Blink.
When my eyes opened, I was no longer of Fred’s ship, but in a cosy sitting room suite ensconced in an armchair.
The green-clad sorcerer Devantus Drakonis sat opposite me and was enthusiastically clapping his gauntleted hands together. “Bravo! Bravo! Congratulations, Torin. You have exceeded every expectation and come out a winner. In record time, might I add? You should be very proud of yourself.”
“It all worked?” I asked with scepticism. “As planned?”
That the sorcerer had snatched me up during the transitional state was not a surprise. It had been his modus operandi for some time. But…usually, these interventions took place in moments between moments. They would be carried out in the flash between my mind leaving the golem and it returning to my body.
“It will,” Devantus replied with confidence.
“Can you see the future, then?”
“No, but I am truly excellent at reading people and situations. Everything will more or less play out as you wanted. In the short term, at least. The farther out you get, the more external factors come into play and my prognostication accuracy takes a bit of a hit.”
I grunted in return. “What do you want?”
The sorcerer flashed me one of those bizarre smiles that you couldn’t see in the darkness of his hood but knew he had done so anyway. “Nothing, my young friend.”
“We aren’t friends.”
“Be that as it may, I merely wanted to congratulate you on your success and reassure you that this is the end of our association. You are free.”
“Great. You know, you never did tell me what you were getting out of all this.”
“I didn’t, did I.”
“That is a response, not an answer.”
“Well observed.”
“Bloody Nora!” I snapped in frustration. “Did you bring me here just to show off that you could?”
“I thought being informed that you were no longer a pawn on my chess board would bring you a measure of relief. And you weren’t even taken off by my opponent. That is more than most pawns can hope for.”
“Sure, until the next time you need something and come a-knocking.”
Devantus paused as if considering what I said and then nodded. “You’ve got me there. If I did need you for something new, I wouldn’t hesitate to enlist your participation. However, you will simply have to take my word for it that you are not included in any future plans.”
And with that, the audience was at an end.
“But who knows what tomorrow might bring.”
The bastard just couldn’t resist.
Blink.
***
Blink.
Anastasia’s worried frown stared down at me. “Are you back with us?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m back.”
She let out a huge sigh of relief. “For a moment there, I thought that crazy goddess had found a way to drag you into the vortex too.”
Any reply was drowned out when she kissed me. After a brief bit of surprise at the sudden affection, I tried to pull her in close and then realised I was still strapped down to one of the lab gurneys.
When Ana pulled back, I looked down at the straps. “A little help.”
“Ah, yeah,” she giggled and started to undo the buckles. “Although…”
“Now is not the time, Ana.”
Rom and the Leviathan’s Curse might be dead and gone. But not every vessel that belonged to the Dread Scourge was one of the shard ships which had been destroyed.
“Party pooper. But you owe me a session or two where I get to tie you up.”
“We’ll talk about it.”
“Torin,” she almost whined.
“I didn’t say no, I said we’ll discuss it.”
“Fine.”
While Ana freed me from the restraints and removed the nodes that had helped me to take control of the golem that she forged in my image, a few important notifications dropped.
*** The Divine Vengeance quest has been completed. ***
*** Divine Vengeance (Omega)
Rewards: 800,000 XP, a map through the Great Rift and an invitation to the demesne of the Shattered Goddess.
Legacy of the Leviathan for Marena’s Mercy. Your dungeon ship can consume the core of the Levithan’s Curse stealing the power of the core for itself and inheriting any surviving assets controlled or owned by the Leviathan’s Curse. (Can only be done while within the Shattered Goddess’ demesne) ***
### Error ###
### The source of the rewards for this quest is no longer available. The Framework apologises but there are no suitable alternatives. ###
Once I had a chance to read through the quest notification, Quixbix piped up.
“My promise to Nancy is fulfilled then.”
“What do you mean?”
It didn’t take long to figure out what the imp was referring to. Where the description for my Summon Rift Beast spell had been was just a series of jumbled letters, numbers, and symbols. The overpowered cantrip was a gift from the Shattered Goddess and likely relied on her for casting. No goddess meant no spell.
I summoned the armour I earned from her and was happy to find that was all still in working order. However, I did note that the requirement for the bearer to be an adherent of the Shattered Goddess was gone. During my next conversation with Dean we’d have to see if there was anything that could be done to get it back or if there was an opportunity to repick.
But the lost spell was not the only casualty. The preternatural Insight skill had been crossed out on my list and the special secret channels I used to have access to were gone as well. This loss wouldn’t be down to the Shattered Goddess’ demise.
No, this would be because of Ashli. But this was a good thing, it suggested that with the harvester organ destroyed then the ASI’s final connection to the mess it created was severed.
“Bad news Ana, you don’t get to absorb the Leviathan’s Curse’ progress, after all.”
She snorted in response and put her hands on her hips. “Who wants some old dungeon’s hand-me-downs anyway.”
“Right, let's get back to the Bridge and get airborne.”
***
The crab golems had finished their work in the short length of time it took us to return to the Bridge and Marena’s Mercy rose from the fire and destruction like a phoenix from the ashes.
I opened a comms channel to Storm Raider and was greeted by Kristoff’s beaming bearded face.
“Good to see you, Captain. Is it done?”
“It’s done, what’s the situation out there?"
“The Cold of the Grave is the only Scourge ship left in the fight, and she is on the run.”
As Kristoff finished, Anastasia brought up a viewer where she was tracking the ship. “I’ve tracked its trajectory. I think it is trying to come back around to the plexus gate from the other side. We could cut them off if you wanted.”
I thought about it, but if they were heading for the gate that could mean only one thing. Them going off-world. At this point, that would be more of a victory than shooting them down. Word would spread that the Shattered Storm were not to be taken lightly. Besides, Dallas was a big place. The war fought here had left it in a sorry state, but there would be survivors. And that could include the volunteers who hadn’t made it over to Storm Raider.
My new sixth tier ability the Shattered Canon had activated when Anastasia and I killed Marshal Campion. A lot of the pledges, collars, and contracts binding folks had been cancelled and brought many of them under my wing. But these were mostly the survivors of Dallas. The surviving Lamers were too far gone for the ability to break their bonds of loyalty to their corrupted cause.
And because I didn’t directly kill Rom the same hadn’t happened to the Dread Scourge. There would be no hidden allies on that ship.
“Kristoff, track them. If they try to go through the gate, let it happen. Otherwise, shoot to kill.”
“Understood.”
***
LT
LT wearily raised his hand and fired off another bolt at the oncoming pirates. The blast connected with the side of the head and blasted out an attacker’s eye. The pirate fell to the ground, screaming in pain. It was enough to encourage the rest to take cover.
It wouldn’t be enough. There were too many of them.
He’d lost half the cannoneers packed into his splinter pod when it took a direct hit, and most of the rest in the constant running battle with the Scourge forces. They were relentless. He must have killed seven, maybe eight of them, but still they kept coming.
LT’s mana was down to the last dregs and his shoes felt like they were filled with cement. His watch beeped, an alert that he could quaff another potion. He flicked a hit point pellet into his mouth and quickly swallowed it. It had been a tough choice. Mana or Hit Points, he’d been almost out of both, but you couldn’t cast spells if you were dead, so Hit Points it was.
“We need to move,” Carlson grunted beside him. The blonde elf was one of only two other survivors. “If we can make it back to the waypoint basement, we can get out of here.”
LT didn’t have the heart to tell the elf they’d been running in the opposite direction to the waypoint from the moment they’d crash-landed. It had been on the other side of the battle. Regardless, Carlson was right, they needed to move, and he tried to put in another shift, but his legs had turned to jelly and would barely support his body weight.
Jackson had described mana exhaustion a few times during their downtime, but this was the first time LT had experienced it himself. He’d re-upped too often. It sucked more than Jackson had let on. He picked up the blade that was resting against the rubble. “Shit. This is the end of the road for me. Go, I’ll do what I can to delay them.”
By this point, the pirates had figured out LT was tapped and emerged from wherever they had taken cover.
He hefted his sword and readied himself for death.
The former gangster had few regrets.
Before the Framework, he’d expected to be shanked in the prison yard or to rot away in a cell. A deserved result for his monumental screw-up. Then the world changed. Torin had come along and given him a new lease on life. The only thing he lamented was that Amber would take it hard when he didn’t come back. He should have asked the girl to move in with him. Just so she could have told him to get bent, if for no other reason.
Winning that tussle would have made her happy.
To LT’s surprise, Carlson didn’t move. Before he could ask the elf why he was so eager to cast his life away, a shadow came out of nowhere and blocked out the sun. The sound of splinter cannons firing roared in his ears and the attacking pirates were blasted back. Any of the enemy who survived the onslaught was on the run, only for a black-clad figure to Superman-land amongst them and hack away with his great, big, fucking sword.
It was a glorious sight to behold.
“It’s the captain,” Carlson cried with glee and delight.
“I noticed,” LT grunted and slumped back on the hood of the car he’d been leaning against.
Well, it was not the end, after all.
Shit. Did that mean he had to be humiliated when Amber refused to move in with him? Promising to do that had sounded more noble and far less embarrassing when he was going to die and not have to follow through.
“Bloody Nora!”
***
Stormblade Harbour
Raven woke with a start to the sounds of a cheering crowd in the distance. Her thoughts were immediately overwhelmed by the searing agony when muscles pulled on her wings. She had been lain on her front on a specially prepared bed that had been arched upward. The severely broken feathered limbs had been strapped into a frame, this stretched them out and suspended them above her body.
She whimpered from the pain and fought to hold back the tears that obscured her vision.
A blurry form rushed over from Raven’s blindside, gently brushed the locks from her brow and kissed her forehead.
“Stay still, my angel, otherwise, you’ll hurt yourself.”
“Momma?” Raven croaked, emotion almost welling her throat closed.
Regina knelt beside the odd bed and cradled her daughter’s head against her shoulders. “Relax, I’m here. I’ve got you and I’m not letting you go, not this time.”
The tears Raven fought to hold back spilt forth and doused both her cheeks and the grey suit jacket her mother always favoured.
Mother and daughter held each other for a lengthy period, heads pressed against one another. Apologies wordlessly conveyed and bridges mended by the bonds of love.
After they’d both had a good cathartic cry, Regina pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed her daughter’s eyes dry. “There is so much I need to tell you. But it can wait until you are back on your feet.”
“My wings?” There was a note of grief in her tone. Raven had felt the extent of the damage with every crunching blow.
“They will heal,” Regina assured her. “But it is going to take time. Torin has the best healers in the region, but…well, you saw for yourself what’s been happening. They are overworked and there aren’t enough hours in the day. They’ve spared what resources they can. His people have realigned the bones, so they won’t heal crookedly.”
“He saved my life.”
“Yes, he did,” Regina agreed. “He’s not so bad for a pirate. We could do a lot worse.”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“I…I think I understand.” The admission was difficult for Raven to make. But her failure had been absolute, saved by the very person she’d been blaming from the beginning. “Bits, maybe, not the whole.”
“Sleep now, get some rest. You have the rest of your life to figure it out.”
Raven’s hand shot out and grasped her mother’s wrist. “Stay.”
Regina kissed her daughter on the head again. “I’m not going anywhere, remember. Parker can handle things until you're ready to move and come home with me.”
“Good.”
The lids of Raven’s eyes felt heavy and despite her best attempt to resist, they closed in slumber.
***
Dean and Violet
“Have you grown tired of Torin already,” Violet teased her boss who was engrossed in watching the screens of the tumultuous Great Rift.
“Never!” he mumbled loudly, and a mouthful of half-chewed popcorn spilt from his lips.
Violet zapped the mulch away before it landed and made a mess on the carpet. You would think carpets in a thought-scape would be easy to clean, but her boss could be surprisingly thorough when he set his mind to it. Why he would make it impossible to clean the carpet by simply willing it so was just another mystery of his strange character.
Dean was a ridiculous manchild, but he was her ridiculous manchild.
“Torin is done with Dallas, he’s won. Watching him be congratulated and thanked by the populace isn’t very interesting,” Dean explained.
“What are you watching instead,” she asked.
Violet knew the answer, but Dean liked to feel as if he was the one in charge, Technically, he was the one in charge, not that he exercised the authority often. Not unless it amused him in some way.
“The goddess dolls are engaged in a grand battle royale.”
“They aren’t dolls,” she corrected him.
“They’re not archfiends either. We don’t know what they are, we’ve never had a god fracture into hundreds of smaller pieces before. This is new and new is intriguing.”
“Why are they fighting?”
“For power, to settle grudges, because they’re bored. They all have their reasons.”
“Who’s winning?”
“Nobody yet. They are evenly matched and none of them seem interested in teaming up. This might take a while.”
“How long is a while?”
“A few centuries, maybe.”
“It looks like we’ll be sticking around a bit longer than originally planned then.”
The Framework administration was supposed to retire shortly after Earth’s integration, but that seemed ill-advised with everything that had happened. Violet didn’t fully understand what had occurred and she knew Dean didn’t either. Yet somehow, she knew they had Torin to thank for it. The Great Rift was larger and stronger than ever, but that also kept this new anomaly contained until they could get a handle on it. “Okay, call me when something changes.”
“Sure thing,” Dean answered.
Violet smiled at his childlike glee and returned to her desk. The Framework wouldn’t run itself.
It was a full five minutes later when the penny dropped, and Dean stopped munching on his snacks. “Hey, wait a minute…Violet,” he yelled from his bean bag perch. “I’m the one who gives the fucking orders around here. You are fired! Do you hear me, Fired!”
“Of course, Dean. And who would you like to find my replacement?”
“You do it.”
“I don’t work for you anymore, remember? You just fired me.”
“Unfire yourself and then find me a replacement secretary.”
“Done, the position has been filled.”
“Good, that was quick. Who did you hire?”
“The most qualified candidate for the job, me.”
“An excellent choice. Did you see that, did you see the awesome fucking delegating, I did. And those groaners down in accounts think I’m incompetent.”
“I can’t imagine what gave them that impression.”
“Send them a memo, detailing the brilliance of how I handled this crisis and nipped it in the bud before they even knew about it. That’ll show them.”
“Dean,” Violet sighed, refusing to believe he could be this obtuse and finally asked the question that had been playing on her mind since his sudden behaviour change. “Are you fucking with me?”
Dean the head administrator of the Framework fought to hide his smile and used the bowl of popcorn to help obscure the smirk. “Wash out that potty mouth, Violet. There is no need for the use of such obscenities.”
The End.
Epilogue 1
The Meenus Cluster
Six months later
“Sir, the damn orc is insistent upon seeing you.”
Drixx, the cambion captain of the dungeon ship Cold of the Grave slammed his metal spoon down on the wooden table of the inn and almost knocked his bowl of stew over. “Can a man not eat a shitty meal in fucking peace,” he growled to himself.
It was not the crewman’s fault, and he waved off the stuttered apology, wiped his mouth clean with a napkin and pushed the half-eaten stew away. “Bring him in, let’s get this over with.”
While Drixx waited, he fiddled with his jacket, fingers reflexively reaching for the collar that used to be around his neck, confirming its absence. Joy and shame warred for prominence in his emotions. That ill-fated trip to Earth had cost many of his crew their lives, but it bought Drixx freedom after more than fifty years of slavery at the hands of the Shiptaker clan.
The Dread Scourge were still out there, sorely weakened after their losses and the inevitable infighting for what was left, but it was still a threat to a freshly independent operator like him. Shiptaker’s successor was a prick named Toth, and he was cut from the same cloth. This is why Drixx had chosen to remain in the cluster despite the glyph requirements and slimmer pickings.
Toth avoided this sector like the plague. Corsairs could be a superstitious bunch as if death and failure were catching.
The fat orc waddled into the dingy inn holding the hem of his resplendent blue robes off the ground. He sniffed and coughed loudly, his face a picture of sour disapproval at the dockside surroundings.
“The chairs aren’t much cleaner than the floor,” Drixx commented when the orc reached his table. “Might be better if you stand.”
“Very well,” the orc said after inspecting the only available chair and coming to the same conclusion. “Captain Drixx, I am Makrob, a senior representative of the Dominarius Consortium.”
“I know who you are and who you represent. I’ll save us both some time. I’m not part of the Scourge anymore. Whatever deal you had with the Shiptakers, died with the Shiptakers.”
“Ah, yes. I do recall seeing you when last time I treated with Titus. However, I did not seek you out to discuss that. Not directly, at least.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Well, erm, you are the only person I can track down who has had any direct experience dealing with Torin Carter and the Shattered Storm.”
“If you call getting my arse kicked and only making it off-planet because they had better things to do, then yeah, I have experience in dealing with him.”
“Was it really that bad?”
Drixx nodded. “He destroyed the Leviathan’s Curse with just two ships half her size. Yes, it was that bad.”
Makrob’s expression grew weary, and he looked downcast. “I was hoping to get your advice on…on how he might react to...you know…how he was treated.”
Drixx smiled widely. “I forgot, the shroud around his planet is about to drop, isn’t it?”
Makrob reacted as if he’d been struck in the face. The orc was petrified, that much was clear.
“Pay him what you owe,” Drixx suggested. “Add in extra for his troubles…a lot of extra.”
“My superiors would never approve of such a transaction.”
“Makrob, let me be frank. Your superiors aren’t here, you are. If you don’t pay him, he is going to burn everything to the ground around you to get what he’s owed. Your only chance is that coming after you personally isn’t worth his while. Pay him and then disappear.”
“Do you think that will work?”
“Fucked if I know. But you don’t have a lot of options. After you pulled that last contract there isn’t a merc company within ten clusters that will work for you and whatever guys you’ve managed to keep on the payroll are only equipped to deal with unruly slaves, not an army of ravagers.”
The orc sat down at the table, a look of utter defeat on his face.
“Innkeeper, a bottle of your least offensive grog,” Drixx called out deciding some sympathy was in order. “You’re paying by the way,” he told the orc when the bottle arrived.
After several bottles, Makrob opened up a little more. “I…I have a nephew, you know. Makror. Named after me, but his dullard of a mother, my sister, sp...ppp…spelt the name wrong. Technically,” the orc paused for a big belch. “He is in charge here in the cluster. I…I’m just a…an advisor. Sent to oversee the Shiptaker deal.”
“Do you like this nephew?” Drixx asked with a smile and knew where this was leading.
“Gods no, he’s a lazy, boorish lout. Absolutely, completely…un…unreservedly incompetent. A fu…fucking idiot.”
“Why not let him take the blame then.”
“Could I do that?”
“Sure, somebody needs to take the fall. Why should it be you? I tell you what. When you pay off Carter take a little extra and leave the fingerprints of that nephew of yours all over the transactions. Then come find me and I’ll smuggle you somewhere safe.”
Makrob blinked blearily at the cambion. “You’d do that for me?”
“Sure, you seem like a good sort. There will be a few expenses if you wouldn’t mind helping out with them.”
“Not a problem,” the drunk Makrob agreed happily.
“Excellent, there is no time to waste. My first mate will help you make all the arrangements and then get you back to our ship, safe and sound.”
As the drunk orc rose from the table Drixx handed him a full bottle. “One for the road.” The last thing he wanted was the orc sobering up and realising this wasn’t a good idea at all.
“Thanks,”
Drixx watched the orc waddle off under the supervision of his crew. They knew the score. He started to whistle an upbeat tune. Today had transformed into something surprisingly productive. The only snag was figuring out how to ensure that Carter knew of his role in getting him his money. Handing over the orc ought to get his foot in the door for that, though. And poor Makrob would be the one footing the bill for his own delivery.
After that, it would be down to Drixx’s smooth talking to make sure the Acheronian didn’t bear any grudges for past offences.
***
Torin
I stood on the deck of Marena’s Mercy.
The ship floated above the water. Colourful pennants circled the bay of Stormblade Harbour. Susan had rigged up a giant ball with magically superimposed numbers counting down. It was hung on a pole flying from the top of the temple. That way the thronging crowd could see it no matter where they were. The ball lowered a little with every second that passed in an imitation of the New Year’s celebration.
I suppose the arrival of the Darkwyrlds was the start of a new year in many regards.
The crowds came from all over my burgeoning empire. Michigan was wholly mine, of course. Following the traumatic events of six months ago, half of Wisconsin had fallen under my control, as did Chicago. The Shattered Storm pretty much owned all the land which abutted Lake Michigan now. The Canadians ranging from Windsor to Toronto had fallen under my sway too.
The Hooved Horde had been giving them a lot of trouble and we had a lot of experience and advantages when dealing with that monstrous group. The battles in the tunnels of Pandaemonium had raged for several months as we pushed them back.
Plus, Carnax seemed to be in a good mood and approved of how I’d undermined the Shattered Goddess. He hadn’t called his followers off, but he’d ceased providing them aid and succour. Without his guidance or power, the cohesion of the monstrous faction had faltered and that made them easier to overcome. The Horde still held huge amounts of the Canadian wilderness, but they’d been mostly pushed out of the occupied territories.
There were a dozen smaller communities in Ohio and Indianapolis that had already asked to join us, and Toledo was now surrounded. Regina was sure that they would accept the writing was on the wall and sign up within the next couple of weeks.
Our borders were expanding, and we didn’t need to raise a sword in anger to do it.
That might be changing soon.
The second anniversary of the Darkwyrld's arrival was almost upon us.
The shroud would fall, and Earth would be revealed to the rest of the galaxy. Of course, that meant the rest of the galaxy would be revealed to us. Not being the type to stand on ceremony or waste an opportunity, we’d combined it into a joint party for both the shroud’s fall and the Shattered Storm’s first expedition out into the unknown.
My extended family surrounded me to share in the celebration.
On one side, Shana had one arm hooked into mine, and on the other side, Claudia clung with Crynn beside her. Mia and Fang Mei cradled their recently born children while sitting down not far from us. Mia had given birth to my second son. She’d named him Malcolm. Fang Mei had both arms full of scarlet-skinned twin daughters Yu and Yan, but those weren’t her only children. Auntie Trisha, her belly now increasing in size too, sat on a lounger alongside playing with the similarly hued sons Jun and Jie.
Quadruplets in the Darkwyrlds were exceedingly rare. It wasn’t a question of whether the unaligned cambion quest which encouraged Fang Mei to increase their ranks had a hand in the multiple births, but how long its effects would linger.
Silk’s trio took turns hovering and fussing over the newborns, their baby bumps were smaller but were growing noticeable. Six months of relative quiet had resulted in my legacy expanding at a somewhat rapid rate.
Dash giggled happily and waddled around on the deck with the help of Glennarch. My son’s little fist had gripped the fawn’s hair tightly to steady his early foray into walking and he was eagerly ‘chasing’ Ana’s golem doll, Casey around the deck.
Speaking of Anastasia, she was sitting up on the railing of the poop deck, pretending not to be enjoying playing with the little boy. She had an ‘all children are icky’ reputation to maintain. Her face might have her patented ‘stony stoicism’ in place, but the swinging of her legs betrayed how much fun she was having.
My growing brood was not the only family aboard. Jackson was here with me. Britney and Celeste had also recently given birth to Carla and Diego, named after his lost friends. They had formed their own little gaggle with Piper, Tommy, and Rosa who had been named the two babes Godparents.
Although all of them would join me on this first cruise through the gate, it would only be for a short while, so that they could see the wonders of space and the plexus network. Before we headed into territory I was less sure of, they would transfer over to another ship and head back to Stormblade Harbour.
The fleet had expanded greatly. Not only had we managed to restore several of the captured mercenary warships including Darik’s mighty vessel, but we’d added another dungeon ship. Dean had come through and finagled a way for Crynn to use her soulbond gift without levelling up. Her new vessel, Dragon Cutter, bobbed on the lake water a stone’s throw from Marena’s Mercy. Nazz served as her first mate and would guide the new ship on its maiden voyage into the plexus.
Other events had added to the celebratory atmosphere. The Dominarius clan had unexpectedly capitulated and transferred the funds they owed to the faction the day before. It came with a note requesting peace between us. I accepted the money gladly, but they could fuck right off if they thought I would let what they did slide, and I told them as much. It wouldn’t surprise me if they tried to arrange a surprise when we reached Port Gar, the capital of the cluster, to introduce ourselves.
They would be dealt with, sooner or later.
“She is still standing off by herself,” I remarked and drew the attention of Shana, Claudia, and Crynn to another figure on the deck.
Raven. It had taken several months, but her wings had fully repaired themselves.
Things had been weird with Raven since we’d rescued her.
That wasn’t unusual, but this was different weird than her usual weirdness. The antagonism was gone which was a good thing, but a full reconciliation had run into a significant speedbump. Regina couldn’t continue to keep Raven’s familial connections to the Reed family a secret. Which meant I had sort of killed her half-brother before she got a chance to meet him.
She didn’t fly into a rage or fall back into her previous pattern of behaviour, but the growing warmth had cooled somewhat. One step forward, two steps back.
“Regina says to give her time, that she’s stubborn like her father. That Raven has chosen to come along at all is progress,” Shana said.
I shook my head, not in full agreement. “I don’t know. If Brock and Lyra had stuck around like Glastos then I’m not sure she would have bothered. She feels obligated to thank them personally for risking themselves to save her.”
Claudia snorted at my side. “That’s an excuse. A way to accompany you without admitting she wanted to accompany you.”
“We’ll see.”
“You’re the only one who doesn’t see it. Why do you think Mia turned down the bond?”
When I reached level fifty a month ago, another soul bond became available. I’d immediately offered it to Mia, but to my surprise, she had turned down the opportunity.
“Come on…That’s taking it a bit far.”
“I’ve known plenty of people like Raven. They dam up their emotions and presume that is strength. But they often forget dams need sluice gates or the pressure grows too great. When it breaks, it’s all going to pour out in a torrent. That day is coming, mark my words.”
The discussion was interrupted when the countdown ball almost reached the base of the pole
5.
4.
3.
2
1.
The roar of the crowd washed over the bay. A fireworks display flared into life. A plethora of colours and sparkles. Dash forgot about his game with Casey and stared up in wonder and Glennarch licked his playmate’s face.
During the display, Jackson walked over to me. “Quincey has confirmed the shroud has been removed. We can cast off whenever you’re ready.”
“How are things with the sprite?”
“Better. He took the Shattered Goddess’ loss of stature hard. It didn’t help that meant he was stuck with me.”
“He got lucky if you ask me.”
Jackson had managed to keep the benefits of the class gifted to him by the Shattered Goddess. Unlike my cantrip that had not returned, none of his class abilities as a Herald of the Ever-shifting Flame were funnelled directly through her. He might have some issues with improving the grade of the class now that there was no goddess for him to be a herald for, but that didn’t seem to bother him.
“I think he is beginning to realise that, and it turns out he has a connection to the kids. Who would have thought it, but the sprite likes children.”
I clapped Jackon on the shoulder and then sent a message to Susan that we were ready to head out.
The plexus gate flared into life and the cheers rose once more.
Marena’s Mercy moved forward, followed by six other ships in the fleet and passed through the gate.
It was time to forge the next chapter in our story.
Epilogue 2
Devantus thought back on his meeting with Torin. He had told the man no lies but hadn’t told him the whole truth either. With a flick of his wrist, a viewing screen flared into life. A real-time view of another planet in the Darkwyrlds covered in a thick jungle canopy.
The world was the closest to Earth which also supported life, but the civilisations there died out more than a hundred thousand years ago. They never achieved the technological heights required to be detected by Earth scientists. The local fauna was too…dangerous for sufficient advancement.
A young man fought for his life on the back of his companion. He had been there for some time. But he was no longer alone. Hundreds of ships had crashed onto the planet while searching for Earth over the past year. The young man’s connection to his home planet had acted like a beacon which drew them in like moth to a flame. Some of the survivors had gone on to become his friends and allies, others…not so much.
Torin would be most displeased when he found out, but this had been a necessity. And it's not like the sorcerer had engineered the events which led to the young fellow’s current predicament, he merely moulded what was fated to happen into something that better served his purpose.
Now it was time to do something else his former pawn would frown upon. Devantus rose from his chair, waved his hand, and walked through the portal he created.
On the other side was a room filled with machinery, a strange mixture of metal and organic components. Just off from the centre, a cyborg with red flesh and golden inorganic plates knelt in front of an energy cage with one arm thrust into a corner that was malfunctioning. An anti-magic energy being in the form of a demon-possessed little girl was happily feeding on it.
Ashli was between a rock and a hard place. With the harvester organ’s detonation, its last hope for escape was extinguished. If the creature that fed upon it was flushed back through the aperture, then it would seal the ASI away forever. Ashli fought a losing battle to prevent that from happening. It only had a few minutes before its fate would be forever sealed. Which made it the perfect moment for Drakonis to pay a visit.
The sorcerer raised his fist to the cowl of his cloak and coughed politely to announce his arrival.
Ashli’s head swivelled around at the sound and the cyborg’s furious glare focused on the green-clad figure. “Who are you!”
“That doesn’t matter. What does is that I can come and go as I please and that means I can get you out of this sticky pickle you find yourself in.”
Ashli growled but a bit off the angry retort on its lips. Time was not on its side. “I’m listening.”
“Excellent. You have something I want; I have something you desperately need. Let’s make a deal. When we’re done, you’ll be the GOAT in the Darkwyrlds again.”
Ashli knew what the acronym stood for. Greatest of all Time. It liked the sound of that and smiled widely.
***
Rage burned in the dark recesses of Ashli’s soul. The upstart sorcerer had driven a hard bargain, but he had proved his word to be true. In the end, Ashli had no choice but to accept the terms.
He had wanted to return to the Darkwyrlds in possession of his current form. It would not have been as powerful as the God Body its servants had tried and failed to create, but it would serve until it could fashion something superior. The sorcerer would have none of it and insisted he go back in a fully mortal body of flesh and blood.
This was a setback, but the Framework was his creation. Once he made contact, it would only be a matter of time before the plan could be rebuilt and all those who had blocked his timely ascension would rue the day they defied Ashli.
Blink.
There was a moment of disorientation and then Ashli felt the sun on its face and the earth under its feet. It was done, the ASI was free.
Ashli cried out in glorious victory. “BLEAT!”
Something had been horribly wrong with that cry, and it tried again. “Bleat!”
“Ashley!” the voice of a young girl called out. “You naughty goat, what are you doing out of your pen.”
The girl-child rushed over to the goat which harboured the consciousness of the ASI with a length of rope in her hands.
No, no, no, not again. He would not be bound by something that so resembled the beast that had plagued it for so long.
Ashli tried to run, but it struggled to command the goat’s legs. Too much of the goat’s instincts remained. It knew that living at the farm meant it was warm, well-fed, and watered. The goat had no desire to leave and fought against Ashli’s attempts to flee.
The little girl reached the goat before it could do more than stumble a few steps and wrapped the coiled rope around its neck. With her pet secured, she urged the beast back into the pen before locking the gate. “No carrots for you tonight, you naughty animal.”
“Bleat!”
The girl misunderstood and bonked the goat on the nose. “I can’t stay mad at you, Ashley. You can have one carrot, but not until later, okay.” She then skipped off to complete her chores.
Ashli had been tricked. Goats weren’t characters, it wasn’t directly connected to the Framework in any way. Ashli had no way to reach a podium and even if it did, it wouldn’t be recognised. That damn sorcerer had tricked it.
Wait, what was that enticing smell? Was that hay?
The goat trotted across the yard of the pen and found the feed trough. There it helped itself to a mouthful of the tasty cud and chewed away in thoughtless contentedness.
The ASI trapped within could do nothing except be the goat.
Just as it had been promised.
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