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Chapter Text

The insectoid titan stalked the perimeter of its territory for what must have been the hundred thousandth time. This was an easy feat for the leviathan, for it was large and its "territory" had long been  restricted to this single cavern. A big cavern, a beautiful cavern, but still one cavern. The still waters beneath Astel's six bony hands reflected the false starry sky of the cave. Once, this sky had been aglow with wondrous multicolored stars and swirling nebulae that put the Eternal Cities of the Nox to shame. Once. That had been long ago, when Astel was at the height of its power. The last intruder to its domain had found the skies largely stripped of their splendor, a solitary purplish nebula being all that remained of the iridescent galaxies of old. Now, even that was fading, barely a wisp against the still void.

Abruptly, the still waters were disturbed, rippling to the edges of the cavern and back. A searing pain had jolted the massive being, causing it to double over and clutch its crystalline body with two of its hands. Astel clacked its mandibles before unleashing a howl that reverberated through the space as its tail lashed. Its lustrous gossamer wings drooped, their tips touching the waters and trailing spray as it lurched to the center of its territory. 

Astel had first felt the signs of old age a thousand years ago. A sudden jolt in its head, like someone had twisted its unblinking astral eye by the nerve, and the faintest stars in its illusory sky vanishing forever. Waning power, a waning beast. They had grown more frequent over the centuries. Then the last intruder came. Battling him had taken more out of the voidborn titan than it should have, and still the mortal had emerged victorious and slipped past the recovering Astel to the ancient elevator. Of course it permitted him to leave. The elevator shaft was a stake driven into the heart of the earth, the masterwork of the artisans and incanters of an age past. Enchantments the like of which had never been seen before or since served to trap Astel here, pinning its very soul to this spot and rendering the surrounding stone impervious to its powers.

Astel hunched over, folding its wings against its beaded serpentine body. Its tail was still now, and resisted any effort to move it. The being's midnight blue eye narrowed within its cracked skull, remembering the day long ago when it all had went wrong.

----

It had been drawn to this place by a feeling. Something between sight, hearing, and hunger had drawn it here. Astel had made planetfall in the sea before making its way to the gilded city at the heart of this land, reducing the lower district to a crater and growing in strength. Driven back by the Golden Order's forces, it had dove within the earth to the fallen city of the Nox, their wondrous capital at the Erdtree's roots. The Nox worshipped the night sky, and Astel was night sky incarnate. It had turned the artificial skies of the Nox into a weapon, stealing their magical energies before disintegrating the city's cave and laying waste to its buildings. It seemed so easy in hindsight, but the nightmaidens and their warriors, and the glintstone sorcerers who in those days could equal the Carians for prowess, had fought long and hard for their city. Absorbing their sky had been the crushing blow to their morale that ensured Astel's conquest would come to pass. Bearing the energy of an entire city of glintstone, Astel had returned to the surface, but not to gilded Leyndell. No, it had resolved to first crush the neighboring kingdom of Caria. This, it reasoned, would be easy with the power gleaned from the Nox capital, and with the powers of Liurnia's latent glintstone and the Carian royal family absorbed by its hungry eye, it would make quick work of the Leyndell forces that had halted it after its arrival. But they came. When Astel voidshifted onto the sacred plateau in the south of Liurnia, reducing the cathedral there to ruins with a blast of cosmic energy, it turned towards the lakes only to be faced by six warriors.

Cordelia Ofnir, a knight of the order of the All-Knowing, which strove to master all forms of magic and parse the esoteric mysteries of the Outer Gods.

Grendar, Warrior Jar, an amalgam of champions dating to the age of the Crucible.

Highmonk Lorne, a Golden Order Fundamentalist.

Master Lusat, a Primeval Current Sorcerer.

Mikhael Snowstrider, war chief of the Kaiden.

And Sir Elan of Morne, a knight-captain in retirement who left his young grandson behind to join in the fight.

----

Behind her veiled helmet, Cordelia Ofnir's jaw dropped. She had read the reports, of course, but they couldn't prepare her for seeing the spectacle of the beast in person. She had been in Sellia when Lower Leyndell fell, but her brother   and his two sons lived on the precipice of the district and had seen their neighbors' houses just fall. She hadn't quite believed their letter until the official summons came from her order. She knew that Confessor Maximilian Ofnir was no liar, but nothing could just obliterate a third of a city like that. And the colorful assemblages of monosyllabic words her nephews had attached hadn't helped Max's credibility. Wilberforce and Gideon were literate, but far from eloquent.

Two figures stepped up behind her. A grizzled old man in horned armor carrying twinned broadswords, and a burly figure in Kaiden furs with his people's signature curved sword on his shoulder. "We need to move," Mikhael Snowstrider growled.

"Let me think," Ofnir snapped. "We can't just run in and die. At the very least we need to buy time for Queen Rennala to muster her forces." The words were hollow. The men-at-arms of Caria were wanting for courage and strength, and the Academy sorcerers were few in number. With the skeletal insect growing stronger with everything it destroyed, they had to stop it here. If it made it to Raya Lucaria, it was already too late.

"Here." Snowstrider picked the silver-clad woman up by her shoulder, spun at the waist, and placed her to his right, leaving himself at the head of the formation. "The three of us and the jar charge him, and Lorne and the other one throw their special rocks at it." Despite their martial prowess, the Kaiden had little respect for magic or tactics. Ofnir sighed.

"We'll all end up dying under a meteor, and then that thing can just squish Lorne and Lusat."

"We will die with honor." Somewhere behind them, Grendar the jar let out a whoop of approval.

"And so will everyone on the continent. We need to get this right, Snowstrider."

"If I may." The youthful voice of Lusat spoke up. All heads turned as the ever-young primeval sorcerer ran a hand through his black bird's-nest hair. "Lorne and I are versed in spells that can offer a shield against magic. Now, granted, nobody's ever tried to use them for any amount of time against something that can powderize a church with its giant forehead eye, but it should be able to get us close."

A new voice, the husky croak of the Highmonk. "I have prepared an incantation." Runed rings flared to life around his gnarled hands. "A modification on the golden barriers of the Two Fingers. So long as we stay close, I can protect all of us for a few minutes."

"What do we do when we get close?," asked Sir Elan. "We haven't time to beat it to death. We don't even know if that's possible."

"Alright," Ofnir said. "Grendar, Elan, Lorne, Snowstrider. You all take turns drawing fire. Lusat and I will look for a weakness we can exploit. We'll go from there." Her voice projected a confidence she did not have. What if we can't find a weakness? What if one of us falls? What if we can't even get it to stop advancing? If six hundred meters of soil and bedrock couldn't stop it, how can we?

Lorne willed his domed shield into existence, and a blue arc from Lusat's staff enveloped its front. The six nodded grimly to each other and were about to break into a run when Grendar spoke up.

"If any of you die, may I have the distinct honor of laying claim to a piece of your remains?"

----

They had made it halfway across the plateau when it saw them. A massive meteorite glowing with purple-white gravity magic slammed into the dome, pushing them all back a short distance. In response, Lusat drew his second staff, an ordinary Carian one that was dwarfed by his massive custom catalyst, and added a second layer to his barrier. Ofnir leveled her scepter, willing her own barrier into existence. Her magic was nothing compared to that of the primeval sorcerer and Highmonk, but she reasoned that any bit helped. The next rock didn't push them back half as far.

At the titan's feet, the six split off. Grendar threw himself at the massive insect's nearest hand, his stony limbs cracking its bony palm. A laser blast meant for Lorne fired over the jar's seal. Howling, the being summoned a volatile nebula in its opposite hand and was about to slam it down on Grendar when Sir Elan jabbed his twinblade into its crystalline underbelly. Astel jumped and pivoted in the air, casting a trail of nebulae in an arc between it and the two warriors. Suddenly Lorne was there, a golden dome flaring up that stayed the cacophony of explosions. The celestial insect gnashed its mandibles, but suddenly turned as War Chief Snowstrider brought his curved greatsword down in an arc on one of its fingers. The lunge nearly caught the Kaiden warrior as he rolled out of the way at the last second. Lying prone, he thought the followup would be the end.

Eight blue swords flew over his head and into the titan's palm. Three aquamarine shards slammed into its body, and spears of red lightning cut one of its wings to ribbons. Ofnir leapt over him, her scepter slinging magic wildly. The insect's head descended, only to recoil in pain as its mandibles closed on a curtain of black flame. Seizing the moment, Ofnir conjured the golden wings of the Crucible and took flight, jabbing her rapier into the thing's eye. Astel shook her free and fired a laser blast point-blank that shattered her hasty glintstone barrier and tossed the All-Knowing woman into a thicket. A groan told Snowstrider that she was alive, and he leveled his sword and charged towards his fellow warriors.

----

Nothing was working. They'd made mincemeat of its gossamer wings, but they always regenerated. Its unblinking eye had been repeatedly stabbed by all manner of swords and spells, but the creature's senses and spells were unimpaired. And the warriors were tiring fast. Cordelia Ofnir knew from her years of battlefield experience that they didn't have long before one of them would slip up. I survived the Battle of Wyndham for this?

Lorne called out to her. "Delia! I have one idea. I hoped it wouldn't come to this, but it may be our last resort." Conjuring a phalanx of glintblades, Ofnir ran to the old monk.

"What are you going to do? What do you need?"

"I'm going to cast a litany of sealing."

Ofnir was dumbstruck. "You can't seal something of that size. Or else Queen Marika would have done that instead of letting Gransax run roughshod over the Capital during the Dragon War."

"I think that I can. It will cost me my life, and require lengthy preparation. Magic is strong here at Manus Celes, All-Knowing one. By drawing on its ambient power, I may be able to cast a seal on a grand scale. I ask only that you protect me while I perform the rite. Of course, such a seal is temporary. You will need to return with with a legion of monks to reinforce it."

"There has to be another way! You're Leyndell's foremost scholar. We can't just sacrifice you. This isn't chess, Lorne."

'Search yourself, Delia. You know it to be true." Lorne's bushy eyebrows waggled like two annoyed caterpillars.

Ofnir swore under her breath. "Fine, dammit!" Raising her scepter, she cast a simple hex on her helmet that would amplify her voice. "New plan! Protect Lorne at all costs! He's going to try to seal the beast. We must all be prepared to lay down our lives if it means he can finish the rite." She unsheathed her rapier, her face a mask of grim resolve. Before charging into the fray, she whispered one last oath. Cordelia Ofnir had no family save her brother's, and she wanted her final words before this battle to be for them. Gideon, Wil. I'm sorry I couldn't train you two myself, but I know you'll make your parents and I proud. Let whatever happens here today be your inspiration, not your dissuasion. And Gid... I hope Max remembers where I stashed your birth day gifts.

----

Lorne's chanting grew louder. By some miracle, they'd lasted this long. Ofnir knew enough about sealing rites to know that the monk was nearly done. And then it all came crashing down.

Sir Elan's twinblade danced, fending off meteors and two skeletal hands. He didn't see the monster's tail until it was too late. The spines punctured his body in several places, tearing him apart as Astel flicked its tail like a whip. Then it dove towards Lorne.

"HO!!!!! NOT TODAY, VERMIN! FOR I AM HERE!" With a mighty leap, Grendar the warrior jar hurled himself in the way, bringing his fists down on the titan's skull. Astel closed its pincers and whipped its neck around, throwing the jar into the ocean as Lusat's Star Shower and Ofnir's glintblades clattered uselessly against its beaded flank. Grendar disappeared beneath the waves. The insectoid behemoth turned its gaze to Snowstrider, its eye crackling with purple lightning. The chief parried a meteor and two slaps before being knocked backwards into the mud. Staggering to his feet, he was confused to see that his enemy had disappeared. From above was a sound like breaking glass, and Astel appeared from a nebula, falling like a crescent moon. One pointed finger impaled the Kaiden between his ribs. Astel shook his twitching corpse off its finger and left him in the mud as it rounded on Lorne. Its eye released the charge, firing a massive gravity laser at the monk. Suddenly Lusat cast a Nox sorcery, a black void above his head. The laser curved, entering Lusat's glintstone well. Watching as she repositioned, Ofnir breathed a sigh of relief. The chant was nearing its end. Then something she'd never seen before happened.

Lusat's void overflowed. It was too much power for the Nox shield to absorb. Lusat tried to cast a second void closer to himself, but he only got off the first motion of the spell. The laser continued into Lusat's body, and he fell back screaming in agony. He wasn't dead, it didn't look like he'd even been harmed. Then blue crystals started to burst from his skin, shredding his robes. His upper skull exploded, and a blue crystalline eye identical to Astel's grew from within. Lusat screamed and screamed as the crystals overtook his body.

Cordelia Ofnir activated her helmet's enchantment, a boon of the All-Knowing which slowed down her perception of time for a few minutes, giving her more time to think. That laser disintegrated a church, but it didn't kill Lusat. Why? The beam overflowed his void, and then-- That's it. He cast the spell again. But he didn't finish the part of the incantation that creates the void, just the part that absorbs spells. And he was trying to move it closer to him to catch the beam... he accidentally turned his own body into a glintstone well. Instead of damaging him, the laser was absorbed into his very flesh.

The monster was turning on Lorne now, its slowed movements (from Ofnir's point of view) like an iceberg. No. He's so close. If I-- But then they won't know what he did. A sealing rite of this magnitude will last at most a day. If nobody's left to get the Golden Order's clerics to make it permanent, this behemoth will just come back. I'm running out of time. I need-- Lusat! He's alive! Ofnir pulled a small talisman from a pouch. It was a Writ of Recall, given to her by little Gideon. The first enchantment he'd ever made, it was a stone that would allow her to teleport to the All-Knowing Hold in Leyndell in an emergency. Leyndell, home of the Golden Order and the mages of the All-Knowing. Thank you, Gid. I'm sorry it's not me using it. She threw the Writ in the air, her slowed perception of time allowing her to cast a glintblade that impaled the stone. She flew the blade across the battlefield and stabbed it into one of the few patches of exposed skin she could see on Lusat's body. As it stuck, she mentally triggered the enchantment. Lusat vanished, leaving behind a Golden Order Fundamentalist sigil burned into the earth. Please help him. Please let him tell them. As Astel's jaws closed in on Lorne, Ofnir broke into a run. Astel sped up, signaling that her helmet's effect had worn off. Willing her Crucible wings and a glintblade phalanx into existence, Cordelia Ofnir threw herself in the way. "Can't- let- you- AAAAH!"

The bony pincers closed around her, rending her silver armor and crushing her spine and organs. With the last of her energies, she willed her wings to explode, propelling them both backwards about three meters and Lorne twelve in the opposite direction. As her mind went blank, she thought she heard the Highmonk shout the final word of the rite and her vision went from black to gold to black again.

----

Astel had woken up in a watery cave, still clutching the broken body of Cordelia Ofnir. In its rage at being imprisoned, its first act, before even creating its sky, had been to absorb her remains. Now, close to death, the titan found its alien mind wandering. Its arms no longer obeyed it, curling around its body like the legs of a dead spider. Ofnir had won. She couldn't kill it. Few things could, and very few of them were native to this world. But she and her comrades had trapped it until the inexorable march of time struck the killing blow. And then Astel felt something it had never felt before. Fear. Fear of death, the most basal instinct of all life. To a being as powerful as Astel, this was a horrifying concept. Surely there was something it could do? But no. Its legacy would die here in this cave. It had been planning to raze this world and then return to the stars to seek a mate, but for obvious reasons this hadn't occurred. Astel would leave no progeny, no conquest. Just a twisted hulk in a forgotten cave.

Unless...

Astel clacked its mandibles weakly. Ofnir, the deliverer of its greatest defeat, would be its ultimate salvation. Concentrating its fading strength inwards, Astel began to mass energy within its eye. It extracted from its mind a template of human genetic code, stored there long ago, and bonded it to its own cells. A shadowy form grew as the surface of its eye became translucent. A human body could not handle Astel's full might, but would surely have some vestige of its power. The exertion made the titan weaken faster still. It had planned to imbue the body with its own intelligence, but it only had the strength to impart Ofnir's memories of human language and history. It couldn't even teach the sorry thing to use its innate powers. Couldn't even give it Ofnir's weak magic as a consolation. Finally, with its dying breath, Astel released. The eye flew from its socket, turning immaterial and entering the cave ceiling. As it flew, Astel made mental contact with the growing mind within. For reasons that even the alien intelligence of the stellar titan couldn't comprehend, its final words took a sentimental turn as the cold of fear was replaced by something.. warm?

{Fly, and live as I could not. Fly, Astra. Fly, my daughter.}

----

In the glintstone-lit  marshes of Liurnia, a giant land octopus poked at a bluish egglike sac. The sac had been there for three moons now, the shadow within growing ever bigger and eventually causing it to twitch. The octopus's primitive mind had been fascinated with it, and lingered in the area far longer than its species usually remained anywhere. But sooner or later, it was bound to draw the wrong kind of attention. An otherworldly screech filled the night air.

Deathbird. The ugly, greasy avian descended from the moonlit fog, tearing the unfortunate octopus apart in an instant and devouring its innards. It paused, intrigued by the clomping of boots and then by the glowing, twitching egg sac before it. The bird cocked its head briefly and then squawked in surprise as a shaft of moonlight pierced the fog and shone down upon the egg, which began to swell before bursting. A sickly, sweet-smelling fluid coated bird, octopus, and soil. The Deathbird shook itself and sniffed. Beyond the fluid, there was another smell. Fresh prey. It was coming from the husk of the egg.

The Deathbird was about to commence its next meal when a human woman clad in scaled armor and a chain-link hood ran into the clearing, carrying an ornate silver greatsword. The warrior executed a series of deft slashes and recoveries, blocking the bird's attempts to hit her over the head with its ghostflame poker. Then she drew a kukri from her belt and threw it, cutting open the bird's leg. Squawking, the Deathbird craned its unnaturally long neck, smashing its bone beak against her armor and sending her falling into the water and egg fluid with a shout as she dropped her sword. As the bird turned back to its meal, the woman rose and in one swift motion unlimbered a red wood crossbow from her back and fired a three-round burst into its spine. The bird sang mournfully as it disintegrated into mist, leaving behind a few shards of bone.

The warrior retrieved her sword from the swamp. She didn't know what the sick-smelling goo coating her and it were, but that was a problem for later, when she wasn't alone at night in the Liurnian marsh. She knelt to collect the bones, muttering to no one in particular. "I ought to be able to convince some glintstone craftsman at the Academy to pay good silver for these," she told the night air, "and then that'll pay for... more bolts and medicine before I head to Caelid." She shuddered and sighed. "Why am I doing this again?" Then, for the first time, she saw the husk.

Peering inside, she saw a pale form laying within, staring at the sky where the bird had loomed with midnight blue eyes as wide as wagon wheels. It was a human woman with fair skin and bluish-black hair, arms and legs wrapped in sinewy tendrils tied to the husk.

"What in the name of St. Trina-??" The warrior stepped closer, drawing a knife from her belt to work on the tendrils. "What are you doing out here, alone and naked as the day you were born?"

The woman in the husk turned her head and stared blankly back at her. "This is the day I was born."

Chapter Text

The woman in the scaled armor had started a fire on a dry patch of earth. Astra, wrapped in an old traveling robe belonging to her rescuer and munching on a skewered prawn, was grateful for the warmth. Turning her head, she noticed that her rescuer had stripped to her tunic and pants and was busy washing the egg fluids from her armor.

"Sorry about that."

"Hmm?"

"My... egg got on your clothes."

"It was the damn death chicken that pushed me into it, lass." Abruptly, she stopped scrubbing her left pauldron and straightened. "Wait, so that was actually an egg? And you actually just came out of it? I thought you were just shell-shocked when you said you were born today."

"Yes." Astra narrowed her blue eyes and looked back at the firepit.

"But you're... physically an adult," the warrior said with some hesitation. "You know what words mean. You know what Liurnia of the Lakes is, for Godfrey's sake. You mean to tell me you came out of a swamp egg fully grown with knowledge of language and geography?"

"I... remember things. I don't know how I know them, but I do. I have all this knowledge, but no memories of acquiring it. No memories of actually doing anything. There's flashes, images, but when I try to focus on them they disappear." Astra sighed and adjusted the flared ruff of the robe. "I don't just know geography. Your sword is Banished Knight steel, and your crossbow was made by someone with ties to the Golden Order. Leyndell or Elphael, although I can't tell you which unless you let me see the gearwork. There are certain tells in the way--"

The other woman was fully agape now. "Marika's tits! Half an hour ago I was cutting you out of an egg, and you're already a better appraiser than half the stuck-up clods in Raya Lucaria." Leaving her armor to dry on the bank, she walked over and sat down on a log next to Astra. "I never introduced myself. I'm Arianell. Arianell of Dominula, if you want to be pedantic." Noticing an inquisitive look on Astra's face, she made a dismissive motion. "Never actually been there, so don't even ask."

"Whyever not? It's a lovely village."

Arianell chuckled. "Guess your miraculous knowledge is at least a few decades out of date, lass. After the Shattering, the Godskin cult set up shop there. I was a newborn at the time. My mother smuggled me out of the village the night the Apostles started corrupting the populace. She raised me in a shack in Limgrave. Wanted to get as far away from there as possible without going into Caelid."

"What's wrong with Caelid? Does your mother hate pine trees?"

"Hoo boy. I'm still going to have to teach you a lot." She sighed. "Awright. After the Shattering, Caelid was ground zero for a series of battles between the Redmanes and the forces of Elphael. It was the first place to give the Haligtree army a meaningful amount of resistance. Weeks of fighting, and they end up in Aeonia. Redmanes just lost Fort Gael, and Sellia is their last chance to make a stand before their stronghold becomes vulnerable. That battle was a total bloodbath. Most of the casualties were General Radahn and Lady Malenia carving up each other's armies, but I digress. Eventually the demigods meet head to head, and they seem evenly matched. What happened next is a matter for debate. Some say Lady Malenia removed her golden needle, others claim Radahn broke it when he hit her human arm with his meteors. Regardless, something happened to it, and the end result was that Caelid is a giant crater of scarlet rot."

"What's the Shattering?"

"Marika's tits..."

----

Astra lay awake looking at the stars. Something about them was oddly soothing to her. Unconsciously, she reached out to try to touch them before realizing how stupid that prospect was and sheepishly lowering her arm. A voice from nearby made her jump.

"Astra?"

"Y-yes, Arianell?"

"Please, call me Ari. Or Nell, I'm not picky. You sound like my mother right now."

"Yes, Ari?"

"Better." The warrior paused. "You said you were having... flashes of memory. What are they like? If you don't know, if you don't want to talk about it, that's alright."

"No, no, it's fine. I don't remember much after they happen. I was getting them before I... hatched, I think. They're all over the place. I remember sensations, feelings, but not details. The only one I can really speak about is this one awful instant. I'm flying through the air, but I'm not me. Then something catches me, and there's this terrible screaming and rending of metal. Bones cracking, blood squirting. Then I open my eyes, and I'm being held by... myself. It's my face staring back at me. It's my face on my body, and it's crushing me with its bare hands." Silence fell over the clearing. "Sorry. That got dark."

"Don't apologize, lass. Most folks don't exactly have cheerful visions. Trust me, I've been around a lot of Omens."

"Oh! There's one where I'm flying and it's really nice and there's stars!"

"That's nice."

"Except I'm a giant spider with skeleton hands."

"I'm going back to sleep."

----

Morning came, and the two women packed up their camp and made for the town at the gate of Raya Lucaria. The fact that the titles of Queen Goddess and Elden Lord presently belonged to the Carian princess Ranni and her husband respectively had been enough to drive a sizable influx of funds to the lake province, even with said lords having vanished from the Lands Between immediately after taking the throne. The result of this windfall had been that the once-swamped gate town had been dredged up and was once again a center of commerce. Which suited the Academy perfectly well, as they had decided that they had quite enjoyed outsiders not being allowed inside without escort and kept that policy in place even after the Age of Stars had began, despite visitors to Liurnia being the most numerous they'd ever been.

While Astra wandered aimlessly from one curiosities peddler to another, Aria made her way purposefully to a storefront occupied by a round man wearing the crown of the Olivinus Conspectus and dropped the Deathbird bones and a few other odds and ends unceremoniously on the counter. The sorcerer took them and scattered a small stack of silver coins across the wooden surface. "Thank you for your material contributions to the Academy of Raya Lucaria. Your generous donation has made it possible for us to best serve our Lords and--"

"Donation? You lot hired me."

"We like to ensure that members of our beloved acquisition department feel that their contribution is valued despite their intellect being insufficient to--" 

Aria took her silver and stalked off.

'Why do you do work for these people? They seem insufferable."

"I hate him too, but money is tight and killing the local wildlife for these pompous arseholes is the best way to make it around here."

"So what do you do exactly? Mercenary work?"

"Nailed it, lass."

"Do you have another job lined up?"

"I'm going to Caelid. Academy has something they want dug out of a vault in Sellia, and I've taken a few other jobs in the area. That's the other way to get paid in this line of work, be one of the few people stupid enough to go to Caelid." She tossed her blond hair over one shoulder. "All the silver from that job is going towards buying medicine and flame bolts for the road."

"It must be nice to have everything laid out for you like that. I wish I knew where I was going."

"You're striking out on your own?"

"I don't want to impose. I'm assuming you'd like to just forget about the time you cut a naked woman out of an egg in a swamp and she told you about her flying spider dreams."

"You wouldn't be imposing at all, lass. It's a lonely road. And besides, your knowledge of current events seems... lacking. I'd feel bad about sending you off on your own with no idea what you're getting into. For all I know you'll find some cave that you remember being home to friendly cuddly wolves and then it'll turn out to be a basilisk den and you'll die."

"Cheerful."

"Our second real conversation was you telling me about how you have visions of being mauled by yourself."

"Point taken."

Aria smirked. "One thing: if you're coming to Caelid with me, you can't go in with a maiden's robe and no weapon. It'll hurt my coinpurse, but we're going shopping."

----

They hit the road again some time later, Astra now dressed in a set of leather armor, a short black shoulder cape with a hood, and a traveling pack. At her belt were an estoc and a prospector's lantern. The armor had come with a green laced tunic, black trousers, and two small knives in a shoulder strap. Near midday, the two women broke for lunch, and Aria decided to test her new companion's mettle in combat. They stood several paces apart and leveled their weapons, Astra's slender estoc against Aria's ornate greatsword. 

Without warning, Astra charged, holding the estoc in front of her with both hands. She clumsily swung it in a horizontal arc and three graceful flips of Arianell's greatsword flicked it easily into the dirt before knocking her flat on her back.

"I'm going to have a lot to teach you before we get to Caelid. Here. First I'm going to show you how to hold that thing..."

Chapter Text

Nell and Astra had made good time to Stormhill before a thick fog had rolled in. They'd made camp in an abandoned shack in the woods, the imposing silhouette of Stormveil Castle looming overhead. The knowledge that the bastion was no longer ruled by Godrick the Grafted did little to dull its spectacle. Astra still wasn't sure how to process the revelation that not only was Prince Godwyn dead, but one of his line had turned himself into a horrific, twisted flesh golem made from the bodies of his subjects in an attempt to meet the measure of a god. The specter of Godrick still loomed over Limgrave, the abandoned settlements and silent hills, the way the survivors of Godrick's Tarnished hunts still carried themselves. And the land was still said to be haunted by the Grafted Scions, twisted, insane creatures that had once been Godrick's illegitimate children before the deranged demigod began transforming them into mockeries of his own already grotesque form. The new rulers of Limgrave had undertook to purge all the surviving Scions from Stormveil Castle, but many had been merely driven out and not slain.

"High. Low. High. Side. Low. Side. High." Nell's instructions and the clang of metal echoed through the gloom. Just as Astra was falling into a sequence with her parries, Nell placed her left hand on the hilt of her greatsword and switched from heavy-handed swipes to flowing slashes and thrusts, giving her companion less time to react. Before long, Astra had fallen breathless into the grass. "You're improving," the warrior said, extending a gloved hand to the other woman. "Let's get back to camp. Soup's on."

They had started a fire in the shack's old firepit, and a pot was simmering herbs and mutton. Astra regarded her companion across the stewpot. "Who are you, really?"

"A mercenary. Sellsword. Proud member of the Raya Lucaria acquisitions department. Whatever you wanna call me."

"You don't just carry Banished Knight steel, you fence like one too." Astra wasn't sure how she knew what Banished Knights fought like, but it was apparent to her that the way Nell two-handed her greatsword was the Knights' signature style, and she wielded it with practiced ease instead of the clumsy swings of an untrained hand.

"It's more common than you'd think among those who know what they're doing. I met a man once in Liurnia who hunted the dead in the swamp's ruins. His style was similar enough." Astra suspected that there was something Nell wasn't telling her, but she had just decided against prying further tonight when Nell spoke again. "But you're right. I was a Knight once. But I didn't serve Stormveil, nor Castle Sol."

"What happened? Why aren't you still with them?" Astra leaned forwards, grabbing the battered ladle from the pot and pouring some stew into her bowl.

"I told you I lived in Limgrave once. Two or so years before I came of age, Godrick's soldiers passed through our village. This was one of their hunts. I don't know what their criteria were, but they would take people seemingly at random. The lucky ones would get conscripted into Godrick's army. The unlucky would get conscripted into Godrick's body. It was funny, really. My mother left Dominula because of the Godskins, but turns out Limgrave wasn't that much better in terms of power-mad flesh despots." She snorted and reached for the ladle. They were rounding people up and putting them into a cart. Then the Knights came."

"I thought the Banished Knights served Godrick in this part of the Lands."

"They did. Most of them. Foremost among the Knights was a man named Engvall. He had been the captain of the Stormveil Exiles, and served as Godrick's lieutenant for a time. When Godrick turned to grafting, Engvall decided to rethink his allegiance. He told his company that he was striking out on his own. A few were loyal to him and decided to accompany, but many more were loyal to Godrick, or more accurately Godrick's silver. Not only did they remain, but they locked down the castle and told Godrick what Sir Engvall was doing. They had to fight their way out of Stormveil, and half their number perished in the attempt. Engvall had originally wanted to just go off and live somewhere, but after their flight from Stormveil he changed his mind. All through the wars that followed the Shattering, Engvall's knights mounted a guerilla campaign against Godrick."

"To keep their numbers up, they had to take on recruits. When they saved my village, they lost a man to the troll the Lordsworn had brought to pull their prison cart. Long story short, I left with them that day. They gave me the dead man's armor and sword. And for the next three years, I fought Godrick's forces alongside Sir Engvall." She paused and sipped noisily from her bowl of stew.

"Then it all went wrong. We were hitting a treasure convoy in Murkwater. It should have been a routine heist. Little did we know, Godrick had finally learned what tactics were. We were walking into a trap." Nell shifted her feet uncomfortably. After a long pause, she buried her face in her hands. "I... don't want to tell you the rest right now."

"It's okay," Astra said. "I know what that's like." How do I know what that's like? She scraped the bottom of her bowl and stood up. "I'll take first watch." Nell began to stand, but Astra huffed. "No. You took it last night, and you're probably not in a good frame of mind for watch. Stay." She walked over and placed a hand on Nell's shoulder, then removed the other woman's crossbow from her back. "I'm taking this."

"Do you know how to use a pulley crossbow?"

"I think so." Astra climbed onto a nearby boulder and inspected the weapon. "Perfumer bolts, very nice. And... " she paused, squinting at the crossbow's gears, "... Haligtree make. This assemblage is decidedly Elphaelish. That's good. Leyndelli artificers tended to prioritize mathematically pleasing gear ratios over functionality. Ah, Golden Order Fundamentalism." A bald, bushy-browed face floated through her mind and was gone. Crossing her legs, Astra rested the crossbow in her lap and stared out into the night. Behind her, Nell wandered into the ruined shack where their bedrolls had been set.

----

They were riding hard towards the caravan, the silver-hair tails of their helmets billowing behind them. At the head of the formation, Sir Engvall twirled his halberd, gathering the winds of the Storm about him. Beneath her heavy silver helm, Arianell squinted at the convoy. Two wagons, four trolls. One platoon of Lordsworn, mostly foot soldiers, led by a mounted knight. Two of the Kaiden sellswords Godrick had hired to bolster his forces. Not the smallest caravan they'd ever hit, but not the worst either. As the wagons approached Murkwater, the lead knights pulled alongside. Leaping from his horse, Engvall caught one of the Kaidens in the neck with his halberd and forcibly dismounted him. Another knight, Kaelan, jumped off his mount and stabbed his dual swords through the knee of one of the trolls pulling the lead wagon. Just ahead of her, Vaiwa slashed the air with her greatsword, sending crescents of compressed air at the convoy. One caught the Godrick Knight in the chest, shredding his surcoat and knocking him from his horse in a shower of blood. Nell jumped off her mount, cutting a foot soldier down as she rushed to plunge her sword into the knight's cut. He spasmed and coughed blood, reaching feebly at her throat before falling still. 

A noise from behind. Engvall had rounded the wagon, sweeping the legs of a soldier of Godrick who was approaching her with his warpick raised. Behind Engvall, Adric had mounted the second wagon's rear platform and opened the chest thereupon. "Silver, amber medallions, and ammunition. Probably more of the same inside, but we won't know for sure until we bust this thing open." Nell charged ahead, breaking the guard of an approaching soldier and striking him down with four swift strikes. Then the madness started.

A Golden Order sigil appeared in front of them, and a platoon of black knights appeared. The Night's Cavalry. Fifteen strong, the fearsome warriors ran at the besieged convoy. Behind the caravan, another fifteen Cavalry appeared, hitting the ground running. Behind them, a grotesque behemoth. Godrick himself and two of his Scions. "Kill the traitors!!!," he shrieked.

Nell glanced around. A black knight had driven his glaive into Vaiwa's horse, dragging the beast down. Another made a running leap, grabbing onto the horse's back with his free hand and bringing his flail down on the Banished Knight's head. Another three knights were dueling Kaelan. He parried their glaive strikes and struck one of them in the knee, the sound of crunching bone filling the air. As the knight staggered, Kaelan tried to finish him, but the other two pincered their glaives around his neck. As he struggled, the crippled knight drew a stone from his belt. With a hum, the golden blade of a coded sword flashed to life. The black knight stabbed, the energy blade effortlessly piercing Kaelan's armor. He screamed. The other knights released their glaives and he fell to the dirt.

Nell turned to see Adric fighting a Grafted Scion. The abomination scraped its twin straight swords together, a golden mist surrounding their blades. Nell ran at it, but its many arms twisted its greatshield in a way that shouldn't have been possible to block her swing. A spear from one of the surviving Godrick soldiers just missed her, and she spun to counterattack. As she dispatched him, she felt something hit her helmet and fell behind her. She looked down to see Adric's helmet. At the Scion's many feet was his body, the neck of his armor still sizzling and burning where the infused swords had cut through it.

A Night's Cavalry was rushing her, spinning his flail. She held her greatsword in a defensive stance, but before she could react a Banished Knight's sword pierced him from behind. Immediately, a glaive-wielding Cavalry knight delivered a swift chop to her rescuer's midsection and began to wildly hack at his fallen body. And then she saw him.

Engvall, wreathed in a maelstrom, fighting off a dozen Night's Cavalry and Godrick soldiers on his own. The winds pushed their every blow aside and guided Sir Engvall's halberd to strike true. But Godrick and the other Scion were closing in.

Suddenly, Nell heard the thrum of infused swords and instinctively spun into a backstep. The Scion's swipes bounced against her armored chest as the monster discharged the blades' golden infusion against her armor. Her Banished Knight's chestplate cracked and shattered, the shockwave of gold spreading to her greaves and helmet. Pieces of her armor fell off, only the fragments connected to the suit's straps remaining in place. She squeezed her left fist, triggering a wrist-mounted mechanism in her gauntlet that fired six crystal darts into the Scion's face. The hulking monstrosity fell still with a horrific death rattle. As soon as the Scion fell, she was running towards Engvall.

Sir Engvall was locked in combat with Godrick and the other Scion now, and he was tiring under the onslaught of Godrick's axes. With a shriek, Nell leapt onto the Scion's back, driving her sword deep. As she tried to pull it free, Godrick's greataxe slammed into her chest, clattering against the remnants of her armor and knocking her and her sword into the grass. Her head cracked on a rock and blood filled her vision. He rounded on her, laughing maniacally. "Forefathers one and all, BEAR WITNESS!!!"

"No!" Engvall's halberd sliced off one of the arms holding Godrick's smaller axes. Howling, the demented demigod spun to face him. "Nell, RUN! My song has been written, but yours is just beginning. I'll buy you time!" One hand pressed to her bleeding head, Nell sheathed her sword and ran. Looking over her shoulder, she saw a black knight's coded sword skewering her commander from behind as Godrick's axes fell on his head and shoulders. Another knight's glaive hit the backs of his knees, amputating one lower leg. Godrick laughed and laughed and laughed.

"I warned you, Engvall! When you defy Godrick the Golden, son of Godwyn and scion of Lord Godfrey, your days are numbered!" He cast a sigil of healing on Engvall and turned to the Cavalry. "Take him to Murkwater Catacombs. Have the Gravewardens flay him. Make him scream and rue the day he stood against the Golden Lineage! And when he expires, leave his body there. Don't do him the honor of a real burial." Godrick scratched his chin with a gigantic, many-fingered hand. "And bring me his arms. Make sure the Gravewardens keep their hammers away from those."

"NO!!!!" Nell picked up a Lordsworn's spear and hurled it at the grotesque demigod. It buried itself in the mound of rotting, mangled flesh that passed for Godrick's left shoulder.

"YOU DARE???," howled the deranged lord. "RUN HER DOWN, AND GRAFT HER TO MY SONS!"

Nell half ran, half crawled across the fields of Limgrave, the footfalls of the Night's Cavalry growing ever louder. Suddenly, a flash of blue lit the air. A teal arc of light flew out, bisecting the pursuing knights. A woman in a blue robe stood over Nell, her face concealed by a stone visage of a woman with a knowing smile. She flicked her staff sharply and a crystal barrage erupted into the last pursuer, tearing his armor to ribbons and knocking him down. Godrick howled in the distance, and three more knights began the chase, summoning their fell steeds beneath them. The masked woman easily picked Nell up, running for some nearby ruins as she cast several spiraling shards of glintstone behind them. "Everyone dies sometime," she whispered to the fading knight on her shoulder. "Their time is today. Yours is not." In the door of the ruins, a giant man with a golden helmet brandished a flail. "Jex! Take her below. I will defend the gate."

Nell tossed and turned in her sleep, sweat drenching her face and pillow. Her lips formed the words "I abandoned him. I have to go back..."

----

In the loftiest tower of Stormveil Castle, a woman watched the stars.

Her bronzed, muscular body looked like it could tear apart her blue satin robe with a shrug, her wild black hair cascading over her shoulders. She turned her soft gaze to a massive hawk perched on the battlements. "What do you think, hmm?"

"I don't know," said a cocky male voice over her shoulder. A blond man, short-haired and goateed, strode onto the rampart. He wore a leather vest and bracers over a blue cloth robe, and his easy smile made her shoulders soften instantly. He approached, twirling two erdsteel daggers between his fingers. At her side, he suddenly reversed his grip on one dagger and struck at her torso. She whirled, unlimbering twin axes that crackled with electricity when they touched her skin and easily meeting his playful strikes. She was a born warrior, and as she'd gotten to know him these mock combats had become an affectionate greeting between them. "A wondrous night, my love, but I know you well enough that I doubt you are here for fresh air."

"Hello, Kenneth." She returned her axes to her belt and playfully batted at his cheek with her palm. "No. Something in these skies is troubling me. Troubling Ceerahk, more accurately." She scratched the hawk's chin with her other hand. "He has eyes for the stars, and he doesn't like what he sees. Do you," she asked the bird, her voice trailing off from a commander's steel to an almost indecipherable purr.

"I'm afraid I'm not particularly versed in astrology either," Kenneth said, "but I've been making use of that armillary sphere you forged me and something doesn't line up. I know it's the Age of Stars and all, but this doesn't feel right, Nepheli. That night a week ago when all the stars dimmed... and now these unscheduled comets." He stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "This isn't right. And with Queen Ranni and her consort vanished... We're on our own."

"In the morning I plan to send a messenger to Raya Lucaria." Nepheli's fingers tapped an anxious rhythm on the crenellations.

"They've gotten more stuck-up since the Age of Stars began, though I can hardly see how that's even possible. Apparently the Albinauric ambassador from Ordina had to wait in the town for a week to get approved for entry. An ambassador. An Albinauric, for the love of Godfrey. I worry that our messenger will have little fortune contacting anyone of import."

"Then I'll fly there myself. I'd like to see the Provosts turn away Nepheli Loux, Lady of Lightning, when she lands a kinghawk on their bathhouse balcony."

Kenneth chuckled and wrapped his arms around her waist and bare belly. "I'd like to see that too, kestrel." He began to pull her towards the torchlit stairwell to their chambers, and she made no effort to resist him.

Chapter Text

The pair left the woods of Stormhill that morning for the open road, heading east to Caelid by way of Summonwater Village. The town, formerly overrun by Those Who Live In Death, had in recent years seen a revitalization after the Elden Lord (as a mere Tarnished) and one of his allies, a hunter of the dead known only as D, had banished the Tibia Mariner that had taken up residence there. While a few short years ago Summonwater was a place to be avoided, it was once again home to the good people of Limgrave and the community of spirit tuners that had scattered before the Mariner had returned to practice their craft again. As the closest settlement to Caelid, it was also home to a detachment of the Lady of Lightning's soldiers and a clinic that specialized in treating Scarlet Rot and the crafting of prosthetic limbs.

Crossing the bridge over Murkwater Canyon, the two women were just a morning's hike from Summonwater when the bushes beside the road came alive with people. Ten men clad in dirty foot soldier surcoats. "Highwaymen!" During the reign of Godrick the Grafted, many had deserted his forces, although most were not as noble as the knights of Engvall had been. A good number of dissatisfied soldiers had taken up the life of brigands along the underpatrolled roads of East Limgrave. The province's new rulers were undertaking a campaign against them, but many yet remained. The crags of Limgrave had many hiding places, and a large portion of the lordsworn soldiers were fighting a campaign against a remnant loyal to Godrick in the south.

The highwaymen approached the two travelers, surrounding them. Most carried greatknives and spears, while a few had retained the light crossbows and shortswords of lordsworn foot soldiers. One, presumably the leader, carried two serrated curved swords and wore a greenish hooded cape instead of the dirty face mask of the others. Nell glanced at Astra. "Stay behind me." She raised her chain-link hood, unsheathed her Banished Knight's greatsword, and settled into a fencer's stance. Astra cautiously drew her estoc, adopting the defensive grip Nell had taught her.

Without warning, a highwayman charged them, aiming his shortsword at Nell's throat. The knight effortlessly parried his clumsy strike, and the bandit's sword arm flew into the bushes. Another fired his crossbow, but the animal-bone bolt bounced harmlessly off her scaled armor. 

The green-cloaked brigand and two spearmen rounded on Astra, who was retreating towards the bridge as she deflected the spear thrusts. The leader barked something, and one of the spearmen unlimbered a twisted silver staff, firing a tiny pebble of glintstone at her. She ducked low to avoid it as the end of Nell's greatsword appeared in the spearman's stomach. Rolling to the side, Astra disarmed the other spearman with two quick slices and dispatched him with a thrust to the gut. Ahead of her, Nell had drawn her wakizashi to cut down a knife-wielding highwayman before sheathing it again to round on a swordsman with a sequence of two-handed swipes.

The green-cloaked highwayman's dual curved swords rained a flurry of blows on Astra, and it was all she could to to parry them. Eventually, she faltered, and a cut to her wrist made her drop her estoc. Rolling out of the way of a killing blow, she drew a knife from her shoulder strap and lunged at his legs, but he deflected the blade aside and kicked her in the throat. Gasping for air, she flew back and landed next to the fallen spearmen as her knife skittered out of reach. The brigand leader strode closer, preparing to finish her. Nell shouted something that she couldn't hear and tried to approach, but another bandit swung his shortsword overhand, forcing her to turn and intercept as the other two surviving highwaymen circled around to stand between her and Astra and force her away from her fallen companion.

Coughing and gagging, Astra desperately reached for her knife. Her hand closed around something cold. The glintstone staff. She raised it in front of her, hoping that the wrought-silver shaft would withstand a flurry from the jagged curved blades. Pulling herself backwards with her left hand, she managed to deflect a few strikes from the highwayman and even jab him in the shoulder with the pointy crystal, but his advance was inexorable.

Something came over her then. In a trance, like she'd done it a thousand times before, she flicked her wrist, conjuring a phalanx of eight glowing glintblades above her head. The bandit's eyes widened as the blades surged forwards to bury themselves in his chest. Astra rolled over and tried to recast the spell, but her hand motions were clumsy and nothing happened. Then she fell facefirst into the dirt road.

----

Nepheli Loux, dressed in her traveling gear, sat astride Ceerahk in the Stormveil bailey. The outfit was similar to her old badlands garb, but blue, white and gold cloth instead of red and black fur, with slightly more armor on the chest and a leather belt instead of a length of chain. At her belt were her twin Stormhawk axes, and her hands gripped the kinghawk's feathered neck. Several soldiers stood nearby, no longer wearing the red and green of Godrick's men. While their armor was the same silvery brass, glinting in the morning sun, the tree-and-beast surcoats had been replaced with a coat of royal blue with a golden crest of a crossed lightning bolt and feather embroidered on the chest. The soldiers turned as Kenneth emerged from the liftside chamber and descended the stairs. He approached the hawk and gave its rider his trademark smirk. She reached her left hand down and the blond man kissed it briefly.

"I am flying to the Academy of Raya Lucaria," Nepheli shouted to the assembled soldiers. "I seek answers from the Provosts regarding the changes in the stars. As usual, in my absence my lord has sole command of Stormveil Castle. Expect my return in three days at the longest." The lordsworn brought their shields to bear and placed their weapon hands over their hearts in a customary salute. "You are dismissed." The soldiers nodded to their lady and filed out of the bailey.

Kenneth looked up at Nepheli and reached to squeeze her wrist. In a flash, he raised his dagger with his other hand, and she matched it with the metal gauntlet on her right hand. They fixed each other with steely glares for several seconds before bursting into fits of laughter. Eventually Nepheli regained her composure. "Be safe, Kenneth. I shall return soon, I hope with answers."

"Be careful out there, kestrel." He turned to the hawk, embracing its massive head and and furiously rubbing its neck, ruffling its shimmering gray feathers. The kinghawk delivered a very un-hawklike coo at this display of affection. "Take care of her, Ceer. I know I can count on you to be the sensible one." Nepheli snorted and kicked at him. With a wave, Kenneth stepped back and watched the massive bird take flight. It circled over the bailey once, twice, then streaked away to the north with a predatory shriek.

----

Astra came to on a cot of woven reeds besides a shallow pool. Sunlight filtered through the thick leaves above. Across the pool, a very hairy Misbegotten crouched next to a short-haired young woman in white and silver, who was braiding wildflowers into chains. "Where--"

"We're in Summonwater." It was Nell, standing over her. "You're finally awake. You passed out after casting that spell."

Spell? Astra looked around, her eyes landing on the staff. "I don't- I don't know where that came from."

A nearby splashing alerted her to the woman from across the pool making her way through the water. She smiled innocently at Astra. "Hello, brave one. Be not afraid. You're among friends." She turned to Nell and guided her across the platform. They probably thought they were out of earshot, but Astra could faintly hear them.

"Revitalizing her was simple enough. She would have probably recovered on her own after a day of rest. But... there's something else."

"Is she sick? Poisoned? What is it?" There was an unexpected edge to the knight's voice.

"No, she seems perfectly healthy. But.. I noticed something when I was healing her." The young woman paused, tossing her straw-colored hair. "I'm a spirit tuner, Nell. I have a... sense for things. We work mostly with ashes of the dead, but we can read the spirits of the living too, with some difficulty."

"And?"

"That's the thing. It- it wasn't difficult. Her spirit is very powerful. And... there's two of them."

"What?"

"She has two spirits, Nell. One is human, but it doesn't feel like a human. Not a living one, anyway. The other... I've never felt anything like it. I tried to read it and I didn't know where to start. Even when Hewg lost his memory, I could still feel him. This... this is something completely alien. And when I tried to probe it... it probed me back, Nell. I felt it reaching into me."

Nell, clearly unsettled, tried to change the subject. "You said you could feel Hewg's memories despite his amnesia. Did you feel anything like that in her? Her human spirit, at least?"

"Reading memories in the dead is always a dicey thing, but there's definitely something there. You said she casted a glintblade phalanx?"

"Yes."

"That staff is a Carian glintblade staff. It makes casting those specific sorceries easier. If I had to guess, I'd say her survival instincts kicked in and she cast the simplest spell her spirit knew. Which, thanks to the staff, was a Carian phalanx. She couldn't consciously replicate it, correct?" Nell nodded. "Her human spirit has memories. Most are buried and fragmented, like the dead's usually are, but some are atypically intact."

"That would be her freakish amount of general knowledge," the knight snorted. She ran a hand through her maple blond hair.

"I suspect that the other spirit has memories too, but I wouldn't know how to even begin to parse those. I can't even tell if it's alive or dead."

"If her spirit is dead, how is she...?"

"I don't know, Nell. There's some strange exchange of energy, some entanglement, between the two. I'm not very clear on the mechanics. I say two spirits, but they're almost completely intertwined. If I wasn't looking for it I wouldn't have even noticed her human spirit."

"This is... a lot."

"I know." The straw-haired woman pulled Nell into a hug. "Are you staying long?"

"Afraid not. As soon as Astra's well enough to travel, we're off to Caelid for a job."

"I suspected as much. Nobody carries that many flame scrolls and preserving boluses around for fun. Well," she continued, "know that you are welcome in my house anytime."

"I know. How is Hewg?" Nell indicated the Misbegotten, who had retrieved a fishing rod from somewhere and was reclining contentedly, his bestial eyes fixed on the hook as it bobbed in the pool.

"It's day by day with him. He's starting to remember bits and pieces. It may be tied to the Erdtree healing. But he remembers our third conversation ever now, and the other day he tried to give me spirit tuning advice. Which wasn't relevant," she added, "but it was something he'd taught me that I haven't used in years. He's still in there, Nell, and he's coming back." Across the way, the bearded Misbegotten yanked on his fishing rod, hauling an iridescent carp out onto the stone foundation. "His blacksmithing never left him, even on the day the Erdtree burned. He makes tools and boat parts for us here in Summonwater. It's still hard seeing him like this and remembering how he was before, but he's happy. And most days that's enough for me." She forced a grin and began leading Nell back over to Astra.

"Glad to see you awake, lass," Nell said, tossing a waterskin to her companion. She waved at the woman in white. "There's someone I'd like you to meet, Astra. This is Roderika. She's... a friend."

Roderika laughed, and that sound contained more joy than anything Astra had ever heard. "That's one way of putting it, Nell."

Astra blinked, and Nell noticed her confusion. "We have... some history. Too much for here and now." Behind her, Roderika shook her head and made a mocking expression, but composed her face into a mask of serenity when Nell turned around. The knight cocked her head at the spirit tuner and then returned her attention to Astra. "You should rest a while longer. How does leaving at noon sound?"

"We can- ugh- leave sooner."

"Oh, stop it. We're not going to be getting much time like this in Caelid, lass. Enjoy it while you can." Roderika stepped into the pool and began to return to the Misbegotten and the stone hut behind him, and after a moment Nell followed her.

----

Kenneth wandered through the feast hall of Stormveil Castle. Formerly Godrick's grafting room, restoring this hall to its original glory had been an undertaking. How so much blood had gotten on the painting of Godfrey at the end of the table wasn't something he wanted to know. Even now, it was hard to forget what had happened here under the mad demigod's rule. Kenneth hadn't set foot in the tunnels of the castle's sub-basements in years. He'd been down there once, when he and Nepheli had first acquired the castle. Godrick had kept his many mutilated children in those tunnels, and after the last of them had been killed or driven out Kenneth never wanted to return. Even now that it was a network of barracks and stockrooms, he doubted he could go down there without seeing the unspeakable horrors of those first days.

His hand rested on an ornate golden sword at his hip. It was a Golden Epitaph, one of a handful forged to commemorate Godwyn the Golden's death. Some said they were smithed by Miquella himself. As Godwyn's son, Godrick had received one of these swords as one of his last gifts from the Capital. Despite the veneration the deranged demigod had placed on his family line, Godrick had evidently not cared much for the sword. Kenneth had found it at the bottom of a barrel of rusty pikes in one of the rampart armories when he'd been helping Gostoc and the knight commanders take inventory of the castle's weapons and armor. Godwyn's epitaph symbolized a rightful ruler, and so Kenneth had decided to wear the beautiful weapon as his badge of office.

As Kenneth climbed the stairs to one of the castle's studies, he was met by two figures, a wizened, lanky man carrying a lucerne and a woman in Lordsworn Knight armor, complete with the small shield-crest on the left breast. The Stormveil knights wore the rune sigil of the Haight family there. The knight called out to him as they approached. "My lord!"

"Gostoc, Marin. What is it?" Gostoc had been Godrick's long-suffering gatekeeper, and Nepheli had decided to retain him as castellan. Free of Godrick's rule and the bitterness it instilled, Gostoc had proven himself a reliable man and a source of good humor. Sergeant Marin was one of their foremost knights and the commander of the soldiers assigned to Stormveil Castle. Her curved helm was tucked under one arm, allowing her brown hair to spill over her shoulders, and her gilded greatshield, repainted in Stormveil livery, was on her back. Her hand rested on the pommel of a slender golden sword.

"My lord, something's happening. You need to see this." The sergeant's tone was uncharacteristically urgent.

"To the ramparts, sir!" Gostoc tapped the floorboards impatiently with his lucerne. In the three years Gostoc had been in Kenneth and Nepheli's service, the lord had only heard that tone once. The night the tree spirit had awoken. This must be serious.

The trio made their way through the castle to a tower on the western wall and stepped out into the evening air, the first stars beginning to twinkle as the sun began to touch the horizon. Marin pulled out a spyglass, but the instrument never made it to her eye. It was no longer necessary.

A blue streak was heading straight for them. It looked like a comet, but it was very much in the atmosphere and falling towards the seas off the coast of Limgrave. "What is that?"

"We don't know, my lord. It just showed up in the sky. The hawks were disturbed, and then a few minutes later it showed up on our lookouts' scopes. Now it's here."

Every guard on the wall was standing alongside them as the object roared closer. Kenneth began to urge them into the tower, but there was no time. "BRACE!!!," Gostoc howled.

The comet entered the sea about half a kilometer out, sending a massive shockwave of water in all directions and causing the castle to shake. Waves battered the cliff, and the spray flew high enough to douse the battlements where Kenneth and his men stood. As the seas calmed, they saw something. A shadowy object gliding dartlike beneath the surface, heading for shore. Marin raised her spyglass. "I can't tell what it is, sir, but it's moving fast."

"We ought to be safe here, my lord. These are sheer cliffs." A bearded soldier, water dripping from his helmet, had made his way to the sergeant's side and was looking inquisitively at Kenneth. Then the wall beneath them shook.

"What the hell was that?"

"I don't know, my lord," the sergeant replied. Gostoc ran to the edge of the wall and looked down.

"What in the name of Destined Death is THAT??" Kenneth moved to join the old castellan, looking towards the base of the cliff. A massive, stony beast was pulling itself up the cliffside, its hoofed feet crackling with purple lightning. It had a scorpionlike tail that lashed behind it, and its face ended in two massive pincers and a glassy lens. Kenneth gasped.

"Sir! It's headed for the side garden!" Marin put away her spyglass. "Should I sound the alarm?"

"Do it. Actually, no. Gostoc, sound the alarm. Sergeant, bring your best men to the side garden. I'd take the Second Pike Division under Sir Jobold, and at least one unit of hawk handlers. Take Vanassus if he's available, too." Gostoc nodded and scurried off into a passageway. Marin turned to face Kenneth.

"Yes, my lord. You should get to the tower."

"No. I will join you in the garden. Gather your men, Marin. I'll go alone for now. Those cliffs are solid bedrock. If it scales the cliffside before you've rallied the troops, it's going to smash straight through the outer wall. There's a passage from my chambers that's the quickest way to the garden. If you're going by way of the barracks, I'll make it first."

Marin clearly didn't love this idea. "Sir, your safety is our priority."

"No, Marin. The safety of Limgrave is our priority. Now go!" Kenneth whirled and ran along the wall towards the throne tower.

The throne room had undergone many renovations since Godrick the Grafted had vacated it. There were two thrones now, side by side and facing the door. The western throne was draped in furs, and the eastern one bore silk cushions and a glintstone reading lamp. The western half of the room had many trophies bolted to the walls: weapons, pieces of armor, skulls and other pieces of beasts. Below them were several low couches piled with more furs. The eastern side was decorated wall-to-wall with bookshelves, and a massive L-shaped desk bore stacks of paper and quills, more books, and a few strategy board games. A door behind the thrones led to the stairs to the lords' bedchambers, while two more at the sides led to the castle's back garden. Kenneth ran to one of Nepheli's trophies, a scepter shaped like a hand grasping a pearl. Lacing his fingers with the scepter's, Kenneth pulled. A panel of wall with a rack of spears and arrows slid in and to the side, revealing an elevator shaft. The lift was below, but the furling chains could be heard hoisting it up.

Adjusting his leather vest and bracers, Kenneth walked to his desk. He tore a square of paper from a trade route map on his desk and dipped a gilded quill in a jar of blue ink. On the paper, he hastily scrawled a message.

Nepheli,

Something is happening. A falling star landed in the ocean, and an unknown beast has emerged to attack the castle. We're meeting it head-on in the side garden. Marin's men will come, but I have to face it alone for now. I'll be right back.

Three days ago, we found out who she'll be. I know we argued about a name, but I like your idea. Naomi. Promise me you'll tell her about this day if I'm not there to do it myself.

I love you, kestrel. See you soon.

~ K

Running to the thrones, Kenneth drew one of his erdsteel daggers and pinned the note to the wooden arm of Nepheli's throne. "Hurry home, love," he said to the ceiling. Drawing the Golden Epitaph and his other dagger, Kenneth jumped into the elevator and flipped the switch.

----

The land around them was turning from green to crimson, and the scent of red death filled the air. Its sick sweetness reminded Astra of the way her egg fluid had smelled, and she pushed that uncomfortable thought out of her head. "Welcome to scenic Caelid," Nell drawled. She gestured at a collection of stone ruins surrounded by a firestone wall. "That's Caelem. The firestones keep the Rot at bay, and they also deter the local fauna. We'll camp there and make for Sellia at dawn. There might be some shrimp cultists we need to clear out, though. Be ready."

Visions of Caelem flashed through Astra's head, a beautiful village of massive hunting lodges surrounded by pine trees and waterfalls. She tried to reconcile that with the sight before her. "This isn't right."

"It's only gonna get worse, lass. You'll bloody love Sellia."

Chapter Text

Nepheli lived to fly. The tempests conjured by her fighting style were one thing, but the feeling of the wind in her hair and Ceerahk's feathers in her hands couldn't be matched. As the kinghawk began to circle over Raya Lucaria, she began to scan for any clues to the whereabouts of the Academy provosts. "We might have to kick down some doors," she told the bird. Just then, she spotted the unmistakable silver crown and rotund body of Twinsage Xenocrates, master of the Academy, on a large balcony attached to the Grand Library. "Ah, there you are. Drop me there and fly to the aerie. I'll whistle when I need you." Her hawk screeched and dove towards the balcony. As they were over it, Nepheli flipped backwards and landed in a squat in front of the master.

Resting one hand on the handle of her axe and the other defensively over her growing belly, Nepheli surveyed the balcony. The twinsage was resting his considerable girth on a hovering throne of stone, surrounded by his gold-robed pages and scribbling something on a blue scroll. Around the balcony, the other provosts had turned to stare at her. Grigory of the Olivinus Conspectus was playing chess with Killian of Haima at a low table. Nastasia of Karolos had six books levitating before her. Simon of the Lazuli Conspectus had just returned to the balcony with a keg of ale under one arm, and Duncan of Heirodas had removed his glintstone crown and was decimating a plate of rowa tarts. Nepheli bit her lower lip tersely at the uninspiring sight of the self proclaimed "heralds of the Age of Stars" and fixed Xenocrates with a stare. "Good afternoon, Master Provost," she said, careful to mask her disapproval behind a veneer of formality. "We have matters to discuss, unless your present business is more pressing."

"Lady Nepheli! Always a pleasure, though you must forgive me for questioning your means of entry."

"We heard whisperings that other dignitaries have been held up at the gates of late. Time is of the essence, Master Provost."

"I assure you, these rumors are bunk. As the heralds of knowledge and the Age of Stars, we pride ourselves on welcoming all manner of unusual representatives into our hallowed halls. Why, we had an envoy from the claymen of Siofra here the other day."

"He smelled terrible," Duncan mumbled through a mouthful of tart.

"Behave yourself, Provost."

"Well, that's reassuring," Nepheli remarked. "Anyhow. Business?"

"Yes, yes, very good. How may our humble Academy be of service, Lady?"

"Over the past several days, Lord Haight and I, and several others in our service, have noticed changes in the stars. Dimming of lights, new comets that aren't on any of our charts. We were hoping that the esteemed astrologers in your Academy would be able to shed some light on this and assuage the worries of the people of Limgrave." Over her shoulder, the Lady of Lightning's keen ears picked up whispering among the other provosts.

"This isn't good, Grigory. You said the outsiders would be too stupid and nearsighted to notice anything," Nastasia hissed.

"We haven't drafted an official explanation," Killian complained. "Duncan was supposed to do that, but look where that got us." Nepheli decided to pretend that she hadn't heard.

"This is... quite unconcerning! No cause for worry at all. The Olivinus Conspectus are our finest students of the stars, and they're feeling quite content with the state of things," Xenocrates said hastily. "Grigory, would you explain to our guest that nothing whatsoever is wrong?"

"Quite, Master," the Olivinus Provost said with a slight nervous cough. "We are entering the Age of Stars, my lady. The fate of the Lands Between is tied to the celestial bodies now, as is the glorious Erdtree. Soon it will grow into a beautiful Tree of Stars, but that's besides the point. My point," he enunciated, "is that it would be folly not to expect changes in the stars following such a momentous act! We praise our Lord of Stars and Lunar Queen for their wisdom and strength in restoring the stars to their proper place, and welcome the changes they beget."

"I see. I suppose I'm just thinking that it's a bit counterintuitive for the stars to get dimmer in response to being tied into the Elden Ring. And why now? The Mending was years ago, and this is the first change in the sky that the untrained eye is picking up."

"We should replace her with a homunculus," Nastasia whispered to Simon in a tone she thought would go unnoticed, and would have to the ears of most. "Since we corrected the leg deformities, we have nothing to lose by replacing every major political figure with an Albinauric. Or we could turn her into a puppet. Say she fell off the bird and lost the whelp." Nepheli unconsciously tightened her grip on her axe.

"You disgust me," the Lazuli Provost retorted.

"History will prove me right."

Xenocrates tapped the arm of his chair and coughed significantly. "As you can see," he blubbered, "nothing at all to worry about. The good people of Limgrave can sleep peacefully in their haystacks, assured that the Stars are protecting them. If something were wrong, the Lords of the Lands Between would be first to know."

"Naturally," Nepheli said smoothly. 

She was contemplating her next move when another page burst onto the balcony. "Master Xenocrates, sir! One of the falling stars is going to make planetfall this evening. It's headed for--" He noticed Nepheli and gulped.

"SILENCE!", howled the twinsage. The other door onto the balcony opened and an Olivinus Sorcerer entered.

"Master Grigory, your briefing on the Kingsrealm disaster is ready." He too noticed that the provosts were entertaining a guest and fumbled the scroll he was carrying, his stone crown falling off his head as he bent to retrieve it.

Nepheli turned to face Xenocrates. "What's all this, Master Provost?", she asked innocently.

"It would be best for you to leave. We have to, ah, feather our own nest presently."

"That's not how you use that phrase," Simon remarked.

"As long as it gets rid of her," grunted Killian.

"My Lady," the twinsage continued, "Allow me to escort you to the aerie." He nodded over her shoulder at Nastasia, and the Karolos Provost drew a short silver staff from her belt.

"Permission to accompany, Master Provost?" It was Simon.

"Very well." Simon walked towards the door and motioned to Nepheli to follow. Xenocrates didn't move from his seat, instead willing the chair to hover towards the Lazuli provost. They left the balcony, and as they walked Nepheli held up her silver gauntlet in a stretching motion. Reflected in its polished surface, she saw the distorted image of Nastasia firing two glintstone comets through the hearts of the page and the Lazuli sorcerer.

As they walked, Xenocrates was extolling the virtues of every lecture hall, sorcerer, and odd artifact they passed, Nepheli nodding along and hmming contentedly every now and then. She was more interested in Simon. Xenocrates evidently hadn't noticed the provost's crown glowing faintly or his stiff stride, nor had he noticed the scroll hovering behind his chair and the quill scratching frantically into its surface.

"...and this is the Olivinus Observatory! Where our astrologers..." As the twinsage droned on, Nepheli strained her ears and sidled nearer to that particular series of doors. She caught a few fragments of conversation from within.

"...is dead. That's the only..."

"We should send someone down there to verify..."

"...with its claim lifted, others of its kind..."

"...bigger than Kingsrealm. Xenocrates says we can't advise..."

"...will get people killed. How can we deny Stormveil our counsel?"

"...we don't have the manpower to oppose..."

"...but Radahn took most of those..."

"...tracking an anomaly on the Caelid-Limgrave border..."

"...we need to recover them ourselves. Lazuli is loyal to the crown..."

"Activate the golem."

Finally they came to the aerie tower, and the provosts bid a hasty farewell. As Xenocrates turned his chair, the scroll flew out and wrapped itself around the handle of Nepheli's axe. Simon nodded gravely and followed the master back towards the balcony.

When they were out of sight, Nepheli opened the scroll.

I will be coming to Stormveil within the week. Instruct your gatekeepers to ask me who I am, and if I answer with my full title to execute me immediately. Can't explain further. Provosts have eyes everywhere.

----

"There's been a change of plans." Nell was inspecting the bewitched parchment that contained her orders. "We're still breaking a case of books and artifacts out of Sellia, but we're not going back to Liurnia. The client will take delivery at Stormveil Castle in Limgrave."

"This is an Academy sorcerer, right? That's funny." Astra was in her bedroll, trying her hardest not to look at the rotting corpses and shrimp cultists they'd had to dispatch to secure a campsite.

"It is. The scholars don't even leave the academy to greet their own mothers."

"I wonder what having a mother is like."

Astra was flying. Falling? Diving? The glow of the flames surrounding her was too bright to make out much. She was heading straight for a golden-roofed city. Astra willed a globe of stars to manifest between her skeletal fingers, and her mandibles clacked eagerly. Then her vision was yanked downwards into a house. A white-haired woman and a man in black robes sat watching two platinum blond children playing with hand puppets of soldiers.

"I'm Sir Ogha the Redmane!"

"Ogha uses a bow, Gideon. Our puppets have swords. You can't be him."

"Aww! Then I'll be Maliketh!"

"I'm already Maliketh." The older boy flapped his smiling, yellow-coated puppet mockingly at his brother.

"Fine! Then I'll be Sir Gideon Ofnir, the All-Knowing!"

The older boy laughed. "Dad says you're too soft for the Order. He says I'm gonna be a great Confessor and you're gonna end up as a perfumer."

"Not fair, Wil!"

The woman adjusted her silver gauntlets and turned to the man in black. "Don't you think you're too harsh on Gid, Max?"

"No son of mine should spend that much time in the garden. Wil was half his age and already holding a sword."

"They're three and five, Max."

"My point stands. Don't tell me you think he's Order material."

"I'd sooner sponsor him than you, brother."

Max scowled and disappeared in a flash of purple light. So did the boys and then the house. They were in a field of stars and galaxies. The woman turned to make eye contact with Astra. "I never had children of my own. No time. And truthfully, I didn't trust myself. Our parents were... rather brutish. That's where my brother gets his affectionate charm. I couldn't chance putting someone else through that." She stepped forward, and something changed. She was leaning heavily on her clawed scepter now. Her brown cloak was tattered and burned and her armor dented and cracked. A massive hole in her chest dripped blood, and streaks of red fell from her eyes, nose, and mouth. Her body was bent at an odd angle, her hips fully forty-five degrees from her breast. Even so, she smiled. "Pardon my appearance. Keeping up the illusion is hard, Astra." 

Astra gasped. "I've been fighting for thousands of years, starlight. Trapped in this moment in time," the white-haired woman continued, gesturing to her chest wound, "resisting the call of oblivion. Feeling my spine snap every second for all these centuries."

"Your progenitor had to die someday. I knew that. I though when it did I could take control. And I was half right. I couldn't overpower it until the last moment. Which gave me enough time to name you." She smiled again, bloody and terrible yet also loving. "You were its idea. You were to be a vessel for its own mind. I fought that. I couldn't let it get free. Even as my own cells were twisted into yours, I kept its mind out of you. But I couldn't keep everything out."

"You're not human, starlight. Not fully, anyway. There's something inside you that I can't protect you from. But I don't think I need to. You're strong, Astra. Stronger than me. And with its mind gone, you can master what remains." She waved her hand, and an armillary sphere appeared. "Your progenitor, while it lived, had a claim to this world. Such was what I could learn from its mind during my eon of torment." She smirked, an expression that look downright ghastly on her broken face. "While it lived, others of its kind were dissuaded from coming. Of the outside world, I know only what it sensed. But the stars are free now, the Erdtree bound to them, and now Astel is dead." Her face hardened. "They will come, for your diluted blood is meaningless to them. They will come in greater numbers than in the days of the Crucible, beckoned by grace. I know not how the Lands Between can survive. A lordless Age of Stars spells catastrophe."

She began to evaporate. "I'm sorry, starlight." The dreamscape melted away.

Astra sat bolt upright. Her hair was matted to her head with sweat. The face of a white-haired woman shimmered in her mind's eye, and the word "Astel" echoed in her consciousness. Then they were gone. "Bad dream?" Nell was eyeing her with concern.

"No. Yes. Maybe? I don't remember. Something about blood..."

"Well, try to rest up, lass. We leave for Sellia in the morning."

----

"That was a mistake, Xenocrates." Nastasia spun her staff furiously before manifesting a blue glintstone blade from its tip and carving a line into the conference table. "Now word that something happened in Kingsrealm is going to get out. You should have ordered her dealt with."

"Murdering a guest in our Academy, especially a Lord, would have been a mistake," the twinsage barked.

"Do you realize what's at stake here, Master Provost?" It was Killian. "With queen and consort gone, the legitimacy of the Age of Stars hinges on us. If word gets out that the new order is anything but idyllic, we lose our power and have the whole continent at our throats. I find the Provost of Karolos a touch brutal, but her fundamental argument is sound."

"And killing diplomats won't have the whole continent at our throats? Be reasonable, Killian." Simon's hand rested on his sword.

"I am being reasonable. This is unprecedented. Elphael is demilitarizing, Gelmir is lordless, Caelid is a rotting abscess, Leyndell is going to be shoveling ash for the next decade, and Limgrave just realized that turning all their people into one person is asinine. We will never have a better chance to rule. But of course, your Conspectus would have us serve the weeping witch in the library rather than ourselves."

"The house of Caria founded this place. You would do well to remember that, battlemage."

"SILENCE!" bawled Xenocrates. "We need to resolve this."

"We can hope that the Fallingstar Beast kills everyone in Stormveil," Killian offered.

"We could help it along," Nastasia suggested. "Let me take Killian's Conspectus there to mop up any survivors."

"This isn't helping," Grigory bellowed. "None of this brings us any closer to averting an invasion of apocalyptic proportions. Frankly, if Stormveil pulls off killing this thing we would be doing the world a disservice to execute them. The Kingsrealm Beast was smaller, and the best we could do was teleport it into the Lake of Rot and cross our fingers."

"I wish to speak." It was Duncan of Heirodas, brandishing his staff. "I captured this this afternoon." He threw something onto the table. A Karolos crown, dripping blood. "Young Zacherias came to me with something most curious. I killed him to maintain secrecy, but what he saw may interest you." Duncan's staff fired a bolt of light into the crown, and its eye sockets lit up, projecting an image of one of the Academy's many hallways. Simon and Nepheli Loux entered the frame, with Xenocrates hovering behind them. And then a scroll and quill lifted themselves from a table and flew after them. Duncan let the image move for a while until the scroll was about to exit the visible scene, freezing it with a second bolt. "Here." He enlarged the scroll, causing it to fill the room and rendering its message clearly legible. "How interesting."

I will be coming to Stormveil within the week. Ins

Nastasia rounded on Simon. "I THOUGHT you were colluding with those basement dwellers! We should have killed the three of them years ago. You're all blinded by heritage!"

"Calm yourself, please!" Xenocrates's voice was pleading. "Surely there's an explanation for this."

"The explanation, master, is that SIMON is conspiring to expose our vulnerability to the world. We cannot let word of this get out until we can both explain it in a way that doesn't implicate us or the Queen and Elden Lord and render the threat nonexistent. If we are seen to be at fault or on tenuous ground, all that we've worked for through the Shattering will be for naught.

Grigory interrupted. "I told you all that this could happen. I wanted to get those books back from Radahn long ago and spent our isolation studying them for a countermeasure. You should have listened."

"Shut UP, Grigory!" Nastasia turned to Xenocrates. "He must die."

"We can just lock him up," the twinsage whined. "There's no need to spill his blood, especially not on our beautiful table."

"You're a disgusting fat mass of everything wrong with this place." She rose her staff. "Gentlemen, it's time. Polestar."

Duncan, Grigory, and Killian leapt to their feet. Duncan jammed his staff into the ground, and red briars shot up, wrapping around Xenocrates. His floating chair was pulled to the ground, and his wrists and throat bled. His crown fell from his head, revealing an apple-cheeked, bald head wearing a mask of terror. Grigory motioned, firing six blue stars across the table. They peppered the twinsage's chest, and his head lolled against the briars, causing more blood to gush from his neck. Duncan twirled his staff, and three ghostly skeletons appeared in a triangle around Xenocrates. The master of the Academy clasped his right hand around his staff, firing a beam of starlight at the Heirodas sorcerer. "Azur's comet, eh? Always were a one-trick pony, Xenocrates," drawled Duncan as he rolled behind a stone chair. The skeletons brought their massive scimitars down on the provost's round head, splitting his skull. The three sections of his head slumped in their respective directions.

Meanwhile, Nastasia had conjured her Carian Slicer and Killian had summoned the Gavel of Haima as they backed Simon into a corner. The youngest provost had his wooden sword in one hand and his glintblade staff in the other. He conjured a phalanx of greatswords over his head and fired a Carian Piercer at Killian, who backstepped and drew his second staff. The Haima provost fired his Conspectus's famous Cannon, but Simon retaliated with a blue shield that deflected the ball of glintstone into the middle of the table. The table splintered and a burnt Karolos crown fell to the floor. Killian conjured a second Gavel and leapt at the Lazuli provost. Simon's greatblades flew at him, forcing Killian to spin his staves to deflect. Nastasia advanced, her slices parried easily by Simon's Lazuli sword. He swung at her, but she fired a night comet into his gut. The young sorcerer fell and staggered back, but ran up against a wall of briars. Duncan was calling his Tibia's Summons again, while Grigory summoned a star of blue crystal overhead that rained bolts at Simon. Killian charged, bringing his Gavels together on the young man's head. Simon's crown shattered, revealing his face and black hair, slick with blood and sweat. Simon uttered an oath, causing his wooden sword to sprout a cutting edge made of hoarfrost. Swinging, he cut through the Haima sorcerer's left arm just below the elbow. A geyser of blood erupted as the arm fell, the Gavel on its staff fizzling out. Duncan waved his staff, and from the blood pouring from Killian's arm erupted a lasso of red briars that coiled around Simon's neck, drenching his moon-white robe with crimson. Choking on his own blood, Simon conjured a glintblade that cut the briar, leaving Killian with a limp thorny tendril growing from his still-dripping elbow. Simon shrugged off the coiled thorns, wincing as he did so.

Grigory conjured a crystal before himself before shattering it, sending a barrage of shards into Simon's torso and arms. He fell to his knees. Nastasia drew closer, and Simon cast an ambush shard that struck her knee from behind, staggering her. The illusion of defeat broken, he leapt back and spun, his wooden sword colliding with Duncan's head. The sorcerer fell into a section of table, his thick Heirodas robes tangling him. Simon made a break for the bank of windows at the back of the room, but another barrage of glintstone stars peppered his back. Twisting, the bloodied Lazuli sorcerer fired a ball of roiling magma at Grigory, setting the splintered table alight. Among the broken wood, Duncan began to howl as his robes caught fire. Simon reached the window, smashing out a pane with his sword as he cast a crystal burst at Nastasia and Killian. The weak sorcery did little to deter their advance. Nastasia conjured a glintstone greatbow and nocked five arrows while Killian began charging Azur's Comet. Simon, still fumbling with the window, painfully drew himself up to face the provosts and smiled. "You force my hand," he shouted. "I call upon the reviled technique of my father!"

"Your father was a sniveling old man who deserved worse than what he got," Nastasia laughed.

"Couldn't agree more," Simon replied. "But you must admit, bastard was damn good at what he did." He made motions with his staff that none of them recognized.

"What? All he did was play with those damn... puppets." All four provosts whirled as the disfigured corpse of the rotund Xenocrates rose to its feet. The two halves of his face each contorted into one part of a ghoulish smile while the rear third of his head lolled. Blue steam vented from the center of his split skull and all of his pores, forming strings that anchored themselves to Simon's staff. Jerkily, the Xenocrates puppet raised its own staff. With a horrible noise somewhere between a cough, a war cry, and raucous laughter, it jerked forward and began firing.

The puppet's arm movements, clumsy at first, became more fluid as blasphemous life reentered the corpse of Xenocrates. A phalanx of glintblades shot out from behind it, catching Grigory off guard and drawing blood. Three cometshards flew at Duncan, followed immediately by a dozen skulls wreathed in ghostflame. Briars erupted from the ground to restrain Nastasia as the puppet charged Azur's Comet. Killian rushed towards it, but Simon fired a glintstone arc at the battlemage that forced him to duck. Nastasia glared at Simon.

"You don't know half those spells!"

"He does," the young mage grinned, spitting blood with every syllable. Nastasia growled, summoning a crystal downpour to shear free of the briars and avoid the puppet's comet. Xenocrates spun, wreathing its staff in the Gavel of Haima and smacking Killian backwards into a bookshelf, which promptly collapsed on his head. Simon called upon his training in gravity magic, slinging three rocks at Nastasia and a dozen bolts of purple lightning at Grigory. The bolts pulled the Olivinus provost towards the window, where Simon uppercut his chin with his Lazuli sword. "It's been fun, my friends," he said coolly, "but if I stay here much longer I will in fact bleed out. So I take my leave of this council." The puppet disappeared in a shower of sparks and reappeared in the air behind Simon as the Lazuli sorcerer stepped backwards out the window and fell away, Xenocrates slowly descending after him.

Nastasia rose and ran to the window, but the two were somehow gone. She swore, pounding the windowsill. Then she spun and cast a glintstone comet that blew open the soundproof door to the provosts' hall. The two Haima Conspectus sorcerers standing guard outside looked in, gasping at the carnage. "Lock this place down!", growled the Karolos provost. "Provost Simon is rogue. He killed Xenocrates. Lock down the Academy and find him. And send a squad to the Graven Cell. Execute the prisoners." The Haima guards hesitated. "Xenocrates is dead, you buffoons! As the most senior provost, I have emergency command until a council is convened to replace him as head of the Twinsage Conspectus. GO!" As the guards hurried off, Nastasia fell to her knees, spitting blood.

Chapter Text

"That's not good." Astra opened her eyes to find sunlight streaming into the ruined building they had spent the night in. Nell was gone, but her voice indicated she was perched on one of the crumbling stone walls. "Get up, Astra. We have company, and it looks like we're going to have to fight our way out of Caelem."

"More undead? More shrimp cultists?" Astra yawned and stretched, getting to her feet and drawing her estoc. She swiftly rolled up her bedroll and strapped it to her traveling pack, then retrieved the glintblade staff from where it leaned against a chunk of wall. She hadn't been able to cast anything else with it since that phalanx outside Summonwater, but having it around felt reassuring for some reason. Nell was sitting on a wall, her chain-link hood raised and her crossbow cocked and leveled at something outside.

"Undead. Dozens of them. And not just the rot-bloated corpses that we cleared out of here last night. Get over here and see for yourself, lass." Astra approached the wall and looked out into the streets of Caelem.

Dozens of burning corpses were shambling around. Many seemed aimless, but most were converging on their house. Among them was a mass of undead soldiers from the Shattering. Their bodies weren't as decrepit as the husks', and while their weapons and armor were dulled and broken they were still serviceable. They were a mix of enlisted men, lordsworn soldiers, and knights, some wearing the Haligtree's colors and others clad in Redmane heraldry. At their head was a tall zombie wearing a damaged suit of Cleanrot armor and leaning heavily on her spear. The undead soldiers moved with greater speed and purpose than the burning husks, and while their minds were too far gone for much strategy they were still a menacing force by virtue of their numbers and the accompanying husks. "Where did these things even come from??"

"I don't know, lass. Maybe they came from outside, maybe they were here all along and didn't notice us until the dawn. Either way, they're here."

"What do we do?"

"Gods, what I wouldn't give for a squad of Banished Knights right about now. We can't hold this building until they're all gone. You can't reliably use magic and even if my one crossbow could hold them all, I don't have enough ammunition to fight off a siege. And the amount of holes in this place won't help. They're all around us. Our best bet is to fight our way through the least dense group of zombies, and ideally avoid those soldiers like the plague." Nell looked around, then pointed a gloved hand at one side of the ruined house. "There's only a few undead over there, and it leads into an open street instead of more ruins. Here's what we'll do. I'll draw them over here, and you run out that way. Cut down those husks, and I'll follow once enough of them have committed to attacking my side." Nell unloaded her crossbow and replaced the three standard bolts in its chamber with perfumer's bolts. "If I'd known we'd run into this many burning husks, I would've bought cold bolts," she lamented. "These'll have to do."

Astra jogged to the other end of the house, sword raised in a guarding posture. A few of the undead outside took notice, but their attention was diverted by a loud explosion. Nell had fired a burst of bolts into the crowd, knocking several burning husks to the ground with the explosive force and causing actual harm to a few of the undead soldiers. Nell chambered another three rounds as the gearwork spun back into place and fired again, scattering more zombies and causing most of the horde to start shambling towards her position. When Nell fired off a third burst and the undead began moving faster, Astra jumped the low wall, slicing through one husk's torso and impaling another between the eyes. Yanking her estoc free, she ran for the side street, cutting out the legs of a third zombie. A fourth burst of perfumer's bolts echoed through the alley, followed by running footsteps and the sound of the other woman slinging her crossbow over her shoulder and unsheathing her greatsword. A few of the husks at the back of the pack had returned to Astra's wall by now, and Nell stopped to cut them down. "Keep running, Astra! I'm right behind you!" Astra rounded a bend, coming face to face with a burning husk. This one was making an odd burbling noise and clutching its shoulders as it lurched towards her. Then it spoke.

"Help... me! Please! It burns, it burns, it hurts so much," the zombie rasped. Glowing pustules began to form under its ruined skin as its torso bloated and vented tongues of flame from old wounds. "You must... help! I don't... want to-- ARRAGHMMPH!!" Suddenly, the husk's entire upper body exploded, throwing Astra against the side of a building and knocking the wind out of her. The zombie's legs teetered in the breeze for a few moments before falling backwards. Astra tried to stagger to her feet, and a gauntlet took her free hand in a rough grip and yanked her upright.

"Keep going! We're almost at the edge of town," Nell barked. "I shot out some masonry back there, should slow down anything following us down this alley. Why don't I take the lead, and you--" The pair rounded another bend and abruptly skidded to a halt. "Marika's tits! That's bad."

Ahead of them sat a flame chariot, left over from the Shattering wars. This was one of the more heavily armed variants favored by the Redmanes, trading accuracy for sheer firepower. Three flamethrower cannons protruded from its mouth above a row of curled metal ramming spikes, while two smaller cannons extended diagonally higher up the vehicle's body. And judging by the fresh tracks, pumping bellows, and red-hot gun barrels, this chariot was fully operational and manned.

They didn't have time to coordinate. Nell dashed to the right, her sword spearing through rotted barrels and a few husks as she ran. Astra rolled off to the left, and the chariot spun to track her. Glancing over her shoulder, Nell saw an undead Redmane soldier in the vehicle's control cabin. "Astra! Come here!" Astra tried to run, but the horde had fully arrived, coming out of a market street in the center of the plaza. The two women were separated by an ocean of zombies. Nell couldn't see anything. All she heard were guttural howls and the sound of metal on rotting bone. Then a scream, and the thrum of the chariot's cannons heating up. She ran towards the deluge of undead, calling Astra's name. The ground in front of her erupted in golden spears. Nell spun on her heel, a creeping dread overcoming her. The Cleanrot Knight and its ragtag legion had arrived.

----

As she and Ceerahk flew, something nagged at the back of Nepheli Loux's mind. The lady of Limgrave was troubled by her meeting with the provosts. Xenocrates and Grigory were definitely concealing something from her, Nastasia outright wanted her dead, and Simon had seemed paranoid about a conspiracy within the head sorcerers' own ranks. Nepheli wished the sorcerers of Raya Lucaria would ditch those stupid crowns so that she could read their faces. When Simon comes to Stormveil, I'll make a point of asking him about Nastasia. Even thinking about the Karolos provost made Nepheli unconsciously place one hand over her belly. She would kill me, kill my baby, replace me with a homunculus, and tell Kenneth I fell off the hawk on my way out the door? She jolted upright and clenched her fists, prompting a quizzical squawk from the gigantic bird. "Sorry," she said aloud, relaxing her grip on the kinghawk's feathery ruff. Kenneth. When they'd passed the Olivinus observatory... one of their conversations had mentioned Stormveil Castle. 

"...bigger than Kingsrealm. Xenocrates says we can't advise..."

"...will get people killed. How can we deny Stormveil our counsel?"

Kingsrealm, she inferred, was the site of some sort of mass casualty event. These sorcerers seemed to believe Stormveil Castle would be the site of something worse. And Xenocrates wouldn't let them send the castle's defenders any troops or knowledge about the threat they were facing. In fact, she realized, they might not even know there's a threat. Next time I go to Raya Lucaria, I'm going to beat some answers out of Xenocrates. I'm tempted to turn this bird around, take my axe, and split his fat head open. And Nastasia too, while I'm at it, for threatening my daughter. But Nepheli couldn't turn around. She had to get to Stormveil before it was too late. She tugged at Ceerahk's feathers and let out a warbling whistle. The kinghawk tucked its wings and dove, picking up speed with a mighty screech. I hope I get there in time.

----

In a dank cell at the base of Raya Lucaria's garrison tower, a metal grate fell inwards and clattered to the floor, illuminated by an explosion of blue light. A dark-haired young man in a white robe, face and clothes stained red with blood, half-stepped, half-fell into the room, landing in a heap on the stone tiles and smearing his lifeblood across them. His weapons clattered across the floor and into the darkness. Behind him, a fat man shrouded in a blue aura floated peacefully in through the grate, his sundered head flapping horribly in response to the air resistance. "Ugh... that was most unoptimal. I should have really seen that coming," Simon mumbled to the puppet through a mouthful of blood. "I do hope this is the right cell, otherwise we've really gone and mucked it up." Xenocrates bobbed placidly in the air, seemingly ignoring the Lazuli provost. Even if his brain was in one piece, puppeteered corpses had no cognition of their own. Simon's long fingers fumbled on the blood-slick tile for his glintblade staff, which he used to push himself shakily to his feet. The puppet offered no assistance. Sweat streamed down Simon's face as he cast a simple magelight sorcery, drawing grim patterns in the mask of fresh blood. By the glow of the teal orb hovering at his shoulder, he spied his wooden sword on the ground. A flick of the staff brought it to his hand. Staggering forwards into the room, Simon's magelight glinted off something crystalline in the darkness. He smirked through the gore caking his face. His memory of the academy's floor plan had served him well. This was the correct cell. However, its occupants were sleeping, which was to be expected due to their condition. It was only mildly surprising to Simon that the noise of his entrance and the subsequent light hadn't roused anyone. "There ought to be a pressure pad around here somewhere... it'll be outside, but I should be able to trigger the mechanism mentally," he told the puppet. "Watch the window, make sure we aren't being followed. If anyone looked out that window for more than a second they could easily see our tracks." This was something Xenocrates could do. The rotund corpse executed an abrupt about-face and hovered back to the window at a leisurely pace. Simon, running his palm along the wall, found what he was looking for. Reaching out with his enlightened mind, he pulled at a small tile in the outside hallway. A sound of grinding stone, and crystal sconces set into the cell walls flared to life, filling the room with a clinical white light. "Gotcha."

At the other end of the room was a stone bench. Sat on it were two tall men in furry black robes, their shoulders studded in crystals of translucent blue and metallic teal respectively. Their heads were wrapped in bandages, and from the skull of the first sprouted a massive eyelike crystal orb, while the other had a spire of teal glintstone. In the room before them was a mass of conspectus crowns, their features pulled and distorted to form a smooth sphere. The graven mass bobbed gently above a restraining rune cast into the floor, rotating slowly in random directions. "My friends," Simon began, "it's been a while."

No response. "We'll just have to let those two old-timers wake up on their own terms," he told Xenocrates. If they still can. "But we can do something about her." Simon limped across the cell to the puppet and reached a hand into its satchel. Fumbling for a minute, he came away with a daggerlike black key inlaid with green glintstones. "How fortunate that I have you," he said pleasantly. "Opening a graven school without the Academy master's key would take all night, which is a luxury you and I do not have." Xenocrates did not appear to share the Lazuli sorcerer's concern. Dragging himself back across the room, Simon drew himself up to his full height in front of the mass of crowns. Every crown composing the mass's shell was still sentient and capable of casting spells. If the sphere was interfered with, the crowns would come to life, triggering an alert and attacking the would-be jailbreaker. An ingenious extra layer of security for dangerous prisoners, although Simon personally found it unsavory due to the death toll creating one entailed. Every crown had to be sourced from a living sorcerer, their bodies atomized to release the energy that distorted the crowns and bound them into a shell. Finally, the sphere rotated into a suitable orientation. A small keyhole, barely perceptible, peeked out between the chins of two Karolos crowns. Simon clicked the master's key into the lock. A blue sigil of embalming appeared in the air above the key before shattering as the graven mass began crumbling to dust. Before long, on the floor in front of Simon was a pile of gray ash, the many glintstones that had been the crowns' decorative eyes and tops, and a coughing woman in Raya Lucarian robes and a stone crown bearing a female face.

"Hullo there, Sellen. Pardon my appearance, and my companion's for that matter, but we're getting out of here."

----

In a field of crimson tumors, a lone figure picked their way across the diseased land. Their armor, once the gleaming plate of a knight, was blackened and melted by flame. Several pieces were missing, and what remained was caked in dirt. A tattered cape billowed behind them, and they carried two spears: one of forked ebony, and one wooden with a crude glintstone head and a length of rope tied about both ends of the shaft. They had been walking these lands for so long, but for the first time in decades there was purpose in their stride. From atop a massive fleshy growth, they could spy their destination, a half day's hike west: a collection of marble buildings with stucco roofs. Sellia, Town of Sorcery. Using their harpoon as a climbing pick, the knight slid down the growth and set off.

In a canyon north of Sellia, ancient mechanisms ground in response to a long-awaited control signal. A massive furnace flared to life again. The Sentinel had been inert for so many centuries, and with a mighty shrug it erupted from the soil where it had been half-buried by the years. The colossal golem bent to pluck a gigantic halberd from the rock face, the blades on the weapon's head and pommel flaring to life with a blue glow in response to its wielder's touch. The Sentinel lumbered towards the south wall and prepared to climb, a singular directive from its distant masters vibrating in its crystalline intelligence matrix. Retrieve the Books of Skyfall from the Vaults of Sellia and bring them to the rendezvous. Eradicate any opposition.

----

The unalloyed gold spear whistled past Nell's head, and she stepped to the side, her flowing swordplay cutting down a one-armed Redmane zombie. An undead Haligtree soldier swung its warpick overhand, and a loud clang filled the air as a dull pain throbbed in Nell's shoulder. Sweeping her leg to knock out her opponent's, she plunged her sword into the fallen zombie's back, and its flailing arms fell still. Behind her, the raspy whistle of a rusted slender sword being unsheathed caught her attention. The Cleanrot Knight had drawn her sidearm and was advancing on her with two weapons. Nell spun, slicing off the heads of two husks and an undead enlisted soldier. A third husk began to explode, and she delivered a sucker punch to its ribcage that sent it flailing into a nearby Haligtree Knight. The husk detonated, splitting the decrepit knight in two and throwing two adjacent soldier zombies off-balance. Nell spun to face the Cleanrot, holding her greatsword at an odd angle with her left hand supporting the blade to deflect both spear and sword. She kicked the knight's knee, denting the ancient and brittle armor that clung to her desiccated frame. Backstepping, Nell relieved a Redmane soldier of its arms. As the limbs fell, she took one hand off her sword to catch the soldier's warpick, throwing it at an approaching husk. The burning undead stumbled and exploded, taking out chunks of the zombies unfortunate enough to be next to it. A Haligtree foot soldier charged her with its rusty short spear, and Nell spun sideways to allow it to rush past and drive its spear into another burning corpse on the verge of combustion. Jumping clear of a tidal wave of golden spears, she parried a Lordsworn's sword with her left gauntlet while driving her sword through the bare face of a helmetless Redmane Knight. Grabbing the sword and twisting, she yanked the soldier to the ground and crushed its brittle skull under her metal boot. The Cleanrot charged again, and Nell's heavy two-handed swing put a crack in the zombie knight's winged helm. She coughed, a torrent of blood and fleshy rotten boils cascading through her grilled visor. Nell backstepped again, but some of the disgusting liquid landed on her boots, sizzling on the surface of the metal. A growl over her shoulder alerted Nell to an oncoming Haligtree Knight, and she twisted to plunge her sword into its chest. The Cleanrot approached, and Nell tried to tug the Banished Greatsword free, but it was stuck fast, caught in some tangle of flesh, bone, and rusted armor. The weapon refused to budge as the zombie drew ever closer, leveling her spear at Nell's throat and crouching into a sprinter's stance.

Astra just managed to roll clear of the spray of fire from the chariot's front cannons, and its side gun was too high to reach her at this angle. As she recovered from her roll, a Redmane soldier clumsily stabbed its sword into the earth next to her, grazing her forearm and drawing blood. Clasping her good hand around her injured right and her estoc's hilt, she brought the weapon up in a swift slice, cutting the zombie in half along the middle of its body. The two halves of the undead soldier fell away as the husks that had survived the chariot's firespray and charge closed in around her. A rumble from behind indicated that the tank was coming back. Astra tried to dodge, but was too slow to evade the vehicle this time. She was too low for even the front flamethrowers to hit, but she was at an ideal height for the siegebreaker spikes on the tank's front skirt. A massive curved spike of tarnished iron gored her abdomen and bore her along with a scream of agony as the chariot continued to speed forwards, its spikes and flames mowing down undead. Astra's vision was dark and fuzzy, but twisting her neck she could see a low cliff. The driver was going to ram the tank into the rock face, crushing her. In a rush of adrenaline, Astra grabbed the spike in her belly and forced herself off of it, falling onto the ground between the vehicle's wheels. The tank passed over her, and she got shakily to her feet before immediately collapsing to one knee as blood spurted from her abdomen. As her vision faded in and out, she could perceive the hordes of undead surrounding her and moving ever closer. Then she felt something welling up in her chest, something besides blood. It was cold and foreign, and it terrified her fading consciousness. What is this? Is this what dying feels like? The growls of the undead drew closer still. Willing the chill in her heart to subside, Astra pushed off the ground with her bent knee, forcing herself upright as she gripped her estoc two-handed and stretched it before her. Her supporting leg pressed into the chalky dirt and twisted, throwing herself into a spin. Between the whirling motion and the light-headedness from blood loss, Astra's vision went dark, but she heard the keen tone of her blade slicing through the encroaching zombies. She sank to the ground and keeled over onto her side. The cold in her heart returned, and again she forced it back. A voice at the back of her head whispered something. In a trance, the woman dropped her sword and shakily pressed both hands to her dripping wound. Heal. Golden light surrounded her palms and she moaned in pain as her skin and organs twisted and reformed, knitting themselves back together. The golden glow subsided, and she was left breathless as her vision cleared and let her see clearly the advancing husks. And something else, too. A second tank, idling by a shack. Astra grinned wickedly.

Nell rolled backwards, leaving her sword stuck in the Haligtree Knight's chest cavity as she allowed the Cleanrot's spear to pass her by. She found a foot soldier's shortsword in the red dirt, and as soon as her fingers closed around it the blade was in the air, parrying a thrust to her neck from the golden knight's sword. A sweep kick dropped a combusting corpse at her back, causing the husk's death throes to vaporize the legs of two Redmanes. Regaining her footing, Nell swung the shortsword, but it bounced off the small shield affixed to the Cleanrot Knight's spear. The zombie knight brought up her knee into Nell's kidney, and the warrior doubled over and staggered just out of reach of the followup thrust from her sword. A Lordsworn's spear thunked against Nell's side, staggering her again. The Cleanrot plunged her spear straight at the warrior's armored breast, the impact knocking her backwards and leaving her unable to avoid the sword attack that cut the side of her neck. Leaping back, Nell found herself again next to the dazed Haligtree Knight whose ribs clutched her greatsword. Pulling hard with both hands and running forwards, she wrenched it free, and the knight collapsed in pieces as Nell's Banished Knight training took over and she forced the Cleanrot back in a flurry of flowing thrusts and slashes. Then the flame chariot came bursting through the hordes, bearing down hard on her with plumes of flame leaving the muzzles of its front guns. She tried to run, but a mass of golden spears burst into existence behind her, trapping her in combat with the Cleanrot and in front of the oncoming vehicle.

Without warning, a second tank plowed through a mass of husks and rammed the first one sidelong, its metal siegebreakers making matchwood of the other vehicle's wooden wheel, chassis, and bellows on the right-hand side. The stricken chariot slid roughly through the dirt and into a crowd of zombies. Relieved of one threat, Nell attacked the Cleanrot with renewed vigor, pushing her back. Granted a reprieve, she glanced in wonder at the second tank, and saw Astra's hunched form in the driver's cabin. Suddenly, the vehicle spun in place and sped towards Nell, passing her on the side and slowing its speed to a crawl. Nell ran for it, grabbing onto the handholds built onto the tank's green body and pulling herself onto the top as it sped up again. Nell let out a wild whoop and pumped her fist in the air before sheathing her greatsword and unlimbering her pulley crossbow. "Payback time! Nice going, Astra!"

Astra grinned and pulled back hard on the left wheel throttle, throwing the tank into a stationary spin. At the same time, she took her right hand off the other throttle to flick a panel of switches in front of her, and all five of the chariot's flamethrowers roared to life. From on top of the vehicle, she could hear the familiar three-burst report of Nell's crossbow firing indiscriminately into the crowd. Squinting into the tiny scope that gave the chariot driver front visibility, Astra waited for the horde to thin in number before switching off the cannons and throttling the tank into full speed ahead, roaring through the zombies towards the city limits. She could hear the husks being torn apart by the front spikes, but after her earlier experience with the twisted hunks of metal she didn't feel the least bit bad for them. A crossbow bolt from one of the Redmane soldiers struck her shoulder blade, and she cried out. Nell whipped around and fired her own crossbow, downing the archer. As they rolled past a fallen Haligtree Knight, Astra leaned out of the cabin to grab its dented greatshield and strapped it to her back. It wasn't full coverage, but it was better than nothing and proved its worth as the next bold clinked harmlessly off the shield's marble and gold face. One more jet from the front cannons cleared the way, and the chariot roared out of Caelem and into the wilds. 

----

Sellen coughed. "Hello, Simon. About time you came to free us." She paused, and when she spoke again her voice had lost its sardonic edge. "Why are you bleeding?" She peered over the young man's shoulder. "Is that Xenocrates? Why is he- oh gods, his head."

"Oh, don't mind my associate," Simon repeated. "He's right as rain, all things considered."

"I'll wake Azur and Lusat. In the meantime, you fill me in on why you're half-dead and the mutilated corpse of the Twinsage Provost is your puppet, boy."

The primeval sorcerers were difficult to rouse, their minds and bodies having slowly turned to glintstone over the centuries. Even awake, they were immobile from the waist down. It had fallen to Sellen to relocate them to Raya Lucaria, and that had been before they'd all been imprisoned for heresy and conspiracy. While Simon spoke, Sellen sent a slow pulse of magical energy into each of them, and the ancient sorcerers stirred.

Suddenly, footsteps could be heard in the hall. Simon frowned, extending his weakened senses. Sellen's were stronger, and she identified them first. "Five Haima sorcerers. Headed this way."

"As I was laying in the grass outside the conference hall, I heard Nastasia give orders to execute the prisoners in this cell," Simon spat. He staggered towards the solid iron door and placed his glintblade staff sideways against it. Contacting the glintstone seals on the door, Simon intertwined their respective energies, effectively magnetizing the staff against the door as a makeshift lockbar.

"Come here at once, boy," the stern voice of Sellen commanded. "Let me heal you." As the sorceress's glowing hands played over his wounds, Simon turned his thoughts to more practical matters.

"How are we going to get Azur and Lusat out of here? They're completely immobile, and my strength is... somewhat depleted."

"I have a few ideas." Sellen stood, her work complete. "That thing is downright unsettling," she said, picking up a metal pail from the floor and crossing the room to the Xenocrates puppet. With one arm, she squished the sections of his round head into an upright position before jamming the pail down on top. When she released her arm, the bucket held the puppet's head upright and together while also obscuring the gore.

"He looks daft like that," Simon complained.

"Xenocrates always looks daft, Simon. At least this way he's not something out of the Inquisition."

"But he's so much more intimidating without it. Think about how our enemies would react."

"Xenocrates? Intimidating? Please. Anyhow, I'm thinking about how I'm reacting."

Their bickering was interrupted by the lock turning. "Hey! It's barred from the other side," said the muffled voice of a battlemage.

"Crack it open!"

Simon returned his attention to the Primeval Sorcerers. "So how are we getting them out, Sellen? The Academy's on lockdown, so teleportation is out of the question. You don't know any advanced gravity magic, and in my current state I can move one of them at most. Let's hear those bright ideas."

"If I may." It was Lusat. "There is something that might work." He slowly turned his head, fixing his gigantic unblinking crystal eye on Simon. "You could turn us into puppets, lad."

"But... my father's puppetry requires the subject to be deceased. And your minds would be destroyed, overridden by the spell."

"We're for all intents and purposes dead," the gravelly voice of Azur interjected. "The glintstones animate us, the glintstones store our consciousnesses. If you turn our dead flesh into puppets, we'll be able to move freely at your direction and with our minds intact, we can countercurse it later."

Simon opened his mouth to object, but was drowned out by a massive explosion. The door dented inwards, and the silver shaft of Simon's staff bent. "Simon, there's no time," Sellen said icily. "Do it. Xenocrates and I can hold them off. Move His High Immensity over here, please."

No sooner had Simon, using his Lazuli sword as a catalyst, begun to work on the sorcerers than the door was breached. A Cannon of Haima hit the door, blasting it to rubble and snapping Simon's staff in two. Two Haima battlemages stormed in. Sellen fired a cometshard into the chest of one while the Xenocrates puppet eviscerated the other with a series of shard spirals. "The prisoners are free! And... the Master is helping them?" One of the battlemages threw up a glintstone barrier while the other two cast glintblades at the sorceress and puppet. Xenocrates cast his own barrier before them while Sellen began hurling bursts of shattering crystals against the Haima sorcerers' shield. A Cannon of Haima hit their barrier, shattering it. Sellen through up her own barrier while the puppet cast night comets and a crystal torrent at their foes. Just as Sellen was beginning to tire under the rain of glintblades and cannonballs, a massive beam of starlight roared out from behind them, fracturing the battlemages' barrier. A dozen indigo stars flew over Sellen's shoulders and into the breach, and the sounds of bloody slices could be heard. When the comet petered out, the three remaining mages lay dead, their chests riddled with holes. Sellen turned to see Azur and Lusat hovering behind them, bound to Simon's wooden sword by the same thin strings as Xenocrates.

"There is a lockup on this level that holds weapons for the guards as well as those of prisoners," Azur rasped. Simon nodded, the Lazuli provost being familiar with this part of the Academy from his clandestine visits to the graven cell. "If we can get to it, we can arm ourselves."

"We should hurry," Sellen pressed. "More guards will be on the way. Especially because their other objective is to kill Simon, and he's in the same place as the prisoners to execute."

They made it to the armory. Lusat and Simon led the way, followed by Azur and Sellen with the bucket-hatted Xenocrates bringing up the rear. Inside the lockup, Simon positioned the rotund puppet to guard the door while they searched. Azur and Lusat immediately spotted their custom staves and called them to their hands. With bodies corroded by glintstone, the primeval sorcerers didn't strictly need catalysts to cast spells, the staves serving to amplify their casting powers by several orders of magnitude. Simon selected an astrologer's staff, an old style with a secondary handgrip that allowed it to be held parallel to the forearm for precision ranged casting or alternate grips when using sword sorceries. Sellen walked to a rack and picked up a traditional Carian glintstone staff. "Finally," she chuckled. "I was getting tired of using my crown as a catalyst." She also picked up a blue sword of Crystalian make and strapped it to her belt. "Just in case."

The pupil of Lusat's crystal eye narrowed. "Several dozen sorcerers and pages have reached this floor. We must fight our way out."

"Young Simon, stay at the back," rasped Azur. "If you die, we lose our legs and buckethead there dies too."

"Thanks for the pep talk," the young sorcerer muttered. Ahead of them, Sellen gave a shout and the sounds of spellcasting filled the air.

----

Nell and Astra had driven the tank most of the way to Sellia, their journey aided by being able to take shortcuts across shallow swampland and ward off the wildlife and occasional pack of zombies with the flame cannons. As night fell, they were within sight of the town's gate when the vehicle sputtered to a halt. "We might be out of fuel," Astra called. "Flip that hatch."

Nell opened the lid to the massive fuel tank that filled most of the chariot's metal body. The vehicles ran on a mixture of volcanic stones and formic rock, a highly flammable and acidic cocktail that powered their drive trains and served as ammunition for their flamethrowers. Nell wrinkled her nose at the acrid fumes and squinted into the hatch. "It's drained. At least we didn't run out of fuel in the middle of the swamp."

Astra checked a bank of glass tubes in the wall of the cabin, filled with pressurized fluid that indicated the ammunition status of the vehicle's guns as well as the amount of fuel in its drive engine. "All empty," she confirmed. "We might be able to get one more fireball out of the main gun, but that's that, unless you know a swamp tree that grows precious minerals."

"We should make camp anyway," Nell said, sliding down from on top of the tank. "We need to rest, and it'll be better to enter Sellia by day." As Astra climbed out of the cabin, the warrior pulled her into a rough hug. "Nice job out there, lass."

"Ow- armor- oof-"

They lay staring at the stars, and again Astra felt compelled to try to touch them. The word starlight floated through the back of her mind in search of something to connect with. She exhaled, and her thoughts turned briefly to the strange chill that had gripped her after the chariot had impaled her. Before long, she drifted off to sleep.

Heavy footfalls jarred the two women awake in the early morning hours. A monstrous canine was bearing down on them. Astra leapt to her feet, grabbing her estoc. Nell, wearing her tunic and pants but having removed her armor for the night, picked up her greatsword and one gauntlet. "Stupid, stupid, stupid! How did I forget to set a watch in bloody Caelid of all places?"

"Now isn't the time for that," Astra chided the warrior. "Let me take point. I have more armor." The dog burst into their campsite then, and Astra sidestepped and cut its haunch with her estoc. The thing twisted its long neck to snap at her, and Nell stabbed at one of its bulging veins, spraying the soil with putrid blood. Its tiny arm swung at her, and in her unarmored state Nell was forced to dodge back. The dog turned its full attention to Astra, biting viciously at her as she backstepped and stabbed at its muzzle. The young woman was tiring fast. Nell was about to rush in, but then she remembered something her companion had said.

"We might be able to get one more fireball out of the main gun"

She ran for the chariot's cabin and hopped inside. Astra, realizing what she wanted to do, broke into a sprint that took her past the front of the stopped tank. She was breathing hard, and just as the dog was about to catch her, it ran in front of the main cannon and Nell yanked the lever. A ball of burning fuel burst forth, slamming into the monstrous animal's already wounded flank and knocking it down. Astra returned with her estoc to put an end to its death spasms. Nell extracted herself from the now-dead chariot and grasped Astra's hand firmly. "Not bad, lass. Your stamina's improving, I can say that much." They moved their bedrolls into the tank's cabin for the rest of the night for safety and when dawn broke, set off for Sellia on foot.

----

Kenneth Haight stepped out of the elevator, emerging onto a grassy cliffside trail. The side garden was presently empty, but the whole cliff shook with the efforts of the invader to scale the rock face. Holding the Golden Epitaph and his second erdsteel dagger before him, Kenneth made his way along the path to the garden, somewhat more cautiously than usual due to the tremors. As he reached the garden, the thing pulled itself up and stood as if stretching its legs.

It was massive, easily the size of a small house. Its jaws were enormous, and Kenneth could see that the insides were serrated. A glassy black surface glowed with purple energy within, and the thing's whole body was covered in black cuboid stones. A stony tail tipped with spiky hairs lashed angrily behind it. The creature lifted its head and roared, and purple lightning struck the ground around it and gathered around its jaws and hooves. Kenneth grimaced, reversing his grip on his dagger and dropping into a ready stance, the beautiful sword in his right hand glowing golden white with a sacred rite. He had to hold this beast until Marin and Vanassus arrived with the garrison. This is for you, Naomi.

----

Astra and Nell had found Sellia deserted except for the odd giant rat, which were too skittish to approach them. Presently they were approaching a sealed erdsteel door in the side of one of the larger buildings. "This is it. The old Sellia Academy vault," Nell said. "Our client at the Academy gave me the key, which is good. That door is solid, I don't see how you could hope to breach that." She reached into her pouch for the glintstone key and approached the vault. But before she could raise the key, the earth shook beneath them.

"What was that?" Astra turned to the north. A massive golem had jumped off the side of the cliff and impacted the ground just north of Sellia proper. Hefting a glowing blue halberd, it walked slowly into the main avenue. The slits in its visor, glowing blue, suddenly shifted to red as tiny beams of red light projected from within onto the chests of the two women. The golem broke into a run, forcing them to duck into a side street. The giant construct whirled, the glowing pommel blade of its halberd effortlessly shattering the erdsteel vault door. "You were saying?"

"This isn't good," Nell croaked.

"I know. That's one of the golems from the Giant War. This seems to be one of the few subjected to Carian modification. These specific golems felled scores of giants in those days."

The colossus leveled its weapon and fired an arc of blue that ripped through the houses like a plough through soil as it surged towards the pair.

----

The fallingstar beast made the first move. Cracking its tail like a whip, it raised three boulders wreathed in purple lightning and flung them at Kenneth. The lord of Stormveil dodged the first two and bisected the third with a wave of gold from his sword. He ran at the beast, which stomped its front legs, generating a gravitational shockwave that threw Kenneth backwards into some long grasses. Springing to his feet, he sidestepped a bolt of lightning that incinerated the grass he'd fallen into and charged the beast again. Kenneth muttered an oath to the Golden Order and gestured with his left fingers, causing a glowing blade of gold two feet in length to coat his dagger. Stopping short of the invader, he plunged the energy blade into the ground and twisted, flinging himself nearly three meters in the air. At the apex of his leap, he righted himself and slashed horizontally with the dagger, firing the golden blade into the nape of the beast's neck. The thing howled and summoned another shockwave, which passed under Kenneth before he landed. I suspected as much. Hitting its stone body with metal blades isn't going to do much. It's more vulnerable to elemental attacks. Blunt force might work too, but I can't test that now. He swing the Golden Epitaph, and while the golden blade bounced off the beast's foreleg, its holy infusion left a glowing red scar on the obsidian limb. The creature lunged, and Kenneth rolled backwards to just barely avoid its snapping jaws.

----

Astra hit the street and slid while Nell jumped through an open window, both escaping the magic projectile. Unlimbering her crossbow, Nell fired a burst of explosive bolts into the golem's ankle. The giant construct stumbled for a moment before bringing its halberd down on the roof of Nell's building like some sort of divine lumberjack. She ran from the house, sprinting between the golem's legs and swinging her sword into the same ankle. Astra appeared and ran down the street, but the golem's arm shot forwards, forcing her to duck into an alleyway to avoid the halberd. Nell swung again, and the golem plunged its pommel blade into the street and rotated in a full circle at the waist, carving a glowing blue circle into the road with itself and Nell in the center. She landed another hit, staggering the giant golem as three blue orbs rose from the ring. With a sound like a serpent's hiss, each orb fired a beam of pure light directly into the knight's chest, eating through her scaled armor like it wasn't even there. She dropped her sword and reached for her chest, burning her fingers on the beams. The warrior fell forward, bracing herself against the golem's leg to prevent herself from falling lower and incurring further damage. If her legs gave out, her head would fall straight through the beams.

"NO!!!" Astra ran down the street, sword in hand. The golem swung its halberd overhand, striking the road just behind her. With Astra forced to commit to the charge, the colossus's other forearm swung open, revealing a mass of liquid silver. The metal oozed down, then shot forwards faster than the eye could follow, hardening into a spear pointed straight at Astra's chest.

 ----

A beam of purple lightning crackled against the stone just to Kenneth's right. He threw himself to the left, flattening his body to allow the beam to sear a path straight through where his head had just been. As he rolled backwards and regained his footing, Kenneth thought he heard the spooling chains of the main elevator. Marin was coming. The beast felt it too, turning its attention to the doors to the lift room. With a headbutt, it splintered the great doors, and a ball of lightning gathered between its mandibles. As soon as the elevator gets down, it's going to blast them. They'll be dead before they know what's coming. Grimly, the lord ran across the garden, gathering blades of gold on both his weapons. He jumped and swung his blades in a cross slash, firing twin energy waves into the beast's side. It whirled, discharging its lightning ball at him. Right before it made contact, a pale yellow barrier appeared, deflecting the lightning to all sides. Many years ago, Kenneth had carved runes into his daggers that allowed them to act as sacred seals, and this wasn't the first time that had saved him. As the bolt expired, he dropped his fortification and ran towards the invader. Leaping up onto its back. Kenneth cut a wide arc across the beast's head and neck with the Golden Epitaph. Jumping to the side, he summoned another blade of gold on his dagger and launched it into the beast's maw, hitting its glassy faceplate squarely. Now he had its full attention. The fallingstar beast tucked its head like a bull and charged at Kenneth, running away from the elevator. That's it. Get over here. Leave my people alone. He saw a crack in the faceplate where his blade had struck, and purple energy was leaking from within. The beast's jaws were wreathed in lightning, and dozens of bolts and imbued stones flew at the retreating lord. He cast a warding incantation onto the Epitaph, swinging it in a wide arc that parried each approaching projectile. The creature lunged and snapped its jaws, grazing Kenneth's chest and tearing his leather vest. Another volley of rocks and lightning. This time, he plunged the Epitaph into the soil, triggering the defensive rite it had been forged with. A shockwave of gold caused the stones to fall straight down and the lightning to dissipate. The beast tried to snap its jaws shut around Kenneth, but the massive pincers hit the Epitaph's ward and bounced open with enough speed to crack the white stone at their bases. The beast howled in pain as Kenneth flipped free and waved his dagger, sending three rings of light into its legs. Without warning, the creature fired a short bolt of lightning into his chest, singing the leather and penetrating to skin in the instant before he got his ward up. Grimacing with pain, Kenneth landed and slid backwards into the grass as a wave of sharp stones pelted him, tearing his sleeves and pantlegs and spraying his blood across the rocks. The invader spun and stalked towards the elevator shaft.

----

Astra screamed. This was different than the wrought-iron chariot spikes. The silver spear pierced her heart and kept going until it hit the ground. The solid shaft melted, sprouting a dozen other smaller spears that impaled her at different angles. One even went into her ankle, severing a tendon, while another entered the side of her neck. The orbs had been spent, and Nell was now kneeling at the golem's feet, panting heavily and coughing up blood. Hearing Astra's tortured screams, Nell drew her wakizashi and tried to rise, only to fall again as she plunged the shortsword into the golem's ankle in an attempt to steady herself or do some damage. The massive construct absently kicked its heel, throwing the dying woman into a stone wall with enough force to create a crater. Astra's screams turned into a roar of fury. Although the blood pouring from her entire body and pooling in the streets was warm, she felt an icy chill -no, something colder than ice- constrict in the arteries and veins around her mangled heart. This time, she let it overtake her.

----

The lift came into view, and the beast prepared a wave of lightning aimed at the lift's chains and passengers as it lined up its tail for a scorpionlike strike at the platform. At the front of the group, Marin raised her shield and Gostoc's eyes widened, his mouth agape as he yelled something Kenneth couldn't hear over the blood roaring in his ears. Kenneth ran, hurling a volley of discuses of light into the thing's side. The beast's head snapped sideways, and its lightning fired over Kenneth's head. The lord ducked and slid forwards under the bolt as the lift clanked into place and the soldiers began pouring into the garden. Suddenly, the thorny tail of the beast snapped forward and pierced his chest, the barbed tip fully out the other side and each razor-sharp hair ripping out a line of flesh and blood. A gravity boulder flew up and slammed into Kenneth's head, knocking him off of the tail. His head was bleeding profusely and being pushed from the beast's tail had caused the barbs to tear through many new angles and new parts of his torso. His body and armor cut to ribbons, Kenneth Haight fell into a bed of white lilies, staining the flowers red with the price of his sacrifice. His hands were slick with blood, and as he flew he dropped his weapons. The Golden Epitaph fell straight into a bed of fresh potting soil and stuck there, blade down and pommel skyward, while his dagger was lost in the grass. Though it was the dead of night, Kenneth could swear he saw the sky turn a brilliant white gold. Nepheli... Naomi... I'm so sorry. Know that my love for you will endure longer than the Erdtree itself. To this, I, Kenneth Haight, swear upon my family line. His eyelids, heavy with blood and fatigue, fell shut, and his painful grimace gave way to the easy smile that had been his trademark in life. You'll both make me proud.

----

Rolling onto her back, Nell's mind wandered. To her mother, to Engvall and her comrades, to Roderika and Hewg. This is how it all ends, she thought faintly. Then her glassy eyes widened. Astra had wrenched herself free of the silver lance and was flying towards the golem, blood still falling like rain from her wounds and her face contorted into a mask of rage that made the Lord of Blood look cute and cuddly. There was a sound of tearing cloth as a gigantic skeletal hand and arm erupted from her shoulder and back, gathering a pool of stars between its fingers as it hurtled towards a collision with the golem's head.

Chapter Text

Marin charged from the lift, her face contorted in rage beneath the cross-shaped visor of her curved helmet. She didn’t bother waiting for the Lordsworn to form ranks, drawing her slender golden sword and sprinting towards the invader with a ferocious battlecry. Her blade bounced uselessly off its stone hide. Undaunted, the sergeant circled around and continued to swing. The beast whirled, preparing to lunge at her with its wicked mandibles. Before it could charge, a massive armored figure flying on golden wings hit the ground next to it, telekinetically whirling a bronze greatsword in a vortex of gold. Vanassus had arrived. The Crucible Knight surged forwards, discharging the momentum of the spinning sword into the fallingstar beast’s side. As the knight tucked his right shoulder, a golden tumor covered in curving horns appeared on his upper arm and he surged forwards, the horns goring the creature’s flank and tossing it back onto its side. Around them, the Lordsworn formed ranks. Sir Jobold’s pikemen had made a semicircular phalanx with their polearms and tower shields and were advancing on the invader, reducing the room it had to maneuver. Behind the pikemen, a smaller squad of light-armored archers rained arrows over the formation while some of them directed the circling warhawks to perform diving attacks on the beast’s back. Gostoc was on the wall now, having taken the elevator back up the tower in the hopes that if they were overwhelmed, the creature would have to forge its own path up. From on high, he spun his lucerne, casting down gusts of wind to attack the fallingstar beast and deflect its meteors away from the Lordsworn.

Marin slid under the beast’s trampling legs, coming up and sprinting towards the other side of the phalanx. Pushing past two soldiers, she ran across the garden, removing her helmet to let her brown hair cascade over her shoulders as she knelt beside Kenneth Haight. Despite his peaceful smile, the lord’s breathing was ragged and irregular, the massive wound across his entire upper body resembling a many-pointed red star. Blood pooled in the lilies. Looking closer, the sergeant could see many dozens of shards of rock embedded in the blond man’s limbs. Steadying her panicked breathing, the knight held her palms open over her lord’s chest and called upon the training in healing incantations that most knights of Limgrave received. Her hands tingled and glowed with a golden light, and she could see the skin beneath Lord Haight’s torn vest twisting and knitting together. Then the wave of healing energy contacted one of the pieces of shrapnel. She wasn’t sure if it was her magic or the shifting flesh, but something triggered a surge of purple lightning from the shard. Sparks jumped from stone to stone, throwing the sergeant back and burning latticemarks into the dying lord’s body. The smell of ozone filled the air. Off to her side, the fallingstar beast dug its jaws into the ground and released a surge of gravity that scattered the Lordsworn formation like dominoes. It seized the advantage, using its tail to gore one downed soldier while lightning bolts and meteors battered others. Growling, Marin jammed on her helmet and rushed into the fray.

Golden Crucible claws grew from between Vanassus’s knuckles as the bronze knight raked the beast’s sides, carving glowing scars in its obsidian hide. A meteor shower flew towards a fallen soldier and hawk near Marin. She tried to raise her greatshield, but before she positioned it a gust of wind battered the rocks aside. Gostoc pulled a throwing spear from a barrel on the wall and lobbed it at the invader’s face. The spear lodged in the crack in the beast’s glassy faceplate, and it howled in rage. A purple shockwave pulled Vanassus closer, causing the Crucible Knight to lose his footing. As the beast turned, Marin plunged her sword into one of the scars over its shoulder. The creature whipped around, snapping off half of the golden blade. Then a colossal axe impacted the beast’s spine with enough force to break off chunks of stone. The axe’s owner, another warrior in Stormveil Knight armor, hefted the weapon again, swinging it underhand into the fallingstar beast’s chin. Again, chunks of stone were dislodged. It was Sir Jobold. The invader pulled back its tail for another strike, only to be staggered when another golden vortex struck its legs. Marin dropped her half-sword, bringing her greatshield down like a guillotine on the beast’s head. It grunted and snapped at her ankle, and the sergeant only barely dodged. Another pulse of purple light, this one drawing them closer. Two Lordsworn who had approached to target the beast’s wounds with their pikes had been brought into range of its deadly jaws. Sir Jobold leapt in front, hammering a notch into one pincer with his massive axe. Roaring, the beast shot a spear of sharpened stone straight through his chest before pulling him closer and shutting its mandibles. The creature shook the knight with a sickening crunch before whipping its head back and throwing him into the castle wall with enough force to make a crater in the brickwork. Jobold fell like a sack of lead into a patch of grasses and disappeared. In a rage, Marin picked up two pikes from fallen Lordsworn and jammed them into the thing’s face, cracking the faceplate even more and making what remained of Gostoc’s hurled spear fall free. Ripping her pikes out, the sergeant crossed the two weapons in front of herself in an attempt to block a lunge that never came. Vanassus’s Crucible horns rammed into the beast, pushing it sidelong into a stone fencepost. The monster whirled, but its legs were swept out from under it by a Crucible tail.

Another shower of meteors crashed into the scattered soldiers, tossing bodies every which way. Marin fell into the grass, losing one of her pikes in the vortex. One soldier had been pushed onto the point of his comrade’s weapon by a gravity bolt. The beast breathed a beam of lightning at Vanassus, who turned his back and conjured a golden turtle shell to absorb the attack. The sergeant pulled herself to her feet and charged the creature again. It fired a bolt at her that yanked her closer to its deadly jaws. The pincers snapped shut as she skidded forwards. One was restrained by a gigantic simian arm of pure gold, but the other was unimpeded, cutting her shield like butter and crushing her left elbow. The beast made a sound like a snort, hurling Marin back into a hedge as she screamed. A meteorite flew towards her, and with her shield ruined she was powerless to stop it. She saw Gostoc cry out and cast a gust of wind, saw Vanassus running towards her, his golden gorilla arms outstretched to try to catch the rock, but they were too slow. She braced for the end, but a barrier of gold ignited around her, vaporizing the meteor. 

The sergeant looked around in wonder before her eyes landed on a nearby object. Kenneth’s Golden Epitaph, stuck fast in the ground, pommel to the sky. Its protective rite was still active. Marin bowed her head. Thank you, my lord. Thank you for protecting me when I wasn’t worth protecting, then and now. I will not fail you again. She rose, placing her right hand on the Epitaph’s hilt and pulling. The blade remained stubbornly entrenched. The knight cocked her head and stared blankly at the sword. The legless body of a Lordsworn archer skidded to a stop next to her, and she whirled, picking up her remaining pike and rushing the beast, left arm limp at her side. Behind her, Vanassus conjured his Crucible arms and tried to rip the Epitaph free, but he too failed. The usually silent knight grunted something indecipherable, shrugged his enlarged golden shoulders, and charged back into the fray.

The Lordsworn were falling fast. Marin turned to Vanassus. “We must end this. I have one idea. It’s a long shot, but it might work.”

“As you wish, commander,” the massive knight rumbled, his golden tail lashing to deflect a spray of pebbles and lightning while he spun up his bronze greatsword. The sergeant stood next to him, covering his windup with her pike as she outlined her plan. Abruptly, Marin circled around the beast’s front as it impaled two Lordsworn on its tail while Vanassus bowed his head and uttered the war prayer of the Crucible Knights. “The Crucible was the first. The Crucible shall be the last. I am nature incarnate, the war-cry of prehistory. Creation flows through me, and I surrender myself to creation. All life came from the Crucible, and I return my enemies to its flames to be made anew.” As the knight spoke, the carvings on his bronze armor glowed gold with overflowing energy. The war prayer allowed a Crucible Knight to access the primordial flame, adding its energy to his or her own. Vanassus rose, plunging his sword into the ground next to him. “You are not of this world, creature, but all things can be conjoined,” he rumbled.

The beast fired a spray of lightning at Marin and the Lordsworn, but before it could follow up with a charge a colossal mass of gold slammed it flat against the ground. From Vanassus’s body sprouted oversized simian arms, massive batlike wings, and two clubbed tails, all brought down hard on the fallingstar beast’s back. Marin ran towards it, and the thing clacked its jaws eagerly. As she approached, she stabbed her pike into the ground and vaulted. The Crucible Knight’s left leg became encased in a golden mass of suckered tentacles. Dozens of octopus-like arms wrapped around each of the beast’s jaws, pulling them apart hard and fast enough to shatter the surrounding stone. A serpentine tail grew from his ribcage, picking up the greatsword and sheathing its blade in gold. The snake tail threw the sword, and Marin caught it in her good hand. She forced the blade into the creature’s cracked face and discharged the golden blade into its innards as Vanassus’s many golden appendages vanished with a sound like breaking glass. Shafts of light began to burst from within the fallingstar beast, more and more cracks appearing in its stone form before its obsidian skin shattered and fell away, the cuboid stones piling up on the grass. What remained was a layer of soft white flesh, stained purple and silver with blood. The beast howled in true pain as pikes and arrows pierced its muscles, driving it to its knees. A last shower of lightning bolts downed another Lordsworn, and then the beast fell still and silent.

Vanassus sank to his knees, the golden glow dissipating from his armor. The strain of channeling so much power had caused hairline fractures to form in the bronze plate. The Crucible Knight bowed his head at the dead beast. “The Crucible was the first. The Crucible shall be the last.” Then he fell silent, alive but utterly drained.

Marin limped back to the Golden Epitaph. Again she pulled at its hilt, again the beautiful sword remained stuck where it was. Removing her helmet and letting it fall to the earth, she staggered closer to Kenneth before collapsing to her knees. A commotion sounded from the lift. Gostoc had arrived with the healers. Three church confessors wandered the battlefield, performing triage incantations for the wounded and funeral rites for the fallen. A dozen war surgeons milled about, removing various objects from their bulging satchels to tend to the injured and escort them to the lift. One strode towards the sergeant, hand resting on the misericorde knife at their side. Her eyelids growing heavy, Marin looked down and noticed for the first time the impressive amount of blood staining her blue surcoat. Her eyes rolled up into her head and she fell forwards, lying at the feet of her lord one last time.

----

As the sun rose over Stormveil Castle, a lone hawk circled the lords’ tower. Ceerahk wheeled past a balcony, and Nepheli Loux flipped off his back. “Thank you, old friend,” she called as the kinghawk flew towards the castle aerie with a farewell shriek. Approaching the edge of the balcony, the Lady of Lightning surveyed the castle. It was quiet. Too quiet. Even at this hour, the Stormveil bailey should have been a hive of activity, but there was no noise of hammers or battle drills. No smoke rose from the furnaces of the blacksmiths and bakers. The guards on the ramparts were few, far between, and silent, and the birds of prey that often dotted the rooftops were largely absent. Nepheli’s brow furrowed as she turned and entered the tower. She descended a spiral staircase that emerged in their bedchambers. The great bed was empty and perfectly made. Even the pile of furs that Nepheli kept at the foot of the bed was in order. Something is wrong, she thought. Unless an early meeting had been forgotten or made while she was away, Kenneth should be here. Nepheli unconsciously rested one hand on the pommel of an axe and the other under her growing belly. She made her way into the main hall and to the throne room stairs, feeling a creeping dread along her spine.

The throne room was also deserted. There weren’t even any guards at the courtyard gate. No one in the lounge or at Kenneth’s desk. The great thrones sat empty. She was about to move on when her keen eyes caught sight of something shiny on the arm of her throne. A knife. She ran to the thrones, leaping up the small step to the dais. Her stomach tied in knots when she recognized the blade. One of Kenneth’s erdsteel daggers. Ripping it free, she picked up the note it pinned down with shaking hands.

Nepheli,

Something is happening. A falling star landed in the ocean, and an unknown beast has emerged to attack the castle. We're meeting it head-on in the side garden. Marin's men will come, but I have to face it alone for now. I'll be right back.

Three days ago, we found out who she'll be. I know we argued about a name, but I like your idea. Naomi. Promise me you'll tell her about this day if I'm not there to do it myself.

I love you, kestrel. See you soon.

~ K

Nepheli staggered backwards as if struck. No. No no no gods no. She spun, running out the front gate and letting the note fall from her hands. Her mind raced as she plunged deeper into the castle.

One of the falling stars is going to make planetfall this evening. It's headed for--

A falling star landed in the ocean.

…your briefing on the Kingsrealm disaster is ready.

...bigger than Kingsrealm. Xenocrates says we can't advise…

We're meeting it head-on in the side garden.

...we don't have the manpower to oppose...

 I have to face it alone for now.

...will get people killed.

…tell her about this day if I’m not there…

I will be coming to Stormveil within the week... Can’t explain further.

I’ll be right back.

Be safe, Kenneth. I shall return soon, I hope with answers.

I love you, kestrel. See you soon.

Naomi.

----

Marin awoke on a rough bed in the Stormveil infirmary. The hospital complex was in one of the castle’s basements, and the flickering torchlight did little to dispel the specters of what had occurred down here during Godrick the Grafted’s reign. Blinking sleepily, she noticed that someone had removed her armor, leaving her wearing a loose-fitting cropped tunic and baggy trousers, both woven from lavender-white silk. Her midriff was wrapped in bandages, as were her right wrist and forehead. Sitting up, the sergeant attempted to stretch her arms, only to find that just one responded. Glancing down at her left side, she saw that her left arm had been amputated just above the elbow. The sleeve of her hospital tunic had been tied off there, and beneath the thin fabric a thick bundle of bloody bandages could be seen. Marin’s breathing quickened, and she stifled a yell.

A woman in war surgeon robes approached, her ginger hair cut into a short bob. It was the same surgeon she’d seen approaching her in the garden before she’d passed out. Her sea-green eyes met the knight’s grey ones, and Marin suppressed a smile that she knew was unbecoming of her station and situation. The surgeon placed a hand gloved in supple leather on the sergeant’s shoulder and eased her back. Marin’s chest fluttered, and she wondered if they’d given her some kind of tonic that she was feeling the side effects of.

“Easy there, sergeant. It’s good to see you awake.” The other woman’s tone hardened. “I’m sorry, sir. We couldn’t save your arm. It was too badly mangled and you were losing so much blood. I had no choice but to perform the amputation on the spot in order to stanch the bleeding.” Her voice perked up again. “It’s a wonder you were not just walking, but fighting like that for as long as you were. What are you, half runebear?” The uncomfortable lightness returned to the knight’s breast. They definitely used something foul to put me under to operate. The surgeon paused. “I’m Jay.”

“Marin.” The sergeant’s face reddened as she realized how profoundly unnecessary the introduction was, and the red-haired woman giggled and pressed a hand to her mouth.

“ That can’t be good. You lost all that blood and now everything you have left is in your cheeks.” The knight’s heart was beating faster, and Marin wondered if she should mention that to the surgeon before something else sunk in. Her face hardened as she inspected her stump.

“So does this mean I’m going to have to retire from active duty?” As soon as she asked the question she regretted it. She didn’t want the answer right now.

“Fortunately, no,” Jay said easily. “Under the previous regime, no question. But we’re at peace now, and trade with Elphael has been reestablished. Gostoc ordered several sets of prosthetics of varying lengths from their artificers, and is trying to negotiate to have a few craftsmen live and work here full-time, but that part hasn’t gone through yet. Still, we can outfit you with a prosthesis.” The red-haired surgeon wheeled over a cart. On its surface was a skeletal clockwork arm with a glintstone-inlaid cuff just above the elbow and a strangely thin forearm shaft with some nonessential-looking mechanisms protruding. Also on the tray were various hammered silver plates and a concave disk with glintstone studs and divots that mirrored those on the inside of the cuff. “We’ll need to finish plating it, and there’ll have to be an operation to install the control disk on what’s left of your arm, but then it’ll snap right into place. You’ll have to relearn how to move everything and get your muscle memory back, but in time it’ll be just as good as your human arm. Scratch that, better.”

“Better?”

Jay beamed at her, and Marin felt her cheeks redden again. “Oh gods, yes. Take a look at these.” She opened a concealed drawer under the table’s surface. Marin’s eyes lit up.

“How many do I get?”

“Just three.”

The sergeant huffed. “It’ll have to be this one, then. And that one. And I suppose that one over there.” As she selected them, the surgeon placed the components on the tray.

“Alright. Someone will finish assembling that for you.”

“Jay? How long was I out?”

“Six hours, give or take. I’ve been down here treating the wounded nonstop, but I’m told the sun’s up.”

Something else from the battle pushed its way to the front of Marin’s thoughts. “What about Lord Haight? How is he?”

The red-haired woman’s face clouded, and the twinkle left her eyes. “I’m sorry, sir.” She turned without another word and crossed the room, where she drew a syringe and began treating another soldier.

Marin fell back into the bed. Tears stung her eyes. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t tried to heal him… if I hadn’t triggered that blast… he’d still be here. Her throat constricted and she began to sob loudly. Across the infirmary, a red-headed surgeon looked up and stared at her with a somber, knowing expression. Her fingers twined anxiously around each other and she took a half-step towards the knight’s bed, but stopped herself and resumed her work.

----

The smell of burning mud and straw woke Marin up. The gaunt faces of her mother and sister were fixed on the window. Marin’s mother held a wooden quarterstaff with white knuckles, while Faye, two years Marin’s senior, held a rusty shortsword that had belonged to their father.

“Faye? What’s happening?”

“Godrick’s men are here. They’re taking people.”

Out in the streets, houses were being torched. Soldiers in tree-and-beast surcoats were taking people by the arms and forcing them at knifepoint towards two barred wagons. Marin saw Kentis the mason try to tear free of their grasp, and a soldier brought a warpick down on the burly man’s head in a shower of blood. She gasped. 

Their front door exploded in a shower of splinters. A knight in a plumed helmet burst in, four soldiers behind them. Marin’s mother swung her staff, but the knight snapped it with his bare hands and twisted her arm behind her with a sickening crunch. Faye stabbed with the sword, tearing a soldier’s surcoat and drawing blood. Two more soldiers charged and began mercilessly beating her with wooden bats. The fourth soldier put Marin in a headlock and dragged her towards the door as she struggled to breathe and tripped over her nightdress.

They were all forced to their knees in the village square. All around them, soldiers herded prisoners and burned the dead.

“I command thee, gaze upon your lord!!” Marin looked up, and saw a frightening behemoth of a man hunched over them. His back was carpeted with arms, and he smelled of rotting flesh. A triple-jointed, many-fingered limb reached out to touch her chin. Godrick the Grafted himself was here. “Resisting my men was a mistake, lowborns.” He stared at Marin. “You seem to be the smartest of the lot. How old are you?”

“Si- sixteen, my lord.”

“Hmmm. I offer you a choice. Enter my service, and your family can live.”

“I’m no soldier, my lord.” Her voice shook with every syllable as she tried not to gag on the smell of blood and necrosis.

“I didn’t mean as a soldier,” the demented demigod chuckled.

“I- I won’t join you.”

“Very well.” Godrick unlimbered his golden double axe.

Marin’s mother cried out. “Don’t hurt her!”

“Oh, I won’t. Not yet, anyway.” He rounded on her mother. “Lowly peasant, thou’rt unfit even to graft.” Without warning, he brought his axe down on her skull, splitting her entire body in two. Marin screamed. Godrick turned on Faye. “As for you… mmm.” One of his tiny shoulder-arms scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Ah, yes.” One of his auxiliary arms drew a small machete from the folds of his dingy cloak. The demigod gripped Faye’s shoulder with one massive arm and sliced off her sword arm with the machete. Laughing, he picked up the arm and jammed it into a rotting crevice in his own arm’s grafted flesh, seemingly oblivious to the sisters’ screams. “That, foolish child, will be the last sight your sister ever sees.” Leaning in closer, Godrick’s unnaturally long fingers pressed into Faye’s face. “Great Godfrey, BEAR WITNESS!!!!” the deranged lord roared as he ripped out two stringy objects amid a spray of blood. Faye’s eyes. Godrick squeezed his fist, and when he opened his hand her sister’s blue eyes had been pressed into his palm and stared unblinkingly at Marin. “One step closer to godhood,” he cackled. “Before long, I’ll meet the measure of Malenia or Rykard, and they’ll all rue the day they mocked Godrick the Golden!” He faced Marin. “Now have you reconsidered, or do I need to relieve your dear sister of a few more parts?”

A spear whistled through the air, impaling itself in the mass of rotting flesh Godrick called a shoulder. Howling, the demented lord whirled. “It’s the Haights! Kill them all!”

Lordsworn soldiers burst into the clearing, but they weren’t Godrick's forces. Their armor was the same dull gold, but their surcoats were chartreuse and yellow and emblazoned with silver finery. Accompanying them were Demi-Human warriors. Godrick’s men met the new arrivals and the sounds of battle filled the field. Marin curled into a fetal position and buried her face, desperate to escape the awful noise.

After Marika knew how long, the sounds of battle receded and footsteps could be heard retreating. A hand brushed Marin’s back, and she screamed, kicking wildly. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” a male voice said. Unlike the insidious rasp of Godrick, this voice was soft and noble. She looked up to see a Lordsworn knight in the strange chartreuse surcoat. The knight removed his crested helm, revealing a smiling pale face with tousled blond hair and an immaculate goatee.

“I am Kenneth Haight. My faction seeks to end Godrick’s madness and elevate a rightful ruler of Limgrave.” He offered her a hand, and she took it. “I can offer you and your sister shelter in my fort. Or, if you wish, you can join my cause.”

“Sir Haight, I’m not worth saving. I’m weak. I can’t fight. I’d just be a drain on your resources. Take Faye, but leave me here.”

Kenneth shook his head and clapped a gloved hand on her shoulder. “Young one, you looked Godrick the Grafted, the most evil and wretched of the demigods, in the face and told him ‘no.’ You are already stronger than you can ever know. Such an act of defiance marks the kind of person I want fighting at my side.” He released her arm, and together they hoisted the unconscious Faye between them and began to walk towards the Mistwood.

Marin tossed and turned in the infirmary bed, still wracked with sobs. Her voice had gone hoarse. Kenneth Haight had saved her as a scared young girl and molded her into a knight worthy of his ensign. Even as he lay dying, his sword had saved her from certain death. And she had failed him in the worst way possible. She had killed him. She had killed him, and his unconscious mind had still thought she was worth saving. She had killed him.

----

As soon as Gostoc stopped talking, Nepheli ran from the war room. The castellan had insisted on briefing her on the night’s events, but she hadn’t heard any of it beyond the first sentence. When she was gone, Vanassus regarded Gostoc with what was probably a penetrating stare under his bladed bronze helm. “I told you not to open with that,” the Crucible Knight rumbled.

“His condition is critical! She deserves to know,” the old man protested.

“Maybe so, but telling her and then not letting her go to him is cruelty.”

Nepheli ran and ran and ran. Down a hall, down a side passage, down a spiral staircase six steps at a time. Reaching the basements, she used her axe to stop herself as she bounded out of the stairwell. Down this hallway. Down some stairs. Right. Straight. Right. Left. She burst through the double doors of the infirmary. Countless surgeons and soldiers tried to speak to her, but their words were drowned out by the roar of blood in her ears. She ran to the back of the room. Down a side hallway. Down another spiral staircase. Down, down, down. She ran through the secondary infirmary hall where the most serious injuries and ailments were treated and into another side passage. She tried every door, a leonine growl building in her throat, until one door opened in front of her. A black-hooded man with hands clasped in prayer stood there. Confessor Heathcliff. “I’m sorry,” the confessor said. 

He backed respectfully against the wall to allow her in, his head bowed and eyes closed in a gesture of privacy. Nepheli noticed that the skin of his hands was smoking, a sign that he had overused his magic. This was a common sight on monks and warriors, but almost unheard of on the hands of a healer. Turning, she walked to the bed at the center of the room and knelt before it, placing her hands in the burned palm that faced up at her.

“We did everything we could, my lady. He clung to life longer than any man in his state should have. We tried everything to save him.” The confessor’s voice dropped. “He passed at about four-thirty this morning.” Heathcliff paused. “If you wish, I can leave you.” She gave a curt nod, and the church confessor silently withdrew, locking the door behind him.

Four-thirty. Two hours before she’d returned. She’d been too late. Nepheli pulled the outstretched hand close and kissed it. It was cold. She drew her axes and swung them slowly at his chest, expecting him to wake up, deflect the blows, and smile the way he always did when they greeted each other in that fashion. But there was no response, and she stopped her axes just above the sheet. Dropping her arms, she allowed the weapons to clatter to the floor. Nepheli buried her face in the crook of his elbow and wept.

She remembered how they’d met. She had joined him for the sole purpose of ousting Godrick’s regime, but he had insisted on raising her to Stormveil’s throne. He had intended to help her settle in before departing for his fort, but something had happened. While he initially found her uncouth and she found him uptight and stuffy, their subtle conversational barbs had turned into a contest of wordplay, Kenneth’s dry wit against her… vulgarity, for want of a better word. They began talking to each other when it wasn’t strictly required. One day he asked to spar with her. That day became a week, a month, a routine. He would greet her with a slow, telegraphed swing of his sword, and she would parry. Then she began initiating the greetings. His natural aristocratic grace began to rub off on her, and her rough, no-nonsense ways began to rub off on him. One day after a long, dull conference with noblemen from Leyndell, the two had chased each other into the side garden. They lay there in the flowers, watching the sun set. He wove white lilies into her hair, and she had returned the favor by putting a hairy caterpillar on his mustache, which made him laugh. She whistled at the hawks, and he called her ‘kestrel’ for the first time. As the air grew cold, she pulled him closer and they held each other for a long moment. Their eyes met, and he began undoing her robes as she started on his collar. They hadn’t made it back to her bedchambers until an hour past midnight. The weeks passed. Nepheli erected a second throne beside hers. Her chambers became their chambers. Two years after the Mending, they had married in Stormveil’s chapel. And one winter night…

Kenneth fussed with his jeweled scabbard. “Does this look askance at all, kestrel? I’d hate to embarrass myself in front of the Elphael delegation at dinner.”

Nepheli sat on the bed in a silk dress that was much too tight-fitting and bejeweled for her tastes. Banquets required such things, and it was easily her least favorite part of lordship. “It looks fine, Kenneth.” She paused. “Before we go down, can we talk?”

Kenneth pulled a small gold pocketwatch from his greatcoat. “We’re late as is. Can it wait until after the banquet?”

“This is important,” she pressed. “Come on. Sit with me.”

He crossed the room and sat on the bed next to her, still fiddling with the scabbard and the gold-link belt it hung from. “What is it?”

Nepheli swallowed. “I don’t know how to say this. I’ve thought about this moment a hundred times, but… I don’t know how.”

“Out with it, kestrel,” he said, smiling gently. “Save the rehearsed speeches for the Elphael delegation. Just talk to me.”

She inhaled deeply and twined her fingers between his. Her breath released loudly and he drew her closer. “I’m- I’m with child, Kenneth.”

His jaw went slack, and he closed and opened it repeatedly. “Say again?”

“I’m pregnant.” Kenneth threw himself around her, pulling her into an embrace as they fell sideways onto the bed.

“Kestrel, I- I don’t know what to say! This is wonderful!” She buried her face in his shoulder, tears of joy falling freely from both of their faces.

Nepheli raised her head to breathe, her choking sobs rubbing her vocal cords raw. She threw herself forward to bury her face in his shoulder, wrapping her left arm around his body. She stayed there until sleep took her.

----

A red-faced Nepheli Loux entered the infirmary. A hooded surgeon approached with a pitcher of water, which the Lady of Lightning gratefully accepted, throwing her head back to drink. As she wetted her parched throat, the surgeon whispered something. Nepheli nodded and crossed the room to sit by the bed of Sergeant Marin. The garrison commander’s eyes were red and her hair slick with sweat. Nepheli couldn’t tell if she was coughing or crying. Silently, she offered the pitcher, and Marin nodded and opened her mouth for the other woman to pour water into. Her voice restored to a somewhat usable condition, she began to stammer an apology. Nepheli pressed a finger to the sergeant’s lips. “It’s not your fault.” Marin burst into tears and flung her arm around her lady, and Nepheli began rubbing her back in a circular motion. “It’s not your fault.”

Chapter Text

Astra flew through the air. She no longer felt the gaping wound in her chest, didn't feel the way the massive skeletal arm had burst through the skin of her shoulder and back. Her eyes were wide open and laser-focused on the Carian golem. Blue, green, and purple crystals erupted around the base of the arm, creating a tumorlike mass on her body. They extended to cover her chest wound, stanching the blood that still dripped from it. The golem tried to raise its halberd, but the skeletal hand slammed into its shoulder with enough force to bring it to its knees. She drew back, raking gigantic bony fingertips down the stone colossus's chest before plunging her bone arm through its body and detonating the star cluster in her palm. The golem staggered backwards and attempted to retaliate, but its legs gave out beneath it and it fell against a building. From the palm of the alien arm on Astra's shoulder came a tracer beam of purple light that bored a small hole in the golem's neck. A second later, twelve meteorites emerged from portals and slammed into the construct's head, pulverizing it. The machine's weapons and heat vents stopped glowing. It was dead.

On the ground, Nell had just managed to wrap her fingers around her flask of crimson tears. She spilled some of the lifegiving liquid on her wounded abdomen before downing the rest. Her senses reawakened as her organs and flesh knitted. It wasn't a perfect fix, but it would do until she could find a real healer or a good long rest. She noticed that the golem had fallen still. Astra stood over it, one diagonal section of her armor torn to shreds and the skeletal arm protruding from her back. So I didn't hallucinate that. Astra turned to face Nell, but her eyes were vacant and her gaze cold.

"Are- are you okay, lass? What's with the arm?" Astra took one shaky step forwards. Then she drew her estoc, and her left hand conjured a crystalline whip while her skeletal hand manifested another star cluster. She took another shaky step, then another, then another, her strides growing more purposeful and her face contorting into a grim smile. Small black horns burst through the skin at the corners of her mouth, drawing blood, but she didn't seem to notice. "Easy, easy. It's just me," Nell said uncertainly, raising her sword into a ready stance. Astra stepped forward again, adjusted the alien arm on her back, and fired.

----

In the Olivinus Observatory at Raya Lucaria, a young sorcerer's eyes widened behind his stone crown. He was staring into a scrying pool, tracking the movements of various objects of interest to the Conspectus. In the patch of red water that represented Caelid, the blue glintstone marble representing their golem had shattered and dissolved, in close proximity to both the purple cubes of the Books of Skyfall and the white marble representing the anomaly they'd been tracking. It had reduced in size since crossing the border into Caelid, but had now lit up like the sun and was double the size the golem's ball had been. He looked around for Provost Grigory, but the man wasn't there. Perhaps the Provosts' meeting had ran late. The sorcerer instead called over his immediate superior, a woman named Anise. "Sir?"

"What is it, Berthaume?" The older sorcerer's tone seemed exasperated.

"Sir, something's destroyed our golem. It seemed to have made contact with the anomaly."

"Damn it all! What now?" Anise paused. "Apologies. You may not be aware of this, but the Academy's alarm system is deactivated in this room so as not to disturb our divination. Emergency notifications go directly to the senior sorcerer through his or her crown. Raya Lucaria is on lockdown."

"Sir, we need to reclaim those books before the Lazuli Conspectus does. Their affiliation with the House of Caria cannot be trusted. I recognize the state of affairs here, however we must get boots on the ground in Caelid as soon as-"

"The Lazuli Provost who put out the acquisition order on that vault has gone rogue."

"Then we must make haste! We-"

"Curb your enthusiasm, dullstone. We cannot open any passage in or out of Raya Lucaria until the situation resolves itself," Anise snapped.

Another sorcerer bustled over. "Sir? We've divined the nature of the anomaly. We triple-checked our work. It doesn't make sense, but I promise you these results are accurate! If you don't like it, you can do the tests yourself, sir. And you won't like it. It can't be right. It makes no sense. It's impossible. That thing died in containment."

The senior sorcerer made a gesture of silencing. "Speak! I have no time for this blubbering."

"Sir, it's- it's Astel."

----

Astra was in a starlit cave, kneeling in a still pool of water. Blood poured from her mouth, chest, back, and shoulder, and the shredded remains of her armor were scattered nearby. Her arms were wrapped in beads of crystal that disappeared into the pool. When she tried to move them, the crystal orbs lit up and ripples disturbed the smooth surface of the water. Ahead of her was a massive nebula, through which she could see hazy images as if looking through someone else's eyes. Nell was standing in front of her, her damaged armor encrusted with blood. She was obviously in pain, but still smiling. The perspective moved closer. Astra realized that the vantage point she was watching was hers. This was where she had been standing in Sellia, last she remembered. She watched herself step forward. For some reason, Nell's face clouded. She lifted her sword. Why is she doing this? Astra watched herself step forward again. A skeletal hand clutching a pool of stars entered the image and fired. The image flashed purple and the nebula vanished as Astra fought furiously against the crystal restraints, trying to stop herself. She cried out in terror and anguish. "No! This isn't me! I would never! Stop! Stop! No!" The nebula reappeared. Nell was on a rooftop, flanked by a dark figure. Astra's vantage point surged forwards, a streak of silver and a chain of crystal whipping in front of her field of view. The chain stiffened, and red blood sprayed from Nell's side, obscuring the image in the nebula. Astra squeezed her eyes shut, breathing hard, hoping that if she couldn't see it everything would go away. The sound of crystal on metal dispelled that illusion. She strained again at the crystal bonds, causing small waves and whirlpools to spread through the water. "This isn't right! Make it stop! Who are you? Is this really me? Am I a monster?"

Behind her, something was approaching. By the splashes it made in the water, it seemed to be walking on three legs. "No."

----

Nell hadn't even registered the blast when she was pulled into an alleyway by a dark gauntlet. Gasping in shock, she stared at the cascade of purple light. "Why would she do this? What's happening to her?" She looked over her shoulder and saw a knight in indigo-black armor, dirty, tattered and half-melted from untold ages of exposure to the elements. The knight removed their helmet, revealing a pale face with deep purple eyes. The left side of their face was encrusted with purple glintstones and grey hair fell went down to their shoulders on the right and center but was completely shaved off on the left. Their left ear had a slight point to it, and despite having been in Caelid long enough for their armor to melt they showed no sign of Scarlet Rot.

"Your 'friend' is a star-conquering demon. Follow my lead if you want to live." Nell's vision flashed purple, and in an instant the pair were on a rooftop. The knight jammed on their helmet and unlimbered two spears. One was made from forked ebony, and its tip ignited with ghostflame when its wielder held it. The other was a crude crystal-tipped harpoon that looked like something a clayman would use. In the street below them was Astra, face contorted in unearthly rage. Her skin was strangely translucent, allowing Nell to see the outline of her friend's skull. She leapt into the air, slashing with her crystal-bead whip. It shot out to three times its length, catching Nell off guard and drawing blood.

"Why is she doing this? Astra! It's just me. The golem is dead." To her right, the mysterious knight laughed.

"You need to get better friends, mortal. Stay back while I put this thing down."

"No! She's my friend! I can't let you hurt her!"

"You don't have a choice. The demon inside her is out of control. She has to die."

"Can't we just make that thing go away somehow and spare her life?"

"Not unless you have all week and enough unalloyed gold to make a life-size statue of the Erdtree," the knight scoffed. They crouched, leveling their spears. Nell charged them, thrusting with her greatsword. The knight parried with their harpoon while their ebony spear cast a plume of ghostflame that incinerated a meteor meant for Nell's head. "Are you really going to make this harder than it has to be? I have no quarrel with you." A beam of starlight raced towards them, and the knight backflipped away and disappeared in a flash of purple light as Nell backstepped out of the way. The knight reappeared on the ground behind Astra, spears lunging for her neck. The young woman spun, her estoc forcing the knight back as her chain coiled around their neck. Astra dropped her shoulder, and her skeletal arm flew forward to wrap its fingers around them.

Nell jumped off the roof, sword aimed at Astra's waist. She spun, releasing the chain. Nell siderolled and stood up in time to put her sword in the way of a ghostflame-infused slash by the knight."Just STOP! Both of you!"

Astra growled and backhanded Nell through a window with her skeletal hand while her estoc clashed with the knight's harpoon. The knight plunged their spear into the ground, and a rain of ghostflame javelins filled the area. Astra's bone arm cast a cloud of stars around her, deflecting the projectiles. She lunged at her enemy, kicking a meteorite into their gut and knocking them down. She landed atop the knight's fallen body, sword at their throat. But her sword arm shook, the point wobbling just short of her foe's jugular. She threw her neck back in an unearthly howl and jumped back, using her chain to fish Nell out of the building. She swung her skeletal fist at the warrior, but again the arm stopped short of Nell's skull, shaking wildly. The knight was standing now.

"She's resisting. That's good. Gives us an opening." They stalked towards Astra from behind, not making a single sound as they raised their spears.

----

Astra turned her head. A bloodsoaked white-haired woman in badly damaged silver armor limped towards her, leaning awkwardly on a claw-shaped scepter. The events of her forgotten dream came back to her. "You," she spat through her tears.

"Yes, it's me. Or what remains of me." The woman knelt, which looked thoroughly odd with her broken spine. "I am Cordelia Ofnir, a knight of the All-Knowing. And you, Astra, are my daughter."

Astra tried to spin to face her, cracking the crystal bonds in the effort. "You did this to me! You put this... thing in me, and now I'm about to kill my only friend! I hate you!"

Ofnir looked down. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I'm here to help." She inhaled sharply, choosing her words carefully. "This... thing was always going to be in you, starlight. Such were the circumstances of your birth." She coughed blood. "I referred to myself as your mother. Strictly speaking, this is true and not true. While I did not gestate you, your human half is indeed a carbon copy of me." The All-Knowing reached out, stroking her daughter's blue-black hair. "Your other half is Astel. Of this being, I know only what I wrestled out of it during my imprisonment. It is not of this world. Its species roams the stars, devouring worlds. This one came here long ago. Making a long story short, I fought and sealed it away, but it killed me and absorbed me into its being. At the end of its natural life, it chose to use my essence to create you. It intended you as a vessel for its mind to escape and conquer this world. I fought against it, and I managed to keep its mind out of you. This was a double-edged sword. While it kept you from being a godlike alien bent on total annihilation, it also left you with an entire half of your biology that you don't know how to contact or control. And when that half takes over, your human mind shuts down. It can't interface with your Astel half, which reverts to its basal instincts. I failed to foresee this, and for that I am sorry."

She coughed again. "I told you before how I never had children of my own because I feared that I would hurt them. Like my parents hurt us. Like my brother hurt Gideon and Wilberforce. Here, I thought there was no risk of that. You would be born as an adult, with my knowledge of the world and some fragment of my personality. I thought there was no way I could fail as a parent that would cause you pain. I was selfish. I'm worse than my parents ever were." She sighed. "I'm sorry, starlight. The moment I wrested control of Astel's mind to give you a name was the proudest moment of my life. It made those millennia of physical and mental torture I endured in that thing's subconscious worth every second." She smiled softly. "And here we are. You, scared and afraid of a part of you you can't sense, can't control, about to hurt the person who found you and showed you kindness. And me, an echo of my consciousness, powerless to do anything but reflect on my own failings."

"There has to be something we can do," Astra squeaked. "I won't accept this. I can fight this." She strained against her crystalline bonds. Ofnir stood, producing a horned helm and placing it on her head. Although the helmet's visor was open, a veil of darkness obscured her face. When she spoke, her voice was deeper.

"There isn't. I'm sorry, Astra. I truly am." She leveled her scepter and fired a bolt of red lightning. Astra roared, disturbing the waters of the cave. Her bonds shattered, and two arms of bone shot from her back to intercept the bolt. She was about to lunge at Ofnir when she suddenly stopped, standing up straight. The arms recoiled to a rest position at her back. Astra looked down at her bare body.

"How-"

"I took a gamble," the All-Knowing knight said, removing her helmet and slumping once more on her scepter. "Your transformation in the waking world was a response to intense physical and emotional trauma. I hoped that by provoking a similar response in this dreamscape, I could spur your inner self to transform. Here, inside your mind, there is no way for your other half to escape your conscious control." She looked down. "But to do that, I had to do something unforgivable. I looked my daughter in the eyes, told her I couldn't help her, and fired what should have been a killing blow. Had it landed, my only mercy would have been that in destroying your mind I would have destroyed myself as well. But it didn't. Of which I'm admittedly glad. But all the same, starlight, I can't forgive myself for this. I've done nothing but hurt you." She bowed her head. "I'm worse than my parents ever were," she repeated. The knight reversed her grip on her scepter, aiming its claw at her bare face. The green-blue energies of a comet gathered around it.

"No!" Astra lunged, her skeletal arms tearing the scepter from her mother's grasp. "You're better than them!" Ofnir unsheathed her rapier. Astra screamed, running forwards to tear the sword away from the weakened knight with her human arms. She wrapped her arms around her mother, pulling her to the ground. "Stop it! Stop it! Don't do this, please! I forgive you!"

"Starlight, the sole responsibility of a mother is to love and protect her child. I've hurt you more than anyone else in your life, all while being a memory echo in your subconscious."

"But that's what you did! You were protecting me! You kept Astel's mind out of my body, and Placidusax only knows how many lives that spared. And now I can control my transformed self in this mindscape. Making the step to reality shouldn't be hard."

"Astra... I understand that from the standpoint of my daughter, and from one without parental figures in the waking world, my actions appear noble. Indeed, I like to think my intentions were. But I caused you so much pain. I'm just an echo in your mind. If I kill myself in this dream, nobody real is harmed and I'm gone from your life. I can't hurt you anymore."

"I don't want that! I want you in my life, mother!"

Delia blinked. "What did you call me?"

"Mother! The first time you appeared in my dreams, I'd gone to sleep wondering what having a mother was like. And there you were! I forgot that dream, and when you appeared here I lashed out at you. But you've helped me more than you can ever know. I'm blessed to have you with me, mother. I want you here. I want to see you in my dreams." Both women were red-faced now, tears falling freely from their eyes. And then Astra noticed something. The hole in her mother's chest was gone. She stood, pulling Delia to her feet. Her back was straight, her armor undamaged. "Mother, look!"

The All-Knowing knight blinked again. "Hmm." She scratched her chin thoughtfully. "While my torture in Astel's mind was inflicted upon me, it is reasonable to assume that in the absence of said intelligence, my remaining in that form was actually self-inflicted, born of acceptance of the eons-old status quo and later, my own refusal to heal. To be kind to myself." She paused, a wry grin crossing her face. "I apologize. I do that a lot. Order of the All-Knowing and that. You sure you still want me, starlight?"

"More than ever."

Delia laughed. "Alright then. But you have more pressing matters to attend to than long-winded conversations with your mother's dream-ghost." She aimed her scepter at Astra's breast. "Wake up."

----

Astra snapped back into her body, sinking to her knees. She felt her bone arm retreating back into her body, sealing the ruptured skin it had burst from behind it. A knight in blackened armor stood over her with a flaming spear and a crystal harpoon. The young woman threw up her hands defensively. Nell ran to her side, cupping Astra's cheeks in her gloved hands. "Well, I'll be damned," the knight said. "She did it."

The three of them sat around a fire. Nell was sitting on the case of books as she applied a salve to Astra's wounds. The interloper sat off to the side, their helmet removed. "I suppose I should apologize for my earlier actions. I was raised to believe that should this situation arise, I would need to act with extreme prejudice." Noticing the women's quizzical expressions, they sighed. "I should start at the beginning."

"I am a species humans refer to as an Alabaster Lord. My name is Ural. Our kind hail from another world. By and large, we serve Astel's species in their conquests. Revere them as deities. Occasionally, some of us reject those teachings and are cast out. My father was one such man." They paused to remove the stewpot from the fire and pour some into their bowl. "He lived on this world for some time, hiding from those who would execute him for treason. Then Astel found this world. Before word reached my father, the beast had been sealed away. Still, my father feared it would escape or be followed, so he entered the service of the House of Caria. He recorded the knowledge of our people in those books," they indicated Nell's seat with their harpoon, "and trained the demigod Radahn and his knights in gravity sorcery. When Radahn departed home for Caelid, my father and his books followed. Eventually, I was born. He raised me with knowledge of his mission. One of his theories for Astel's escape was that it would project itself into a human body, and said body would need to be killed. Hence my reaction." They walked to sit next to Astra. "I'm sorry about that." The knight paused. "My father fought in the Battle of Aeonia, and perished there. I survived to carry on his mission. The Scarlet Rot is not of this world, and my people are immune to it. However, I feared spreading it if I left Caelid, and I also wished to watch over my father's artifacts. I served the surviving Redmanes for a time before our goals diverged. Since then, I've wandered Caelid, waiting for something interesting to happen." Ural smiled, revealing white fangs that made Astra jump. "And when I sensed Astel's essence heading for Sellia... I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive my zeal."

"I was... out of control," Astra said softly. "And I'm not a human vessel for Astel. I don't have its mind. I'm... its daughter."

"Now that's a new one," the Alabaster Lord whistled.

----

It was midnight in Caelid, and a blue-haired figure sat alone in a tree. Alone, but not for long. A silver-clad warrior approached, placed a hand on the tree trunk, and looked up. "Hey, lass. Why aren't you in bed? It's my watch right now and we're leaving for Stormveil Castle in the morning. You should rest."

"Nothing." Astra sighed, kicking her legs in the air. "It's just..."

"Just what, lass?"

"I... don't trust myself around you. What if I lose control again? I could have killed you. I'm not a safe person to be around, Arianell."

"Look at me." Astra did. "You didn't 'lose control', you never had control. It isn't your fault that half of you is some space spider thing that you didn't know existed. But you fought it back. You mastered it. The elf knows more about this than either of us, and they think you're safe. They went from wanting to kill you to sleeping two feet away from you. If that's not a vote of confidence, lass, I don't know what is. But none of that really matters. You know what matters, Astra? Your ma believes in you. So you can just forget about spider-dad there, because your ma knows you're better than him." Nell pulled herself up into the tree. "I want you with us, Astra. Especially if your ma and Ural are right and there's more of these things coming." She put her arm around the young woman. "You didn't choose to be half destructive gravity spider. But when it confronted you, you chose to be you, lass. And I choose to be with you, too." They sat in silence for a long moment. Nothing needed to be said. Finally Nell broke the silence. "Go to sleep now, lass. I know I just said I want to be with you, but I'm not going to be the one to carry your ass all the way to Stormveil."

----

Vanassus stood alone on one of Stormveil Castle's ramparts. The Crucible Knight had been more withdrawn than usual today. He knew what he wanted to say to Nepheli, but was still puzzling out the words. So he had come to this wall to watch the stars and think. His musings were interrupted by footsteps behind him. "Is someone there? State your intentions," the knight rumbled.

"Very well," leered a cold, serpentine voice. Vanassus spun. Before him stood a black-skinned, pointy-eared being that was taller even than the Crucible Knight. It had long white hair and a golden curved sword over one shoulder. "I am a messenger. Tell your lady that she and her people have committed an act of war against the First Periastron. Tell her we will be coming, and advise her to surrender."

"Lady Nepheli will not bow to the likes of you."

"Her? Bah. Stormveil Castle may have slain our envoy, but my message is not for your sorry excuse for a lord. No, my ultimatum is for Ranni the Witch, knight. See that it is delivered." And he vanished in a flash of purple light.

Chapter Text

Sellen rounded the corner, casting a spray of exploding crystals that caught the two Heirodas sorcerers off-guard. The brown-robed bodies, riddled with holes, fell away and a group of high pages charged over their fallen forms. Drawing her crystal sword and conjuring a Carian Slicer on her staff, Sellen lunged past the first page's defenses to cut him down and whirled to parry a second's thrust. Forcing his sword out and away with her crystal blade, the sorceress plunged her magic blade into the page's throat and flicked her staff sideways, spraying blood onto the walls. A Haima sorcerer was charging his Gavel, but before she could spin to face him an overcharged glintstone arc bisected the battlemage, sending his torso skittering down the hall while his legs fell forwards. Sellen glanced over her shoulder and saw the Xenocrates puppet preparing to cast a crystal burst. She ducked, and the sorcery sprayed over her head to pepper the crowd. A few of the pages who were in front of the sorcerers' wards were struck by the blue-green shafts of light.

Lusat raised his staff, casting his signature Stars of Ruin around the sorceress. The shards flew into the crowd, downing an Olivinus sorcerer and shattering one of the wards protecting the others. As Simon moved him into position, the primeval sorcerer charged a crystal torrent and released it into the breach, cutting two sorcerers there to ribbons. A Haima Sorcerer lobbed her Conspectus's famous Cannon over and around them, heading towards Simon. The Lazuli provost had placed Azur in front of himself, and the green-gilded sorcerer cast a shield that absorbed the glintstone cannonball and fired six glintblades in retaliation, dropping the battlemage to the floor. Simon moved the other two puppets off to the side, clearing a path for Azur to cast the Comet that was his magnum opus. A beam of starlight surged down the hall, disintegrating everything it touched. One page had been caught half-in and half-out of the beam, and a smoldering semicircular cutout now dominated the right side of his body where his chin, chest, arm, and hip had been. Sellen hastily cast a night shard to put the page out of his misery. Another battlemage rounded on Xenocrates. Tugging on the ethereal strings, Simon yanked the rotund puppet back to evade a Gavel swing before willing Xenocrates to retaliate with Adula's Moonblade. The puppet thrust its staff forwards, and a greatsword cloaked in freezing mist impaled the Haima sorcerer as well as several behind him. The blade exploded in a shock of frost as anyone still on their feet was cut down by the puppet's Rock Sling. A single Karolos sorcerer remained standing, frantically casting cometshards at Simon. Azur put up another barrier as Lusat conjured several glintblades behind the man. He staggered, interrupting his casting, and Sellen immediately blasted a night comet through his heart. Behind them, a portal opened in the ceiling and a high page dropped down. Simon spun, swinging his wooden Lazuli sword and using the glintstones in its crosspiece to imbue the blade with enough force to cave in the page's skull. He raised the blade, casting a glintstone pebble at the ceiling. The portal was hastily closed and the pebble dully impacted the stone ceiling. Ahead of them, Sellen had met two more Haima sorcerers head-on. One was being carried away by a volley of shard spirals, while another had been dropped by the sorceress's crystal sword. Willing his puppets to advance, Simon followed her.

They had made it to the staircase out of the dungeon level. At the top was a Heirodas sorcerer, his staff wreathed in bloody briars. A wave of thorns cascaded down the stairs, impacting Sellen's hasty barrier and trying to grope their way around the shield's edges. The Xenocrates puppet gestured with its staff, and an ambush shard sent the brown-robed sorcerer tumbling down the steps through his own briars. He bounced off of Sellen's shield, and the sorceress conjured a Carian Slicer and plunged it down into his arched back. The carpet of thorns vanished alongside the man's lifeforce. A Lazuli sorcerer appeared at the top of the stairs and immediately sidestepped, letting Lusat's star shower make mincemeat of a page standing behind her. Sellen ran up the steps, casting a half dozen shard spirals that cleared a space for her companions. Raising her staff aloft, she conjured a rain of purple streaks that cut down most of the opposing force as Lusat and Xenocrates saw to the rest with a star shower and a volley of ghostflame skulls. Azur floated up through the doorway, Simon just behind. The Lazuli provost turned to the white-robed sorcerer in the corner of the room, the only member of his Conspectus he'd seen thus far. One of Lusat's stars had pierced her chest, and a flick of Simon's wrist closed the wound.

"Fiona. It's good to see you," the young provost said gravely, recognizing the magical aura of one of his lieutenants.

"Master, what's going on?" The young sorcerer's voice was shaky behind her stone crown. "Why are we being ordered to hunt you? Why is Master Xenocrates a puppet... with a bucket on his head?"

"There's no time to explain everything," Simon said. "There's been a... transfer of power. The other four provosts executed Xenocrates and would like for me to meet the same fate. This is about Kingsrealm and the recent visit from the Lady of Limgrave." His youthful face hardened. "Gather the Conspectus. Pull every Lazuli Sorcerer out of Raya Lucaria, and have them make for Caria Manor or the southern Study Hall. We're severing our allegiance to the Academy. From now on, the Lazuli Conspectus serves none but the crown." Simon's brow furrowed, realizing something else he'd forgotten. "Rennala. In the absence of Queen Ranni, the Elden Lord, and any known heirs of Radahn or Rykard, she is the House of Caria. I want you to take a group of sorcerers and see that she is evacuated as well. Insane as she may be, our oath forbids us from leaving her to these infidels without a fight."

"Will- will you be joining us, Master Provost?"

Simon smiled. "Drop the formalities, Fiona. We're no longer governed by the Academy code of conduct. Call me Simon." The young man's jaw set. "I cannot. Not yet at least. I must see that the Primeval Sorcerers escape safely, and after that I have matters of my own to attend to." He smiled again. "But as soon as I'm able, I will rendezvous with the Conspectus at one of our holdouts." He extended a hand, helping the woman to her feet.

"Thank you, Ma- Simon." She removed her crown, revealing matted black hair streaked with white. "I understand, sir. We'll get the Queen out of here."

"I have complete faith in you, Fiona." Simon turned. "Rally the Conspectus and go! More of them are coming." The young woman jammed on her crown and clasped her staff in two hands, muttering something as the crystals in the crown and staff pulsated.

The massive wooden double doors to the guards' chamber had been breached by a Cannon of Haima, and sorcerers and pages poured in. Sellen cast another rain of stars and a storm of shattering crystal in a desperate attempt to hold them back. Xenocrates lobbed a ball of magma through the door, and it exploded somewhere in the crowd. A chorus of screams went up as magma covered the floor. The enemies kept coming, and the torrent of spells was beginning to overwhelm the barrier that Simon and the Primeval Sorcerers were maintaining. As cracks began to appear in the shield, every Lazuli sorcerer in the enemy force removed their crowns and plunged their swords into the nearest member of another Conspectus. The Academy force collapsed in on itself in confusion, their attention split. Those who focused on Sellen were promptly cut down by the sword sorceries and blades of the Lazuli sorcerers, and any who turned to fight the rogue Conspectus were picked off by Simon and Lusat with swift glintstone shards and star showers. Behind them, Fiona cast off her crown and ran through a side door into the bowels of Raya Lucaria.

----

Duncan of Heirodas eyed the scrying pool in the Provosts' Chambers. Above the pool was a three-dimensional map of the Academy made of pure light. "Things appear to be proceeding nicely. We have them pinned in the prison checkpoint, and the second force we sent to the dungeon level will box them in from behind." Suddenly the glowing flecks representing sorcerers began to twist and dance, and the Heirodas provost spluttered. Hearing him, Nastasia whirled.

"What?"

"Nastasia, the Lazuli Conspectus is rebelling. Every Lazuli Sorcerer has turned on the other members of their parties." Duncan watched in horror as his precious second force, which had been half Lazuli, was reduced to nothingness before his beady eyes.

The Karolos provost strode over to the pool, her expressionless stone crown doing little to mask her rage. "Trigger the failsafe enchantment. Activate the wall sconces. Electrocute their crowns!"

"They've removed them," Duncan mumbled. "Whichever one of those bloody royalists incited this madness must have been high enough in the chain of command to know about our most guarded security enchantments and told them to ditch the crowns." He paused, then added, "You're aware, of course, that electrocuting the crowns was our only real countermeasure to an entire Conspectus rebelling. If you'd let me go ahead with synthesizing those parasites-"

"ENOUGH!!! Now is not the time for your harebrained theories, Duncan."

"I'm aware of Grigory's concerns, and of course I'd have been willing to try them on a small test population first-"

"SHUT UP!" Nastasia's yell caused the scrying pool to ripple. "You and Grigory stay here. Alert me of any new developments." She turned to a tall figure limping towards her. "Killian, with me. We're going to see to them personally." The provosts of Karolos and Haima exited the chambers, eliciting murmurs from the two battlemages standing guard. Duncan was joined at the pool by Grigory of Olivinus, whose presence incensed the Heirodas sorcerer.

"This mess is your bloody fault, Grigory. If you and bloody Simon hadn't quibbled over ethics, I would've been allowed to start my parasite project years ago and we wouldn't be in this situation presently."

"Hush." The Olivinus provost waved dismissively at Duncan, his gaze trained on the map. "A contingent of Lazuli sorcerers is making for the Grand Library."

"Damned royalists," sneered Duncan. "Those dullstones actually think carting that deranged old witch out of here is worth it?" He tapped his staff to the forehead of his crown. "Lawrence! They're going to try to take the Queen out of here with them. Send a detachment to the Library and make them pay in blood. Don't kill the hag unless it's the only way to keep her out of their hands. She's still useful as blackmail material if any heirs come crawling out of Gelmir or Caelid."

----

As they ran, Simon turned to Sellen. "Where are we going to go once we figure out a way out of here?"

"I've given it some thought," the sorceress said haughtily. "The Academy knows about my safehouse in the Weeping Peninsula. Assuming they can spare the resources after we're done, that's the first place they'll look. But," she continued, "as far as I'm aware my Limgrave safehouse, beneath the Waypoint Ruins north of Agheel Lake, is still a secret and still protected by my manservant. If we can get there, I'll be safe with these old-timers and you can go bother Lady Nepheli." Simon blinked. "I figured that's what those 'matters of your own' were. Context is everything, boy."

"Very well then." He coughed. "As for a way out, I have a few ideas. We can't wait around for the Conspectus to fight their way out, however I do know of something else that might work. Around the older lecture halls, there's a network of passages in the walls. Most of which are currently being used as storage." The young sorcerer scratched his chin. "I had to go back there to bring out some additional tuning chambers once when I taught that unusually large glintstone craftsmanship class. Just thinking about it makes me sneeze." He frowned. "The point I was originally going to make is, one of those passages leads to a glintstone mine. The Academy once had a mine directly connected to Renna Hall, until the mine was exhausted and the entrance was bricked up to make way for something useful. Anyhow, a small passage into the tunnels remains, and some of those tunnels extend outside the limits of the Academy's enchantments. Once we're out, teleportation is back on the menu."

"I'm reluctant to teleport directly to my safehouse in case they can still trace us somehow," Sellen replied. "And I don't want to try an unguided warp into the middle of Limgrave."

"Who said anything about unguided? I was thinking we could warp to the Study Hall and leg it the rest of the way."

"That sounds more reasonable," the sorceress said, her tone proud and maternal. "The stairwell to Renna Hall is at the other end of this floor."

"Unfortunately for you, you won't be getting that far." An icy voice echoed through the hallway. Ahead of them were a woman in a Karolos crown and a Haima sorcerer whose left arm ended in a limp red briar. Twelve Cuckoo Knights stood behind the two sorcerers, their silver greatshields like scales on a dragon. "Your little game has gone on long enough, Simon," Nastasia called.

Killian strode forwards, conjuring his Gavel. "You took my hand, boy. I'll have to take something of yours now."

----

Although Raya Lucaria had been founded by the Primeval Current sorcerers Azur and Lusat, and its oldest Conspectuses were the two that those sorcerers had originated, some form of the Lazuli Conspectus actually predated the Academy by several thousand years. Ever since the days of the Astrologers, the lineage of sorcerers that had become the Lazuli Conspectus had served the House of Caria. By agreement of the Full Moon Queen and the Academy Master, they had been integrated into Raya Lucaria a few centuries after its founding and donned the stone crowns of the Conspectuses, but refused to relinquish their loyalty to the crown and the ways of life and training that loyalty entailed, their Academy robes remaining the defiant blue-white of the Astrologers and the moon. For the ancient lineage of the Lazuli Conspectus, unlike most of the other sorcerous orders, was never a purely scholarly line. In the days of glory, war, and intrigue, the Lazuli Conspectus had been the House of Caria's shock troopers. And their descendants had kept this tradition alive through clandestine training sessions in the caves beneath the Academy. Every Lazuli initiate, in lectures and ceremonies kept hidden even from the Master and the provosts of other Conspectuses, was taught that their first duty was to the Carian royal family, and their first calling was that of the blade they would take up to defend it.

Fiona and seven other Lazuli sorcerers charged up the stairs to the Grand Library, swords and staves drawn, their white cloaks billowing behind them like comet tails. This was the moment they had trained for. Crowns gone, weapons drawn, and the safety of the House of Caria on the line. The culmination of years- decades for some of them -of training. The Lazuli sorcerers burst into the Grand Library, navigating the maze of bookshelves and closing in on the door to the Queen's chambers. At the other end of the floor, the main door slammed open and a force composed of Heirodas and Haima sorcerers and Cuckoo soldiers entered the library, fanning out to find their quarry.

Rennala lay on a great bed, clutching an amber egg. She smiled warmly at the eight white-robed sorcerers in her chambers. "Hello, little ones. What troubles you? Do you wish to be reborn, as sweetings?"

Fiona sighed, resting both hands meditatively on the pommel of her wooden sword. "Queen Rennala, there is no time to delay. The Academy is no longer safe. We've come to escort you to safety."

"Silly girl," the queen laughed. "Raya Lucaria is a safe place. Radagon is here, and all my children."

"My Queen. Radagon is long gone and now dead. Your children are insane, dead, and missing respectively. The only ones here are infidel sorcerers who want us and you dead. They've already breached the library."

"I do love company," the queen murmured. "Have the pages prepare tea and a selection of books."

"Queen Rennala, the pages are trying to kill us," the Lazuli sorcerer said, trying to keep her frustration from spilling over into her voice.

"You seem so troubled, little one," Rennala whispered, patting Fiona on the head. "Let me birth you anew, as a sweeting. That all the troubles of this life may leave you."

"Sir!" It was one of the white-robed sorcerers at the door. "Lucius and Armin have engaged the enemy in the library."

"Slow their advance. Fight defensively. The road ahead will be hard, and we cannot afford to lose anyone."

"Yes, sir."

Fiona returned her attention to the hysterical queen, a new edge in her voice. "Rennala. Listen. To. Me. We. Will. Die. If. We. Don't. Leave. Now."

"Oh, dear," was the murmured response. "Stay awhile and let me read to you. Forget your troubles for a moment. This one was always Radahn's favorite when he couldn't sleep..."

The sorcerer sighed. Time to try a new approach. "Queen Rennala! Radahn is in trouble. Enemy soldiers have him surrounded in Caria Manor. He needs our help!"

The queen bolted upright. "My little boy is under attack? We must leave at once." In a flash, she slid off the bed and called her scepter to her hand.

----

"Nastasia." There was steel in Sellen's voice. "If you keep covering this up, keep refusing to aid the outside world, countless lives will be needlessly lost."

"We don't have a solution! It would be disgraceful to publicize this. Not only has the Age of Stars wrought a new catastrophe, but the self-proclaimed Heralds of the Age can only offer advice for localized responses! We have an image to maintain, especially in Queen Ranni's absence."

"It would be disgraceful to condemn the entire population of the Lands Between to death to keep your own ego from bruising," Simon observed.

"Quiet, rogue," Nastasia lashed. "The son of Seluvis has no business lecturing anyone on disgrace. That sniveling land octopus abandoned you, sold our secrets to the All-Knowing, proceeded to double-cross Gideon Ofnir for Ranni, and was planning to double-cross Ranni until the day he died."

"He really was just the worst," Simon concurred softly. The Karolos provost stamped her foot. She liked to insult people's fathers and wasn't used to them agreeing with her. "Speaking of poor conduct with respect to family, enlighten us as to the fate of your brother, Nastasia. The one you trapped outside at the onset of the Shattering and had killed on his return to the Academy." The woman stiffened. "Oh yes, I was reasonably sure that was your doing," the Lazuli provost continued. "Ironically, I seized his research after he died. The things he was working on... Nastasia, the brother you were so ashamed of could have been the genesis of a new Conspectus if you hadn't killed him before he could besmirch your carefully cultivated image."

"That's quite enough out of you." The Karolos sorceress surged forwards, flinging a crystal burst at Simon. The raven-haired man flung up a barrier in response as Sellen fired a shard spiral at Nastasia's head. She spun to meet the other sorceress's attack as Killian charged towards Simon. The Haima provost's Gavel was held aloft, and a jolt of energy from the staff caused the briar tendril on his other arm to stiffen into a lance. Simon backstepped, throwing up a shower of shattering crystal that stumbled the battlemage. Lusat sent a rain of meteorites into Killian's chest, pushing him back and forcing him to his knees. Azur and the Xenocrates puppet had both loosed Carian sword sorceries and were fighting against the squad of Cuckoo Knights. One knight broke formation, rushing Simon. The Lazuli sorcerer tossed his astrologer's staff in the air, catching it by its secondary grip. Holding the staff parallel to his forearm, Simon blasted a crystal torrent into the knight's legs. Lunging forward, he used his Lazuli sword to disarm the Cuckoo before plunging the blade into his foe's gut.

Sellen and Nastasia flung spell after spell at each other, the flashes of colliding projectiles greatly impeding visibility between them. Suddenly, the bucket-hatted Xenocrates launched a Cannon of Haima into the Karolos Provost's back. Nastasia stumbled, and Sellen conjured a Founding Rain of Stars over her prone body. Raising her staff, the Karolos sorcerer spewed a wave of briars that wrapped around Sellen's legs before firing a comet at her head. Lusat conjured a glintstone well, and Nastasia's comet arced sideways into it as Sellen stepped back. Just then, a fresh squad of Cuckoo Knights rounded the corner.

Simon saw the Knights coming. "Sellen! There's one way out of this. I'll catch up." An orb of lavender light flew from the Lazuli sorcerer's staff and into Sellen's. The strings of Simon's puppets were attached to her staff now. She knew at once what he was doing.

"Simon! Don't do this, boy!" The young sorcerer smiled at her.

"I'll catch up," he repeated. Then he summoned a cone of teal light around the tip of his staff and plunged it into the floor. The ceiling and walls came down, leaving Sellen, the Primeval Sorcerers, and Xenocrates alone with the knights and Simon trapped with Killian and Nastasia. Positioning Xenocrates to create a shield, Sellen moved Azur and Lusat into an attack formation. While she wasn't as adept with controlling multiple puppets as Simon, the fact that two of them could attack independently made things easier on the sorceress and the two Primeval Sorcerers made quick work of the knights. Sellen took off at a run for the stairs to the main lecture halls, hoping against hope that Simon would make it.

----

Rennala burst into the library, and a golden shockwave flung an entire squad of Cuckoo soldiers into the ceiling. Some broke their spines against the rafters, others were impaled on light fixtures. Their mangled bodies fell onto the shelves and study tables. A Haima sorcerer was charging his Cannon, and the Full Moon Queen fired three cometshards through his gut. All around them, countless sorcerers were starting to snap out of the shock of the Carian queen fighting and began flinging spells at the group. As she cast a glintstone arc through two soldiers, Fiona felt for a moment that the incoming onslaught of glintstone shards, meteors, and comets would spell their doom, but a blue-white light began to coalesce around Rennala. A sphere of solid light formed around the queen's gracefully twisting body before tearing itself free and flying through the air. The incoming spells were pulled into the moon, adding their energy and speed to its own. The Full Moon collided with the largest group of sorcerers and exploded, leveling six bookshelves and throwing bodies against the walls. A soldier ran at them, yelling a battlecry and swinging his warpick wildly. Rennala threw her scepter, the silver weapon becoming a blue-wreathed cyclone that flung the soldier's armor and organs onto the floor as he collapsed, spilling entrails like a split barrel. As she picked off a Heirodas sorcerer with a night comet, Fiona felt like they were unstoppable. Then the roof split open.

A massive blue dragon alighted atop the sundered library tower, a Haima sorcerer perched precariously behind its head. "Smarag. Where's Adula when you need her," the Lazuli sorcerer groaned. Fiona jumped onto a table, throwing up a barrier to reflect the dragon's glintstone breath. "Lucius, Royce! Get the Queen out of here! The rest of us will cover your retreat." Two white-clad sorcerers began to guide Rennala towards the tower balcony, shouting something about Radahn. On the balcony, the three sorcerers' wrists and ankles became wreathed in silver light from the queen's scepter and they dove off the balcony. Once they'd flown clear of Raya Lucaria, they would most likely warp to Caria Manor. Buying them that time was Fiona's job.

Two soldiers rushed her table, and Fiona stunned one with a glintstone pebble from her sword as she pelted the second with a crystal barrage. Rounding on the first, she conjured a Carian Slicer and made an X-shaped cut on the soldier's chest with her two swords, dropping him to the floor. The second soldier leapt on top of the table, only for Fiona to enlarge her Slicer into a piercing greatsword and throw him screaming into a shelf. All around her, more soldiers and sorcerers surrounded them as Smarag plunged into the library proper, swiping shelves out of the way with one great foreleg as he stalked towards the Lazuli sorcerers.

Though skilled, the group was numerically outmatched. Armin fell first, a claymore spearing his chest while he traded spells with a Heirodas sorcerer. Two more sorcerers were engulfed in Smarag's great maw with a snort of blue breath and a gnash of teeth. The remaining three sorcerers backed towards the balcony as the dragon and Academy troops pressed the advantage. To Fiona's right, Harbold fell crumpled to the floor, body riddled with crossbow bolts. A Haima sorcerer brandishing two Gavels flew towards her, and she parried with her sword and Slicer before sliding backwards and firing a glintstone icecrag between his glowing staves. Frost encrusted the sorcerer, and a Carian Greatsword easily finished him off. To her left, Athers let out a tortured scream as a soldier ran him through with a spear. He bashed the soldier's head in with his wooden sword, but staggered again as a Heirodas sorcerer's glintblade phalanx pierced his breast. Then the great head of Smarag dove in, and Athers was gone. Fiona was surrounded now, unable to stop casting Carian Slicer to use another spell for fear of missing a crucial parry or deflection. Her blades, wooden and magical, spun like pinwheels around her as she blocked spell after spell, sword after sword. A spear broke her guard and scraped her belly, drawing blood. Dropping to one knee, the Lazuli sorcerer extended her Slicer into a greatsword to cut down an arc of nearby soldiers, then fired the energy blade like a javelin. It impaled two Heirodas sorcerers, and she conjured a fresh Slicer in time to dispatch an oncoming soldier with three quick cuts. The enemy was pressing closer now, the breathing room bought by her greatsword now gone. Again her swords spun faster than the eye could follow, for failure to do so would mean death. After over a minute of flawless deflection, an opening appeared when the whirling Slicer sheared off the points of two swords and removed a Haima sorcerer's staff hand. Throwing her staff back, Fiona blasted a crystal torrent behind her, spraying a shower of blood across the wall. She danced backwards through the opening, two swords swinging to deflect the oncoming glintstone shards. A Cannon of Haima impacted a shelf next to her, and she only barely slid out of the way before it collapsed. The soldiers began picking their way over it, but ducked as Smarag breathed blue flame over their heads. Drawing the silver buckler at her hip, Fiona forced the glintstone breath up and over her before replacing the shield and sprinting for the balcony, staff in two hands. A crossbow bolt struck her ankle, snapping a tendon, but still she staggered forwards. A night shard slammed into her left shoulder, and that arm fell limp. Skidding onto the balcony, Fiona vaulted over the railing and fell out of sight.

----

"You have no idea what an irritant you are," Nastasia said.

"I've been waiting a long time for this," Killian grunted. The two provosts stood over Simon, Nastasia charging a shattering crystal while the Haima provost brandished his Gavel and stiffened briar arm.

"You mean tipping off the ruler of Limgrave to an invasion on her shores?" The innocence with which the young sorcerer asked the question caused something to snap in Nastasia's mind. Roaring something unintelligible, she stepped forwards and blasted the crystal shockwave building in her staff at Simon. The Lazuli sorcerer cast a small blue shield pulse that deflected the shards before firing glintblades at the Karolos and Haima provosts. Nastasia pelted him with glintstone cometshards, and the Lazuli provost rolled out of the way and unleashed a crystal torrent that staggered the Karolos sorcerer.

Killian brought his Gavel and briar down on Simon, who managed to raise his sword to parry. The young sorcerer sprang to his feet, backstepping into a lunging thrust with the wooden blade that hit Killian's kneecap with a sickening wet crunch. Nastasia was advancing, but a series of shard spirals staggered her again and managed to draw blood. The Haima provost advanced again and Simon conjured his Carian Slicer to meet Killian's two weapons with two of his own. They traded blows for a few seconds before Killian's briar hand managed to cut along the Lazuli sorcerer's side, spraying his blood along the wall. Simon staggered, creating an opening for Killian to attack again. As soon as the battlemage committed, Simon closed the intentional gap with his Slicer, cutting off the briar arm along with a chunk of the human flesh that had evaded his first amputation of this limb.

"You insolent worm!", the Haima provost bellowed. Lurching from the pain, he fired a Cannon of Haima at Simon, but missed and succeeded only in opening a window. As Nastasia got to her feet, Simon slung rocks at the wall above her, dropping a shelf of heavy scholarly texts on the Karolos provost's back. Something somewhere snapped. Killian summoned his Gavel and charged again, but Simon coolly parried the frenzied strike with his wooden sword and shot a night comet into the battlemage's chest with his staff. As the Haima provost stumbled, Simon ignited his Slicer and with the grace of the crescent moon relieved Killian of his other arm. The big sorcerer howled in pain and rage as Simon stepped towards the shattered window.

"It's been a pleasure, my fellows. Truly." With that, Simon conjured a gravity-imbued rock outside the window. Shouldering his staff and sheathing his sword, he wrapped both hands firmly around the stone, and it shot upwards, Simon in tow. Killian staggered to his feet and angrily kicked a vase across the crumbling hallway.

----

Six members of the Lazuli Conspectus were fleeing the Academy. This group was making for Caria Manor and had escaped by way of Raya Lucaria's herb garden, which wasn't much higher than the surrounding swamp. As they ran, they found a white-robed form laying in the shallow water. One of their own. Two sorcerers picked her up and resumed running, counting the steps until they were outside the Academy's wards and could safely warp to the Manor.

----

Sellen had just found the right passage when the wall next to her exploded. Lusat and Azur began charging crystal torrents as the sorceress commanded the Xenocrates puppet to ready a magma shot, but before they could fire a black-haired young man staggered coughing and bloody from the breach. "Simon!"

"I gave my colleagues... something to think about. We need to get to the tunnels." They ran through the dusty passageways within Raya Lucaria's walls until they came to a rotting wooden trapdoor. When Sellen attempted to swing it open, the rusty nails snapped and the door came away in her hand. She tossed it into a stack of books with a snort.

"Take these back, would you, dear?" Without waiting for an answer, she passed the puppet strings back to the Lazuli provost and slid down the ladder into the darkness. Simon willed Azur to descend next, then Lusat, then Xenocrates, and finally he too slid down the shaft. He could hear shouting and footsteps above and around them as the Academy proper rapidly receded.

It was dark. Very dark. A tiny square of dim bluish light above them was the only indication that their eyes were open. Sellen waved her staff and a sprite of flickering blue-white light began to hover at her shoulder. A single tunnel sloped up ahead of them. "Let's move, Simon," the sorceress said irately. "If you stay here, then I have to meet with Stormveil in your place." The prone, grumbling form of the young sorcerer immediately began the process of righting itself.

They had walked for some time, Simon occasionally casting a detection spell to see if they'd left the influence of Raya Lucaria's wards. They were utterly alone. These tunnels had been sealed so long that rats or similar creatures wouldn't be found, and even beings like stonedigger trolls or Crystalians would be long dead. Finally the crosshatch pattern of Simon's casting lit up orange instead of green. "We're good here." Sellen nodded, planting her staff in the stone. Simon stood opposite her, putting one hand on top of hers and drawing the puppets closer. He could barely make out Sellen's whispers. Then there was a flash of blue, and they were standing as before in a brightly lit room. Armillary spheres and candlesticks dominated the space. Blue sparks crackled, and a figure in the black and blue robes and wide-brimmed hat of the Carian Preceptors appeared. "Ah, Preceptor Miriam," Simon said.

"Sellen? Is that you?" The old woman strode closer. "Ah! So it is! And you've brought young Seluvis's boy, too."

"Grandmother," said Sellen tersely. "you should know by now that 'young Seluvis' is a bitter old man who recently got his just desserts, and his 'boy' is a twenty-eight-year-old Academy Provost. And that I spent more time raising him than Seluvis ever did." She paused. "What a pompous snail of a man. When I accepted his help in getting out of the Academy in return for a favor, I thought I'd end up turning someone into a puppet or procuring something for him that he has no business owning. Instead, the 'favor' he wanted was for me, up to that point a total stranger, to raise his son while he sat on a hill and acted important."

"He's young to me," the old Preceptor chuckled. "I was hoping you'd stay, but I can tell you two are eager to leave." She leaned forwards suddenly. "Azur? Lusat? What are you doing here?"

"Young Simon here is helping us with a change of scenery," Lusat said. "It's been a while, Miriam."

"Too long, too long."

"Thank you for receiving us, grandmother," Sellen said warmly, "but we must be going. We need to get these two to my safehouse, and the boy has an appointment with the Limgrave lords' court."

"Oh, look at you!" Miriam shuffled forwards and ruffled Simon's hair. "Moving on up in the world, aren't we? I always told Sellen I expected big things from you."

"You expected big things from Seluvis," Sellen said pointedly.

"And he was a disappointment, which means I expect twice as much from him." The Preceptor jabbed a gloved finger into the center of Simon's ribcage.

"Great-grandmother, there is something I must ask of you before we depart," Simon piped up. "The Lazuli Conspectus has left Raya Lucaria-"

"Took you dullstones long enough."

"-under less than ideal circumstances. The survivors are splitting up between Caria Manor, and... well... here. Will that be a problem?"

"Not at all, silly boy. As a Preceptor, I am sworn to the confidence of the House of Caria and all who serve it. I am sworn to guard this hall as a place of refuge for the House of Caria. I welcome the Lazuli Conspectus's return to their roots and will be glad to offer them my hospitality."

"Thank you dearly." Simon bowed his head. The Preceptor turned to Sellen.

"I insist you take these with you, granddaughter." Sellen raised her hands in denial, but Miriam ignored her. "Your safehouse has been vacant for years. You need all this." She summoned a pack containing glintstone scraps of various descriptions and a few books bound together with a leather strap, as well as a sealed bowl containing steamed buns. These buns had been popularized by the Elden Lord Godfrey for their longevity as travel rations. "I will wait here and greet the arrivals from Raya Lucaria. Do say hello to old Jex for me, Sellen. I wish you'd bring him around."

"I did, before I ended up in prison," the sorceress hissed. Miriam tutted and shuffled back to Simon, pulling the Lazuli sorcerer into an embrace before clapping him on the back.

"Go now. I won't keep you," the Preceptor chuckled. Sellen and Simon turned towards the open door of the Study Hall and walked out into the dawn, the Primeval Sorcerers and the bucket-clad Xenocrates floating along behind.

----

Nastasia stood alone on a rampart. She should be satisfied. The remaining Provosts had deigned to elevate her to Master of the Academy. But Simon had slipped through her fingers, an entire Conspectus was rogue, and the situation the Academy was trying to cover up would soon be laid bare. Not to mention that Duncan had failed to secure the Carian queen, and his ham-handed attempt at doing so had caused incalculable damage to the Grand Library. She was glad to be alone now. Grigory had gone to the observatory, Killian was receiving new hands, and she had simply told the Heirodas provost to get out of her face. A deep sigh escaped Nastasia's lips. There was a sound of breaking glass. In the rain-slick rampart, she saw the reflection of a flash of purple light. The Karolos sorcerer spun on her heel, raising her staff. A tall, thin, black-skinned being was there, its white hair blowing in the wind. A golden curved sword rested on one shoulder. As it came closer, she made out white scarlike patches on its upper body and two pointed ears. "Master of Raya Lucaria," it hissed. "I offer you an accord."

"You're an Onyx Lord. What do you want?" An edge of panic crept into the master's voice. The elf laughed.

"Fear not. I come with an offer of mutual cooperation. My people and your ancestors, the astrologers, were close once. It can be so again. Join with us, lend us your facilities and military aid, and not only will Liurnia be spared from our conquest of this world, but it shall become our seat of power once we have claimed the title of Elden Lord of the Age of Stars." It paused briefly, tapping its long fingers on the wall. "Refuse, and you shall be the first to fall."

Nastasia did some swift mental calculations. She knew what catastrophe awaited the Lands Between and just how powerless they were to stop it. Here was something unprecedented: a chance to get in on the side of the Alabaster and Onyx Lords and the Malformed Stars. A chance that would certainly propel her Academy, and her, to greater glory once their inevitable conquest was complete. "I accept your terms. When do we start?"

"Now." The Onyx Lord grinned, an expression which was downright eerie, and leaned closer. "Answer one question for me."

"Ask, and I shall answer to the best of my knowledge."

"Where is Astel?"

Since he's back in the story, I'd like to conclude this chapter with this AMAZING art of Simon by the wonderful catcas22! It's so crazy to me that this is a thing that exists

Chapter Text

Simon and Sellen had made good time to the Waypoint Ruins. As Sellen had expected, a gigantic man in a domed gold helmet was waiting for them at the entrance to the hidden cellar. The manservant grunted something incomprehensible at them as he stood aside to let them pass. In the cellar, Simon and the Primeval Sorcerers began the countercurse that would sever them from his staff. The crystal-corroded forms of Azur and Lusat now rested on a stone bench along one wall. With the living sorcerers no longer attached to his staff, the Lazuli provost was free to dispel the Xenocrates puppet, which vanished in a puff of sparks, bucket and all. Simon crossed the room and entered Sellen's office.

Sellen had removed her crown and was reclining haughtily in a wooden chair, her feet up on a desk. The younger sorcerer began absently playing with a tuning chamber on a bureau next to the door. "Thank you for your help, Sellen."

"Thank you, boy. I'd still be a comatose sphere if you hadn't showed up." The sorceress tossed her head, causing her deep brown hair to ripple like a waterfall.

"I apologize for the circumstances of our departure being... less than ideal."

"If I'm being honest, Simon, a murderous coup is probably the only circumstance that would allow you to break us out without making the situation worse for yourself." Sellen clicked her tongue and began to idly page through a book from the pile next to her desk. Simon abandoned the tuning chamber to lean in for a look at the cover.

"Georgiou's Kingslayer's Zenith. Excellent taste. Though if historical accuracy is a concern, consensus is that Georgiou made certain embellishments. Kaminsky's Twisted Fires is regarded as a more faithful retelling of the-"

"For the Moon's sake, boy. Let me enjoy myself." Sellen dropped the book with a huff and picked up another from the stack. Again Simon inspected it.

"Ah! Pendergast's Treatise on Glintstone Tuning! A seminal work, however having taught the subject for a number of years I must advise you that Pendergast got most of the stuff about skeleton keys wrong, and you shouldn't try to replicate anything in Chapter Fifty-Nine." Sellen groaned and threw the Treatise against the wall. "Sorry."

The sorceress looked up at the dark-haired man. "Sometimes I wonder how I survived raising you all those years. You're a terror." She picked up a small astrolabe and began playing with one of the dials on its bronze side. "Don't you have an appointment to keep in Stormveil Castle? Time is of the essence. Assuming there's anyone alive up there, they'll be sorely in need of counsel on how to respond when -not if- more Fallingstar Beasts show up."

Simon's expression turned grave. "Yes. I intend to set out this afternoon."

"Not dressed like that you don't," Sellen said reproachfully. "I doubt the Academy is searching for us yet, but when they do start the absolute worst thing to be is a young, dark-haired man wearing bloodsoaked Lazuli Conspectus robes."

"Point taken." He turned and strode out the door. "I'll be in the main chamber if you need me." When he departed, Sellen snapped her fingers to close the illusory wall over the doorway. Removing her feet from the desk, the sorceress sighed heavily and, after a moment's thought, retrieved the Treatise on Glintstone Tuning from the floor and began to read.

----

Vanassus stood respectfully at the entrance of the Stormveil Castle lords' bedchamber. The curtain around the great bed was drawn, and the morning sun outlined a reclining female silhouette within The only sounds were faint weeping from within the bed and the rustle of a spring breeze through the curtains. The Crucible Knight clasped his hands in front of him in a gesture of subservience that he was fairly certain Lady Nepheli wouldn't see anyway. She'd spent the latter half of the previous day and all of this one so far with the curtains drawn. May as well get this over with. Reluctantly, Vanassus coughed. After a few moments, the figure behind the curtain sniffed heavily. "What is it, Sir Vanassus?"

"My lady, I do not interrupt your mourning lightly," the Crucible Knight rumbled. "But there is something of which you should be advised." He paused, and when a response was not issued the bronze-clad knight resumed speaking. "Last night I was on the ramparts when I received a visitor. I have consulted the library, and its description matches that of an Alabaster Lord." He shuffled his feet. "It delivered a message."

"And that was?"

"It, or the organization it represents, have perceived our slaying of the invader as an act of war and have declared their intentions to return in force." The shadow in the curtains sat upright. "It also wanted me to take a message to 'my lady', but it did not mean you. It meant Queen Ranni."

"Ranni? But she's been gone from the Lands Between for years now. Nobody knows where she is or how to contact her. Least of all anyone in Limgrave. How does the elf expect us to deliver this message, exactly?"

"It didn't say," Vanassus replied. "I just thought you should be apprised of the encounter."

"Thank you, Vanassus. You may leave." The Crucible Knight stood silently for several seconds, weighing his next move. Nepheli made his decision for him. "Is there something else, Knight?"

"Er... yes." This response carried an uncharacteristic lack of confidence for the bronze bulwark that was Vanassus, and behind the curtain the red-faced Nepheli raised an eyebrow quizzically. "My lady, I recognize that this may be the wrong time to approach you with this, but it has been weighing rather heavily on my conscience."

"Speak."

"Though I may not show it outwardly, Lady Nepheli, I mourn Lord Haight as fervently as any of us." The shadow sniffled. "However, as a knight sworn to the defense of pure life and in service to the Royal House of Limgrave, I find my thoughts turning elsewhere presently." Vanassus strode forwards, kneeling in the center of the room with one fist over his heart. "My lady, if you would accept it, I wish to swear an oath as protector and mentor to your unborn child."

Nepheli was silent for a moment. "Like a godfather?"

"That- that wasn't quite what I had-"

"I would be honored, my good knight." The shadow shifted to mirror Vanassus's kneeling posture. What am I getting myself into, the Crucible Knight thought to himself.

----

Marin awoke to find Confessor Heathcliff standing over her bed. Though the head of Stormveil's medical staff was doing his best to maintain a genial countenance, the sergeant could see the shadows of grief and guilt that flickered in the corners of the church confessor's eyes. "Good morning, Sergeant," he said. "I come bearing good news."

The knight reached her arm up to blearily rub one eye, then the other. "Let's hear it, Confessor."

"We are ready to proceed with the installation of the control disk for your new prosthesis. Immediately, if you so desire."

"I thought Gostoc was still trying to hire a specialist from Elphael."

"He is," Heathcliff said jovially. "But, as part of the agreement we negotiated when we purchased the parts, we sent one of our surgeons to them to be trained in the basics of prosthetic installation and maintenance."

"Ah. Let's begin immediately, then." She lay back expectantly.

"Sergeant... I am not that aforementioned surgeon," the confessor said.

"Oh. I just thought that since you're the chief of staff... nevermind. Well, where is this surgeon, then? I need to get out of this bed in case one of those things comes back." 

"That would be me," said a chipper female voice over the black-robed man's shoulder. A woman in surgical robes with a distinctive ginger bob stepped into view, her sea-green eyes twinkling mischievously. "Hello again, Sergeant." Oh gods above...

"Ah, Jaina. Excellent." Heathcliff turned. "You're in good hands, Sergeant. I'll leave you to it, then," he added to Jay. The red-haired woman approached, standing over the knight and smiling. Marin felt her chest flutter again, and wondered if this was something she should tell her surgeon about before submitting herself to be operated on.

----

Morning came, and Astra and Nell found Ural already packing up their belongings. Noticing the two women's stares, the elf blinked apologetically. "I'm sorry. I've been traveling alone for a while now. I didn't mean to be rude-"

"Put a hat in it," Nell snorted. "I'm used to having to shake this one awake." Astra elbowed the mercenary's ribs, and Nell winked at her.

"I thought about what you said last night," Ural said, their violet eyes fixed on Nell. Astra realized this conversation must have taken place while she was sleeping. Perhaps during a changing of the watch. "I wish to accompany you." Nell started, but the Alabaster Lord continued. "I remember, you don't want me to feel obligated to travel with you as penance or some such thing. I assure you, that is not my reason."

"I didn't say it quite so politely," the mercenary murmured.

"Part of me wishes to keep watch over my father's books. Part of me feels a sense of duty to you," they said to Astra. "Thought I know you are not Astel, and my father turned his back on the Malformed Stars regardless... I have this strange sense that I ought to stay at your side. If you'll have me, of course." Astra nodded, unsure quite how to respond. "Part of me feels honor-bound to fight the Fallingstar Beasts and my people", the elf went on. "I fear this world is ill-prepared for an invasion from the stars. I am one knight wielding earthly weaponry, but I feel I can be of service. And... part of me just wants to have companionship again." They paused. "I've been alone for so long..."

Nell clapped the Alabaster Lord on the back. "Glad to have ya."

Ural smiled. "Where are we headed?"

"Stormveil Castle," the mercenary replied. "I was hired to retrieve these books for a sorcerer. He intends to take delivery of them there."

As the sun climbed higher into Caelid's red sky, three travelers set off down a dusty westbound road.

----

Simon stood at the bottom of the steps out of the Waypoint cellar. He was clad in the brown tunic and black surcoat that was usually worn under the starry robes of Preceptors, and the relevant black leather gloves and trousers. While not a Preceptor himself, Simon possessed two sets of the royal counselors' underclothes. One had been inherited from his father, another gifted to him by Miriam. Although a far cry from the cobalt-and-gold star-spangled gowns of the Preceptors, the young sorcerer felt that these garments suited his new allegiance better than the robes of the Academy, defiantly white as the Lazuli Conspectus's shrouds were. Additionally, the plain tunic and simple surcoat could easily pass as a commoner's traveling garb, a welcome boon in uncertain times. On his back was a simple travel pack, and he carried his astrologer's staff in one hand. The other hand held a small parrying dagger from Sellen's collection of appropriated bandit armaments. The sorcerer had thought it prudent for the time being to conceal his distinctive Lazuli sword, which was wrapped up in the bedroll on his pack. Able to be retrieved, but not in a position where its blue glintstones would draw unwelcome attention.

Sellen paced anxiously beside him, her long hair frequently being blown in front of her eyes. "Be careful out there, Simon. And please come back here before you go gallivanting off somewhere else. Even if it's just to the Study Hall."

"Fret not, Sellen. I anticipate a safe journey. Stormveil Castle is just a day away."

"I know. But... if Fallingstar Beasts have started landing, nowhere is absolutely safe." She sighed.

"Which is why I need to go. In addition to meeting with the Lords, I'm also hoping to take delivery of a few relevant artifacts." Noticing Sellen's raised eyebrows, he explained. "One of my last acts in my capacity as an Academy Provost was to put a contract through the requisitions department for a mercenary to go to Caelid and retrieve certain texts belonging to General Radahn from a vault in Sellia. I have reason to believe they pertain to current events, and I'm also aware that the Olivinus Conspectus was also interested in acquiring them. Even before the coup, I knew that if they got their hands on the books, nobody but Grigory and Nastasia would ever see them again. So I... pulled a few strings to make sure my request was reviewed first. When it became clear that I would no longer have access to the Raya Lucaria requisitions department, I amended the contract slate to direct my mercenary to Stormveil."

"Pulled a few strings... Simon, what did you do?"

"The long and short of it is, the requisitions office in the Gate Town is actually unlocked most of the day. And wouldn't you know, most of the dullstones stuck doing paperwork don't know how to detect a sorcerer using the Unseen Form technique. After that it was a simple matter of rearranging the stack of contracts to be assigned."

"Simon, you idiot. Who taught you to do things like that?"

"You," the Lazuli sorcerer smiled. Bidding farewell to Jex and the Primeval Sorcerers, Simon strode up the stairs into the light.

----

"It's really quite a simple operation," Jay was saying. Marin was only half listening, her eyes focused intently on the surgeon's hands as she organized and tested various tools on the cart in front of her. The woman's motions were inhumanly precise and faster than the recovering knight could process. Marin scanned the backs of her hands, noting every line and scar. The odd feeling in her breast was back, and she frowned. Jay was turned the other way, fussing with some implement. "I'm going to render you unconscious, of course. A simple soporific. Unless you want to be awake." She turned her shoulder to grin at the sergeant, and despite her loose silk tunic and the thin blanket Marin felt uncomfortably warm. "The first step will be removing those bandages. Next I'll do a bit of cleanup on the amputation site. Slough off the scar tissue and make sure I can get to all your nerves."

"You're doing well enough at that already," the knight whispered.

"Hmm?" Jay's green eyes twinkled magnificently.

"Nothing. Carry on."

"The touch-up shouldn't be too involved. After all, I performed the amputation myself, and I like to think I'm decent at it." Marin blushed. That was HER? SHE chopped off my arm and brought me here? Her eyes flicked to the pile of discarded armor next to the bed. That means she- oh gods no no no. "Having done that, it's a matter of joining the glintstone interfaces in the control disk to your organic nerves and blood vessels." She gestured with a long, thin instrument. Her callused thumb lazily brushed a dial on the handgrip, and the needle-like tool's blade began glowing blue. "Then I stitch the rest of the disk to your skin and sit on my ass until you wake up." Unconsciously, the knight's eyes flicked to Jay's waist before she aimed them at the ceiling so hastily that she thought she'd pulled a muscle in her eye socket. NO. BAD. Jay reached for a vial of something purple, which began to emit smoke when the red-haired surgeon uncorked it. "Any questions before I knock you out, Sergeant?"

Wow. "My pulse has been... unusual of late," the knight said slowly. "Occasionally it feels like my heart is going to beat out of my chest for no reason at all."

The surgeon blinked, then pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress a fit of giggling. Noticing Marin's angrily narrowed eyebrows, Jay stood up again as she pulled on her supple leather surgeon's gloves. "I... don't think that's any cause for concern, Sergeant." She picked up the purple vial and an instrument that looked like a miniature blacksmith's bellows mounted to a round silver handle.

"Call me Marin." The words were out of the knight's mouth before she could think about them, and she felt her face turn red.

"Very well. See you in a couple hours, Marin." The fluttering feeling in the sergeant's chest returned as Jay submerged the tool in the vial. She placed it under Marin's nostrils and squeezed a small glintstone button on the handle. A gentle lavender mist that smelled of lilies and fresh water filled the knight's nose and floated lazily above her face. She turned her neck to look for the surgeon's green eyes, but Jay's back was turned as she rummaged on the tray of instruments. Marin felt her eyelids growing heavy, and eventually they slid shut.

----

Astra, Nell, and Ural were nearing the border of Caelid and Limgrave. Far ahead of them, Astra could just make out a place where the red fields of the rotted province gave way to fresh green grass. For now, they broke for a midday meal atop a large flat rock. Before long a pot of stew was simmering over a fire. Astra turned to Ural, regarding the Alabaster Lord with a puzzled expression. Her lips moved absently. The elf took notice and raised one eyebrow. "May I help you?"

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to stare. It's just... I know a little about Alabaster Lords, and you... don't quite look like one. You don't have the stone skin or the height, and you have those purple glintstones embedded in one side of your face."

"No, quite alright," Ural said. "I'm surprised you know of my people." They paused. "I am not of pure blood. My father was an Alabaster Lord, born in the stars. My papa was a human. I wound up with my father's hair, complexion, and magic and my papa's skin and height. The stones..." they ran an armored hand over the hairless side of their skull. "I'm not quite sure where those came from."

"You have two fathers?", Nell asked through a mouthful of stew.

"Nell!", Astra hissed sharply.

"It's okay," the elf laughed. "Alabaster and Onyx Lords only have one biological sex. We require two individuals to procreate, but one individual can fulfill either role. Many do both throughout their lives. Father said the theory was that our population used to be so sparse that it was necessary for any encounter between two members of the species to culminate in procreation." They chuckled faintly. "Consequently, we do not have a strong sense of gender roles either. Living among humans for so long, my father eventually decided that he was most at ease being referred to as male. But I digress." The elf took a sip of stew. "This is excellent," they said, raising their bowl as if to toast. "During his time in the service of the demigod Radahn, my father met a human knight named Ogha. They fell in love, and later married. Twenty years before the Shattering, my father gave birth to me." Ural looked at the ground. "Both he and my papa died at Aeonia," they finished.

"I'm sorry." Astra instinctively put an arm around the elf.

They ate in silence for a long while, until Nell spoke up. "You said you'd traveled with someone before once?"

"Yes. A human woman. I remember thinking it odd that she was here. She seemed largely unaffected by the Rot, unlike the rest of Caelid's human population. The Rot had taken one of her arms and scarred her face, but she was entirely sane and looked otherwise healthy. And she was an excellent swordswoman. We did travel together for a time, but eventually we parted ways. Her path took her out of Caelid three years ago, while I remained." They paused. "I wonder if she's still alive. I hope the Rot didn't take her." Ural stood. "Let us make haste. For your sakes, I do not wish to linger in this rotted land."

----

Simon reached Stormgate as the sun dipped low in the sky. He was stopped promptly by a group of soldiers in blue surcoats. "State your business, traveler."

"I am traveling to Stormveil Castle," the sorcerer responded, unruffled. "I have an engagement there." He thought for a moment. "All is well at the castle, I would hope?"

"Yes and no," said the guard, running a hand through his thick red beard. "We were attacked by some monster from the sky a day or two ago. The castle and its guards yet stand, but they're still burying the dead up there."

Simon's jaw set. I told them people would die if we didn't act preemptively. I told them before Kingsrealm. I told them after Kingsrealm. I told them the night Xenocrates died. "My sincere sympathies. Is the castle still receiving visitors?"

"Oughta be," the guard grunted. "Go on ahead to the castle gates. If you really do have an engagement, they'll let you in." Simon thanked the guard and passed through the great gateway into Stormhill.

The guards at the fortified tunnel that led to the castle's main entrance let Simon pass after a brief inspection, and before long the Lazuli sorcerer was standing before Stormveil Castle's great gatehouse.

"STATE YOUR BUSINESS!!"

"I have an appointment with Lady Nepheli!", Simon called. A gold-helmed head withdrew from the window and the young man could just make out that the guards were conversing about something. Finally the first guard leaned back out the window.

"STATE YOUR NAME!!"

"Simon. Just Simon." Again the guard withdrew his head. Another lengthy pause, and then chains groaned as the gate was lifted. As the gate slammed shut behind him, the sorcerer was met by a tall knight whose shield-crest was level with Simon's face.

"This way," the knight said bluntly, turning and walking up the path without looking to see if the dark-haired man was following.

"Right then. Lead the way," Simon said cheerfully. The knight did not respond.

----

Vanassus stood outside Nepheli's bedchambers, still mulling over his last conversation with the Lady. The Crucible Knight's contemplation was interrupted by a soldier charging up the stairs from the throne room. Vanassus extended a bronze-gloved hand across the hall, and the soldier skidded to a halt. "State your business," the knight rumbled.

"A visitor is here for Lady Nepheli," the soldier panted. Beneath his bladed helm, Vanassus's eyebrows narrowed.

"The Lady is not currently taking visitors", he said flatly. "Tell our guest that he will simply have to wait. You may offer him the use of a guest bed if he so desires."

"Sir, this is the one she told us to expect. From the Academy. The one she gave us special instructions for." The Crucible Knight pondered this.

"Very well." The bronze-armored man stepped aside to permit entry. The soldier stepped past him into the bedchamber.

"Lady Nepheli," the soldier told the curtained bed. "A visitor is here for you. He's being brought to the throne room."

"I'm not taking visitors," said a hoarse female voice from behind the curtain.

"My lady, this is the one you spoke of. The one from Raya Lucaria." Before the soldier could process what had happened, Nepheli had leapt through the part in the curtains and was standing before him, clad in a simple black silk dress. She extended her hand, and with a crack of lightning one of her stormhawk axes flew to her waiting palm. The axe head and the lady's hand both crackled with electricity as the smell of ozone filled the air. Before the soldier could say anything, she pushed past him and ran out past Vanassus and down the stairs until even the padding of her bare feet became too distant to hear.

----

No sooner had Simon made himself comfortable on a fur-draped lounge sofa than a ball of black and gold fury expelled itself from the staircase and flew over the two thrones, trailing bolts of lightning. Something soft brushed past Simon as the figure landed in front of him. A bare hand grabbed his shoulder, pulled him upright, and immediately punched him in the jaw. The sorcerer fell back onto the sofa, fumbling with his parrying dagger and managing to meet the descending axe. A tear-streaked face gritted its teeth at him across the interlocked blades. "YOU BASTARDS KILLED HIM!"

The woman raised her axe, but before she could bring it down again a massive bronze fist cuffed her shoulder and lifted her into the air. A Crucible Knight pulled her into a bear hug, forcing her to drop the axe. The edges of the blades on the knight's helmet glowed gold as he bowed his head, the visor of his helmet making contact with the back of her head A gold lion's mane manifested around the knight's neck as he whispered something Simon didn't quite register. The woman stopped struggling, and the Crucible Knight dropped her unceremoniously to the floor as his mane evaporated. The knight strolled around her to face Simon. "You must forgive my Lady's present disposition," he rumbled. "She is experiencing a great loss, and the berserker rage of her father, Hoarah Loux, has reared its head. Though she does have a quarrel with your Academy."

"Oh, so do I. I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship," the sorcerer quipped. Although the angular bronze helmet hid his features, Simon could feel the Crucible Knight's eyes narrowing. Finally, the knight stepped back and indicated the woman in black.

"You have been granted audience with Nepheli Loux, Lady of Limgrave."

Nepheli and Simon sat facing each other, Nepheli reclining on a pile of furs on one of the sofas like some kind of panther while the sorcerer sat attentively across a low table from her.

"I apologize again for my actions," she said. "I have been alone with my thoughts for two days now. I fear I blame the Academy's inaction for the death of my Lord, and I took that out on you without it crossing my mind that you-"

"Cease," Simon said gravely. "The Academy's handling of this information even before Kingsrealm disgusts me. I will not accept an apology for a warranted grudge that I too nurse."

"So the round one -I mean Master Xenocrates- is dead?"

Simon burst out laughing. "Yes, the round one is rather dead. I know not who is in charge now, but my assumption would be the Karolos provost, Nastasia."

"Marika's tits, anyone but her." Nepheli flexed one fist. "She spent our little meeting threatening to murder my baby."

"I remember. I was there," Simon said gently. He cast a glance over his shoulder. "It's getting late, my lady. I fear we both haven't quite come down from our... introduction. Are you opposed to adjourning for the night?" His fingertips drummed a quick rhythm on the table. "Incidentally, I'm expecting a delivery of some books that may prove quite... illuminating tomorrow. If they arrive on schedule, that would be most helpful."

Nepheli nodded. "Very well. There is a guest room in this tower. Vanassus can show you there." She stood, stretching her legs and rippling the black silk gown. 'Goodnight, sorcerer." Nepheli started for the stairs.

"Lady Nepheli!" She stopped and looked over her shoulder. "I'm sorry about Lord Haight. I wish I could do more than show up to advise after the fact. If there was something I could have done to-"

"I know," she cut him off, wiping a tear from her eye. Wordlessly, the lady of Limgrave ascended the spiral staircase. A massive metal hand cuffed Simon's shoulder.

"Follow me to your quarters."

----

It was a beautiful snowy night. The massive tree and the City of Lights that gilded its roots and branches stood tall just off shore, the many candles and white glintstone lamps making the city seem more ethereal than usual. The breeze whipped the young woman's red hair behind her, and snowflakes stung the white scars on her pale face. Light glinted off a golden arm protruding from one side of an oversized fur greatcoat. She came here often to think. To one born and baptized in all-devouring heat, the cold was a soothing force. She looked over her shoulder, seeing the lights of a small town off in the distance. Closer than the great tree, but cloaked in snow. Something above the sleepy village caught her eye. At first it seemed like a particularly shiny snowflake, but it got bigger. Closer. Purpler. Louder. A roar filled the air as a ball of fire impacted the snow a distance away from the town, sending bolts of purple lightning into the air. The woman cast off her cloak, revealing a gold-trimmed white tunic under a red leather vest. Her right arm clicked and ratcheted into position as a small panel on her forearm sprung away. A mass of liquid gold flowed out, solidifying into a golden blade nearly as long as she was tall that snapped into place with a deafening mechanical clank. As the woman took off at a run towards the source of the sound, she pressed her left hand to her temple and whispered a short phrase. As she kept running through the biting snow, a roar from behind her built to a crescendo and something glowing red streaked past her, borne aloft on wings of fierce determination that had never known defeat.

Chapter Text

Millicent streaked through the snowfield, her crimson hair billowing defiantly behind her as the glow of the moon and distant flames reflected off her sword. By the time she reached the lip of the great crater in the ice, her mother was already there, her ghostly red petal-wings slowly evaporating. The demigod gestured to Millicent with her human hand as she circled around the crater to the right, indicating her daughter to circle left. The young woman squinted into the massive impact site, but couldn't easily make out anything. The smoke from the meteor still hadn't cleared, and the heat of the fallen object had instantly vaporized much of the ice, creating a cloud of steam that obscured the bottom of the crater. She noticed that her mother had stopped at about the five-o'clock mark on the crater's rim, and mirrored the demigod's position on her side. A sudden motion drew her head back to the massive bowl. A four-legged beast of stone with a thrashing tail and two massive pincers had stepped out of the mist. It roared, and bolts of purple lightning struck the ground around it.

"Millicent." Malenia's voice cut through the howling wind and hissing steam. "Above all else, we must prevent this creature from reaching Ordina." The young woman made eye contact with her mother's visor and nodded. The demigod's head whipped around, and Millicent followed her gaze to see more shadowy forms emerging from the cloud of smoke. Another of the stone beasts, and a dozen tall humanoid shapes with greatswords in ready positions. One of them, distinguished from the rest by the silvery cloak it wore, turned to its companions and raised its sword aloft. A bolt of purple lightning struck the blade.

"Warriors, protect the meteor! When the Malformed Star awakens, we march on the Haligtree."

----

Marin awoke in her bed in Stormveil's infirmary, staring at the same old ceiling. Shifting her body into a more comfortable position, she noticed the absence of the mass of bandages that had been affixed to the stump of her left arm for the past several days. Glancing down, the knight saw that the remains of her limb now ended in a curved metal plate studded and patterned with glintstones. She had to squint to make out the minute stitches that attached the disk to her body. Footsteps approached, and the sergeant's gaze jolted upwards to see a familiar ginger bob hovering next to her bed. "You seem to be recovering nicely," the surgeon observed. "Well done." The knight's cheeks flushed slightly. Gods above, why does this woman fluster me so? Marin sat up.

"I was just admiring your handiwork. It's marvelous. The attachment is so... clean." Jay smiled.

"I aim to please." She patted the sergeant on the back, and Marin jumped slightly. Oblivious, the surgeon turned to a nearby table. "Would you like to try the arm?"

"Absolutely." Jay returned holding a gleaming silver prosthesis that exactly matched the missing length of her arm. The surgeon extended the top of the limb, revealing a leather cuff rimming a concave dish with glintstone studs and sockets that mirrored the control disk's outer surface.

"I'll attach it this time, but you should get used to being able to take it off and put it on by yourself." The red-haired woman lined up an embossed arrow on the inside of the dish with a matching one on the control disk and pressed the cuff of the arm to Marin's stump. Placing her other hand on the knight's opposite shoulder to brace, she roughly pushed upwards on the prosthesis. There was a sucking sound as the cuff slid over her arm followed by a half dozen synchronized clicks as the little studs interlocked. A small strip of glintstone at the base of the hand, previously a dark blue-black, lit up bright blue for an instant to show that the connection had been made. Marin went to flex the arm experimentally, but the metal limb shot forwards faster than the eye could follow and shoved the surgeon back several feet. Mortified, the knight pressed her human hand over her red face and began to stammer a dozen apologies before she noticed Jay throwing her head back in laughter. The other woman finally regained her composure and regarded the sergeant with a wry grin. "Like I said, you'll need to rebuild your muscle memory and get used to the way it moves. At least we know it works!" The surgeon had been laughing so hard that a few tears had fallen from her eyes, and a small voice in Marin's subconscious suggested that the knight's flustered reaction had amused Jay more than the shove had. "Why don't you stay here and play with that? I'll check back in in a few hours and if you're able to control your violent impulses, we can go outside and do some real testing." The surgeon smiled again and disappeared into a side hallway, leaving Marin wondering why every interaction she had with this woman ended with her blushing furiously.

----

The Alabaster Lords reached the crater's edge first. One of them flew through the air, golden greatsword slamming into the snow just shy of Millicent. The young woman twirled backwards, raising her prosthetic blade over her head, and lunged forwards, plunging the blade through the elf's forehead. Even as it fell back into the crater, two others took its place. One slammed its curved greatsword into the snow, and a pulse of gravity pushed Millicent backwards into a snowdrift and shook her footing. The other warrior charged, and she barely raised her metal forearm in time to elbow a thrust out of the way. With the second warrior staggered, Millicent rose up into a one-footed tiptoe stance and spun in place once, slashing wildly with her sword. The slices didn't make contact, but they did throw up a cloud of snow. As the first Lord pressed its free hand over its eyes to shield them from the stinging crystals, Millicent surged forwards in the second step of the Waterfowl Dance, cutting the elf's torso to ribbons. It fell gasping into the snow, and the young woman landed in an offensive stance to face the second.

Malenia hadn't seen true battle like this in so long. Sparring in Elphael and the duels she'd fought against her daughter and the current Elden Lord were one thing, but this was what the Blade of Miquella lived for. There were few places she would rather be than facing off against a numerically superior invading force. Though her winged helm hid most of her face, the Alabaster Lords close to her could make out a grim smile on the demigod's lips. Spinning backwards on one foot, she planted the other leg to halt her dizzying rotations and propel herself forwards, blade outstretched. The golden sword impaled one elf and lifted them skywards. Malenia's metal left leg flew up in an axe kick, sending the warrior flying backwards off her sword and into a snowbank. With a sharp clank, the demigod ejected her blade from the hinged sheath on her forearm and flicked her wrist with blinding speed, relieving two more foes of their heads. Another mechanical click and the blade's slender pommel snapped back into its housing as Malenia spun, her whirling blade deflecting three flying rocks and a crystalline greatsword. The sword's wielder found his sword arm clasped firmly by the demigod's human hand. Bending at one knee, she yanked him sharply downwards, sliding her foot back and up to land sharply on the back of his neck as his face slammed into the ice. Spinning away, she ejected her sword and plunged it through his spine as the two remaining elves, including the silver-cloaked leader, surrounded her. Gripping the sword at the pommel with her mechanical arm and partway down the blade with her human one, she slid on the ice and wrenched herself upwards, spinning about the pole like a dancer. She kicked the first warrior away, then pulled hard on the blade to rip it out of the dead elf's back. In a perfect semicircle, she brought the weapon down on the silver-cloaked Alabaster Lord, severing its left hand. Both warriors charged opposing gravitational waves, sending Malenia flying towards the commander. She barely ducked under the blue greatsword and came up behind him, spinning and sidestepping to cause the other warrior's rock sling to miss her and hit her billowing red cape. Planting her human hand on the commander's shoulder, the demigod pushed down, flipping herself over him. In midair, she executed the first step of the Waterfowl Dance, becoming a whirling saw of metal and compressed air as she fell straight onto the other elf, utterly eviscerating him. Malenia's arm locked into a perfectly straight line held out behind her, and she was about to charge the commander again when a blur of motion registered to her left. The demigod flipped backwards at the last second as the Fallingstar Beasts bounded into the fray.

The second warrior plunged their sword into the ice, and Millicent braced for a second repulsion. Instead, this attack pulled her closer to her foe. Caught off-guard, she twisted her mechanical arm to jam her ejected blade into the ground, slowing her slide. A roar behind her alerted the young woman to an incoming meteor shower. Abandoning her sword, she gracefully backflipped over the first two meteors and quickstepped through the rest until she came to the Onyx Lord who had cast the spell. The elf clearly hadn't expected her to rush him unarmed, and her mechanical fist colliding with his stony jaw caused him to stumble, spitting blood and teeth. Her human hand punched him in the chest, followed by a spinning kick to the gut and a mechanical arm slamming down on his head. The warrior dropped his sword, and Millicent delivered another volley of punches to his chest with both hands, cracking stony skin and the bone beneath. She grabbed the elf by his thigh and shoulder and jumped, flipping in the air to slam him into a sheet of ice. She pushed off his broken ribs, eliciting a scream as she landed nearby and picked up his heavy curved greatsword with both hands. Raising the weapon over her head, Millicent crushed the fallen warrior's skull before spinning and charging the Alabaster Lord. They raised their greatsword, and crystal met gold with a resounding crash. Although she wasn't used to using such a wide and heavy blade, Millicent's prosthesis gave her the raw strength necessary to effectively wield the elven weapon. They traded a few swings and parries before Millicent held the curved sword aloft with her mechanical arm, using her human hand to conjure a seal of amber light and cast a simple incantation. A bolt of lightning struck the weapon, imbuing its blade with crackling yellow electricity. She surged forwards, managing to stun the Alabaster Lord with a hit to the metal crosspiece and hilt of their sword. Snow crunched to Millicent's right, and she spun and hurled the electrified sword like a javelin, its curved blade impaling another elf. Retrieving her prosthetic blade from the ice, the young woman leapt upon her stunned adversary and plunged the blade into their throat. Ripping it free and snapping it again into her forearm, she whirled towards the last warrior, breaking its guard with a Waterfowl Dance and finishing it with a single slice. Looking up, Millicent saw the two bull-like beasts closing in on her mother. As soon as her feet hit the snow, she ran towards them.

----

As they entered Stormveil's bailey, Marin was surprised to discover that it was the middle of the night. Being confined to the subterranean, windowless infirmary (not to mention having a soporific used on her during her surgery) had thrown off the knight's internal clock, but she had still assumed it to have been during the day now by Jay's seemingly boundless energy. But the moon and stars were out, and a fresh breeze blew in from the sea. The bailey was deserted save for a solitary late-working craftsman and the occasional soldier of the night shift. The two women wandered to the square of grass reserved for outdoor sparring exercises. "What weapon do you favor?"

The question jolted Marin out of her musings. "Hmm? Oh. A straight sword." The red-haired woman tossed a practice sword to the sergeant, its long, blunt wooden blade wrapped in mouflon wool to deaden the impact. Marin caught the sword, and Jay picked up another for herself. They squared off, both employing a two-handed grip. The sergeant handily won the first few heats, but during their fourth match she overestimated how far the force she exerted with her left arm would swing the weapon and the surgeon scored a point with a thrust to Marin's belly. Eventually they switched to one-handed bouts, Jay using her right while Marin used her left, partly to test her new arm and partly as a handicap. Their first two heats like this resulted in victories for the sergeant, but she kept succumbing to the urge to place her right hand on the hilt to balance out the clumsiness of her learning curve with the prosthesis. After the third straight bout that had ended with a two-handing Marin sending her sprawling, Jay put her sword down and reached for her bag.

"I have an idea." The surgeon produced a roll of bandages and approached Marin. Before the knight knew what was happening, Jay had roughly pinned her human arm to her side and began wrapping bandages tightly around her forearm and midriff. Blushing, the sergeant tried to protest, but Jay pressed a finger to Marin's lips. "There. That should solve that. Don't worry, if you start losing circulation to anything important I'll cut those off." The surgeon retrieved her sword and they squared up again. The next two points went to Jay, but by the third bout with her right arm bound the knight had gained enough of a sense of control with her new arm to dominate her relatively amateur opponent. Eventually the bandages came off, and they went a dozen or so more rounds before both women collapsed against a haystack, panting hard and sweating profusely. "I wish I had a skimpy silk infirmary gown like you, Sergeant," Jay said breathlessly. "My surgical robes are going to smell like a burial pool in Caelid."

Forcing the unbidden image of the surgeon in a loose cropped silk tunic and pants out of her head, Marin chuckled and lifted her gaze to the moon. "Thank you, Jay."

"My pleasure, Ser- Marin." The knight smiled and nodded approvingly. "I think I won. You don't mind if I tell all your men that I won, do you?"

"When we ended, the score was seventy-one to four," Marin scoffed. She turned her head, her grey eyes meeting Jay's sea-green ones. At least that's what the sergeant thought was happening until the surgeon lifted an arm to pluck a bit of straw from Marin's brown locks. A slight blush crept into her cheek. Then Jay leapt to her feet, her boundless energy returned.

"I almost forgot! We have one more aspect of this arm to acquaint you with." She pulled Marin to her feet and guided her towards an archery target. "Remember when I first showed you the components?"

The knight's eyes lit up. "I'd almost forgotten about that."

"And what a waste that would be," giggled the surgeon. "Let's see if I can remember how the artificers explained it... ah. Make a fist." Marin did. "You should feel a sort of tension above your wrist, like there's a new muscle or tendon there. Can you feel it?"

"Yes."

"Try to release it. Imagine that tense spot sliding up along your forearm, and make it happen." After about a minute of concentration, a nearly invisible panel popped open and liquid silver spilled out, hardening into a two-foot metal blade parallel to her arm. The knight jumped.

"Very good! Now try sheathing it. Do what you just did but backwards." This was much faster, and before long Marin could sheathe and unsheathe the hidden blade effortlessly. "Alright. Now make a fist again. There should be another spot like the one at your wrist, but closer to your elbow. See if you can make that one respond." The knight furrowed her brow in concentration. While this took longer, it wasn't as long as her first attempt at releasing the blade. This time, there were no visible changes, just a sound of gears spinning and racking. Marin looked up in confusion. "Unsheathe." This time a round silver barrel popped out of the panel. Jay inspected it. "You have two of those. This one is a spell projector. It's good for about ten volleys of Glintstone Stars per day." She was about to continue, but the sergeant interrupted.

"I can feel another tense spot in the barrel. Is that a trigger?" The surgeon nodded.

"Now you're getting the hang of this!" Marin blushed slightly. "Well, what are you waiting for? Just don't point that thing at me." Aiming her arm at the target, the knight mentally pulled the trigger. Four tiny glintstone projectiles shot out of the barrel, leaving scorched holes in the target's surface. Without waiting for further prompting, Marin cycled to the final module, a nearly identical silver barrel, and looked up at the grinning surgeon.

"What's this one again?"

"That would be your hook. The Haligtree craftsmen borrowed this one from the Nox. Inside that barrel is about forty feet of liquid steel cable." The knight's eyes widened.

----

Malenia twirled out of the path of the charging beasts, her jaw set in grim determination. No sooner had her ears picked up the sound of a spell charging than a red, white, and gold blur practically flew into her field of view and the Alabaster Lord commander's legs had been literally cut out from under him. Millicent slid in, planting her feet in the ice with her back to her mother as they faced the beasts. "Well met, daughter," the demigod said, a touch of warmth creeping into her steely voice.

"Likewise." Millicent's wide grin was a stark contrast to her mother's small smile. Though both lived for the thrill of battle, their fervor manifested in very different ways. The beasts slowly paced in a circle, the two women matching their rotation.

"Their skin is solid rock," Malenia said. "Though they are not of this world, one supposes that they are to be dealt with in a similar fashion to stonedigger trolls or Iron Virgins. You remember those lessons, yes?"

"Quite." As the first beast tensed for a charge, Millicent dropped low, her knees bouncing slightly. When it broke into a run, she sprang into the air and spun over it as Malenia sidestepped. With a synchronous clank, both women executed swift swings of their blades that sent slices of vacuum flying into the fallingstar beast's flank and back. The creature howled and breathed a jet of lightning bolts at Malenia, but the Blade of Miquella spun on one foot, parrying the lightning. Purple bolts sizzled along the length of the demigod's sword as she launched into a Waterfowl Dance, the usual maelstrom of metal and air joined by arcing lightning. The electrified dance hit the second beast hard, staggering it and blasting hairline fractures into its stone hide. Hairline fractures, but wide enough for a charging Millicent to ram her blade deep into the creature's body as her mother changed course, twisting the second step of the Dance into the path of the first creature's charge. The first few strokes hit, but a swift strike from the beast's spiked tail knocked the demigod out of her attack and sent her sliding backwards. Millicent ripped her sword free in a shower of silver and purple viscera, sheathing it, leaping into the air, and catching the beast's tail in her mechanical hand to pull its second stab off-course. The tail splintered a sheet of ice instead, and the young woman spun off it and unsheathed her blade again. The second beast was charging a meteor shower. Malenia stood, holding her human hand in front of her chest like one half of a gesture of prayer. Four humanoid silhouettes composed entirely of red and grey butterflies buzzed into existence at her sides, matching her height, posture, and sword exactly. The meteors spun wildly, robbed of a single target. One by one, Malenia's butterfly clones leapt at the creature, bringing down their swords in two-handed slashes before evaporating. Each stroke carved a glowing red scar into the beast. When the demigod herself plunged her blade into one of the wounds, the massive stone bull staggered and fell to its knees.

The first beast, meanwhile, fired a purple energy beam at Millicent. Bracing the blade with her human hand, the young woman held her sword at precisely the right angle to reflect the beam harmlessly into the night sky. As the beam petered out, she ran forwards, seizing the beast's recovery period to deliver a flying kick to its obsidian faceplate. Ramming her sword into the crack she'd made, Millicent flipped onto the creature's back right as its pincers snapped shut. The blade tore free amid a shower of glassy fragments as she dove to the side to evade a tail strike A single spine grazed her back and drew blood, and the young woman hissed. She rolled backwards under the beast's belly and came up sliding towards the second beast, plunging her sword into a different scar as her mother tore free and lunged at the first. At the apex of her leap, ghostly red flower petals formed at Malenia's back and the demigod shot forwards like a cannonball, her sword glowing crimson with the same energy. The imbued blade crashed down like an anvil, cutting through the creature's stone hide like melted butter. It howled in rage and summoned a rain of lightning. As her wings evaporated, Malenia spun backwards to evade the lightning and thrust her sword into the fresh wound at an angle towards where the beast's vital organs would be if its anatomy obeyed conventional wisdom. Her aim was true, and the creature howled again and slumped over, still. Spinning about, the demigod ejected her sword into her human hand and slammed her mechanical fist into the second beast's faceplate as her daughter tore her own blade from its shoulder. This beast, too, collapsed in a heap, jaws twitching feebly. Both women sheathed their swords and strode towards the crater. Malenia rested her human hand on the younger woman's golden shoulder. "You fought well tonight, daughter," she said warmly, a smile turning her lips upward.

"The same to you, mother," Millicent replied. "Though I fear the day is not yet won." The demigod followed her daughter's gaze to the crater. The smoke had cleared during their battle, and a massive scorched hunk of rock was plainly visible in the center of the icy bowl. A great crevice had opened in the meteor's side, almost like an egg cracking. From within strode a massive, spidery beast. Its serpentine body was composed of gray-blue crystal beads, and it walked on six blackened, skeletal human arms. A gigantic cracked human skull with a mane of grey hair and a single unblinking grey-blue crystal eye in the forehead regarded them coldly, and four black pincers extended from its jawbones. A spike-tipped crystal tail with a ring of white light at its base lashed overhead, and four greyish wings, too damp to fly, were folded tightly to the horrific being's twisted back. "Mother, what is that?"

"A Malformed Star. Your uncle spoke of them once, many years ago. It was thought that they were things of the past." The demigod's jaw set as she looked down at Millicent. The young woman saw her mother's ethereal red petal-wings appear again, saw the edge of her unsheathed sword glow with crimson light. Even so, Malenia's next words caught her off guard. "Millicent, my daughter." The demigod smiled. "Whatever happens next, I'm glad we met." She turned her head to face the Malformed Star. "Ordina must not fall, daughter. I will hold this being alone. You must return to the Haligtree. We need Miquella." Not waiting for a response, Malenia turned her body fully towards the beast. "Fear not, Millicent." A grim smile was reflected in the ice. "For I am Malenia, Blade of Miquella. And I have never known defeat."

----

It was nearly daybreak as Marin and Jay reentered the winding halls of Stormveil Castle. They returned one final time to the infirmary so the knight could collect her armor. Jay was about to resume her duties when Marin stopped her. "Jaina... I want to thank you for tonight. I am... most grateful for your patience and care."

"All in a day's work, Marin," the ginger woman smiled.

"Still... I'd like to make this up to you somehow. If your schedule permits, would you... like to join me for dinner sometime? My quarters have a small kitchen, and I can cook a little, and of course if-"

The war surgeon's grin made Marin's heart twist itself inside out. "I'd love to!"

----

With a whoosh, Malenia took off and soared into the crater, her red hair billowing behind her like a second set of wings. Millicent took off at a run across the snowfields. She had to get to Ordina. Not only was the liturgical town closer than the ferry to Elphael, but the waygate there deposited one in the Haligtree canopy not far from the study where her uncle spent his nights. Already fatigued from fighting, the muscles in her legs burned with each long stride, but the young woman pushed on. She had to make it before it was too late. After what felt like an eternity, the snowfields gave way to cobbled roads. Confused Albinaurics stuck their heads out of windows as the red-haired woman vaulted onto a rooftop to take a more direct path to the waygate tower. Hurling herself through the portal, Millicent tasted bark. Not my finest moment, she thought. Picking herself up, she raced along the Haligtree's canopy, leaping from branch to branch, eyes fixed on a suspended marble hut nestled amid some leafy boughs. One final leap brought the young woman tumbling over a low balcony fence and through the open door... directly into a pile of books, which promptly collapsed. Padded footsteps approached as Millicent extricated herself from the heap of literature. "Slow down, blossom," said a soft voice from across the room. "What troubles you?"

The red-winged Malenia descended into the crater. Landing on the ice, she circled her right leg back and crouched low, locking her sword into place. As the Malformed Star dragged itself closer, she counted down from five under her breath and leapt into the air, her wings propelling her towards its eye. A blast of energy forced her to dart to the side, and she dove to evade its gnashing jaws. A great bone fist collided with her sword, pushing the demigod backwards. Flipping gracefully over a gravitational shockwave, Malenia soared through a blizzard of lightning-imbued rocks. Jagged stone cut at her thighs and left arm, but the red-winged demigod continued to build speed, gliding just over the being's crystal back and carving a glowing scar with her imbued blade. She was aware of a great barbed tail hurtling towards her back. An insectoid buzz filled the air. Malenia shifted several feet to the right and descended to the ice as a butterfly clone continued on her original path. As soon as the clone hit the ground, the Malformed Star's tail slammed into the ice on top of it, scattering butterflies. The beast twisted around to face her with unprecedented speed, manifesting a globe of stars in one hand and sweeping it towards the demigod, leaving a trail of nebulae behind. From above came a shower of meteors. Malenia dodged backwards as the nebulae exploded with a deafening crash. Meteors impacted all around her, some striking her legs or torso and staggering her. As soon as the coast was clear, she beat her wings and plunged forwards through the dissipating explosions, her sword grazing one of the being's middle arms. It twisted its neck around and fired a purple beam into her side. Her golden arm took the brunt of the blow, sparing her from injury, but she was still knocked breathless to the ground, only barely rolling out of the way of a lance of stone. Raising her sword aloft, she plunged the blade into the beast's underbelly. Both of its middle arms lifted off the ground and soared inwards to crush her between them. The demigod dashed forwards, human hand in front of her chest. Six butterfly clones appeared and dove at the two skeletal arms, carving glowing scars into each before dissipating.

Airborne again, Malenia tried to bring her sword down on the Malformed Star's skull. The smaller set of pincers caught her sword on the downswing, tossing her head-over-heels through the air. The beast roared, breathing a volley of chain lightning that blasted her from the air, her wings evaporating as she hit the ice and slid back. Without warning, the demigod pushed off the ground and surged forwards, leaping again and plunging her sword into the unblinking crystal eye. The being roared in pain as it shook her free, a great bone hand descending open-palmed on the spot where she landed. Rather than dodging, Malenia timed an upward thrust to pierce the skeletal palm, and the beast recoiled. The Blade of Miquella ducked and dashed forwards as the wounded hand slammed down behind her. Pivoting sharply, she launched a Waterfowl Dance into the bony forearm behind her. The creature thrashed furiously, striking with its tail just to the demigod's side. It swept the tail through the ice, tearing up great chunks of ground and swatting her towards its front. A web of electricity was blasted from the massive eyeball, burning her human arm and driving her to her knees. As the Malformed Star closed in for a bite, Malenia summoned her wings and lifted her sword in an upwards slash that connected with the being's chin. It stumbled again, and the demigod spun backwards in the air, landing just before the steep incline of the crater edge. She sent another four butterfly clones flying towards it, this time driving their spectral swords into its damp, folded wings. This seemed to inflict greater pain than anything else she'd done thus far. As she charged towards it, the beast roared and a deluge of lightning bolts fell from the sky. One caught the demigod's ankle, and she stumbled. Lifting her sword to try to block an incoming bone fist, she bowed her head in acceptance of whatever came next.

A halo of gold soared over her head, severing two bony fingers.

----

It was hot. So hot. "All things can be conjoined. The first. The last." Flames roared all around, rivers of molten bronze flowing towards a central pit. Falling, burning. Into the pit. "All things can be conjoined. The first. The last." The pit was a pot. A massive cast-iron pot like blacksmiths used to melt metal in the forge. For this was a forge. Fire everywhere. So hot. The bronze overflowed the pot, dripping over the edges. Over the edges. Down and down. "All things can be conjoined. The first. The last." Falling. The pot was a tree. The pot was in a tree. Gnarled branches gripped it tightly, unaffected by the spilling bronze. Down and down. The bronze pooled into a lake, licking at the tree's roots. On the roots, in the branches, was life. Deer chased each other over the roots. Birds sang and shrieked in the canopy. Fish swam through the air. "All things can be conjoined. The first. The last." A beetle burst from the lake of bronze, shell glistening with molten metal. With a human wail, it opened its wings and took to the air. The bronze bubbled, hardening into jagged horns that instantly melted again. A deer dove from the branches into the bronze, its magnificent antlers vanishing below the surface. A shelled mollusk rose from the ripples, tentacles grasping wildly at the air as it jetted away. "All things can be conjoined. The first. The last." The roaring fires built to a crescendo. The tree was burning. The animals were burning. The bronze was burning. Fire consumed all. Fire obscured all. Darkness. Deathly cold. A beetle alighted on the pot's rim. With another human wail, the fires reignited. "All things can be conjoined. The first, the last."

Drenched in sweat, Nepheli Loux jolted awake and tore off her covers. The bedsheets beneath her were burning hot and soaking wet. She rolled from the bed, landing on her knees and tearing off the silk slip she slept in. Wrapping her arms protectively over her growing belly, she strode to the window. The sun was coming up.

Chapter Text

Malenia slid backwards, glancing over her shoulder. At the edge of the crater, she made out two shapes: one wreathed in golden fire, and one a tiny speck of red. At once, both leapt from the precipice. Millicent landed noisily on the ice next to her mother, while the other figure glided gently down on grey lepidopteran wings intricately patterned with swirls of gold. This being was as tall as Malenia, with pale grey skin and long limbs that ended in clawed fingers and toes. He wore a white knee-length skirt and a kimono top with slits at the back for his wings. On his head, two feathery mothlike antennae and two pointed ears protruded from a platinum-blond mane that reached his shoulders. Silently hovering just above the ground, he advanced forwards, offering a hand to the demigod. "Hello, 'Lenia. Having all the fun without me?"

"Well met, brother." Malenia took his hand and pulled herself up to find Miquella already pontificating about the nature of their foe.

"A Malformed Star! I say, sister, nobody tells me anything anymore. Do you suppose this is an isolated incident? Perhaps I have neglected my study of the stars for too long. Do either of you know where my armillary got squirreled away while I was underground?"

"Miquella, we can discuss this later. How do we kill it?" An edge of mock annoyance crept into her voice.

"Excellent question. I only know of one other firsthand encounter, and so far as I know they didn't actually wind up killing it so much as pinning its soul to a cave." He examined his sister and niece. "Of course, I don't believe that to be a viable course of action for us." The mothlike demigod's antennae curled. "The eye would be a place to start."

"Did I really have to run all the way to the Haligtree to get him?" Millicent tapped her boot on the ice. Miquella flicked one claw, and a greyish butterfly appeared out of thin air to land on the young woman's nose. She sneezed.

"You two, behave yourselves," Malenia chided. "It's coming closer." The beast stalked towards them, jaws clacking eagerly as it charged a blast of purple light. Two red blurs darted to opposite sides and began to charge towards the creature as Miquella flew up and over the beam, rings of golden light hovering over his outstretched palms. A bony arm swept across the ice in an arc, and Malenia slid under it and swung her crimson-glowing sword into the thing's wrist. Six rings of light struck its neck and back, and the creature howled as Millicent leapt into the Waterfowl Dance, whirling towards one of the limbs supporting its weight. A shower of rocks flew towards Miquella, and the demigod flitted side to side to avoid them before hurling a spear of lightning into the beast's eye. Suddenly the Malformed Star vanished in a flash of starlight, reappearing behind Millicent and roaring silently as it brought down a hand wreathed in exploding nebulae. Recovering from her attack, the young woman barely had time to dodge to the side, missing the core of the explosion but still being tossed backwards. Snapping jaws descended on her. Malenia summoned her ghostly wings, but a flick of the creature's tail sent a storm of shrapnel and lightning bolts towards her as the tail itself plunged towards Miquella. The lepidopteran demigod dove towards the beast, hands crossed over his chest. A red glow built in his eyes before exploding outwards, adding swirls of gory crimson to the gold in his wings and igniting crisscross patterns of red flame across the Empyrean's entire body. Miquella's clawed hands clutched balls of unnaturally red fire and seemed to drip an endless amount of blood. Diving in between the creature's jaws and his niece, the demigod slashed the air in front of him, his claws leaving scarlet trails of light in their wake. As he threw up a barrier of gold around himself and flew Millicent away, the trails exploded in a burst of flame, stunning the Malformed Star. Miquella rounded on the beast, raising one hand to the air. A fountain of blood surrounded his arm, and he tossed the limb forwards as if wringing out a towel. An arcing spray of cursed blood flew towards the beast, sizzling and burning wherever it landed. Some of the liquid landed on the creature's underdeveloped wings, charring holes in the damp membranes and drawing a scream of true pain from the skeletal invader. Its tail flew again at Miquella, and with another swipe of bloodflame talons the demigod parried the stab and flung a single discus of light into its neck. As it raised its head, Malenia whirled forwards amid the Waterfowl Dance, using the final stroke to plunge her sword into its chin. When she yanked the prosthetic blade free, two butterfly clones appeared and descended like a guillotine on the skull, scattering bone fragments. Bolts of purple lightning began to strike around the raging behemoth, concentrated around the demigods and stirring up a whirlwind of gravity-imbued shrapnel. Millicent's sword gouged out a chunk of crystal-bead skin from the Star's flank, and she followed up with an imperceptibly fast slice that sent an arc of compressed air into the fresh wound, staggering it.

In the air, Miquella closed his eyes. The flames disappeared, and the blood coating his hands and wings oozed into his skin, disappearing. He opened his eyes and launched two javelins of lightning into the exposed top of the crystal eye as his sister uppercut it from below with her sword. The mothlike demigod's antennae twitched as he noticed the creature's mandibles ratcheting back. Before they could strike, Miquella dove, conjuring rings of gold as he landed astride the Star's neck. Shackling the jaws inside his rings, the demigod pulled back, forcing the massive pincers to remain open. The beast fought him, straining hard enough to crack and chip its own skull around the bases of the jaws. Miquella continued to exert force through the rings of gold, and eventually the thing's left mandible snapped clean off in a shower of bone fragments. An awful shriek of pain filled the air. The shrapnel vortex died down, and Millicent joined her uncle on the creature's back to start hacking away at the spots where its skeletal limbs joined its crystal body. Malenia ripped her sword free of the creature's chin, flinging bone shards to the ice, and surged forwards, the glowing edge of her blade cutting a straight line all the way down the Malformed Star's underbelly. She shot free of the creature at the base of its tail, continuing for several feet until her wings arrested her and she whipped around to perform a downwards slash onto the tail. A half dozen butterfly clones mimicked her strike a second later as her brother's hands ignited with bloodflame once more and buried themselves in the beast's neck. With a horrific rattle, the creature slumped to the ice and began to evaporate in a silvery mist as the trio leapt clear of its corpse. Millicent ran to her mother's side, but Miquella's antennae curled. "Something's alive up there." He abruptly flew off, rocketing out of the crater. Summoning her red wings, Malenia wrapped her arms around her daughter and followed.

The demigods landed next to the bleeding torso of a silver-cloaked Alabaster Lord. The elf was missing his legs and left hand, making an effort to drag himself through the snow away from the crater. Miquella beat his wings, planting his clawed feet on the tall being's back. Aware that struggling would cause the claws to tear his flesh, the elven commander wisely decided to stay still.

"He seemed to be in charge earlier," Millicent commented. "Of course, he probably won't talk to me on account of my depriving him of his legs." She looked expectantly at her mother.

"Don't look at me. I cut off his hand." The demigod turned to her brother, who shook his head. Miquella threw up a hand sign, and a red-gold sigil burned itself into the ground around the Alabaster Lord as the mothlike demigod flapped backwards to join his family. The elf reached out with his remaining hand, and as the limb crossed the sigil a golden lattice that dripped cursed blood erupted into space, singing the commander's pale stony skin and jolting him back. Satisfied, Miquella turned to Malenia.

"I'm hesitant to bring him back to Ordina or Elphael. We don't fully know what the Alabaster Lords are capable of. We'll question him here." Folding his wings at his back, the demigod paced through the snow to face the prone elf. "As you've no doubt surmised, the Malformed Star is dead. I encourage you to cooperate. If you answer a few questions, I'll be more than happy to tend to your wounds."

The commander pushed himself into a sphynx-like repose with his remaining arm and sneered at Miquella. "The First Periastron does not 'cooperate' with the vassals of lesser deities, Empyrean." He furrowed his brow, and a wave of purple lightning shocked his entire body. In an instant, there was nothing left of him but smoldering ash.

----

Simon awoke to the sound of a massive bronze fist rapping on his door. "Breakfast awaits you, sorcerer. Tarry not, lest you invoke the Lady's ire," rumbled a voice from the other side. Yawning, the young sorcerer extricated himself from the guest bed. Sheathing his wooden sword at his belt, he exited the quarters and followed the broad figure of the Crucible Knight across the courtyard and into the bailey, from which they entered the great hall.

"Good morning, Provost." Nepheli Loux appeared to have been awake for some time. She lay on her side, reclining on a piece of furniture that was probably a chaise lounge if one removed the miscellaneous animal pelts from atop it. She was chewing on a cheese pastry with a haughtiness that seemed to be a deliberate ploy to hide the dark circles under her eyes.

"There's no need for the title, my lady," Simon said. "I no longer hold the station, nor any allegiance to Raya Lucaria. Nor would I like to, given the current state of affairs there. 'Simon' will do just fine."

"Very well, Simon." She gestured to a seat at the end of the table, next to the head where she sat. "If you wish, you may refer to me by name as well."

"Thank you, Nepheli," the sorcerer said, half expecting to be instantly smote by Vanassus's bronze greatsword. The Crucible Knight had silently crossed the hall and now stood statuesque behind the Lady, arms crossed as if daring Simon or the breakfast spread to make a move. The massive knight gave no outward reaction whatsoever, and Simon settled himself onto the bench and began helping himself to the food. "This is a marvelous spread. I must say I'm quite honored."

"For our guest. Most days, I just smoke a sheep and eat that for two meals. Old habits die hard." Nepheli picked up a goblet of Rowa wine and threw her head back. As soon as she replaced it on the table, Vanassus leaned forwards and topped the cup off with a bottle that he had apparently been holding the entire time. The critic in Simon wanted to comment that it was a bit early for wine. He suppressed the echo of his father's disposition, reminding himself of the Lady's recent loss. "When do you expect your mercenary?", Nepheli asked him through a mouthful of steamed sausage.

"Sometime before midday, if everything is on schedule," the sorcerer replied, reaching for the herba tarts. "Not that that's a certainty, of course. Caelid being what it is."

"Your books are coming from Caelid?" The dark-haired woman raised a quizzical bushy eyebrow.

"Sellia, to be precise. When Radahn left Liurnia to hold court there full-time, he took with him both the only copies of these particular books and their author. As I hinted last night, I suspect they have some relevance to the recent situations here and at Kingsrealm."

"What exactly happened at Kingsrealm, Simon?" Nepheli leaned forward, munching on another sausage. "I get the impression that it was not entirely unlike what occurred here a few days ago." Suddenly she raised her head, and Vanassus's bladed helm swiveled to face the stairs behind the small kitchen at the hall's edge. A lone figure in knight's armor descended the stairs from the study hall, a plumed helm tucked under one arm. "Ah, Marin. It pleases me to see you up and about." Nepheli settled, facing Simon again. "Simon, you should meet Sergeant Marin, the commander of Stormveil Castle's garrison."

"Honored," the sorcerer said loudly, raising his tankard of sheep's milk in what he hoped was a salute.

"The honor is mine, Provost." The knight crossed behind Nepheli and Vanassus to sit opposite Simon, noisily resting her helmet on the bench beside her.

"Just Simon, please." As the sergeant piled nearly half of the remaining berry pastries onto her plate, the sorcerer turned back to Nepheli. "You were saying...?"

"Kingsrealm." Marin leaned forward, intrigued, and Simon was almost sure he saw the angular bronze-clad head of Vanassus cock sideways slightly.

"Ah, yes." Simon took a long drink from his tankard as Nepheli emptied her goblet again. Again, the Crucible Knight stepped forward to refill it, and Simon wondered how the massive man could move so silently in full bronze platemail. "It was, as you said, similar to the recent events here." Marin abruptly lowered her head slightly and began to poke absently at her food. "Fallingstar Beast falls out of the sky into the ocean, comes ashore. Only instead of washing up on the grounds of a castle, that one arrived at a populated village staffed by a minimal garrison."

"I don't like where this is going," the Lady grumbled through another sausage.

"They set off the glintstone flare almost immediately, and the Academy dispatched a cadre of sorcerers from the Karolos, Lazuli, and Haima Conspectuses. By the time they got there, the beast had massacred the garrison and laid waste to most of the buildings. Numerous civilian casualties as well, though I don't know the exact tally. I didn't get to read the final report before my unscheduled departure." He paused for a bite of his herba tart. "Mmm. Very tasty," he added idly. "As I was about to say, a... peculiarity of these creatures is their ability to convert physical objects they destroy into energy, and in rare cases even physical growth. You mostly see this with their larger, creepier cousins, the Malformed Stars, but the black bulls do it too. The Kingsrealm one had just powderized half a village, so you can guess how that was going. The sorcerers didn't have the means to readily defeat it, so they settled for opening a portal to the Lake of Rot under Liurnia and baiting it in. As far as we know, it's still down there. Fallingstar Beasts are remarkably resilient to the Scarlet Rot. Some among us think immune." Simon took another bite of tart, glancing at the sergeant. "I was most impressed to hear that you were actually able to slay this beast. Granted, your intercepting it before it had a chance to cause wanton property damage may have helped, but before I left Olivinus was predicting that the Stormveil beast would have more initial strength and growth potential than the one at Kingsrealm."

A Stormveil soldier entered the hall. "Lady Nepheli! I'm sorry to disturb your reception, but there's a party of three at the gates. One of them claims to have a parcel for the Provost." Simon sighed quietly to himself. It seemed he would never be rid of the title.

Nepheli stood. "We should meet them. Walk with me, Simon." The sorcerer nodded and stood to follow her. As an afterthought, he plucked another herba tart from the platter before heading after Nepheli out of the hall and down the road to the gatehouse. Marin remained at the table, silently nibbling at a berry scone. She looked up, noticing Vanassus had remained standing instead of following the Lady and her guest. He hadn't even put down the bottle of Rowa wine. The sergeant cocked her head.

"Sergeant... may I speak to you?"

Marin blinked. "Sure." Vanassus rarely spoke, let alone to someone.

The Crucible Knight shuffled his bronze feet. "Yesterday I spoke to Lady Nepheli. My intention was to swear a knight's oath of protection to her and her unborn child."

"And?" She reached for one of the few steamed sausages that hadn't fallen prey to Nepheli at breakfast.

"She interpreted my request as offering my services as the bairn's godfather," Vanassus rumbled.

The knight perked up slightly. "That's wonderful! I think you'll do great. You're the best damn bodyguard anyone could ask for, and I'm sure you'll be an excellent mentor when the child comes of age." Privately, Marin hoped that the experience would make the Crucible Knight lighten up a bit.

"I... do not feel my abilities are sufficient for such duties. I have no relevant experience in child-rearing. And I fear that my... disposition doesn't lend itself to that of a paternal mentor figure. I tried to inform Lady Nepheli of her misunderstanding and impress upon her my concerns, but she accepted before I had a chance to speak."

"Van, it sounds like she was happy. Do you have any idea what that means right now? Do you know what that meant to her?" The sergeant took a swig of milk. "I think you'll do great, Van. And so does she. She's been crying in her fucking bedchamber for three days. And she was happy when you said that." She rose, clapping the Crucible Knight's broad shoulder. "You'll be a great godfather."

"...Thank you."

"If I may... may I ask you something as well?"

"Very well," he rumbled.

"Have you ever... cooked for a lady before?"

Marin could feel Vanassus squinting under his helmet. "You're on your own, Sergeant," the Crucible Knight said gruffly, and he strode out to follow Nepheli to the gatehouse. Marika's tits, I'm fucked.

----

The daylight revealed Miquella's study to be even more of a mess than Millicent had believed. Books, papers, and mechanical devices of all shapes and sizes covered the floor and counters, and her uncle's desk was being devoured in equal measure by literature and creeping vines from outside. Atop the maelstrom of books and artificer's tools on the desk was a single torn sheet of parchment. Someone -presumably Miquella- had scrawled "Armillary" in scarlet ink across its breadth. Millicent squinted. Was that... cursed blood? The thickness of the lines did look an awful lot like her uncle's claws. Presently, Miquella was rifling through a chest of drawers that was so obstructed by machinery that she almost thought it was deliberately hidden while her mother stood in the doorway and tried not to be overly judgmental. A spring breeze rustled the Haligtree's branches, and a few green leaves blew into the study, settling atop the clutter as if they were meant to be there. Malenia batted at one with her human hand. Finally, the lepidopteran demigod withdrew something from the drawer. "Found it!", he crowed.

"You still haven't told us what you were looking for. We could have helped." Malenia stepped into the hut, absently kicking at a brass gyroscope in her path.

"We've been here for twenty minutes, Uncle," Millicent commented. Miquella flapped his wings, blowing the women's red hair wildly. He stepped over a reddish potted fern, muttered something about watering, and dropped a massive leatherbound book onto a small side table with a resounding thud.

"This," Miquella said triumphantly, "is a book of records from Leyndell. It's one of the ones we, ahem, borrowed from Father's library when we struck out on our own. I think we were interested in the blueprints for the extension they put on the Erdtree Sanctuary a few decades previously. Never ended up using those. Where would we put that here?" His claws deftly flipped through the book. The pages were different sizes and colors, as if they had not been meant to be bound into a single book together but had been anyway. "But I remember reading something else in here- ah, there we are." He presented the page to his sister and niece. "A report on the Astel Incident." The demigod paused. "There's nothing in here about the destruction of Lower Leyndell. Mother's ego prevented the royal library from holding any written copies of that. As far as I know, that bit of history is only still widely known because the Order of the All-Knowing held onto it and Mother couldn't convince them to burn those documents. Or any documents, much to her chagrin. One supposes that's why they ended up the way they did."

"Uncle..."

"Am I rambling again?" Both women nodded. Miquella reached across the table to ruffle Millicent's hair. "Apologies. Anyway, what is in here are the accounts of the destruction of the Eternal City under the Capital and the battle at Manus Celes that ended with the sealing of Astel." One of his antennae flicked absently. "And what I'm interested in is this section here, contributed by a scholar from Nokron. The Nox have a greater history with the stars than any other civilization, with a possible exception made for the ancient astrologers of Liurnia. According to this, they interpret Blue Malformed Stars -of which Astel was one- as harbingers of an invasion from the stars. The author hopes that the invasion will have been stayed by the sealing of said harbinger and is doubtful that it could have been repelled with the means of his time." He shut the book. "If I had to guess, I would say that a larger force did follow Astel here, but they ran up against a problem. The Shattering. When Radahn froze the heavens in an attempt to waylay the schemes of the other Carian heirs, he stopped the invasion in its tracks. Then the Elden Lord slew Radahn, freeing the stars. And then he and Ranni ushered in an Age of Stars by weaving the Elden Ring to the moon and stars. And then they just left, leaving a lordless, star-centric Lands Between to deal with an invading force from the void being guided by grace and driven to new strength and fervor by the magic of the stars being incorporated into the Erdtree."

"Guided by grace?" Malenia's brow furrowed. "Explain, brother."

"A transition in age is always accompanied by a metamorphosis of the Erdtree. At the beginning of time, there was the Greattree. Under Placidusax, it was the Crucible Tree. Under the Golden Order, it was the Erdtree. Now it's still the Erdtree, but undergoing a slow conversion into something else. A Startree, perhaps. As the tree changes and the new age takes root, the associated magic grows stronger. The incantations of the Two Fingers reached an acme during the Golden Order's reign. The stars and gravity will now take a similar prominence. And as the Erdtree guided Tarnished to claim the Elden Ring during the Shattering, the Startree shall guide beings of the stars to finish Astel's conquest and shall bless them with greater strength."

Malenia's jaw set. "We have to send emissaries to the other provinces. Find out if other such incursions have been made, and devise a way to fight back."

"It's a place to start," Miquella sighed. "I'll fly down into Elphael proper and have parties of riders sent out. You two," he added, jabbing a clawed finger into each of their chests in turn, "are going to turn this tree inside out until you find my armillary sphere. I need a way to at least attempt to monitor the night sky for new developments." Millicent groaned.

----

Two figures appeared behind the gate. A muscular bronze-skinned woman clad in blue silk and silver armor plates, and a thin dark-haired man in a black surcoat. The man was resting his hands on a wooden sword with a glintstone crosspiece, and the woman had one hand on an axe and the other supporting her belly. Up the path, the massive shape of a Crucible Knight loped into view. "Astra, get off of that," Nell said gruffly. Astra hopped to her feet, and the mercenary picked up the case of books she'd been sitting on and marched up to the portcullis. "I come with a package for the Provost of the Lazuli Conspectus," she announced. "Is he in here somewhere?"

"That would be me," said the man. "I'm... traveling incognito at the moment." He turned to the woman. "That's her, and those are the books," he told her.

"What about the blue-haired girl and the knight in melting armor?" Ural bristled.

"You try spending several decades traipsing around in Caelid, see how your pretty dress looks on the other side." Nell spun.

"Easy, elf! That's the Lady of Limgrave you're talking to."

"I have no idea who they are," Simon confessed.

"I can handle them," the Crucible Knight rumbled.

"That won't be necessary! They're with me," Nell said hastily.

"We're here as consultants," Astra piped up, smiling at Ural.

"We are?"

Simon sighed and pressed his hand to his forehead. Nepheli and Vanassus were staring at him. Finally, the Lady cleared her throat.

"Forgive my knight's combativeness. We're all a bit on edge here after the Fallingstar Beast." Astra's eyes widened. "Simon, if your merc vouches for them I say we let them in." She whistled sharply, and a guard in the gatehouse began cranking the portcullis open. As the gate winched up, Nepheli noticed a fourth figure coming up the road. Seeing her stare, the others turned. The new arrival wore a blue-white Raya Lucaria robe and a Lazuli Conspectus crown, and carried a sword identical to Simon's and a staff just like the one he had lost in Raya Lucaria's prison and had to replace. Nepheli stepped out to face the figure, motioning Vanassus to follow. "And who might you be?"

"I am Provost Simon of the Lazuli Conspectus of Raya Lucaria," the white-robed figure said haughtily. Nepheli glanced significantly at the 'incognito' Simon to her right and mouthed something at him. He nodded gravely. Without warning, the Lady of Lightning wheeled around, unlimbering her stormhawk axe. The weapon crackled with electricity as she threw it at the crowned Simon in the road. Nell and Astra's mouths fell agape as the axe cleaved down the center of "Simon"'s crown and he collapsed in a heap. Silver blood poured from his shattered headpiece. Simon stepped forwards as Nepheli recalled her axe in a flash of lightning, kneeling to remove the crown. A wizened face with wispy white hair and silvery skin was frozen in a look of shock, a massive gash of silver blood marring its forehead.

"Homunculus." Simon turned to Nepheli. "Hence my warning to you in the scroll."

"What were they hoping to accomplish with that?"

"At best, replace me in this meeting and claim those books for Raya Lucaria. At worst, do all that and leave no witnesses." He stamped his foot on the flagstones. "I assume they were banking on my being unable to make our rendezvous due to injury or paranoia, and hoped they could slip this one in unnoticed. They've done it before, but usually with the person being replaced safely locked up or dead. I wasn't sure if they would gamble on it knowing I was alive and free."

"Let's take this inside," Nepheli said bluntly.

----

A young Karolos sorcerer crossed the hall, kneeling before Master Nastasia. "Sir, we've lost our tracking signal on the Simon homunculus."

"Was it another one of the damn crayfish that ate the first attempt?"

"No, sir. This one made it to the gate of Stormveil before we lost it." Nastasia banged her fist on the arm of her chair, causing the glassware and instruments on the shelf beside her to shake dangerously.

"They're onto us. The bloody gnat probably made it to the castle. If the damn shrimp didn't eat our first homunculus, we'd have those godsforsaken books!" Her voice twisted into a growl as she jumped to her feet, hoisting a decorative urn over her head and dashing it against the wall. The frightened sorcerer scurried over on his hands and knees and began gathering the shards.

"Master, that was the symbol of our pact with the claymen..."

"SILENCE!" Nastasia's yell caused every head in the hall to turn. She rounded on the young sorcerer, unlimbering her staff. The last thing he saw was a night comet flying straight at his heart.

Nastasia spun on her heel and stomped across the hall, kicking open a door. On a bed lay a big man in the ragged robes of the Haima battlemages. His right arm was wrapped in bloody bandages and a glintstone craftsman of Olivinus was attaching a half-mechanical, half-organic crystal prosthesis to his left. The Master of the Academy marched in. "Killian! As soon as you've got hands again, I want you to take a strike team to Stormveil. Get those damn books, and kill Simon and the bitch of Limgrave."

"But Nastasia, most of our battlemages are hunting rogue Lazuli sorcerers."

"This takes priority. Do not question my orders, lest you end up like Xenocrates." She spun and left the room without a second look. A page passed her in the hall, and she grabbed him by the shoulder. "You! I need a new errand boy."

Chapter Text

Just upstairs of Stormveil Castle's feast hall was a small study. The late Lord Haight had often conducted strategic councils or entertained personal friends here in lieu of his office in the throne room. Presently, the door creaked open for the first time in many days to admit Nepheli Loux, Simon, and the trio of new arrivals. Sergeant Marin came in a moment later from the direction of the castle chapel as the Crucible Knight Vanassus shut the main door and stood in front of it with his arms crossed like some kind of bronze gargoyle. The blue-haired woman in the leather armor was leaning uncomfortably close to the Crucible Knight and seemed to be inspecting the detailing on his armor. Nepheli's eyes narrowed.

"What's her deal?" The mercenary in the scaled armor stepped forwards.

"Lady Nepheli, an honor to meet you. I am Arianell of Dominula. My friend over there is Ural, and the curious one is Astra. Do cut her some slack, the lass was born last week." Simon, who had been playing with one of Kenneth's paperweights. abruptly dropped the small metal object onto the desk and walked over to the young woman. His staff glowed blue as he waved its crystal tip over her.

"Obviously not an Albinauric," he muttered, "nor any other variety of construct. Not Tarnished, there haven't been any new ones since the Mending and her eyes are all wrong." He furrowed his brow. "You're far too... functional to be the product of a Larval Tear. What, if I may inquire, were the circumstances of your birth?"

"I... came out of an egg. In a swamp." Simon rubbed his forehead as if in pain.

"Are the silver-tear crabs malfunctioning? No, that can't be it. Can it?"

"Simon, please concentrate," Nepheli said tersely. "Tell me about these books."

"Yes, yes, the books." Brandishing a glintstone sealbreaker, the Lazuli sorcerer fought with the infused stone seal on the case's lid before sliding it out of the way. "These books were penned by an advisor to the House of Caria. An Alabaster Lord, to be precise."

"My father." Ural removed their damaged helmet, revealing for the first time their pale skin, grey hair, and the crystalline growths on the left side of their head. Simon opened and closed his mouth a few times.

"Nell, where did you find this one?"

"They found us, Provost."

"Hmm. As I was about to say, one of these volumes in particular interests me. This one." He produced a gilded book with a violet leather cover. "This tome contains the Alabaster Lords' knowledge of a creature that fell to our world eons ago. A demon known as Astel." With his face in the book, Simon didn't notice Astra's shocked expression, or her hand jumping to her estoc, or the way the other two moved themselves in between the sorcerer and the blue-haired woman. "Of course, my Celestial is a bit rusty. I'll have to spend some quality time with this old thing to parse its meaning. In the meantime, let me fill you in on what we earthly beings know of Astel."

"The fallingstar beasts, fearsome as they are, are suspected to be merely a lesser breed of a type of creature known as a Malformed Star. Massive winged spider creatures of crystal and disturbingly human bone. Astel, we believe, was one of many old and powerful enough to be awarded a name and some specific acknowledgement."

"The Malformed Stars are conquerors," Ural interrupted. "My people by and large worship them, and travel in their wake to occupy the worlds they destroy. Astel was a Blue Star, a Malformed Star late in its life cycle. Any creature that lives long enough to attain this state is dignified with a title."

"Most interesting. Are they... intelligent?"

"Frighteningly so."

"I might enlist you to help me with the books." Simon rubbed his long black hair thoughtfully. "Astel, specifically, fell to this world many years ago. After a long battle, it was sealed by six heroes, of whom an...associate of mine is the sole survivor. Raya Lucaria has monitored its prison ever since. Just a few months ago, the thing died, we believe of old age."

"Astel's presence here served as a claim," the elf murmured. "While it was on this world, ostensibly conducting its business, other beings of the void would leave it be until its conquest was complete. With it having died here, its claim is no longer in effect. And the death of a Blue Star would merit an enormous response. My father spoke of one other realm that slew a Blue Star. My people, he said, responded with extreme prejudice and a show of force never seen before or since. That horrible battle was what sparked him to leave our people and seek a new life elsewhere."

Simon hummed appreciatively. "One other thing," he added. "Shortly before the council meeting that ended in my early resignation, I visited the Olivinus Observatory. They were tracking some sort of magical anomaly and trying to discern precisely what it was. I had my suspicions, of course, but I have long had the vaguest impression that something would happen to turn the other Conspectuses against mine and I did not share my thoughts with them."

"What did you think it was?" Marin drummed her prosthetic fingers on the desk.

"I don't see how it could be, but... I thought it was Astel. I shared my recollection of the signature with Master Lusat before I came here, and he agrees with my findings. Master Lusat is the sole survivor of the battle against Astel eons ago, and I trust his judgement." The sorcerer's brow furrowed again, and his jaw clenched for a split second. "I propose we adjourn. Ural, sir, if you would join me in translating these texts?"

"Certainly." The half-elf leaned their spears against the wall and sat down opposite Simon. "First, let us review the Celestial alphabet. I watched you flip through volume six, and you seemed to struggle with the eighth vowel..."

Nepheli snorted. "These two were bloody made for each other." She turned to Nell and Astra. "Might I offer to show you around Stormveil in the interim?" The two women nodded. "Vanassus! Come," the Lady barked. "Follow me, then. We'll start with the chapel." She led them out, Astra still shooting glances over her shoulder to admire the Crucible Knight's armor.

----

Simon was only half listening to Ural as they read out a passage on the architecture of the temple-nests their people built for Malformed Stars. The gears were turning in his mind, and he wasn't sure he liked what they were aligning on. There was one piece of information the young sorcerer had withheld from the others. The anomaly had been entering Caelid. Around the same time as his mercenary, if his inferences were correct. He regarded the Alabaster Lord across from him impassively. This one was odd, too. Their mixed parentage did not explain the crystalline growths on their skull. The other woman. When did she join them? Where was this 'egg', precisely? He tightened his grip on his staff, and lights began to dance inside its crystalline head.

----

"Welcome to the throne room." Nell and Astra took in the grand room, the twin thrones and the clashing halves of the hall.

"What're these?" Nell indicated the wall of displayed weapons, armor fragments, and creature parts.

"My trophies. Nearly everything here once belonged to my prey." Nell nodded approvingly.

Astra, meanwhile, zeroed in on one item in particular. A golden claw-shaped scepter, its palm clutching a pearl. "That- it can't be..."

Nepheli sidled up alongside her. "That, young one, belonged to my adoptive father. Sir Gideon Ofnir, the All-Knowing." She scoffed. "He took me in after my true father abandoned me to pursue his own ends. Ofnir styled himself a noble figure, the last knight of an Order exterminated for their possession of forbidden knowledge. Regrettably, he turned out to be a rather cruel man of questionable moral fabric who only adopted me because he believed my bloodline would someday serve his own ends. When it didn't, and I objected to the... lethality of his activities in the Albinauric villages of Liurnia, he disowned me." The Lady scowled. "I am told he met his end in Leyndell at the hands of the Elden Lord. His scepter was given to me thereafter."

Astra wasn't listening. She had fallen onto a fur-laden couch and was deep in her own mind.

----

"Fucking Max!" Cordelia Ofnir willed the still waters to rise into a spire of crystal and promptly smashed it with her scepter before drop-kicking her helmet across the dreamscape. "That bastard."

"Your... brother? What did he do?" Astra, clad in a white robe, was sitting off to the side, swishing her toes in the water. Unconsciously, her mind had conjured a seat that resembled the case of books she had sat on outside the castle.

"The scepters of the All-Knowing store the memories of their wielders," Delia murmured. "It was meant to ensure that if one of us fell in battle, his or her knowledge would not be lost to us. The scepter on the wall is still functional and close enough for me to mentally touch its matrix." She raised her scepter, recalling her helmet and tucking it under one arm.

"This is exactly what I was afraid would happen," the knight growled. "After I died, my idiot brother carried on treating his children poorly, now with no contrary influence. In fact, it seems he managed to convince young Gideon that I died because I was too soft. Gid became a Knight, as I always hoped he would. So did Wil, which seems to have pissed Max off to no end. He wanted one of them to be a Confessor." She sighed. "Gideon climbed the ranks from the very start, often at the expense of others of the Order." Delia kicked her helmet for distance again, this time firing a cometshard to blast it out of the air mid-flight. "Eventually, he decided to ingratiate himself to Marika. He clued her into the fact that the Order held onto several texts that Marika thought she'd had every copy of destroyed, for one reason or another. That was how my nephew became the last of the All-Knowing." A tear rolled down her cheek. "He didn't even warn his own brother. Wil died defending the Hold from Leyndell's army." She turned to Astra. "I never told you how we sealed Astel. Our seal was a stopgap measure. The Golden Order had to reinforce it later. They knew to do so because before I died, I teleported Lusat to the capital. I did this with a stone that Gideon made me. His first enchantment." She smiled sadly. "It was a writ of recall linked to the All-Knowing Hold. He wanted me to have it 'so I don't die on a mission.' He was such a sweet boy." She spun, willing the water to form another stalagmite that she proceeded to shatter with her silver boot. "Until my gods-damned ulcerated wormface snail of a brother became his sole adult influence!" Choking back tears, the knight summoned and destroyed three more crystal spires in rapid succession.

"Mother, stop punching my brain," Astra said gently. "We're in my dreamscape."

Delia slumped backwards, barely noticing that her daughter had willed a bowl-shaped chair of crystal to rise from the waters to catch her. "This is why I said I have no business having children, starlight. I knew, I just knew that any chance for my nephews to be decent died with me."

"I think you're interpreting this the wrong way," the younger woman whispered. "Clearly you were doing something right, if he was so kind while you were alive despite living with that man."

"Our whole bloodline is a travesty," Delia scoffed. "No Ofnir will ever have offspring who were better off for their parentage. Look at you. The very act of bringing you into this world led to you nearly killing the only person you knew and driving yourself to the brink of insanity fighting it."

"And why didn't that come to pass, mother?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did we all make it through that?" After an uncomfortable silence, Astra approached and took her mother's hands. "Because of you. I don't know how you beat the odds, but you are perfect, mother. You died thousands of years before I was born, and you still brought me into the world. You helped me gain control of my voidborn blood. You gave your monster of a brother's children a chance at not becoming like him while you lived. I won't let you blame yourself for any of this."

"Starlight..." Delia brushed her daughter's blue-black locks out of her eyes and pulled her into a hug. She planted a soft kiss on Astra's forehead as the dreamscape melted away.

----

"...given to me thereafter." Nepheli turned just as Astra sat upright, blinking. The Lady paused. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," the young woman said breezily. "Just admiring these pelts." Nepheli grinned and sat down next to her.

"That brown one you're laying on used to be part of a Runebear from the Mistwood. And the black-grey one there is direwolf. Another part of that same skin is going to become my daughter's first blanket once I have some time to myself again." She craned her neck. "And I think the one behind you came from a mountain lion that showed up outside the castle one day. Kenneth dared me to fight it bare-fisted. Said if I did, he would polish every weapon in my personal armory." Tears welled in her eyes as she chuckled slightly. "After that, he was smart enough to never make me another wager again."

"I'm sorry," Astra murmured. "He sounds like a great man."

"Oh, that he was. You don't spend twenty years leading a rebellion against a demigod and come out as anything but great." She smiled wistfully, tucking her hands under her belly. "He would've made such a wonderful father. He was a brilliant tactician and an even better diplomat. He carried a Golden Epitaph, which young Simon claims were actually enchanted that only a rightful lord might wield them. He was unmatched as a conversationalist. Four nights a week, we stayed up late just talking. The other three... I led our... activities." She licked her lips absently. Suddenly, Nepheli shook herself. "I apologize for running my mouth. I haven't... been able to speak about him for some time."

"I don't mind."

The Lady rose. "Now then," she called, rousing Nell from the bookshelves. "I believe I said the side garden next."

----

Marin paced frantic circles around the tiny room. She was going to die tonight.

----

The lift disgorged three women and a Crucible Knight into Stormveil's side garden. As Nepheli began to point out the various flowers to her guests, Vanassus once again tried to wrest the Golden Epitaph free. "Simon explained this to you, Vanassus. The Epitaphs only respond to a worthy lord's touch."

"Can you move it?", the Crucible Knight rumbled.

"I don't think I shall," Nepheli said tersely. "I should rather like it to remain where it fell." The knight bowed apologetically and resumed his silent position behind his Lady. "Now, these lilacs were a pet project of old Gostoc's..."

----

The sounds of sparring in Elphael's garrison fell silent as a winged figure descended into the courtyard. "Loretta!" A woman in silver-brass armor draped in blue hurried over, carrying an ebony-handled glaive in one hand and a crested helm tucked under her other arm. The breeze of the lepidopteran demigod's wings tossed the front of the white-skinned knight's silvery pixie cut at odd angles.

"Yes, Lord Miquella?"

"You have been briefed on last night's events, correct?" The Albinauric woman nodded. "Good. I would like to have riding parties sent out to inquire if other such incidents have taken place in the Lands Between, and to offer the Haligtree's aid if that is the case. Send one squadron to Leyndell, one to Raya Lucaria, and one to Stormveil Castle in Limgrave."

"As you wish." Loretta spun to face the assembled Cleanrot Knights and Haligtree soldiers. "Alright! Back to your exercises!" As the crowd dispersed, the Albinauric spun to face a Cleanrot commander. "Ciaran, I want you to lead the Fifth Scout Brigade to Leyndell. Sir Theron will take the Eighth to the Academy."

The commander nodded. "What of Limgrave, sir?"

"I intend to personally lead the Third Brigade there." Ciaran started to protest, but Loretta silenced her. "The road is long, and if these attacks are indeed widespread a group riding to Limgrave and back is at the greatest risk. I would not feel right asking anyone else to lead such a party." 

"I'll have your horse made ready alongside the Third's mounts," the commander affirmed.

"See that it's done. And get me Theron!"

Above them, Miquella flew back into the Haligtree's canopy. "I suppose I ought to help my dear sister with her search," he said to no one in particular.

----

Night fell on Stormveil Castle. The guest bedrooms adjoining the throne tower were remarkably silent, considering their high occupancy. In one room, Ural splayed out over the single bed. In another, Astra and Nell lay in separate beds at opposite ends of the room. And the doorway of the third creaked open.

Under a cloak of Sellian sorcery, Simon slowly inserted his sealbreaker into the keyhole of the largest guestroom's door. The arcane tool whirred quietly and before long the lock clicked open. Silently pushing the door inwards, Simon entered the room. He checked his astrologer's staff, the flickers of light in its crystalline head still twinkling. Careful not to allow his unseen form spell to waver even slightly, the young man crossed the room at a glacial pace before coming to a halt over Astra's bed. The Lazuli sorcerer lowered his staff, gripping it by the parallel grip so as to precisely tuck its head in just above the sleeping woman's forehead without chancing that his grip would shake. A tiny spark of magic coursed along the staff's length, briefly pulsing over Astra's head. The crystal atop the staff seemed to draw in every mote of meager light in the room as the receding glintstone pulse mixed and communed with the older constellation Simon had set in motion that afternoon. He stood with bated breath for a long moment. Then, the murky innards of the crystal cleared, and the sparks were joined by another set, some overlapping with the earlier flickers while others stood alone where previously there had been none. A purplish light winked at the base of the head. Simon exhaled sharply. His left hand clenched the hilt of his Lazuli sword as he exited the room, silently locking the door behind him.

Nepheli Loux was nearly asleep when Simon materialized next to her bed. She sat bolt upright and was about to yell when the sorcerer covered her mouth. "I used an invisibility spell to pass your guards," he whispered. "I didn't want to make any noise whatsoever."

"Why are you here?", Nepheli hissed.

"It's the girl." Simon's jaw set. "She's Astel."

----

A knock at the door. Marin jumped, splashing boiling soup onto her human arm. "AHHHH! Fuck!"

"Are you alright in there?", a muffled voice asked.

"I'm FINE! One minute!" Marin prodded the contents of the pot with a ladle. Satisfied, she tossed her brown locks over her shoulder and stuck a piece of tinder in the cooking fire before using it to light a pair of candles on the low table that was both dining room and desk to the knight. Finally, she opened the door and came face-to-face with a pair of sea-green eyes.

"Good evening, Jaina. Thank you for humoring me." The surgeon stepped inside.

"My pleasure, Ser- Marin. I wasn't aware this was a fancy dress party." She indicated the lacy blue sleeveless dress the knight wore, a stark contrast to her own roughspun surgical uniform. Marin blushed furiously and turned to the recessed counter and firepit that was her kitchen as Jay shook her head and bit back a laugh. As the sergeant made herself busy with the soup, the surgeon noticed that the dress also lacked a back worth mentioning and rolled her eyes. I don't think she realized she picked that one out. She's so adorably clueless.

"Come! Make yourself comfortable!" The flustered knight's voice was muffled by the clatter of cast-iron utensils. Jay sized up the room. Next to the door was a combination dresser and armor rack, across from which sat a stone table and two wooden chairs. On the table were two candles and several plates. Parallel to the table on the room's other side was the counter, which formed a partial bar separating the firepit from the rest of the space. Behind the second chair was a low bed with a rich blue blanket, and besides that was a floor-length blue curtain. With Marin occupied, Jay surreptitiously peered behind it. In this chamber sat a large wooden tub under a glintstone-inlaid tap and a smaller wooden bucket on the floor. Opposite these was a mirror above a stone countertop, which was covered in a frightening amount of hairbrushes, jewelry, and aromatic lotions. The surgeon swiftly turned just as the knight looked up from the kitchen. "Sit down, please. The tea is almost ready. I didn't want to start it too early, because then it would be- wait, do you drink tea? Oh no, I didn't even ask if you drink tea. I'm sorry. I can-"

"Tea sounds delightful," Jay grinned. "What sort?"

"It's a blend of dewkissed herba and Altusbloom. Is that-"

"Wonderful!" Marin poured out some of the herbal drink into a small cup, and Jay drank, one eye on the flushed, nervous face of her companion. "Mmm! Lovely."

"Thank you! It's an old blend from back home." The sergeant paused. "It's not too hot, is it?"

"Not in the least," the surgeon chuckled. "I apprenticed in a very small village, and the perfumer there didn't even have a proper setup for everything. We had to chew the Arteria leaves ourselves. This tea is nothing, believe me."

Marin giggled. "We're having a vegetable soup with a bit of mouflon cheese. And there's fresh bread. And herb-roasted pheasant. And-"

"Marin. Do you have anything left to eat for yourself for the rest of the week?" A flushed nod. "This is amazing!"

"It's- it's the least I could do," the knight stammered.

"Psh. All I did was solder a piece of metal onto your arm. This is not the least of anything, Sergeant. Not that I'm complaining."

Hours passed, the air filled by the laughter of the two women. The awkwardness of their greetings had long faded, and the knight and surgeon now talked like lifelong friends. The soup bowls were drained, and the pair had both denied any desire for the last slices of bread and bird. The remains of pastry topped with forest nuts now sat on their plates. It was now that their eyes met again across the candles and the ocean of dinner dishes. Finally, Marin spoke.

"Thank you again for joining me, Jay."

"The pleasure was all mine. Truly. That soup was delightful."

"Jay..."

"Mmhmm?"

"I must confess... I had another reason for inviting you tonight."

"Oh?" The red-haired woman's eyes twinkled.

"I- I really don't know how to describe it, but... ever since I laid eyes on you, I... haven't felt the same. Whenever you smile, my breast feels like it may beat itself to pieces, and everything you say flusters me so- so- I know this probably isn't the reaction one is supposed to have to her surgeon, but... I think I'm in love with you, Jaina." There was a pause as a wide smile broke out on the other woman's face. "Umm... sorry. You can go now, if you want. Forget I said anything." Marin poked at her empty soup bowl.

"I can't believe it. You actually said it." Jay was chuckling now as she noticed the knight's eyebrows shoot up. "I've known ever since you accosted me with those inane questions about your pulse while I prepared to operate, but I didn't think you'd actually spit it out so soon. You beautiful idiot." Marin's mouth was opening and closing repeatedly of its own accord. Jay rose from her seat and rounded the table. "Marin?"

"Y-yes?"

"Can I kiss you?" The knight leapt to her feet, throwing her arms around Jay. Her fingers squeezed the rough white surgical mantle as Jay's hands cupped her shoulder blades. Their lips met, and Marin felt lost in the other woman's deep green eyes. The moment seemed to last forever, and the next thing Marin knew they were on her bed.

"You can stay the night if you wish," she whispered huskily.

"On our first courting, Marin? Really? How knightly." Jay reached for the straps of the knight's dress. "Don't worry. It's nothing I haven't seen before."

Blushing furiously, Marin lifted the surgeon's tunic over her shoulders. "Now we're even." Jay's response was to lean in and kiss her again.

----

It was hot. So hot. Everything was melting, evaporating, becoming an all-encompassing haze. A beetle buzzed past, and the mist faded, revealing a fiery landscape. A squat, gnarled tree stood abreast of twin rivers of molten bronze. In its branches, a great iron crucible was clutched slightly askew, spilling the glowing metal down into the dueling riverbeds. Everything was on fire. The tree burned. The vessel burned. The rivers burned. The earth burned. The animals burned. The plants burned. A beetle, cloaked in flame, dove into the bronze. From the ripples of its passing came a mass of metallic horns and fangs at odd angles, which melted again into the river. A beetle burst free of the bronze and dove again below its surface. The horns returned, balancing a tiny, mewling shape on their points. The whole formation sank, and the shape cried out as the horns pierced its flesh. Blood dripped into the river as the horns melted away, taking the tiny form with them. "All things can be conjoined. The first. The last." A beetle broke the surface, floating over a cascade of bronze into a great lake. The whole world seemed to invert as the lake became the crucible and the previous lavafall receded into infinity. "All things can be conjoined. The first. The last." The vessel's burning contents bubbled with geysers of horned metal that sank and melted as quickly as they rose. A sword rose from the center of the pool of bronze. A beetle landed on the weapon's pommel, and the blade melted into the pool as the insect melted into the weapon. The horns were back, thrusting a whimpering, bloodied shape into the sky before receding into the crucible in a formless rain. "All things can be conjoined. The first. The last." The whole surface erupted into twisting, spiraling, waving, curling, gouging horns. It was all bronze. Red. Orange. Bronze. Red. Orange. Black. "All things-"

Nepheli Loux shot upright, her satin sheets drenched with sweat and hugging every contour of her body. She felt her forehead. It was hot. So hot. She tore herself free of her bedding and staggered across the room into a side chamber. A single crank of the glintstone-inlaid handle spat a steady stream of ice-cold water into the marble tub. Nepheli heaved herself over the edge and into the spray, her breathing slowly returning to its natural rhythm as the heat and redness on her skin slowly receded. As she lay, she was briefly cognizant of a shooting pain in her spine, like she had just been stabbed with a thin dagger. Or a horn.

Chapter Text

Three parties of ten riders each stormed across the great bridge of Elphael, which began to submerge itself again as soon as the last horses cleared it. The scout brigades wore a mixture of the white surcoats and brassy platemail of the Haligtree's Lordsworn knights and the crimson-shrouded golden armor of Malenia's Cleanrot Knights. At the head of the rearmost party rode a Cleanrot Knight, her horse's armor adorned with a streaming banner of the Scout Brigade. The squad ahead of her was led by a Haligtree Knight who carried a lance, a silver kite shield, and a cavalry saber. And the first party was led by a horse and rider of gleaming silver, crowned with matching golden crests. A short distance into the snowfield, Loretta's horse reared up and whinnied as the Albinauric knight fired a shower of sparks from her glaive to signal a halt.

"Alright. This is where our roads diverge. Sir Theron and I will lead our squadrons through the waygate to Dectus and on into Liurnia. Knight-Captain Ciaran's brigade will ride south to the Lift of Rold, and from there to Leyndell. I'm sure most of you gathered here know the purpose of our mission by now." She cleared her throat. "Last night, a group of Fallingstar Beasts landed in the Consecrated Snowfield, not far from here. They were repelled, but Lord Miquella worries that that incident may be part of a larger pattern. We are journeying to commune with the rulers of the other domains, to inquire about similar events in their realms and to offer the Haligtree's aid should it be needed. Your commanders have been briefed extensively."

A Cleanrot Knight from the back of Theron's party raised her spear. "Commander Loretta?"

"Yes, Iola?"

"What about Gelmir?"

"Lord Miquella wishes to see to Gelmir personally. He considers the Regent a close confidant, and has made frequent visits by waygate to Volcano Manor." Although she wouldn't repeat that here, Miquella had also told Loretta that he doubted that Master Xenocrates and Raya Lucaria would be very forthcoming. As an offshoot of the House of Caria, the Gelmiri also had an astrological tradition, and Miquella hoped that while their knowledge and the tools at their disposal were much lesser, they would be willing to share more of what they knew. Iola nodded.

"Swift travels, Ciaran," Loretta called, motioning hers and Theron's riders to form up and set off for the Dectus waygate. Iola broke off to pull her horse up alongside Ciaran's.

"Be careful out there, Ciar." The two knights shook hands firmly.

"You as well." They separated, and Ciaran's party immediately set off at a swift gallop across the snowfield as Iola's horse trotted to rejoin the group.

----

"This will have to do." Of the various locales Vanassus and Gostoc had shown him, none were particularly satisfactory, but Simon reasoned that the catacombs beneath Stormveil Castle were the best he could hope for. An evergaol would have been ideal, but Simon couldn't teleport living matter that far and he didn't want to chance a journey on foot to bring his quarry there. "It's more open than the dungeons. More space for wards, sturdier walls."

"When Godrick ruled, an Ulcerated Tree Spirit took up residence down here," Gostoc rasped. The old castellan crouched next to the sorcerer, inspecting the floor. "It lay dormant for a while, but a year or two ago it awoke. Lord Haight and Lady Nepheli had to put it down."

"What's that?" The Lazuli sorcerer waved his astrologer's staff at a massive section of the space where it looked like something had been excised. The floor and walls there were discolored, and a large patch of fresh soil stood out where something had evidently been filled in.

"A rather strange taproot grew there," the castellan said. "An offshoot of the Erdtree, like all the roots in the depths of Limgrave. But this one... this one was different. Contact with it caused affliction with the Deathblight, and from a certain angle it almost looked like a face." Gostoc shuddered. "With the Tree Spirit gone, we were able to cut it out and dispose of it. It hasn't returned."

"Hmm." Simon straightened his black surcoat and produced a small notebook, scribbling that down for further contemplation. "Just as well. The extra room is much appreciated for our current objectives." He turned to Vanassus. "How much do you know about warding circles?"

"Some," the Crucible Knight rumbled. "Basic rites of confinement."

Simon inhaled sharply, brushing his long, dark hair out of his eyes. "That'll have to do." With a series of swift motions, Simon cast a glowing perimeter of indigo runes onto the ground. "Start lining that with wards. I'll fill in the center with some stronger fields." Simon strode into the ring and marked out a smaller circle in the center with a greenish rune ring about the size of a small shack before moving outwards from there. Vanassus silently began casting the red-gold magic of the Crucible onto the periphery. After laying out a brief sequence, he clenched his fist and the runes erupted in pillars of fire. Satisfied, the knight began to copy the sequence along the entire inner edge of the circle.

"What are you doing?" Gostoc tapped the ground anxiously with the butt of his lucerne.

"Basically, we're setting up a low-budget evergaol," Simon said, his voice strained a touch due to the spell he was casting. "Which would ordinarily be hilariously insufficient, but I'm hopeful that the peculiarities of our target will render it unable to break out."

"Report." The cold voice of Nepheli Loux rang out across the catacombs. Flanking her were three knights. Sergeant Marin, resplendent in Stormveil livery, the scalemail-clad Arianell of Dominula, and the corroded suit of armor of the Alabaster Lord Ural.

"We're almost ready," the sorcerer coughed.

"Where's Astra?" Ural yawned, removing their helmet and leaning on their forked ghostflame spear.

"Still sleeping, as ever. Should she be here for this?" Nell turned outward to equally face Simon and Nepheli. Neither betrayed any emotion, although Simon's fingers slipped under his surcoat to finger the empty vial of Haligtree soporific.

"No. Let her rest. This isn't quite so important," the ex-Provost said, casting a few more rune circles while steadfastly refusing to look over his shoulder at the new arrivals. Nell chalked up the edge in the sorcerer's voice to the effort and concentration that casting the wards demanded.

"You still haven't told us what this is all about." The elf squinted at Simon and Vanassus, narrowing their eyebrows. The purple crystalline growths on the bare side of their skull pulsed with light. "Are those... rites of sealing? What are we sealing here?"

"The elf's right," Nell huffed. "Beast's dead, fake Simon's dead, and nothing else interesting has shown up here. What's the fuss?"

"I doubt you called us here to get our opinions on your concepts for security revisions," Ural murmured.

"All in due time," Nepheli said gravely. Finally, Simon and Vanassus backed clear of the completed rings. The Crucible Knight stood statuesque between Nepheli and the makeshift gaol, while Simon planted his staff firmly and gripped it with two hands.

"You planted the beacon?" Gostoc nodded. Simon closed his eyes, sending his focus inward and into the staff's glintstone head. He reached out, not quite seeing, not quite feeling  or hearing, but just perceiving. His mind's eye floated in a black void amid a ghostly silhouette of the castle. Expelling himself from the beehive of arcane static that was the buzzing, crackling fireworks display that the rune circle projected into his magesense, he drifted northwards until finally he found a tiny, winking shard of glintstone in the darkness. Simon's mind reached out, fully embracing the shard, syncing the beating of his heart to the rhythm of its pulses and gradually attuning his staff to it. Suddenly, his eyes shot open and he raised the staff before plunging it into the earth. In the air in the shack-sized center ring, a vortex of glintstone appeared. Two shapes fell out and into the circle. One was a small stone tablet with a shard of green glintstone embedded in its center. The other was a humanoid figure tangled in what looked like a bedsheet. The figure shakily rose. Nell and Ural gasped and spun on Nepheli. Simon shouldered his staff, drawing his Lazuli sword and parrying dagger and approaching the ring.

"Hello, Astel."

----

Malenia was descending a curving marble staircase in the Haligtree's upper reaches when the beating of wings startled her out of her reverie. Her brother hovered in the air next to the stairs. "Afternoon, 'Lenia. Have you found my armillary yet?"

"I'm working on it," Malenia said tersely. "You are aware that I spent most of the time after your disappearance in a coma and have no idea where most of your trinkets wound up getting stashed, yes?"

Miquella smiled, curling his antennae slightly. "Just a bit of good humor. Regrettably, I cannot assist you in your search."

"Did you send the riders out?"

"Yes. With one exception. I'll be waygating to Mount Gelmir personally." The red-haired demigod started. "Fret not, sister. I'm taking a few knights. Even though I will be among friends." Since his metamorphosis, Miquella had found his sister's continued protectiveness and concern adorable, although he would never say it to her face. If anything, Malenia was more overprotective now than she'd ever been, for which Miquella suspected her wife and daughters were at fault. "Give my regards to Nora and the girls if you see them."

"Of course." Malenia paused. "Don't do anything daft while you're there, brother. I know you and Toren are thick as thieves, but that's precisely why I'm worried."

"Are we still hung up on that?"

"Yes. Say it."

"We only did that once!"

"Say it."

"I promise not to spend a drunken evening baiting magma wyrms with Toren without my dear sister present."

Malenia huffed. "Give my regards to Grineer for me, will you?"

"Certainly. Best of luck, 'Lenia." And with that, he flew off.

"Best of luck finding your armillary in your giant tree," the scarlet-maned woman yelled after him. He paused and they smiled at each other before Miquella plunged out of sight.

A ways down the Tree, Malenia emerged irately from a small storage building that belonged to the Haligtree's herbalists and perfumers. Miquella seemed to think he'd left his armillary sphere on a balcony somewhere, prompting his sister to speculate that it had been misfiled as a perfumer's assemblage and stowed with their vats and convectors. But this was the third such hut the demigod had turned inside out, with nothing to show for it. Another series of pathways and stairs led her to the largest of Miquella's canopy gardens. A red-haired woman in a simple white sleeveless dress sat on a bench. Opposite her...

Eleonora rested on a hammock strung between two trees. She wore the pants, boots, and greaves of her Drake Knight armor along with a loose pale blue tunic. Nestled in the crook of her arm was a tiny shape with short hair, split down the middle of her head between her mothers' chocolate and scarlet hues. Nora smiled as her wife approached, raising a finger to her lips. Malenia returned the look, settling herself on a small rock at her wife's shoulder. Her human fingers absently caressed her yearling daughter's hair as she wrapped her golden arm around Nora's head.

"Hey, Mal," she whispered. "How are you?"

"Fine. Yourself?"

"Wonderful." She smiled. "I didn't need blood flow to my left hand anyway."

"Do you want me to take her?" The demigod leaned in to kiss her wife's head.

"Maybe. I'm happy here. Happier with you around." She returned the peck. "I can't believe Magdalene is a year old. Doesn't it feel like we held her for the first time yesterday?"

Malenia nodded. As a centuries-old demigod, her perception of time was very different from Nora's, who in her late forties was still well within the confines of a mortal lifespan. Not that mortal lifespans concerned the consort of an Empyrean. If the time since Magda's birth seemed like just days to the Drake Knight, it had been mere minutes in Malenia's existence. But those minutes comprised the most wonderful year of her life.

Millicent softly approached. "I went through Uncle's workshop. I'm pretty sure some of that junk hasn't seen the sun since before the Shattering." She smirked. "Didn't find it, though."

"What did our brother lose now?" Nora shook her head, shifting her arm slightly as her younger daughter settled against her.

"His armillary sphere. After last night, we think it prudent to turn an eye to the stars."

"Millie told me. I was wondering what was up when you got out of bed and flew off in your armor without a word."

"I would have told you if I knew what I was getting into," Malenia murmured. "The mental connection we share doesn't allow for complex thoughts to be transmitted. Just feelings and basic needs." Many parents had an uncanny sense for when their children were in trouble, but in the case of Malenia and Millicent it went far beyond that. Millicent was a clone birthed from echoes of her mother's Great Rune deep in the Swamp of Aeonia, and this strange genesis left the two able to sense each other's emotions through the Great Rune that they both embodied. It was through this connection that Millicent had summoned her mother when the falling star landed, and that Malenia had known where to find her.

"It's okay. We had fun here." Nora smiled, shifting her tired shoulder and reaching up to ruffle the girl's short hair. Magdalene stirred in her mother's arms, slowly raising her little head and blearily rubbing her golden eyes with tiny fists.

"Ma-ma?"

"Yes. Mama's here. Very good." Malenia kissed her forehead gently before taking her hands. For the demigod, who stood a good foot taller than her wife, this amounted to Magda's little hands curling around Malenia's index and middle fingers while the demigod's thumbs rested on the backs of her hands.

"Cold." Magda shivered at her mother's prosthetic arm. Millicent patted her sister's head. "Cold," the child repeated with a hint of Malenia's dry derision. She really is Mal's daughter, the Drake Knight thought with a smile.

"It is cold," Nora cooed. "Mama and Millie have metal arms."

"I get?" Millicent buried her face in her hands and started shaking with laughter.

"Goodness no," Malenia chuckled. She leaned in. "You don't need metal arms because you have these little ones right here. Mama doesn't have one arm, so I have the metal one." She shook her daughter's hands for emphasis, and the girl giggled as the demigod effortlessly overcame her elbows and caused her arms to wave up and down.

"Wow." Malenia snorted at the girl's matter-of-fact response.

"Why don't we go for a walk in the garden? I will show you my favorite flowers." She picked up the girl and held her against her chest. Magda turned her head.

"Mom-my?"

"We should give Mommy a break," Malenia said softly. "You've been bugging her all day, little butterfly."

"Not bug. Mag-da." She pouted.

"That's right, my love. You aren't a bug." Smiling, the demigod glanced down at her wife. "Were you planning to return to the estate?"

"I was."

"If it occurs to you, would you mind looking around the basement for the armillary? I think a few of my things that I used to keep in an office in the garrison or in the root-meadow ended up down there during my coma, so it's possible that it's there too." Nora nodded.

"You two stay out of trouble!" She and Magda waved to each other as Malenia strode off.

----

Most men would have been frightened by a seven-foot-tall moth person flying in through their skylight. But Toren Grineer, Praetor of Volcano Manor, was not most men. The Recusant was on a low couch with his feet up on a table. The massive throne that dominated the room had been built for the demigod Rykard, and as such the regent found it uncomfortable and only occupied it during ceremonies. "Ah, Miquella! It's been a while."

"That it has." In the span of a single summit two years previously, the two men had gone from diametrically opposed and confrontational to reluctant allies. Over the subsequent months, they became casual acquaintances, then friends. Their relationship was an anomaly in the Lands Between; very rarely did one find the lord of one kingdom counting the lord of another as a drinking buddy and adventurous comrade. But these were rare times. "My sister sends her regards." Grineer smiled.

Miquella strode to the great balcony behind the throne, looking out over Volcano Manor. The duo's efforts to revitalize the ash-choked Inquisition fortress were starting to bear fruit. Gone was the simmering lake of lava from which the castle rose, and in its place was a thick layer of basalt and an eye-catching lagoon of teal water. The lagoon was still full of sulfur and ash, and their ongoing project was finding a way to render it safe for drinking and bathing. Around the rocky cliffs and beaches, hardy plants with leaves of maroon and pine green sprouted. These had been Miquella's contribution to the restoration efforts, grown from a few alchemical seedlings that the demigod had modified to process the volcanic waters. Bringing in and filtering drinking water for the populace was demanding enough without having to import irrigation as well. "It looks great out there."

"Yeah. It does." The Recusant's scaled armor clinked as he stood, hefting his flamberge. "We're still making the town a town again and finding more of Rykard's homemade torture devices in strange places. I almost wish we hadn't gotten rid of the lava lake yet. Would've made getting rid of all his shit so much easier." They shared a laugh. Grineer stepped up alongside the demigod, resting his hands on the crosspiece of his sword. "What the hell are you doing here, Miq? I get the feeling this isn't a social call."

"Sadly, you are correct." Miquella turned to face the Gelmiri regent. "As much as I wish otherwise, I am not here for an afternoon of sport and mirth."

"What is it, then? The Gelmir restoration? The Caelid project?"

"Neither, I'm afraid." His feathery antennae rippling, the demigod summarized the events of the previous night in the Snowfield. Grineer stroked his chin, narrowing his eyebrows.

"A couple weeks back, I saw something not unlike what you just described. Hit in northern Liurnia. I reached out to offer assistance, but Raya Lucaria assured me everything was right as rain. Didn't even tell me what actually happened."

Miquella sighed. His suspicions had been confirmed. "This is why I came to you. I sent parties to Leyndell, Stormveil, and the Academy. But I have my doubts about Raya Lucaria. They've never been especially forthcoming at the best of times. All the provinces have a mutual defense and aid pact. If they're keeping this under wraps from their immediate neighbors..." He sighed again. "I am almost certain that Xenocrates knows more than I do about the cause and scale of these events, and I'm inclined to believe he won't share what he knows. Not with my knights, not even with me. Hell, if we called a summit I don't think all of us together could drag it out of him."

"My guess is, he wants to preserve the image of the Age of Stars he inherited guardianship of as idyllic and placid." The knight scoffed. "Bastard's only ever cared about vanity. The previous Masters didn't wear fucking silver crowns."

"That was my feeling as well," Miquella murmured.

Grineer paused. "Shit." The demigod turned, curling one antenna. "After the Liurnian meteor hit, and after Raya Lucaria told me to piss off and stop asking questions, I sent Tyla to have a look around. She's not back." Miquella's jaw set. "I figured it was taking her a while to look around, but now I'm worried that the Academy found her snooping around."

"Would they have any reason to think she's not just a traveler?"

"If she was breaking into somewhere, sure. And even if she wasn't, think about how fucking paranoid Xenocrates and the Cuckoo generals are in peacetime. I can see them just detaining random fucking travelers with all this shit going on. Probably impounding every wagonload of ore that comes down from Altus." He kicked the wall. "I shouldn't have sent her alone."

"Tyla is resourceful. I'm sure she's alright. She'll be back soon." Miquella clasped a clawed hand around the Recusant knight's shoulder. "And if she isn't back soon, we have justification to apply pressure to the Academy. Get them to open their mouths, let more of our people in."

"You're starting to sound like me," Grineer grunted.

The door to the throne room burst open. A man-serpent, a Nox, and an Albinauric entered. The serpent carried two magma-bladed swords, and the Albinauric walked on prosthetic legs encased in dented iron and carried a hand ballista. The Nox woman was dressed as a Nightmaiden, the scholar-priestesses of the Eternal Cities. Her twin glintstone kris daggers marked her as Lestra, who variously served Grineer as bodyguard, adviser, handmaiden, and assassin. Miquella was fairly certain that Tyla, Lestra, and himself were the only beings that the regent considered friends.

"Toren. Get out here." The Nightmaiden's voice was harsh. The two guards seemed aghast that someone could speak that way to the Praetor without being incinerated where they stood. The specter of the years Gelmir spent under Rykard and Tanith, first as a redoubt of the Inquisition and then as the Recusants' base of operations. Lestra lifted her hood slightly. "Ah, Lord Miquella. A pleasure." Her hands went to her daggers. "We need to move."

The Nightmaiden and the manor guards rushed out into the courtyard, Miquella and Grineer not far behind. Grineer looked up at the evening sky. While still full of ash and stormclouds, the skies over Gelmir had cleared in the recent months, affording the group a splendid view of a purple blur whistling over the Manor on a collision course with the seashore. The earth rumbled as the object struck on the boundary between ocean and land.

"Well, shit."

----

Nell and Ural rounded on Nepheli. "What is the meaning of this?", the elf said incredulously, hefting their spear and unlimbering the harpoon from their back.

"Now see here-" Nell began, reaching for her greatsword. They were interrupted by an unearthly scream. The tattered sheet fell to pieces around Astra as two small masses of crystal formed on her back. From these burst two massive skeletal arms, almost like a pair of wings. Two gray-black tusks protruded from the corners of her mouth, causing rivulets of blood to trickle down her chin and fall to the torn cloth at her feet.

"Release me." Her voice was both amplified and distorted by the shells of magic around her.

"This must come as a shock to you," Simon said gravely. "But you have been traveling with the reincarnation of the demon Astel. This is for our safety."

"We fuckin' know, you tactless dullstone!" Nell stormed over. "She's transformed before." Simon started.

"She was out of control, acting on pure instinct. I strongly advocated for putting her to death," Ural said evenly. "But somehow she managed to gain control of her form. She resisted her bestial side's attempts to harm us, and eventually she stopped altogether and consciously reverted to her human form. We have talked at length about my upbringing and my father's writing. If I believed she was in any way a danger, one of us two would not be here."

"Astel is a mindless husk. Its consciousness has been purged from this body. Only we remain."

"Who's 'we?' That doesn't inspire confidence," Nepheli observed.

Astra glanced down to where her mother sat on the floor, idly fingering her staff. "Easy, starlight," the All-Knowing knight said. "I'm in your head. I don't think they can see me."

"Then how do I see you? You're right here!" She swung one of her skeletal hands, flinching as it passed through Delia's body like she wasn't even there. Outside the magic cell, Simon looked at the others as if to say I told you so. 

"I know you feel betrayed, but this isn't helping. Try to calm down."

"You're not helping! If they won't release me, I will release myself." She surveyed the faces outside the circle. Simon and Nepheli's masks of determination, the horror (for different reasons) expressed by Gostoc, Nell, and Ural, and the blank bronze slab that was Vanassus. Red ran down her face, clouding her vision.

"This is exactly what I was hoping to prevent," the sorcerer hissed. He indicated the cell, where Astra's forehead had ruptured and a third eye made of unblinking blue crystal peered out from the bloody tear in her skin. Pools of starlight gathered in her skeletal hands, and they slammed outwards. The stars buzzed and vibrated as they pressed against the green-blue barrier of light that had sprung up when she attempted to cross the inner ring. She kept forcing it, even when the clashing energies began to erode the bones of her hands. All three of her eyes now dripped fresh blood. Finally, the pools of light exploded. Cracks spiderwebbed across the wall of light, but it held fast before dissipating as the pressure abated. Astra's skeletal hands smoldered, the bone scorched black. The fingertips had been ground down to nothing, and the abrasion had bored holes through both palms. Despite this, despite the blood, she didn't show any signs of pain. Suddenly, the young woman stiffened, her blue-black hair spinning wildly as she stood straight and fired a bolt of purple light from the crystal eye. Again, the innermost wall held firm. She fired again and again and again, and the ring still remained intact.

"Drop the wards! Let her out of there!" Nell ran towards Simon. Ural dropped their spears, catching the mercenary by the wrists and pulling her back. "She's hurting herself!"

"Nell, releasing her now is a bad idea. She needs to return to her human form." The Alabaster Lord conjured a pulse of gravity magic, summoning their deathrite spear to their hand as they stepped between Nell and the boundary of the rune-gaol. "Astra? I know you can hear us. I need you to come out of this." Nell shot to her feet again, rounding on Simon.

"And what the fuck are you trying to accomplish! Yeah, let's teleport the seemingly normal fucking lass into a rune-gaol, see how she responds! Great idea! Look at what a dangerous monster you're saving us from by making her transform into the fucking monster! What are you doing?"

Ural switched their spear to their left hand, making a sign with the right. Pebbles rose from the floor, glowing with purple light. They attached themselves to Nell's shoulders and pulled her back. The elf dropped her on the floor and placed their right boot gently but firmly on the mercenary's wrist, pinning her legs and other arm with the rocks. "Let me deal with this. Your irrational anger, while entirely justified and perhaps admirable, is hardly advantageous." They stepped off, pacing towards Simon.

"We've discussed this at length. My knowledge of these beings equals or exceeds that of this entire world. I am telling you that I do not believe her to be a threat. If I did, I would have informed you of her status. Or I would not have, because I would not be traveling with her."

"You call that not a threat?" Simon waved at the rune-gaol.

"I call that an understandable response to being teleported out of your bed and into a rune-gaol. This is her second transformation, first since gaining a level of control over her alien half. A transformation that you induced and are actively aggravating." He opened his mouth, but they held up a hand. "You are not going to win this argument. You know this."

Simon sighed. With a single flick, all of the barriers dropped except for the innermost rune circle and the golden Crucible wards cast by Vanassus. "You're- you're right. I overreacted. After Kingsrealm, after Stormveil- and having the knowledge that I have-"

"The blame lies partly with us," the elf said evenly. "We attempted to conceal her true nature for fear that telling you would lead to exactly this kind of situation. By letting you uncover the truth on your own terms, we begat the very confrontation we sought to avoid."

"That," Simon said testily, "is entirely reasonable. The blame lies wholly with me."

"My reaction to her existence was much worse," Ural coughed. "I wanted to kill her. Having had my mind changed on the matter, it was foolish of me to assume that other, less hell-bent individuals would be best dealt with by withholding."

"Will you both be quiet and let me out of here?" Astra, now fully human, sat wrapped in the remains of her sheets. Her face was still streaked with dried blood, but there was no trace of the wounds themselves, not even the gash that had exposed her third eye.

Gesturing to the Crucible Knight, Simon dropped his last barrier. Vanassus's wards shattered as well. "My sincerest apologies," the sorcerer began. He looked at his boots. "I'm just like my father..."

"You sound like my mother," Astra chided.

"You have a mother?"

"I'd love to tell you about her over breakfast." She eyed Nepheli, who nodded at Gostoc and sent the old castellan hurrying off.

"Actually, I think it best if I take my leave-"

"Stow it. We'll need you here for what's next. Like Ural said, they were ready to poke me full of holes. And we got past that. This misunderstanding is small potatoes, Provost."

"I'm never going to be rid of the bloody title..." He sighed, bowing his head. "Thank you, truly." Astra extended a hand, and they shook.

"Speaking of potatoes..." Nell attempted to stand. "Ugh! Elf, you can take the fucking rocks off my legs now!"

----

A shadowy figure glided through the long grass at the edge of the swamp. It was a dark night, and the figure's short brown hair and the black mask over her mouth served her well. She stood, revealing the iridescent curved greatsword that rested on her shoulder and the dingy, angular, strap-laden armor of a Bloodhound Knight. Silently, she crept closer to the spiraling pathway to the top of the jutting rock. The blue magic gate flared to life as she raced along its side and up to the archway. Removing the glintstone key she'd stolen from one of the Haima Conspectus sorcerers currently stalking the swamps in search of traitors, she pressed its needle-like blade to the gate, and instantly she was at the top of the walk. Pocketing the key, she shouldered her sword in favor for two pitons and began to scale the white stone wall of the Academy. There had been some kind of coup, she had heard. A rogue Conspectus, a new Master. Praetor Grineer would need to hear about this, but she had to know more.

Finally, she made her way to the top of the Academy, pulling herself over the wall of the building she was on and onto an elevated walkway. Almost immediately, approaching footsteps and voices sounded. Cursing under her breath, she flipped off the side of the walkway, plunging her pitons into the masonry. She straightened her right pinky, allowing the sacred seal she'd replaced the missing finger with to snap into its active configuration. Without moving a muscle, she cast an incantation that would render her silent and near-invisible.

The voices rounded the corner. A woman, muffled by something. Probably a glintstone crown. And another voice, gravely and alien.

"...dispatching people to Limgrave. You'll have Astel within the week."

"Very good, Master." The new voice dripped with sarcasm. "After all, our arrangement is predicated on you delivering our stolen scion back to us. If you fail in this-"

"I KNOW!" The Master was angry. "So you've been saying all damn week! I remember the arrangement."

"Excellent. Now, we must discuss other matters. For the time being, it remains advantageous to conceal our alliance, and even my people's presence. But that is changing. We lost contact with the landing party in the Mountaintops last night. We appear to be encountering... resistance."

"You assured me that your forces were more than sufficient to bring this accursed continent to heel," the Master said icily.

"I did," the voice leered. "I assured you that my main force would be sufficient. What I have in orbit presently is a mere vanguard. A scouting party. The others will come in due time. But until then, I am working with what I have. And what you have." There was a pause. "The time for Raya Lucaria to fight alongside the First Periastron may be sooner than we thought."

"What about..." They finally meandered out of earshot.

Well, this was enlightening.

Thank you for reading! Once again, I apologize for the delay in this chapter. I'll leave off here with pictures of a few of the OCs making their debut here: