it lived, how it understood the world. And as it stalked me, as it glided between worlds, latching and leeching onto sources of light, I changed. I learned from it, and slowly, I consumed it from within.
The other Ascendants think we changed with our final pilgrimage downward. We did not. They are blind to what happened to us. But I know. I saw. When I came back from my little jaunt, I was different, and I knew there is no way out, not even for a God.
There are too many bits of shadow, so there's only one way to last: be the one that lives there. Ignore the screaming heart inside your chest.
Damn what you don't know. Damn your life if you lose it. Just go deeper into the nothing. Settle inside the flesh of midnight. And never, ever come back out.
-Harlock the Midnight
IV-23
Trust (II)
45 minutes ago…
Going along with the raven was an act of ugly calculus. Adam trusted Aviary as much as he trusted a bear to be gentle with his genitals if he dipped his bits in honey first. But an ugly chance was still a chance compared to the absolute certainty that the Ascendants intended to capture and then utterly defile his mind until he was an obedient slave.
Not that Aviary might not do the same things themselves, Adam thought bitterly. But still, his odds against the ravens, owls, and other birds were better than trying to survive the nightmarish hell pit that was the Rubix Well. With Legendary-Tier prisoners and avatars running amok, it was only a matter of time before his luck ran out. And despite his nimble recruitment efforts, he didn't know Gone or Candles very well. All he knew was that there were prisoners here, and they wanted out. That didn't mean they were trustworthy.
Still, without Shiv or Uva here, they were the best chance Adam had. And that realization soured his mood even more. He missed his friends. He hated the fact that he barely had any time with his family before they were taken away from him, and he constantly had to fight the depressing reality that the very gods and government he dreamed so much of serving were little more than monsters themselves.
It’s all a godsdamned joke to you, isn’t it, system? Having me believe and then giving me a reason to struggle against everything I had faith in. Does it amuse you to hurt me? To see me suffer?
There came no response.
The raven led them through the havoc of battle and brought them down into a vacant cell. For a moment, Adam's paranoia climbed. He wondered if this was a trap of some kind. But then the spell patterns began to move and a blast of dimensionality swallowed him.
Adam wasn't a studied jump mage. He had his Dimensional Skill forcibly evolved and fused during his engagement against the Dragon Knights. Despite his lack of advanced education, he could still feel the way the mana was moving, and noticed how a few spell shapes swapped places. The patterns interlocked with each other and a few symbols were swapped between activated spells.
It was then that Adam understood how Aviary had such a presence in this prison. It was ingenious. They had managed to circumvent the spell casting process, sustaining the Rubix Well itself, becoming part of the magical infrastructure. All it took was a few careful readjustments to the intent codifying the spell patterns, and then they were off.
The raven vanished first. Then Adam, Gone, and Candles were teleported across the prison. Adam used his dimensionality to judge just how far they were projected. He went approximately 800 meters away from the current position he was in before he suddenly spiked down another full kilometer. This continued several other times with them zigzagging in awkward patterns.
Soon, Adam figured out that he was likely gliding along the magical structures lining the exterior of the many cubes that made up the prison. Then finally, rather than arriving at a concentrated pit of mana, they suddenly broke free from one of the cubes, and he found himself unceremoniously deposited in a long tunnel choked with steam and sweltering humidity.
"Come," that was all the raven said, and Adam narrowed his eyes at his wayward savior.
The Gate-Lord turned to study his two new companions. "Listen, whatever happens, whatever they offer us, it's important that we stick together. Aviary has their own interests. They might offer you—"
"I know what they're like," Gone interrupted him in a burst of snarled words. There was a look in her eyes that convinced Adam she hated Aviary more than he ever could.
Candles, meanwhile, looked on at the raven with his head cocked. He didn't reply to Adam, and for a moment the gate lord was worried that Candles might just burn the raven for the thrill of it. Then Candles shuddered and managed to control himself.
"That was a close one," Candles chuckled to himself. A few motes of flame were drawn back into his body.
“Were you just about to burn the raven?” Adam asked, incredulous.
“Hm? Oh, yeah, I got a bit carried away. It’s just… they look so flameable, man. So burny. I wanna burn-burn-burn it all. Ah. Sorry, were you saying something?" The blazing Pathbearer held up his arms. "The fires, they were talking to me just now. They were trying to get me to set a few things aflame. They get kind of lonely."
Adam stared at Candles and wondered if the man's maniacal pyromania was a good thing or a bad thing. Well, if he’s unpredictable to me, he’s probably unpredictable for Aviary as well.
As they followed the raven, Adam used his seer of horizons to scout out the structure he was in. His senses jumped down the hall they were walking, and he discovered the material of the walls were meant to be waterproof, or at least water-resistant. He wasn’t sure what kind of material this was, though. It looked metallic, but there was a smoothness to the surface he wasn’t familiar with. There was a great deal of moisture lining the ceiling, and that could be to Adam's benefit. If a fight was to begin, he could draw upon that watery essence to empower his Hydromantic Physicality.
However, the moisture itself seemed odd to Adam, especially with how the small dots of water were painting semicircular patterns along the ceiling. As he observed that closer, his horizon leveled several times. Then he noticed the steam around him moved unnaturally. It parted and danced as his body passed through. That was normal, yet it kept moving upward, unnaturally upward. It was like the steam sought the ceiling no matter what. There was no curve, no bend to the steam that rose past Adam's head. They all just went straight up in perfectly symmetrical lines.
Furthermore, the steam wasn't affected by Candles at all. Candles was constantly radiating a staggering amount of heat, and the steam didn't react to it.
That's how Adam realized he wasn't walking in natural steam, but rather skill-based steam. And if he had to guess, the steam was composed by a Pathbearer, considering it lacked any obvious mana enforcing its nature. That means there was no attunement at play here. Someone with a steam-realted Physicality skill, perhaps, Adam thought to himself.
Seer of Horizons 155 > 159
Candles was muttering to himself with every few steps, giggling aloud as if a child in an amusement park. Adam decided that he didn't want to speak with the pyromaniac and left him to his own devices. Candles was more use as a wild card than an informed party.
That left Gone. Adam made eye contact with the goblin again, and he gestured at the steam around them. Gone gave him a nod, and from her gaze he realized that she was aware of their situation. Good, Adam thought. Her Awareness might be pretty high as well, or at least her deduction. But just because one was aware of an enemy didn't mean they could be encountered.
Adam wondered if his new Physicality Skill Evolution could allow him to rip the moisture out of the air and hurt the enemy Pathbearer. Something told him not to get so hopeful. For one, he didn't know how powerful his enemy was or if they had more levels than him. For another, he didn't know what else this steam was capable of.
There’s no reason to force a confrontation when your foundations are rooted in ignorance, Adam remembered his father saying. Understand the nature of your enemy first, and then engage.
They continued along the circular path for a few moments longer until the Raven came to a stop in front of what seemed to be a maintenance doorway. A faint light flickered above, showing a symbol of an automaton wearing a hard hat. The raven said nothing, and Adam realized he was trying to communicate telepathically with his comrades again. About four seconds thereafter, the interlocking wheels sealing the doorway spun and snapped.
Suddenly, the door dropped down with a resounding clang and a rush of cold wind splashed over him. Once more, he noticed another flaw in the steam surrounding him. It didn't pass into the doorway, and instead drifted along by.
“You need to work on your understanding of steam,” Adam muttered under his breath. The dense mist coating the air shuddered for a beat and the Gate Lord just grinned. “Yes. I see you. And don’t bother pretending otherwise. Mistakes don’t get unmade.”
The raven passed through and the rest followed. As they entered, Adam found himself walking along a grated bridge. To his left and right were inactive drones slotted into the walls. There were hundreds of them nested there, and a faint hum in the air indicated they were charging. They resembled mechanical insects of all varieties, and there were appendages lining their exterior, appendages with multiple tools attached to them. If Adam had to imagine their use, they would be used to maintain the structure, whatever it was. Judging by the suction cups on their legs, they were probably made to crawl upon the walls and seal specific sections of this place.
But why only automatons and not people? Adam wondered. He got his answer as he looked over the raven’s head. This room was bathed in a neon red glow from slanted lights built into the walls. It was about twenty meters in length and sixty across, and at the end of the room, the raven came to a halt before a set of thick, lead doors. A large wheel was embedded on its center, but there was a symbol painted
It looked like a few fans surrounding a dot, and was colored a garish, faded yellow. Adam felt his anxiety rise. He remembered seeing it in a textbook somewhere. It meant something dreadful. Something from the long distant past. He was somewhere he really shouldn’t be…
"All ye who enter here, abandon all hope," Candles laughed.
Adam looked to the pyromaniac, and the flame-covered Pathbearer simply shivered with mirth.
"You know something about this place?" Adam asked.
"No," Candles said. "But I can feel it. Can't you? Can't you feel the invisible fires touching us? Caressing us?" He stared at Adam, his eyes burning ever brighter. "There it is. It's burning its way into you, even now. But we're tougher than the ones who came before. Much tougher. It's gonna take a while for yours insides to catch fire. But it's gonna take a lot shorter for me. I already feel it. It’s like juice. Juicing me up.”
With every word the burning Pathbearer spoke, Adam's apprehension climbed.
"Shouldn't be here. Shouldn't, shouldn't. Need to leave as soon as possible. Need to leave," Gone stammered out as she looked around.
Then, there came a loud groaning noise as the wheel on the vault door turned and the path before them opened with a resounding groan of aged metal. The raven led them into a brightly lit chamber, and there, Adam found himself standing along a concentric archway. At the center of the room was a massive rod that turned and emitted a constant roar. His skin prickled with stabbing pain, and a steady heat began to build under his muscles. Just looking at the rod filled him with a building sense of nausea.
And then his Awareness picked up other shapes in the room. Other ravens were standing on additional walkways above them. They looked down at Adam with their unnerving helmets, and the Gate Lord fought every instinct he had to keep his fear from showing on his face.
Some cleared their throat beside Adam. When he turned, he nearly leaped out of his skin. The raven was gone, but in his place was an owl standing but a meter away from Adam—and he had appeared without the Gate Lord noticing at all.
"Don't be alarmed, Young Lord Arrow," the owl said. "This isn't an ambush. Everything is proceeding according to protocol. Welcome to our humble sanctuary in this bleak, tragic place." The owl gestured at the turning rod. “Here, there are few eyes on us. Here, we can speak with plain honesty and deal in matters of the forthcoming future.”
"To begin, I thank you for being open-minded," the owl continued. "I know that the experiences you've had with my associates haven't always been pleasant, but I think this time we can come to a most agreeable accord, especially since we share an enemy."
"Sharing enemies doesn't make us anything, owl," Adam shot back. He studied the Aviary agent. Unlike Harkness, this owl was clad in a long coat comprised of gleaming white feathers. A few of the feathers had eyes painted on them, and those eyes moved. Those eyes glistened with divination, and try as he might, he couldn't peer into the man's coat. There was something repelling his senses, something that kept him blind.
"Indeed," the owl agreed. "And please stop trying to peer at my small clothes. It's very inappropriate."
Adam held back a frown at the owl's statement and barely held back a sputter. "I’m not interested in your small clothes. I'm interested in what weapons you have on you.”
“Here. An end to the mystery.” The owl pulled its cloak open and revealed two short swords, a dozen or so daggers threaded through a plated vest, what seemed to be a whip studded with broken glass, and a skull that had Necromancy leaking out from its eyes. The sight of the skull reminded Adam of Valor, and that simply increased the feeling of isolation burning inside the Gate Lord.
Speaking of burning, the uncomfortable heat inside his muscles continued to build. It started when Candles mentioned the invisible flames, and he didn't know if that was insanity or if there was actually an unseen flame burning at him, but the wrongness kept growing.
"Are you satisfied now?" the owl asked.
"I'll be satisfied once I get out of this blasted place," Adam replied tersely. "So what's your bargain? You want me to convince Shiv to go along with you? Is it to sell ourselves to Aviary as willing slaves rather than being unwilling prisoners to the Ascendants?"
"We prefer the term 'agents,'" the owl said with a hint of humor. When Adam didn't smile, the owl carried on with a shrug. "You will find that this is the best offer you and your friend will have. The entire prison will be hunting him soon once the escapees are pacified. And then they will come after you. Legendary Pathbearers will stalk and try to slay him for the thrill of the challenge and the wondrous prize that comes with claiming his head. Even without the ten Legendary Skills offered upon his death, Legends hunt new Legends by nature. They do not suffer competitors easily, and in this place, there are nothing but wolves feasting on other wolves. He will not last long here."
Adam sneered at the owl. “Would you like to bet on that? Because I think the other prisoners are trapped in here with him instead of the other way around.”
“Such faith in your friend,” the owl laughed.
“No,” Adam shook his head. “Faith is a thing of hope. Faith his wishing it wouldn’t rain even when there are dark clouds on the horizon. This is just empirical expectation. Have you ever killed an Outsider before, owl?”
The Aviary agent fell silent for a beat. “Have you?”
“Yes,” Adam said. “And I had no business doing so. Shiv had no business doing so. But we did it anyway. You can dislike his odds all you want, but I’ll raise you our survival against a lance of dragon-knights at Master-Tier, against a Recollector at Low Hero, and against the Tarrasque in general. This is just another of the systems many attempts to kill us. And since we keep surviving this nightmare situations, well, I think the odds are with us rather than against us.”
“Luck runs out,” the owl declared.
“How many times can a coin land on its edge before luck leaves the scene and is replaced by something else?” Adam shot back. “It wasn’t luck that saved us. Not once. Luck is not enough. And you know it.”
Now the owl went entirely silent.
“Let me explain something to you,” Adam said aloud, glaring at all the ravens present. He counted them before he continued talking. Nineteen, including the raven. Small group. Ngh. I feel… sicker for some reason. Did one of these bastards poison me? Was it the steam? “I am not here because I am desperate.”
“Yet, we are your only way out,” the owl said.
“You’re the easiest way out,” Adam replied with a frown. “And that remains to be seen. I have no assurances that you yourselves are not trapped here by the Ascendants. Furthermore, I think you’re desperate to capture the Deathless for yourselves to deprived the Ascendants of their great prize. And don't tell me that one of your nobles won't just take his head to claim unparalleled power for themselves."
“That is not the way New Albion functions, oh dear cousin across the great waters,” the owl said. “A few among our number will be tempted by greed, and a few will be cut down. Aviary does not suffer from paltry ambitions. We do not want 10 Legendary Skills. No. We have Legends. And they are sufficient for what is needed. No, we look further. Far further. A little bit like your Ascendants, but we prefer to do things with a more gentle hand."
"Is that what you call your operations in the Abyss? Gentle?" Adam leaned in close. "Do you know, in the short time I've been in contact with your people, I've stopped no less than three different plots, killed system knows how many ravens and other birds, and all in the span of a few months."
"We're aware of the travesty that happened at Passage," the owl waved him off. "And I'm aware that one of my fellow owls has decided to be flippant in her responsibilities. She will be punished in due time."
"'In due time?'" Adam almost choked, and then a hunch struck him. "Wait. Harkness... she's not back with you, is she? Has she even reported in?"
"That's not important to our current conversation."
"No, what is important to our current conversation is trust," Adam spat, "and I don't trust you. I don't trust any of you. The only reason I'm here is that I trust the Ascendants even less. I know what they intended to do to me, but that doesn't mean I trust what you intend to do, either. I don't need words, I need reassurances. Reassurances that you won't just kill me and then take Shiv after. Reassurances," Adam pointed at Gone and Candles, "that you'll be able to get us out of here. Out from this miserable pit of misery and back to the surface."
"Reassurances," the owl said, as if he was expecting this of Adam. "Very well. Have you ever conducted a skill-binding ceremony before?"
Adam thought back to the ritual between Uvid and the Starhawk. "I've seen it," Adam said. "And I've seen it turn out well and I've seen it turn out poorly. But there's a problem, you see."
"And what problem is that?" the owl said with a hint of annoyance.
"I don't think you care that much about losing a few skills if it gets you a greater reward. What do you all want with Shiv? Tell me exactly. I don’t lie. I’ll know. I hear it in your voice and know.”
The owl nodded, as if accepting Adam’s commands. "Oh, that's very simple. We want to make more of him. In fact, we want him to pass his path down to our little chicks. Imagine that. Countless undying spies, capable of learning and growing from death after death. That's a far more exponential reward than simply murdering this golden goose. We want him to lay eggs for us. And for that, you will both be well taken care of. Imagine. Peace, for once. Instead of this perpetual escalation cycle of violence the system demands of you.”
The owl's admission inflicted two different feelings on Adam. First, he realized the owl was speaking the truth. Aviary didn't want Shiv dead. No. Instead, they wanted him a perpetual prisoner, a perpetual means of offering them more deathless. They would probably experiment on him to boot. Shiv would be going from one prison to another.
The second was satisfaction. Adam understood the game the Aviary agents were playing now. And if he knew what they wanted, then he could potentially turn it all around on them. It wasn't a good choice, but so far, it was his only choice to escape from this prison. And it's a choice that can be affected, Adam thought to himself, if I manage to involve the Ascendants at the last second to pit them against Aviary during our escape, then maybe we might be able to make a clean break.
But there was going to be a cost to this. If he was going to bind one of his skills to the owl, then he would see part of himself broken. Even so, it was a choice Adam would gladly make. If it meant setting himself free, if it meant making sure Shiv would go unshackled... he wouldn't enjoy it. But he would do it. He would. I'm not scared, Adam lied to himself slightly. Okay, I'm slightly scared and very, very terrified of being crippled, but I'll do it. We can do it, Adam. Just… We can survive it. Shiv can fix it. It’s just pain. Just pain.
"Does this sound reasonable to you?" the owl asked. "If so, I can see it's agreed upon through ritual and Biomancy."
"Biomancy?" Adam said. A low groan escaped him. His muscles felt like they were on fire from the inside. Something was wrong with his body. Beside, Gone was starting to shake more as well, and Candles was getting even brighter.
“Yum, yum,” Candles said absent mindedly. He was staring off at the spinning rod as if it was dessert.
"Of course you're going to need some Biomancy," the owl said with a faint chuckle. "You're irradiated."
"I'm what?" Adam asked.
"Oh, this place. I suppose our raven didn't have time to explain. There is a reason why we operate here. This is a fusion core. One of the few functioning fusion core leftover from Pre-Integration. I'm not sure why it has maintained its stability for all these eons, but it has. And the existing drones here still have functionality as well. I estimate that will come to an end sometime in the near future, but not quite yet. Being here, it disrupts the flow of mana to some degree. Not enough to stop it entirely. But it does choke the ambience, doesn't it? Doesn't it make you feel a little bit nervous, a little bit hot? Well, the nervousness is the lack of ambient mana, and the heat... that's probably the radiation settling into your bones."
Adam clenched his teeth. He knew about radiation, mainly because certain automatons' skill evolutions allowed them to harness such a power. It was usually a development for those evolving the pyromancy skill as well. "Invisible flame," Adam muttered to himself, and he understood the game Aviary was playing even better now. "You goddamn bastards.” Anger burned inside of him, but it didn't burn nearly as bad as the searing sensation consuming his organs. He felt nauseous, and his eyes began to blur.
"I wish to state one thing very clearly. This isn’t a trap," the Aviary agent proclaimed. "This is simply the most secure place in the entire prison, and it also doubles as an incentive for you to think things through with the proper gravity settling upon your shoulders. It's a grave choice, and you should make it in grave circumstances."
Suddenly, there was a blur, and the owl was pinned against the rails. Gone was pressed up against him, her claws halfway into his throat. The owl held both hands by his sides, not bothering to fight back. The other ravens looked on as well, and their cool, reserved response made Adam feel even worse.
They expected this.
"Now, now," the owl said with a slight grunt of pain, "no need for that. Besides, if you tear my throat out, one of my associates will trigger the dumping protocols for the core, and after that, only one of you will still be alive. But he’ll not be very sane, will he, Pathbearer Candles? Your Legendary Pyromancy Skill is a fusion that affects your intellect. It makes it harder for you to say sapient. Am I correct?”
Adam gawked as the burning Pathbearer beside him started making grunting noises.
Adam groaned as he glared at the owl. "There's always a dagger in the other hand with you people, isn't there?"
The owl shrugged. "It makes it easier to convince other people to accept our open hand instead. So. Let’s talk about which skills we are to bind to one another. I do so want to see this done in good faith, after all. Mind slaves are such a disgusting concept. So. Please don’t make me break my own heart.”
***
Muffled screams filled the inside of the cube. Beneath a layer of shadow, dozens of Legendary prisoners struggled, unleashing magic and strength, but failing to pierce through. They pressed and fought, but they remained entombed in a dense nest of darkness like insects trapped beneath a spider’s web.
Only if the spider was the web itself, however. For Harlock the Midnight was the darkness, was the shadow, was the unseen hand that seeped from his equally circumspect avatar. There was nothing he left untouched in this cube. Nothing unconsumed by his presence, his power. Nothing unconsumed by the void that had consumed him so long ago.
The only source of brightness was the avatar of his fellow ascendant, Harlem the Truthful. He walked the shadow-choked valley as a beacon of divination, and a violet brilliance spilled out from him, painting echoes of the battle that happened here merely minutes ago. The ethereal form of Harlem radiated over its avatar as well. It stood in contrast to the darkness of Harlock. It was a lighthouse that cast its glare, sweeping the valley below, painting moments from the past into vivid detail, overriding the present, using pieces of evidence its avatar collected.
"This one," white flames spilled out from the young Pathbearer's eyes. The avatar’s voice echoed with Harlem the Truthful. The valley prison was a nightmarish parody of itself, but Harlem’s avatar remained untouched. For where shadows and ignorance reigned, truth would not abide—and Harlem was nothing but truth incarnate.
At least when it to investigating the truth.
Beneath Harlem’s feet, an overgrowth of darkened tendrils receded, and a defeated Legendary prisoner was released back into the brightness. They shuddered then, their mind more sundered than their body. This one resembled a towering humanoid partially fused with bits from various serpents. The Pathbearer's arms were long snakes, and his lower body was a mess of lashing vines, each tendril twitching as he suffered in the throes of an unending nightmare. Darkness leaked out from his eyes, darkness Harlem burrowed into his flesh and mind as well as his very soul. He wasn't just consumed physically; he was consumed mentally as well. There was no release, no release from ignorance.
Not until truth willed it.
Harlem placed a hand upon the Pathbearer's forehead, and focus the beaming light of its lighthouse upon the serpent-fused Pathbearer. Soon everything around him faded, leaving only the serpent-fused Pathbearer in existence. The lighthouse swung its beacon and painted a trail leading back in time, back before Harlock consumed everything, back when the battle was still ongoing. Though the serpent-fuse Pathbearer was shown in great detail, everyone he faced was merely a shadow, a faintness constructed by divination itself. They went over every detail, every person he faced in the prison, until Harlem finally halted his lighthouse.
Now, the serpent-fused Pathbearer was passing through the valley, and there were several shades around him. Shades of other Pathbearers, prisoners, and wardens. And among those shadows was a brief glimpse of someone wearing tattered rags that resembled a warden's uniform, someone that shouldn't be here at all: Adam Arrow.
"Stop!" Harlem cried aloud. The lighthouse flashed and turned its gaze upon Adam himself. A pulse of Divination mana crawled through the world. Normally, such a leap would taken an obscene level of power. Even Legendary-Tier Diviners—the few that were sane and capable—would be hard-pressed to jump from one narrative to another. Harlem. But Harlem was a god, a god of mysteries, a god of the inquisition, and a god of truth. And so, using the first clue, they jumped to the second. And so they watched as the Gate Lord struggled, as he fought and evolved and gained allies during the battle as well.
“Prisoner Gone and Prisoner Candles,” Harlem recited, knowing everything about them already. Harlem never forgot, and what he didn’t know, he would uncover through whispers and details stolen from the system itself. “He has aid. And he was extracted by Aviary. The flock has finally shown itself.”
Harlock had to admit the young lord was resourceful, clever. He might have made a good avatar, if only he was more submissive. Perhaps that could be engineered…
You think this all the time, another voice echoed within Harlock. It was Anthony's. The old man's tone was cynical but indifferent. We've been together for too long, Harlock. You keep thinking that you might be able to branch out, but the truth is, no one likes to deal with your darkness. No one likes to hide in the black, in the traumas and ignorance that dwells at the heart of man. No one but you, and no one but I.
Harlock tried to find his wayward avatar but couldn't, and once more was reassured by his choice. Anthony De Diego had been Harlock's avatar from the very start, his one true vessel. Harlock had tried to find others, as Anthony said, but they wouldn't do. They didn't last. The dark ate them. But Anthony, the dark couldn't find him at all, and that made him perfect. And in the dark recesses of Harlock's mind, some part of him knew that Anthony likely deserved the position of Ascendant more than he did.
"I have him." Harlem's voice resonated with the clarion call of ringing bells. The white-plated avatar, bound to the Ascendant of Truth, stood over a patch of blackness. That patch receded at Harlock's command, and soon he was looking down into a prison cell. At first glance, there didn't seem to be anything amiss inside, but then Harlem let out a gasp. "It's worse than I thought."
Harlock moved a few shadows, wielding them as eyes and limbs. They seeped into the Oriculcum cell once more and caressed the sides. "I don't understand," Harlock said. He didn't notice anything awry.
"That's because you hide too well and see too little. Centuries of blindness has left you lost. Look again." He pointed a few times, and finally Harlock noticed some of the spells were wrong. Those spells were out of place. He hadn't shaped them himself, but Harlock had been alive long enough to have experienced and developed every single Magical Skill there was. Some of the shapes that comprised the spell patterns were out of place. A switch had been conducted. Soon, Harlem poured his Divination into them as well, and began restructuring the whole thing. Magical shapes slipped from one pattern to another, and soon a pulse of dimensionality began spilling outward.
"He jumped here," Harlem said. True to his word, the reconstruction of Adam descended into the dimensionality, following someone: a raven-helmed agent of Aviary. “I have their trial.”
“And I will carry us across,” Harlock declared. “Ascendants. We hunt.” And with a casual exertion of his power, he drew the other Ascendants and their avatars into his blackened embraced. The darkness within the cube grew even deeper, and from its depths emerged ten other presences, ten other avatars. “We do this as the family we are. I will claim the space first. Find them in the dark. Daughter. Cripple. Kathereine. Prepare. Everyone else, support.”
And a melodic laugh echoed through the world. “Finally. It’s been fun, but I think we should bring the travesty to an end. Say, perhaps when we finally bend our dear Starhawk back to the light, we can see about tying him to the boy. Adam. He seems to have potential, and he doesn’t look half—”
“Grandmother,” Veronica hissed out from the darkness. “Not another word.”
***
“Why aren’t any of you bastards affected by this radiation,” Adam growled. He could feel his muscles spasming, feel the faint prick of needles plunge in and out of his skin over and again.
“Oh, it does,” the owl said. “But we have modified ourselves to endure such environments. Tragic thing is, the raven that was tasked to bring you here was one of our best Biomancers for anti-radiation treatments. Now, we’ll all have to settle for a bit of pain. But what is a little pain? We’re Pathbearers. Cancer takes time to kill. Time that our bodies can sustain. Do you know that cancer was once considered a death sentence just a few centuries ago? Back when our Biomancers were weak?”
Adam swallowed. “I am aware. But it wasn’t weakness. It was ignorance. The Unified Theory of Biology was not standardized yet.”
The owl just laughed. “Unified Theory of Biology. You say that as if it is a new discovery, rather than us relearning the wheel. Let me tell you, Hero Arrow, that Forbidden Africa has long since known how to treat this condition. And without mana. The ancients knew without magic, and they could do such wondrous things. But they fell. They died. And their knowledge, their glory, their wonder died with them. I simply want to prevent that. For all of us.”
“For New Albion,” Adam said.
“For someone to survive the next calamity,” the owl answered. He held up a hand and Gone looked at Adam. The goblin was shivering too—she was radiation sick as well. “And there will be another calamity. The conflicts are rising again. An incursion is on the horizon. Even without the chaotic presence of your friend. “There is no escape from the future. But there may yet be a way for us to survive any disaster, any death. For what we are to endure eternally.”
“Gone,” Adam said, waving the goblin off. She hesitated for a beat but did as he gestured. In a blink, she was standing next to him again, and only then did Candles react.
“Did someone move?” Candles rasped.
Adam ignored the burning Pathbearer and stared the owl down. “How do you intend on getting us out?”
“Ah, finally, the silent agreement,” the owl said. “We have means. The prison is still in an uproar, but the Ascendants will secure control again soon. During this period, we intend to penetrate the mana core and cause a minor disruption. It will not be enough to distabilize the entire core, but it should make the Chronomancy it outputs unstable. After that, we will be free to move beyond the loop and make for Exfiltration Point Prime.”
“I know we’re in the Yellowstone Supervolcano,” Adam added. “Just because we can escape from the bottom of this prison doesn’t mean we will be free.”
The owl hummed. “Correct. However, we have means of moving undetected through the volcano. Technological means on loan to us from our aforementioned friends. Technological means that masks us from the system’s eyes.”
Pure technology was a rare thing in the Integration. Adam knew that. But he also knew that New Albion had fought more than a few wars against the Forbidden Ones. Of course, they would have salvaged some equipment and weaponry. But to claim to have something that allows them to hide from the system itself seemed hubris absolute. The system was everywhere, in everyone, and knew everything. But maybe that was just an exaggeration. Maybe it just hid someone from Divination.
“I want to see it first,” Adam said. “Some proof of your technology. I want to be certain and…” Adam paused as he felt a hint of coldness seep into the room. The owl’s posture changed as well. Both of them turned and regarded the doorway Adam just came from. There came loud footstep that sounded like war drums. Gone and Candles faced the door as well, but Adam called for them to move out of the way.
For the first time, the ravens reacted. A few turned into puffs of steam—just as Adam suspected they could earlier—and they reformed before the door.
“Secure the premises,” the owl said. And once more, he was next to Adam in a blink. The Gate Lord didn’t even see him move.
Chronomancy! Adam realized. This wasn’t stealth. It was time magic.
The owl held out a hand to Adam. “The other two can take my arm. We need to leave, we need to—”
“Adam!” Shiv’s roar shook the room and made the vault door rattle.
Adam’s eyes widened. “Shiv?”
Once more, the Deathless called his voice, and the owl waved a hand at two ravens standing before the sealed door leading to the fusion reactor and sent them out. They vanished into steam once more and slipped out from the room. “Well, this is a surprise. I didn’t expect our wayward Deathless to find his way to us so soon.”
“Surprise is what he does,” Adam said with a faint smirk pulling at his lips. “Just to warn you, he won’t be nearly as accommodating as I have been.”
“Oh,” the owl said. “But I suspect he’ll be willing to go along with us as well.”
“I suspect you don’t know him very well,” Adam said.
“Perhaps. But we know him well enough to have a good understanding of the people he cares about. Including one Uva Mettabon—last spotted with the stolen town of Blackedge in the Dreamtaker’s dimension.” The Gate Lord found himself silent. The owl continued. “The thing about Aviary, Hero Arrow, is that we have friends everywhere. And I suspect that our good Sister will not be able to navigate her way back, considering the compromised state of her soul. Such an ugly thing, Metamorphosis.”
“What do you mean?” Adam said.
But the owl said no more about her, for the vault door sudden groaned and swung open once more. From the bleak red ambiance of the adjoining chamber came the ravens first and the battered form of Shiv thereafter. With them also followed a billowing coldness that clawed its way into Adam’s very bones.
“Shiv. You godsdamned cockroach, you—” Adam made it three steps before he started to slow. Something was wrong. Something turned in his gut. Shiv was grinning at him—but there was something off with his smile. His face was a mask of blood and wounds, but there was something missing in his eyes.
“Adam,” Shiv grunted, letting out a faint growl of pain.
And that made Adam take a step back. The owl noticed. “Is there something wrong, Hero Adam?”
“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” “Shiv” said, letting out a faint whimper. “I know I look like hammered meat right now, but I’ll live. Even if it hurts like hell.” The Gate Lord nodded slowly, but took a few more steps back. The ravens weren’t slowing. And neither was Shiv. “Adam—”
Adam Arrow shot his favorite bastard in the face with a Veilpiercer. He did it on instinct. He did it without thinking. He did it, and Shiv’s skull spattered apart into a sprawling mess of shadows. Darkness erupted from the large hole lining Shiv’s skull. Only half of the Deathless’s head remained. His left eye twitched at Adam as the blackness erupted out from him.
Everything went to hell after that.
The two ravens accompanying Shiv burst apart into fountains of blackness as the other Aviary agents struck. The owl flung himself against Adam and reached out for the other two Legendary prisoners. When Adam finished blinking, they were back in the steam-choked tunnels outside.
Wet cough sounded beside Adam as the owl slumped against him. The Gate Lord’s eyes widened as he realized the owl’s chest was completely shredded. The man’s insides spilled out in an instant as he nearly collapsed, but Adam caught him before he could hit the ground. “Owl! Shit!”
“Oh, dear,” the owl said, looking down at himself. He gave another ragged gasp as he tried to reach for his mask, but missed. Adam helped him. As soon as Adam removed the owl mask from the agent’s face, he winced. Part of the owl’s skull was punctured—and pierced deep. He was leaking blood from deep within his brain. Adam could hear the flowing blood, smell the brain matter, see the glistening red beyond the pale flaps of the owl’s skull.
“What in the hells just happened?” Adam asked.
“Ascendants,” Gone groaned beside Adam. He turned and noticed how the Legendary-Tier goblin was covered in injuries as well. Cuts lined her body, but she was rapidly healing. Nearby, Candles shivered as he looked around. He tweaked like someone coming down from a high as Gone continued explaining. “Owl and I tried to pull us away. Ascendants aren’t bound by time. Their avatars hit us. Hit us hard. Daughter went for you. Owl got her in way. Got shredded. All of us shredded.”
The Gate Lord’s mouth opened and closed several times.
A laugh came from the owl. “How is this for an expression of good will?”
Adam winced as he looked at the owl’s face for the first time. He looked… plain. Like anyone Adam might see on the streets of Blackedge. Elf. Well groomed. No distinguishing marks. But a person. “It’s a good start. You’re badly hurt. I’ll see if you can—”
“No,” the owl said, placing his hand on Adam’s arm. “I’m already dead. But you aren’t. Finish me and run. And when you get out, find Aviary. Talk to us. Do it because you owe me. Do it because you’re desperate. Do it. Just consider it. We are many things, Gate Lord. We do terrible things for our people and safety. But we are not the monsters you think we are. We are not slavers. We are not so bad.”
He coughed softly. “We just wish to live. And the world does not. There is much that we can offer one another… Much that…” He sniffled. “I really thought I wouldn’t be so scared when my time came. Oh, well.” His eyes snapped to Adam. “You need to leave. The steam will guide you. The others know—they know. This place is compromised. This cell is finished. We must see you spirited away. Find your friend. My birds will shroud you, help you. And when you get out, look for the dark spot in the magma. You have such good eyes… You’ll see them.”
The owl shook as he blinked. “Now. If you would please…” He lifted his head and exposed his neck. Adam hesitated.
Gone didn’t.
A blood hole was left in the owl’s throat before Adam could respond.
“Come on. Let’s go. With the same.” Gone declared. She dragged Candles along by his leg, and for the first time in a while, the burning Pathbearer seemed coherent. “What! What just—”
“Ascendants. Coming. Follow. Fight. Don’t think.”
Adam looked down at the owl for a moment longer, watching as the man’s eyes dimmed entirely before he carried on. Once more, the Gate Lord was covered in bloody, and he fought to keep his hands from shaking. He tried to remember the last day he hadn’t seen death, hadn’t had to kill someone, hadn’t had to face the blunt horror of existing in the world.
He had a hard time remembering.
The steam glided along the walls, rushing fast. “Go faster!” The steam hissed. “We’re hiding you as much as we can. But he will know! The darkness is no longer our ally. Our lives are forfeit. Do not let them take you! The Midnight is coming! Run, Little Hawk! Run!”
Adam’s vector-wings flared as he tore along the tunnel. Gone kept pace easily, and she dragged Candles right behind her. As they fled, the goblin spat a question at Adam, but said it too quickly for him to process at the start.
“How did you know it wasn’t him?”
“Two things,” Adam said. “First is the lack of a notification. The system always marks him as a target now.”
“And the second?”
“He complained about pain. But those wounds? The actual Shiv wouldn’t have even noticed.”
Gone regarded Adam a moment longer. “I look forward to meeting this Deathless.”
“Gone,” Adam said. “Please don’t try to kill him. I don’t know you very well, but I already owe you my life many times over.”
“I am uninterested in slaying your friend,” the goblin spat out, her voice almost drowned by the whistling winds. “I just wish to be free.”
“I’m not worried about you killing him, Gone,” Adam said. “I worried about it being the other way around.”
Comments
Jimit Ndiaye
Thanks for the chapter
Brent Stinebaker
We return to maximum writing output soon. Other stories will resume. Real life workload subsiding.
