Clockwork Sun | The Cold Road Ahead

The full story of The Cold Road Ahead. This story was run from March 19th to September 19th 2023 and was originally posted on the Clockworksun Stories Discord server.

This story is 87 updates long, plus an epilogue, spread over 254 standard pages with a total of over 83,000 words.
Note that some reaction counts may not be exact, as voters may have changed their reactions between the close of voting and the time this story was scraped from the server.

@Story Notifications Here we go: time to vote for the next story! Due to ~~budget cuts~~ (~~supply chain issues?~~) ✨ reasons ✨, there are only two options this time. So normally I'd say vote however many times you want, but obviously you're gonna want to just vote once this go around. The one prompt not picked here may come back, be rewritten, or be dropped forever. Who knows? Not me! ❄️ [NOVEL?] The Cold Road Ahead Fantasy / Adventure Magical Medieval / Renaissance [Part of the Debhaust canon] There have long been tales of the lands to the far north; the frozen plateau of Leng is sparsely populated and mostly unexplored, so it breeds legends and mysteries at a rapid pace. One such legend tells of a series of obsidian pillars wrought by demigods of an age long passed that lie at the very limit of the world - some say atop the tallest mountain while others swear they stand in the frozen sea. All stories agree that these pillars hold frigid astral power and are linked to the swirling constellations above. So, when a new star appears in the sky and the world starts to go mad, those rare few who both believe the legends and have the resolve to travel north begin to cast their gaze towards the icy plateau and its long-buried secrets...

️ [NOVELLA?] The Courage to See Horror / Mystery Roughly now-ish / Earth [Part of the Kronwae canon] So your best friend joined a cult. And now they want to show you some things that are hard to explain; maybe recruit you too. Unfortunately, this one doesn't seem to be as simple as one of those pyramid schemes selling essential oils or oppressing minorities; this one seems real. And as your own role in events continues to evolve, you may have to make some tough calls to keep everyone you care about alive. Including yourself. (Winner: ❄️ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications It’s time to gear up for The Cold Road Ahead. To start with, we’ll select our main characters. Vote as many times as you want for whoever you want; the top few will be the first to join our party. Later, the gang might be expanded, but not everyone will join right from the start. “How many will we start with?” you might ask. “Well, that depends on what the starting scenario is,” I would answer. Try to get your favorite to the top, since there’s no guarantee anyone behind #1 or 2 will get in. (Disclaimer: I reserve the right to add up to one character into the group early on as an override, because this is going to be a long story and my preferences matter more in novels.) [Who are our characters?]

17:42

- Molin, a polite but fumbling human wizard who’s trying to make it big. Got a little too excited and went into debt to the wrong people to pay for books and schooling, but at least he learned some cool spells in exchange. Is probably capable of casting them correctly.

- Lyss, a young half-elven apprentice artisan who shows a striking talent for the ancient art of golemancy. Isn’t yet good enough to afford to develop her magic or break out of low-paying labor, but manages a sunny disposition anyway. Often keeps one or two little golems on her person for companionship.

️ - Zohi, an easygoing half-sylph (it’s complicated) who works part time as a slayer of demons and rogue elementals. Has the ability to summon and dismiss his weapons from thin air, and uses this ability gracefully - both in combat and as part of elaborate performances.

- Eyla, an introspective changeling occultist who fights against her aberrant parentage by tracking down magical abnormalities and dispelling them. Carries around a huge number of talismans, anathema, relics, and other esoteric items; loves explaining the details behind each.

️ - Serre, an ardent half-dwarven paladin and devotee of the sun. Capable of using healing and restoration magic, but prefers immolation with various types of holy flame. Officially left his home city for a pilgrimage, but actually just wanted to get away from his family. Can be a bit grating, but tries his best.

- Amelisce, a faded (someone with a greyscale body and a misbehaving shadow) formerly-human witch who - against all better judgement - made a pact with some of the most evil stars in the sky. She received a familiar and essentia magic... but has to do some questionable tasks to keep them. (Winners:

️ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications You know, I bet it’s rough to be one of these characters on the poll, all excited to see if you get to exist, and then you get zero votes. But oh well, the show must go on. Just without you, unpopular character option. Anyway, congratulations to Lyss and Zohi, the top two, and Molin and Amelisce, the next two. We’ll be seeing the first pair right away, and probably the second pair a bit later. Depends on the specific scenario. Also, I conveniently don’t have to add any characters since Lyss and Zohi were my favorites too! It’s nice when things just work out like that. Now, to business. First, let’s determine what perspective we’ll be working with, then what the initial scenario will be.

10:33

[The story’s perspective will be...] 3️⃣ - Traditional (limited) 3rd person. One of the standard perspectives for my stories: third person from the perspective of one character at a time and can switch between sections. Reliable, easy to work with.

- Narrated semi-omniscient 3rd person. The Narrator is a character in the world with near-perfect knowledge of the protagonists and is happy to chronicle their adventures for us, as well as add some commentary. Things might get weird if the protagonists ever meet their Narrator. [In all cases, golemancy will be either outlawed or heavily frowned upon and Lyss will start off as an apprentice artisan in a small village. These are basically defining what level of chaos we start with. The starting scenario is...]

- Zohi arrives hunting a rogue elemental that seems to have inhabited or animated a body of clay and rock. As such, someone with golem experience could be quite helpful to him.

- A golem (or something that could be a golem) has started causing havoc around town. Lyss has been accused as the only plausible suspect, but thankfully Zohi arrives, learns what’s going on, and resolves to find the real culprit.

- As

, but Zohi shows up later. The townfolk are about ready to burn the (suspected) witch, and Zohi has less than a day to either solve the mystery or just break Lyss out and run for it. (Winners:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Okay, so it looks like we’ll be telling the story in “first” (third) person through a Narrator in the world. I wonder who that will be...? And it also seems like Lyss will be in some serious trouble at the start. Let’s hope Zohi is up to the task! But as a last few things to address before we really get started, let’s talk about some details of the world: How can death be reversed in the story? ⏲️ - Only seconds after the moment of death, with reasonably powerful magic or items. Even a minute is too late.

- As ⏲️, but rare, extremely potent reagents and rituals can also resurrect even after longer amounts of time.

- Only by the intervention of a deity or similar. Death is death. What is the current state of the Guldan Empire, where the story begins?

️ - Mostly peaceful.

- Rising tensions.

- External war.

- Civil war.

@Story Notifications The Cold Road Ahead

20:11

Scene 0 Have you, dear reader, ever looked up at the stars from a location with no lights for miles around? Truly sat back and taken in the full astral glory of the night sky? Actually seen, with your own fallible eyes, the scale of the constellations that dance in the screaming void above? If you have, did you ever get the feeling that - just maybe - some of those unfathomably distant lights were looking back? ... The gentle breeze carried the scent of pine needles. Zohi Levastrum, half-sylph hunter of rogue demons and elementals, took a deep breath to savor it. A welcome change from his weeks of travel through the gritty red sand of the Vitrean Desert, the cool mountain air indicated he had at long last arrived at the Spinetail and the plentiful forests surrounding it. Of course, he had been walking through the forest for several days now, but just because the weather had been equally nice yesterday didn’t mean he couldn’t savor today as well. Zohi was on his way north, with a vague intention to cross the Lesser Sindle and Purple rivers. He didn’t have a specific destination in mind, but he rarely did. Usually, trouble seemed to find him and any plans he had made got thrown out regardless. That served him just fine; to Zohi, unpredictability was one of the major spices of life. And of course, it was a lot easier to let Life itself do the planning and just get carried along in the flow.

20:11

Today, on his fourth day out of the desert (or was it his fifth? Didn’t matter), Zohi could now catch occasional glimpses of the Lesser Sindle flowing pleasantly through the woods to his right. According to the map he had lost at some point, that meant he was nearing the village of Virnscross, situated directly on the Lesser Sindle and housing one of the main bridges across it. In fact, the pine breeze carried distant sounds to his ears, notifying him of voices, footsteps, and the general sounds of civilization. He wasn’t far out now; just another few minutes should bring him into view of the outskirts. Zohi slid his hands into his pockets and angled his face upwards to bask in the midday sun. “What an unbearably pleasant day,” he might have said if he had been in the habit of speaking to himself. “I do hope nothing happens to shatter this tranquility,” he might have continued if he were prone to bouts of dramatic irony. Unfortunately, he was neither of these things and merely whistled in a wandering, off-key way until he found himself at the edge of the village. Virnscross was - and still is, I suppose - a village of moderate size nestled between the Lesser Sindle river and the Spinetail foothills. It controlled one of the major bridges across the Lesser Sindle before it fed into the much larger Purple River, after which the waterway was so covered in ships and barges that one could almost cross it by simply leaping from boat to boat. As you may have gathered, the bridge (while useful) wasn’t enough for Virnscross to sustain itself as a trading hub. Instead, the citizens there made use of the Spinetail’s vast forests to sell both raw lumber and finished wooden products, shipping them downstream on the Lesser Sindle to the heavily populated coastal regions in the south. Zohi was vaguely aware of this, as he traveled quite a lot, so he wasn’t surprised by the new scent of sawdust mingling with pine or by the many sawmills clustered along the riverbank.

20:11

No, instead he got to be surprised by something entirely different as he wandered into town in search of lunch and local news. Zohi took the main street straight towards the river, walking as slowly as he wanted and taking in the actually quite fine wooden buildings. All the architecture on display seemed sturdy, well-crafted, and polished; clearly the citizens didn’t exclusively send their work down the river. He caught sight of a few fishermen wading in the river around the massive bridge and its supports as thick as tree trunks. He couldn’t make out exactly what they were catching from here, but he could see the poles and nets. Market stalls surrounded the central town square, and he stopped here to buy a bowl of freshly prepared shrimp curry - the shrimp apparently supplied directly by the fishermen he had just noticed. Then, as the vendor didn’t seem particularly busy even amidst the bustling square, he stood nearby to ask about the bonfire. “Celebrating something tonight?” he asked, gesturing to the group of people working to assemble the large conical structure. “I’m just passing through, but I might stay for the evening if there’s to be a festival.” The shrimp vendor - shorter, with curly hair and a hunched back - chortled. “Not exactly. Y’see, we’re burning a witch.” “A witch?” Zohi glanced between the really quite good curry and the bonfire. “I would think that could very well be a celebration, if you’ve captured one. What has she done to deserve the pyre?” “She’s a golemancer, they say. Sent the beast to knock down a mill upriver, break into a poor family’s home, and steal their little boy. Just sickening.” “But you’ve managed to catch her now.” Zohi paused, listening to the air. It often whispered to him, murmuring little tidbits that only a sylph (or half-sylph) could hear. “And have you destroyed the golem as well? Recovered the boy?”

20:11

“Oh, they found the boy. Roughed up and enchanted, but alive. That’s how they found the witch; he managed to say her name, then they found more golems in her room! Couldn’t believe the evil in one so young, but I s’pose she must be a changeling or such. Can’t be helped; the devil already stole the real girl away.” Zohi blinked. “The witch is a child?” “Well, not really - a changeling, y’know. Baby stolen at birth by the devil and replaced-” “I know what a changeling is; I happen to be a monster hunter myself and am well acquainted with dangers such as these. If you don’t mind, would you kindly point out where this ‘witch’ is being kept?” He couldn’t quite keep the inflection out of his voice, but luckily it seemed the shrimp vendor misinterpreted it. “Ah, how lucky! Wish you’d have shown up sooner, hunter. Coulda saved the guard a lot of trouble. Anyway, jail’s that building there, with the blue posts. You think the burnin’ isn’t gonna work?” “No, I rather doubt it. Thank you for your time.” Trouble, such as it was, had certainly found him.

- Ask to speak to the witch.

- “Politely” inform the guard that changelings don’t work like that and a little girl can’t possibly have controlled a golem like what was described.

- Ask to speak to the boy or his family.

- Go for a little sneak. See what can be found without alerting the guards. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 1 Zohi started his investigation by determining how much time he had. After a few casual questions to the workers assembling the bonfire, he walked purposefully away with the knowledge that the burning was scheduled for shortly after sunset, when the night would be dark enough for the fire to be obvious but not too dark to be blinding. That meant - given the sun’s position still close to its zenith at this time of year - he had roughly six or seven hours to work with. Next, he headed to the jail. He didn’t want to go through all this trouble to save the “witch” only to find out she actually was some sort of creature Zohi didn’t know about who could commit such evil acts even as a child. He had to see for himself. Unfortunately, he somewhat doubted the town guard would just let him in and he didn’t particularly want to tip them off that he was involved just yet. So instead, he took a few side roads, nodded politely to the armored folks standing out front of the jail, and detoured around the back. The squat stone building had a set of nondescript doors near one end, abutting a relatively open courtyard-like area enclosed by the jail on one side, stables on another, and some other taller buildings on the remaining two. Zohi spotted at least two guards in the courtyard itself talking with someone who was probably a stablehand, so he kept to the narrow street and wandered through without drawing attention. The opposite side of the stable was unattended and, by quick inspection, the wall boards seemed a little soft. Perfect.

15:24

Zohi took a quick, sharp breath, then swept his arms diagonally in front of him. Wind swirled in a sudden gust and several weapons materialized out of thin air. Two long, heavier swords, three shorter blades, and an assortment of daggers slid carefully into the stable wall, balanced by stout wood on one side and constant rushing air on the other. He hopped lithely up his improvised staircase, dismissing each blade behind him as he went, and was on the stable roof within moments. A few horses voiced their confusion below him, but no one raised the alarm. Good. Just to be clear, not all half-sylphs can do this sort of thing. Zohi has some particularly special abilities due in part to his parentage, and in part to a near-unique incident that befell him many years ago. But I’m sure we’ll get to that in due time; Zohi himself would likely object to my skipping around if I explained it now. So let’s simply continue where we were. With a careful check to make sure the guards were busy talking to the stablehand and facing the opposite direction, Zohi leapt in a gust of wind from one roof to the other and quietly touched down atop the jail. He crouched and listened, trusting the air to bring him news of any notice, but it seemed he was again all clear. From this new position, it wasn’t much effort to quietly make his way across the roof, keeping an attentive watch on the courtyard guards as he went, and check each cell by leaning over the edge to peer into each barred window. Most were empty, a few held normal adult detainees, and one held a very distraught girl. She looked to be in her mid teens, with short blonde hair tangled around her face as she lay curled up on the cot. Occasional little shakes suggested fearful trembling or suppressed crying. He didn’t see any guards directly outside the cell door, but his restricted viewpoint from high on the wall meant he couldn’t be sure.

15:24

Zohi wasn’t a witch hunter. He didn’t have the ability to sense magic, had no training in the specifics of formal spellcraft or golemancy, and any witches he had ever met had been exclusively apothecaries, hermit scholars, or court appointees of some kingdom or another. So he had to admit this wasn’t exactly his realm of expertise. But unless the witch had some obscenely cunning plan, this poor kid wasn’t a threat to anyone. He glanced around for guards again, then tapped a summoned dagger against the bars. “Hey, kid.” She had good ears. The “witch” sat up almost immediately, looking around in confusion. He gave her a few seconds to figure it out, confirming his suspicions of silent tears as he watched. His grip on the dagger tightened at that, but he dropped it and let it puff away to nothingness to not scare the girl further. “Up here.” She found him this time, jumping a little at the face in the window. “H-hello?” “What’s your name? I’ve just heard ‘the witch’ so far.” “... Lyss. Are you... here for... me?” “Alright, Lyss, here’s the deal. I’m going to help get you out of this, but you need to answer my questions truthfully. Got it?” A shaky nod; a glance towards the hallway. Zohi checked the courtyard as well, just in case. Still nothing. “Are you a golemancer?” “If I say yes, are you going to... to-” “I’m not going to hurt you.” “... I think so. I can make little people that can move around. They’re really nice, I promise! They wouldn’t - I wouldn’t - I didn’t-” “I know. It’s okay.” This, unfortunately, was a complication. Zohi had kind of expected the golems allegedly found by the guard to have been fake, or planted, or something like that. The kid actually being a golemancer was definitely unexpected - the ancient art was both deeply feared and reportedly very difficult to get right. “So you didn’t send one of your golems to kidnap anyone?”

15:24

“No! I only make nice ones, and they’re all really little! I tried to tell them I can’t make anything that big like they said, but they wouldn’t listen...” “And do you know anything about the boy, the mill, or who might actually have done this?” “N-no... They didn’t even say who it was.” A pause. “Are they really going to... b-burn me?” “Not if I have anything to say about it.” He glanced up; the guards were done in the stable and coming this way. “I have to go. I’ll try to figure out what actually happened to get you freed properly. If not, I’ll be back before the bonfire. Don’t worry.” He leapt back up and darted across the roof before Lyss could respond. Time to get going.

- Track down the kidnapped boy. Have a chat or at least look around.

- Track down the golem, or its remains if they actually managed to destroy it.

️ - Track down the scene of the crime; inspect the destroyed mill and house. (Winner:

️ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 2 Ideally, he’d be able to make good on what he had said to Lyss and figure out who the actual culprit was. Anything less ran the (fairly significant) risk of not being believed by the locals, who were undoubtedly less experienced with this sort of thing. And if that happened, he’d probably have to try and break the kid out of captivity. Not a great look for either of them, plus it still left the real problem unsolved. So, as he headed north through town towards the scene of the crime, Zohi tried to recall everything he knew about golems and golemancy overall. Unfortunately, the discipline had been very nearly wiped out centuries ago, when some unclear disaster had resulted in a golem killing the then-emperor and most of his court. Records from the time were spotty, but apparently the new emperor had completely banned golemancy, then burned any remaining golemancers as well as their texts. Nowadays, the practice was much more scarce (for obvious reasons). Several emperors had come and gone and the original ban on the art had been thrown out along with a bundle of other outdated laws by a government keen to clean up shop. But prejudices still remained, even though hardly anyone currently alive would have ever seen a golem. Therefore, Zohi didn’t really know what the creation process entailed. Presumably, at the most basic level, the golemancer would sculpt their new golem, then imbue it with life and instructions. How those steps worked, he wasn’t sure; maybe Lyss could show him later. Regardless, he did know the end result: a towering, crudely man-shaped living statue that was both incredibly strong and highly resistant to magic. Golems - as far as he knew - didn’t have true intelligence, but they were smarter than simple automatons and could react to changing situations with a reasonable degree of flexibility.

23:19

He had never encountered one himself, but a traveling enchanter he worked with every so often had actually fought one before, and the story had been passed on to Zohi. A cold chill, even on sunny days; a dampening of all ambient magic; an intimidating presence, near-silent despite its size. The man had barely survived, fleeing after discovering the thing’s antimagic properties before eventually tricking it into a deep pit and immobilizing it long enough to deal with. Taking the construct down had required collaboration between four highly seasoned hunters, and here Zohi was trekking through the woods and half-considering fighting the thing on his own. For of course the guard hadn’t destroyed it. According to various people he had asked, the boy had simply managed to wiggle free during the chase and the golem hadn’t noticed until the pursuing guards had retreated with him. He didn’t like that story; it seemed a little too convenient. But it meant the golem was still in play regardless, and that no one knew where it was. Anyway, he was here. The place was deserted and eerily quiet in the early afternoon sunshine. What had once been a home and a nearby water-powered mill was now not much more than a scattering of broken boards and tossed-aside stones. The Lesser Sindle splashed against heavy rocks that had been dumped into the river, protesting the obstruction in its path. Heavy, smooth footfalls imprinted deeply into the ground, revealing a simple but unnaturally rounded three-toed foot roughly the size of Zohi’s torso. The golem’s footprints, presumably.

23:19

The home, attached to the former mill, was situated far on the outskirts of town and away from most potential witnesses. It made sense as a location to target if you wanted to avoid notice, but what was the goal here? Zohi shuffled through a few boards, thinking. Destroying the mill would set the town back, but it certainly wasn’t the only place to get food around here. The river provided shrimp and trade, and he had seen other grain mills as well. The house was otherwise unremarkable, or at least so he assumed after digging through the rubble. Opportunistically placed, but nothing more. So had the golem’s creator just wanted any target? Was this just to cause chaos? To steal any child for some nefarious purpose, no matter who? ... To frame the young golemancer who lived in the town? It was hard to tell, and he wasn’t getting much out of the utter destruction left behind. Zohi stood up, brushing dust off his pants, and glanced into the trees and fields further north. The golem’s footsteps were incredibly obvious. Why hadn’t the guard followed it back to wherever it went? Surely they would want to track down its master, right?

- Return to town; speak with the victims.

- Track the golem. See if it walked back to its master.

- Have a chat with the guards... [Will go better as Zohi acquires more information. But if he waits too long...] (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 3 Well, he could think of at least one way to find out. Without overconsidering how dangerous catching up to the thing could be, Zohi set off into the forest along the trail of indents in the ground. The thing wasn’t subtle, but its stride was very long and it had a massive head start. He hustled past broken trees and cleared underbrush for at least a quarter hour with no deviations from a relatively straight path. But then, the golem changed course and its steps led straight into the river. Zohi stopped on the bank, frowning. Obviously, he couldn’t track the thing underwater. Rushing water would wash away any prints in the mud of the riverbed, even if he could swim down to inspect it. This was a clever tactic to try and hide the tracks of an extremely obvious creature, which made him doubt the golem had come up with it on its own. Its master would have had to instruct it to do this, meaning the master would have had knowledge of the land. Were they a local, a traveler who had been staying nearby, or had they simply done their research? Or, potentially, the golem could actually be smart enough to interpret directions like “use the river to hide your tracks” sensibly. He didn’t know exactly how much intelligence these things had, and the presence of the river obviously wasn’t a secret. More infuriatingly vague conjectures. Still, as he stood on the bank and pondered, he reasoned that the golem couldn’t have gone back downstream, since the town was that way and someone would have noticed a giant construct marching under or through the bridge. That meant it must have gone upriver, towards the Lesser Sindle’s source in the Spinetail’s foothills. Hopefully not ALL the way to its source, Zohi thought as he set off along the riverbank. I don’t have time to track it that far.

08:33

Glancing at the sun, he decided he’d give it an hour of quick movement upstream before giving up and turning around. That would still leave enough time to get back before sunset, even if he didn’t find anything else. So minutes passed as the sun sank lower and Zohi half-jogged his way up the Lesser Sindle. Insects and forest creatures ambled this way and that, trees rustled in the constant light breeze, and the river flowed along beside him. He kept time as best he could without a watch or nearby clock - Zohi rarely needed to be punctual for anything - and he guessed that nearly fifty minutes of his hour had elapsed before he noted an oddity. The river curved here, arching languidly around an outcropping of rocks and smooth gravel seemingly pulverized from some ancient stone long ago. A few spare pine needles coated the ground, but for the most part the rock was fairly barren. Nothing was immediately suspicious, but the presence of the pebbly beach itself nagged at him. This would be a good place to exit the river and not leave footprints, he decided. I don’t see any right away, but... He crunched through the field of gravel, assisted by little gusts of wind as rocks shifted and he worked to keep his balance. It was a wide beach, extending surprisingly far from the river until finally the gravel grew sparser, tree cover returned, and the ground softened back to rich soil. And a splintered tree led Zohi to a series of huge rounded footprints placed into the mud, completely invisible from the riverbank. “Good try,” he muttered, checking the sun again. “But not good enough.” Half an hour, he decided. Then I definitely have to start heading back. Clouds passed in front of the sun and tall trees made it difficult to judge. But the day was still light enough. He had time.

08:33

Zohi in fact didn’t have to go all that far before the next discovery: a small cleared area between a handful of taller pines held a large, confused mess of golem footsteps. The creature had clearly walked around this area for a while, then left again to head even further north. However, the really interesting sights were the obvious ashes of a campfire, the smoothed ground and small holes from a tent, and the torn scrap of paper left fluttering in one of those holes, as if it had been ripped off and forgotten. He knelt and picked up the paper - a fragment maybe the size of his pinky - turning it over to read both sides. The front side held two half-complete lines: “-sary will bring Unity from-”, followed by “-and teachers of His holy-” below. The back side seemed to have been ripped from a drawing or similar image, as it depicted only a portion of a large arc with several flares streaming artistically away into a shaded darkness. “bring Unity...” Zohi mouthed, nonplussed. This scrap didn’t seem to have anything to do with golems at all; it read more like religion. Which one, he couldn’t be sure - several prominent denominations preached unity in some form or another. Though usually not capitalized. Regardless, this piece of paper wouldn’t help him right now. The campsite was abandoned, but not that abandoned. The ashes were relatively fresh; probably less than a day old. Whoever had stayed here was almost certainly the golem’s master, or at least directly related to the thing. Zohi checked the sun again, noting with alarm it had sunk significantly lower than he had expected while he had been searching the camp. Evening was drawing near and he was at least two hours out from Virnscross proper, given how far he had traveled. Even so, perhaps there were more clues nearby. He still didn’t have enough to be completely convincing - the campsite didn’t necessarily prove anything. Maybe it would be enough, but maybe not. He didn’t know the authorities here.

08:33

️ - Continue along the golem’s trail for a short time; look for anything else.

- Return to town; speak with the victims.

- Return to town; speak with the guards... [Will go better as Zohi acquires more information. But if he waits too long...]

- Return to town; commit a jailbreak. [It might be easier to do this before the burning, but it is a pretty drastic measure...] (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 4 Well, definitely better to get back beforehand without enough evidence than to get back too late with it. At least in the former case he had a backup plan, and he could even try to track down the victims to ask what they had seen - if he had spare time. Reluctantly, Zohi turned his back on the trail and hustled back towards the river that would return him to Virnscross. ... Lyss paced in her cell, wishing she had someone to talk to. Well, really her number one wish was that she wasn’t about to be executed, but number two was probably for someone to talk to. She had already tried speaking with occasional guards as they passed by, but they pointedly ignored her. Some muttered “changeling” under their breaths or made warding signs with their hands as she spoke. She had also tried screaming, crying, trying to bend or squeeze through the bars, and a number of other actions over the day or so she had been in here, but nothing had gotten anyone to even say anything to her after she had been locked away. Many of the townsfolk and even some of the guards had known Lyss for years, but now she couldn’t sense even a shred of sympathy from anyone. Did they all really believe she was - that she would...? The man by the window - Lyss hadn’t thought to get his name - he would help her, right? He had promised. Before the bonfire, he said. He’d be back; it would be okay. Even if no one else believed her, someone would help. “...” She still couldn’t quite accept that everyone believed she would ever do anything like this. Maybe the bad guards were just keeping the good people out? Surely at least Brissen believed her? Or Tasie? Ilo? They wouldn’t just let her... die like this, right? “Alright, demon. Stay back and come along peacefully.”

22:37

Lyss jumped, having been too absorbed in her own spiraling thoughts to notice the five-man squad who had arrived at her cell. The one in the lead shooed her back before retrieving a heavy key ring and beginning to unlock the door. “Are you letting me go?” she asked. Being addressed as a demon didn’t sound promising, but you never knew... “No.” Three guards entered the cell, while two others remained outside, extra-shiny swords reflecting torchlight. Were the blades made of silver? “Timetable’s moved up; there’s rain coming in.” Lyss froze for a moment, processing. This gave enough time for the guards to bind her wrists with heavy handcuffs, possibly also silver by the sheen. “W-wait; now? The... burning?” “Now.” The guard’s helmet shifted and Lyss could see no spark of pity in his eyes. Only anger. “And save your breath if you’re thinking of pleading. You aren’t little Lyss the carpenter’s apprentice; you’re some demon who killed her and came back for more. We know your kind has nothing but lies to say.” “Wh - but - but I’m not - I’m me! I’m not a demon! Please! You can’t - I - you can’t know for sure! Aren’t you supposed to be protecting us? You CAN’T!” After another minute of building hysterics, the lead guard ordered someone to find a gag and the procession carried on after a brief delay. Lyss wriggled and thrashed as best she could, screaming muffled pleas through the cloth, but made absolutely no headway against the five armored soldiers. At least one of them had the decency to look conflicted, but he marched on regardless and - under the circumstances - Lyss wasn’t comforted by his expression whatsoever.

22:37

They left the jail through the front door, revealing orange-gold sunset rays casting long shadows along the edges of the town square. Just as the guard had said, a bank of dark clouds was rolling in from the east, promising heavy rain tonight. The unlit bonfire rose tall and a number of adults from the town stood around it. Many seemed distraught or argued with the armored guards blocking them off from Lyss’s path, but just as many simmered with the same anger that emanated from the lead guard. She couldn’t spot anyone she knew well from here, but a significant proportion of the crowd were at least familiar. The mayor and the town’s head thaumaturge joined the procession just outside the jail. The mayor himself - a balding, usually-cheery man named Nokoll - wouldn’t look at her and maintained a stoic expression. The thaumaturge - a wispy-haired librarian named Ralib - glanced at Lyss once, but then looked away with a wince somewhere between grief and... guilt? Ralib would have been the one to officially pronounce Lyss a changeling, being the only magical authority in Virnscross, so he had damn well better have looked guilty. As for why he didn’t try to stop the execution if he had even a smidgen of doubt? Well, I can’t say. I never interviewed him, unfortunately. I can only guess based on what Lyss told me, and she (being understandably preoccupied with other matters at the time) wasn’t exactly taking notes.

22:37

The guards stopped at the base of the bonfire and began tying Lyss to several thick lengths of wood driven into the ground for this very purpose. She struggled, but couldn’t do much against so many people. Meanwhile, Mayor Nokoll addressed the assembled villagers, explaining the charges and conclusions. That Lyss was a changeling and the real Lyss had herself been killed and replaced. That the changeling was capable of building dangerous, invincible golems and using them to kidnap other children. That Ralib and the town guard had done admirable work to catch this demonic imposter and bring her to justice. The crowd muttered and murmured, but Nokoll was a good orator and well-trusted by most of the town. Ralib added a few words of his own, describing his process of identification in layman’s terms and waving around a few glimmering plants. All completely nonmagical, if I had to guess, but again I never spoke to him. Opinions shifted. The storm rolled closer. And finally, Nokoll brought forward Watchmaster Liryn with the torch and a tinderbox. It was time. [At least one combination of options is potentially deadly to at least one character.]

- Brissen objects.

- Brissen does not object.

- Brissen is not here.

️ - Zohi breaks Lyss out.

- Zohi presents his case to the town. ⏱️ - Zohi waits for the perfect opportunity...

- Zohi remains steadfastly nonlethal; no exceptions.

- Zohi does his best to not kill anyone, but if it’s them or the girl, well... (Winners:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 5 “Stop! You have to stop!” The watchmaster turned back to the crowd, having just lit the torch. Lyss, trembling, dared to open her eyes and see what was going on. A portly man in a carpenter’s apron pushed through the crowd, shouting “stop!” again even though everyone had already stopped. He was trailed by two boys in similar outfits, the only non-adults in attendance besides Lyss herself. The man’s name was Brissen, and he was the carpenter Lyss was apprenticed to. I would normally describe their relationship in more detail here, but now may not exactly be the right time. Brissen stumbled to a stop at the front of the crowd, facing Nokoll and the rest. He puffed for air, having clearly run all the way here. “Didn’t - huff - even tell me you were - huff - doing it early. Bastards.” Relative silence. Nokoll muttered something about “difficult to give adequate notice with the weather moving so fast...” The carpenter stood up straight, having mostly recovered his breath. “Listen here, Nokoll. You’re going to untie my apprentice right now and let her go home. Then we can discuss your heartfelt apology for all the trauma you’ve put the poor girl through. Understood?” The mayor shuffled from foot to foot, much less confident now that he was off-script. “I can’t do that, Brissen. You may have missed it, but your apprentice is gone. This... creature is a changeling demon bent on destroying our town.” “And why is that? What’s the proof?” “Er, Ralib?” The librarian nodded. “Irrefutable, Master Brissen. After the golem’s attack, young Ilo was obviously quite distressed, but he mentioned Lyss’s name.” At this, Lyss’s eyes widened and she strained against the bonds. She was friends with Ilo; he was the one that had been attacked by the golem? Why didn’t they tell her? Of course he would have said her name, because - because-

14:11

Brissen impatiently motioned Ralib to proceed. He obliged. “We investigated, and when we searched her room, we found several smaller golems of similar make to the large one, as well as a number of texts and notes on golemancy. After we captured the creature, I then cast a divination ritual and confirmed its identity. The changeling was luckily detected relatively early; likely within a month of the switch.” “Hogwash. Let me get this straight: you are going to burn my apprentice at the stake because one of her best friends said her name, and then you found harmless little golems in her room? And you think all this started a month ago when she was switched with some demon?” “More or less.” “Idiots. Did you ever think that maybe Ilo said her name because she could help him? That maybe he already knew about her skills? That maybe I did too? You buffoons; Lyss has been practicing her magic for years now! Ever since she first arrived! I told her to keep it quiet for fear of exactly this kind of reaction, but now I see that wasn’t enough; you folks were always going to root it out and make an even bigger mess than if you had known from the start! Now, Nokoll, release my apprentice IMMEDIATELY!” Events got a little chaotic from there. Many townsfolk seemed convinced by Brissen’s speech and rallied around him, shouting to let Lyss go. Others, however, seemed to take his admission that he had always known about her golemancy as an admission of guilt and conspiracy. That maybe he should burn too, as a fellow changeling. Tensions rose, people pressed up against lines of guards who were themselves also of two minds. And then a powerful gust of wind silenced discussion as people looked up to see if the storm had finally arrived. It hadn’t, but Zohi had.

14:12

He perched at the peak of the bonfire, balancing on the very top with his cloak flapping in the wind (entirely for effect, he told me later). One particular shrimp vendor exclaimed “oh, it’s the hunter!” and Zohi smirked appreciably. “Lyss is not the culprit!” he shouted, summoning all eighteen of his main blades and sending them spinning above him in a cyclone of flashing metal. Again, entirely for effect. “I am a hunter of demons and I tracked the golem! I found its master’s camp and scraps from their notes! I can assure you, the notes are not hers and the camp was occupied by someone entirely outside of Virnscross. Lyss was here, in town, while the golem’s true master was there, escaping upriver to the north. The physical locations do not match up, along with the slew of other evidence from Master Brissen. You have the wrong person. Release her, or I will.” Silence for several moments. Thunder rumbled in the distance, like a giant clearing its throat to ask “Well?” “Ralib,” the mayor eventually said. “Are you confident your divination was entirely-without-a-doubt accurate?” “W-well, no spell is entirely without fault...” “Liryn, get her off that pyre. There will be no burning tonight.” “Sir.” The watchmaster finally extinguished the torch that Lyss had been worrying about for the past who knew how long. Was it over? Could she finally relax, at least a little? Zohi dismissed his blades and leapt down to the ground beside the still-unlit bonfire. He nodded to Brissen. “Good work there. I think we may have a few things to discuss later tonight, if you don’t mind.” “Was just thinking the same.” Then, to the mayor, “Nokoll. Lyss is free, aye? Not just postponed? I note you didn’t specifically say.”

14:12

“Well...” [One option is potentially deadly to at least one character.]

- Yes. Very sorry for almost burning her.

- No. We still don’t know who the culprit is for sure, so she has to stay under guard until we know. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 6 “Nokoll.” “Yes, yes! Free to go! We will need to speak tomorrow to understand more of, well, her, I suppose. I’ll send for you. And, er, you, hunter. Do you have a name?” “Zohi will do.” He glanced to the side, where Lyss was finally being freed from the pyre. “Now, if you don’t mind...?” “Of course; of course! Please, take your leave for the night!” The mayor muttered more quietly as he turned away, “A golemancer, right under our noses, for years!” Zohi stayed at a moderate distance as the girl stumbled to Brissen and hugged him, tearfully explaining what had happened. Instead, he watched the crowd as it dispersed. Gauged the town’s mood after the evening’s revelations. It was mixed, to say the least. By his estimation, the majority seemed to be on his side, shooting distrustful glances at the town officials or casting sympathetic looks to Lyss and Brissen as they left. But there were more than a few who still muttered darkly on their way home, and he even caught a handful making one of several old hand signs against demons of all varieties. Of course those didn’t work, but it was the thought that counted. In this case, that thought was “there’s still a demon in this town.” He frowned and tried to note down some details in case he had to do something later. But even if there was no further threat of violence, the kid would be set apart now that everyone knew her secret. Her master had likely been right to hide it; she definitely wouldn’t be treated the same anymore. And there were any number of unscrupulous individuals who would try to exploit her for her skills. He frowned, then turned around at a pat on his shoulder. “Thank you,” Lyss said sincerely, eyes still red. “I think you saved my life.” “Anytime,” he replied. “I’m just glad I wasn’t too late.” ...

23:12

Steadily-strengthening rain drummed on the roof later that evening. Occasional lights were visible outside the windows from other homes, but for the most part the night was covered by utterly cloud-soaked darkness. Brissen and Zohi sat opposite each other - the former in his well-worn workshop chair he had wheeled in from the other room and the latter on the much-softer couch. Both held warm mugs of cider against the storm’s wet chill. Lyss was here too, despite being sent to bed to recover from her ordeal. Only a few minutes after climbing to her room on the second story, she had returned to the main floor wrapped in several blankets and complaining that she didn’t want to be alone. Obviously, neither man had denied her and she was now stretched out on the couch next to Zohi, eyes closed but obviously still listening to the soft conversation. The traveling hunter had just finished explaining his findings to Brissen and was about to introduce his potentially unwelcome suggestion, but the carpenter beat him to it. “Do you think...” He stared into his mug of cider, then looked up at Lyss’s not-quite-sleeping face. “Lyss should leave Virnscross?” She half-opened one eye but didn’t speak, waiting for more. Zohi nodded. “I was about to bring that up, actually. Are you mentioning it for the same reasons I would?” “I-” “What am I saying; you don’t know what reasons I was about to give. Here: one: a significant portion of the town doesn’t believe either of us and likely still wishes her harm in some fashion. Two: being a known golemancer is not a particularly safe position, especially when news gets outside of the local area. Three: she will be treated differently and set apart from everyone else here. And four... the real culprit is still out there, and I’m not convinced it’s a coincidence.” Brissen swirled his cider. Lyss’s open eye swiveled to look at him. “Yes.” He took a sip. “Do you really believe anyone would actually try to... harm her, though?”

23:13

“I’m not sure. I don’t know the people of this town, but it is certainly a risk - even if it’s a small one. However, I would also be worried about outsiders coming here to seek her out, whether to exploit her skills or to try to destroy what they consider to be a dangerous art.” “I see...” He focused on Lyss again, hair spilling around her almost upside-down face. “Well, miss? Any thoughts to share?” She opened both eyes this time, looking up (down) in thought. “Is this going to happen again if I stay?” Neither Brissen nor Zohi could know for sure, and they said as much in almost overlapping disclaimers. “What would happen if I leave? Where would I go? What would I do?” She looked down (up) at Brissen. “You know my parents wouldn’t want me back, even if I could find them again. Either of them.” Zohi blinked at her matter-of-fact tone. Brissen tapped his mug. “Your aunt? The one who sent you here?” Lyss squeezed her eyes shut. “Please, no. She means well, but living there is just...” A pause. “There’s a reason I begged her for the apprenticeship.” Another few mug taps. “Do you have any other family? I would happily keep you here - don’t think I’m trying to get rid of you - but if it’s not safe...” “I know, I know.” A little smile. “You wouldn’t kick me out.” The smile faded back to a frown as she thought. “I don’t know any other family, I don’t think. Not who are still alive, at least...” “What about living independently?” Zohi asked. “How close are you to the end of your apprenticeship?” Brissen and Lyss glanced at each other; Lyss grinned. “I don’t know how old I look, but I’m only 16. I’ve only been apprenticed for about three years.” “I see.” Almost without thinking, Zohi followed that question up with an offer he wasn’t entirely prepared to give. “You could travel with me, if you’d like. At least until you found somewhere else to-” The kid half-sat up, eyes shining. “Do I get to learn how to make swords appear out of nowhere?”

23:13

“Uh - that’s not exactly something I can teach... but I would be happy to make you an apprentice in demon hunting, swordplay, magical arts, or even golemancy if we can track down some more texts.” Brissen chuckled. “Don’t look too eager, Lyss. You’ll hurt my feelings.” “Sorry! I’m sorry! Woodworking is cool, but - magic!” The adults had to laugh at that, and Lyss joined in after a moment, her former drowsiness almost forgotten. Outside, the storm grew stronger and rain pounded dirt into mud. Inside, warm firelight blocked the chill. And not far upriver, a shrimp vendor peered out into the night, wondering what that noise had been.

- “But thankfully, it was just a group of wayward crustaceans enjoying the downpour; the night passed peacefully.”

- “He could barely make out a massive, lumpishly humanoid shape as it strode downriver, its form emanating a deathly chill.” (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 7 He could barely make out a massive, lumpishly humanoid shape as it strode downriver, its form emanating a deathly chill. The shrimp vendor froze in his window for several seconds before shaking his head and blinking several times. He looked again. The golem was still there, but further downriver. It was nearly invisible in the darkness and almost silent beneath the pounding rain. He could only make out its vague outline because of reflected light from the few streetlamps whose enclosures had so far stood up to the rain. In only a few more seconds, it had waded out of sight. “...” He eyed the main street through the rain, gauging the distance to the town center where he could call the guards. Dare he go out at night, in heavy rain, with a golem lurking about, to call for help? Or dare he cower in place and hope that death would pass him by? He had no children, and the thing had last attempted a kidnapping. Perhaps it would- A loud, shrill horn cut the night, followed almost immediately by screeching, cracking wood; the shrimp vendor felt a traitorous sense of relief that he was spared the decision. Zohi woke up with a start, swearing he had just heard a horn. The house was dark and Brissen had retired to his own bedroom for the night. Lyss had remained with Zohi in the main room - her on the couch and him in a chair - because she still couldn’t stand being upstairs by herself. He heard rustling blankets, then, “Zohi...?” “Here.” He felt at the table, fumbling for the matches he knew were there. “Did you hear that?” Zohi managed to find the matches and lamp, bringing a fitful glow to the room. Lyss was sitting up, still wrapped in blankets and blinking against the light. “... Yeah. Let me-” Brissen clomped into the room at this point, bearing a lantern of his own. “I take it I wasn’t imagining the horn, then.” Two shakes of the head. “What does it signify here?” Zohi asked.

21:26

“‘Danger.’ It’s been used for severe weather, monster invasions, bandits; you name it. The usual advice is to stay inside and as locked down as possible.” He checked the door, verifying it was still locked. “Maybe the storm is stronger than we thought.” Zohi frowned and briefly cracked open a window, listening to the wind and breathing in the storm. “I don’t think so. The air is excited, but not menacing; it doesn’t feel dangerous.” “What - what if the golem is back?” Lyss murmured, untangling herself from the blankets to stand up and peer out the window as well. Nothing but rain. Brissen and Zohi shared a look, but neither could think of anything reassuring to say before a peal of cracking wood echoed through the darkness. The horn blew again shortly afterwards. “I’ll tell you one thing,” Zohi offered. “No storm is doing that much damage with winds this slow. I’m going out to look; you two stay here and stay as hidden as possible. I’ll be right back.” The half-sylph pulled open the door, glanced back for an instant, then leapt into the rain. Zohi breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the energy-charged winds of the tempest. They swirled within and around him, lending him strength and making it easy for him to leap straight onto a nearby building to sprint along the rooftops. He was at his best in storms like this; winds spinning all around him and shouting their glee. It would be better still if he could see a damn thing, though. The sounds of breaking wood guided him towards the center of town, where stomping thuds and the calls of frantic men added to the cacophony. Zohi skidded to a stop on the rain-slicked roof of a two story building and had to suppress an exclamation at the sight of town square - the very location that had almost been home to a pyre mere hours ago.

21:26

Three buildings lay in ruins, massive holes punched in their walls and roofs by enormous blunt force. The bonfire itself had been scattered, heavy logs as thick as a man’s chest lying like broken twigs. Some had even been thrown with enough force to lodge in walls nearby. The cause of all this destruction was immediately apparent: a twenty foot tall humanoid figure crudely shaped from clay and stone strode through the square, inspecting various buildings with a frozen, vacant expression. Its eyes were nothing more than two dots poked in its lumpy head; its mouth nothing more than a wide slash. Above the golem’s own eyes, a third orb sat embedded in the center of its forehead. This eye was carved of blue crystal and held much more detail, though Zohi couldn’t make out the specifics from his perch. A half-dozen men from the town guard shouted in the square below, attacking its ankles with hammers and blades but dealing only superficial damage to the monstrosity. Other guardsmen ran nearby, trying to distract the beast or evacuate buildings in its path before it rammed a fist like a boulder through the structures. Occasionally, the creature would glance down and reposition its clublike feet, trying to kick away or step on the attackers. Zohi took a step back, feeling a pang of liquid fear drop heavily into his stomach. He wasn’t prepared to fight this thing. Even if he had been fully rested, he doubted he could take it on without some help and a prepared trap. The golem couldn’t be hurt by normal weapons, it seemed, and despite his own blades’ ability to vanish and reappear from thin air, they were still forged from ordinary steel. How could he help these people? Was there a way? Could he maybe distract the thing, leading it into the storm-surging river to throw it off-balance, then - hold on.

21:26

A group of six men - two guards and four burly civilians - had broken off from the fray with a purpose. They ran away from the golem, not out of fear, but because they had a new target. They ran back the way that Zohi had just come. Towards the girl they believed to be responsible for the gargantuan construct currently ripping apart their town. It would have been a smart strategy, if they were correct about who controlled the golem. Zohi swore and turned around, spraying a fin of water from his cloak as he leapt off the roof to give chase. Behind him, the golem rose to its full height after demolishing another storefront, then also began to stomp in the same direction. A coincidence, or was it following them? He sped up. [At least one option is potentially deadly to at least one character.]

- Beat the townsfolk back to Brissen’s, grab Lyss, and run for it. She’s clearly in the most danger and needs to leave ASAP.

- Confront the townsfolk before they arrive at Brissen’s and convince (or “convince”) them to stay away.

- Rally the townsfolk and guards; fight the golem. Keep the thing away from Lyss, innocents, and as much property as feasible.

- Get Lyss to help him take the thing down. Maybe she knows a weakness. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 8 Zohi burst back into the house, sprinkling the floor with water from his sodden clothes. “Brissen, you need to get out of here and get to safety. Outside of town, I think. Lyss, you’re coming with me.” Overlapping questions. Zohi tossed a cloak to each of them as he answered. “The golem is on its way here and I need your help-” He nodded at Lyss. “-to deal with it.” By now, heavy footsteps were audible shaking the walls. Lyss, pale and wide-eyed, nodded resolutely anyway and snatched a curious tool that resembled a short needle. Brissen tied up his cloak and bent down to whisper a few words to his apprentice before they parted ways. Zohi didn’t hear - he was occupied checking the windows - and Lyss has so far refused to tell me what he said. Then, all bundled up against the storm, off they went. Brissen hustled off to the southwest, away from town proper, while Zohi hefted Lyss into a piggyback carry and leapt into the air again. His acrobatics were significantly less graceful with the extra weight, but with the wind’s help, he could still barely manage to get them both onto a nearby roof. “One more thing,” he grunted as he dashed across a house and prepared to leap again. “Those men to our left likely still believe you responsible for the golem and are coming to do something about it. Don’t get too close to them.” She looked down as they jumped, queasy from the height and anxiety. The rain was too strong; she couldn’t see. What she definitely could see, lit up by fitfully flickering streetlights, was the massive golem she was supposed to be stopping. It loomed out of the night ahead of them, several streets away and focused to their left. In the pouring rain, it wouldn’t be able to notice them from this distance without a disastrous miracle. Zohi skidded to a stop and let Lyss slide off his back, recovering from the exertion. “Alright, kid. Your chance to be a hero. What do we do?”

14:51

Golemancy is a tricky subject to learn. Not only is it so stigmatized and possibly-still-outlawed that finding a teacher is near-impossible, but most of the art’s accumulated knowledge was lost during the disaster that had banned it in the first place. That is to say, even the best students with the resources of a duke or king would have a difficult time growing their knowledge in a structured way. And Lyss, of course, was but a carpenter’s apprentice living in a moderately sized town. So while there are ways for one golemancer to take over control of another’s golem, Lyss was a self-taught amateur and had never heard of the methods. “I - I don’t know; it’s so much bigger than I thought...” “Works the same way as the little ones, I bet. How do you stop your own creatures from running amok?” Lyss watched the golem stride through an intersection, its legs lit from below with dim firelight. “I tell them to be nice. You can - there’s a little scroll you put in the golem to give it instructions. But you can also control them directly if you have a-” She squinted into the storm, shielding her eyes and trying to peer at the golem’s face. It obliged by turning momentarily towards her, brushing aside a spear that had gotten stuck in its leg. “-an eye, like that one.” “So break the eye; break the control?” “May - probably? I don’t know; I don’t have one!” “We’ll assume yes. Okay, once it’s not under direct control, what’s it going to do?” “Follow whatever instructions are on its scroll. I usually just write ‘be nice’ on mine, but you can do all sorts of things if you want. I don’t know what it would do...” She hesitated, then continued in a rush. “But if the scroll is removed, too, then it has to fall back to its most basic instructions that are carved in really early! Usually something like ‘stand still’ - that basic.” “Remove the eye; remove the scroll. Got it. Where is this scroll?”

14:51

“It could be anywhere...” she said quietly, still staring at the thing as it approached Brissen’s house and bent down to inspect it. “You can even put it completely inside if you want; that just makes it a lot harder to edit later. I - I usually sculpt mine around the scroll, so it’s totally buried...” Zohi frowned. “That wouldn’t be good; weapons can’t hurt this thing, let alone open it up. Do you have anything else? Can you control it, or deactivate it or something? I saw you take that needle...?” “I th-thought it would be way smaller!” Lyss was shivering, though from fear or pouring rain Zohi couldn’t tell. “I don’t know how to do direct control, and I thought maybe I could edit its life glyphs with this, but I wouldn’t even know where to start with something that big! They’re really tiny and can be anywhere on its body - I just don’t know...” He stared at the thing again; it had stood back up and was now stomping its feet at the guardsmen still swarming around it. The screams of dying men cut through the storm. “That’s enough, Lyss.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and grinned with confidence, despite his lack of it. “You’ve helped a great deal. Stay here so no one can reach you and get my attention if anything happens.” “You’re not going to-” “I’m going to deal with this thing.” Zohi leapt off the building. Eighteen separate blades appeared out of the storm, seeming to coalesce from ribbons of rain, and fell with him. Lyss watched him go, shivering and pulling her cloak tight as rainwater dripped from her hair and face. The etching needle felt cold in her hand and she almost dropped it, furious at the frigid metal and at herself for being so useless. But she didn’t, and instead she- “WHO’S ON MY ROOF?!”

14:51

Lyss jumped in alarm, slipped on the wet roof, and slid almost to the very edge, catching herself on the gutter a moment before she fell. Her hand hurt and, opening it, she could tell the etching needle had somehow stabbed her in the palm during the slide. A thin trickle of blood ran down her wrist. “DON’T MAKE ME COME UP THERE!” By the sound of the voice, the older woman who owned this house was about to grab a ladder and a weapon. But was she someone who thought Lyss was a demon, or not? That made a lot of difference in how she should handle this! [Zohi]

️ - Focus primarily on breaking or stealing the golem’s eye.

- Focus primarily on finding and stealing the golem’s instruction scroll.

- Focus primarily on keeping the golem occupied and away from murdering people. [Lyss] ✅ - Tell the truth.

- Pretend to be someone else who also doesn’t want to come down from the roof.

- Quietly descend and find a different roof with a less-attentive owner.

- Go help Zohi with the golem. [Has Lyss come up with another plan?]

- Get Zohi’s attention. [How? Oh dear; he may have overlooked this.] (Winners:

️,

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 9 Well, better to assume the worst and get away rather than assume the best and get clobbered; the woman seemed very upset. Wood scraped against the gutter and Lyss scrambled up the roof to the other side, fumbling with the needle to put it somewhere it wouldn’t be able to stab her again. Then, as footsteps sounded on the ladder, she carefully lowered herself over the edge and dropped to the ground. Prickles of pain spread through her left leg as she landed awkwardly, but mud cushioned the fall somewhat and she could stand up without issue. Without a single word to the roof’s owner, Lyss crept away into the night. She later found herself huddling next to a pair of overflowing rain barrels, barely underneath the roof of a popular general store’s deck. Her original plan had been to find another roof nearby so Zohi could still find her, but there weren’t any conveniently unattended ladders and she couldn’t climb up on her own. So after a close call with a group of running guardsmen, she ended up shivering and drenched - but thankfully out of the immediate downpour - on the edge of the deck. The golem’s footsteps were still audible, though she couldn’t see it from here through the slowly lessening rain. Her hand had stopped bleeding, but it still hurt. Lyss fished the etching needle out of a pocket to glare at it. “Wish I had never even seen that book,” she muttered to it. “If this is what I get out of it.”

19:03

She pressed against the thin metal with her thumbs, perhaps intending to break it, but couldn’t muster the heart to go through with it. She sighed and flipped the needle around, now holding it more like a pencil. The painstakingly carved glyphs on the polished wood handle - one of Lyss’s first projects with Brissen - were invisible in the dim light. The glyphs on the blade - so tiny that it had taken her several attempts with Tasie (the blacksmith’s daughter) to get them right - were visible, since they constantly reflected a tiny glimmer of ambient light whether or not there was any to reflect. The tool was legitimately magical, though Lyss doubted Ralib or anyone else in town understood how. Maybe Brissen, but he hadn’t read and re-read the texts like she had. There had to be something she could do. “...!” Lyss reached down off the deck, scooped a handful of mud out of the ground, and readied her needle. There was something she could do. At least, if her hunch was correct... ... Zohi skidded through the mud as he changed direction, moving his arm in a half-circle to summon a crescent of blades and give him just enough of a solid surface to push off that he managed to avoid the golem’s foot as it stomped down. He leapt into the air again, dismissing his blades to mist, and vaulted over two buildings to finally come to a stop on a third. He wiped sodden hair out of his eyes, scowling. He had known the golem would have antimagic properties. What his friend had failed to mention, however, was just how strong those properties were. Zohi’s abilities were (partially) magic, of course. His own skills were good, but his powers over wind and his blades relied on a primal energy granted by the elements themselves.

19:03

Around the golem, all of that stopped working. The aura wasn’t exceptionally large, but maybe ten or twenty feet out from the thing, he fell from the sky along with any accompanying blades, the winds propelling them suddenly dying. This unexpected drop had very nearly ended the fight seconds after it began, the golem coming within an inch of crushing him to death before he could scramble out of the way. After that poor start, things had not gone markedly better. He had started by trying to attack the thing normally, but quickly reaffirmed that the golem’s body was stronger than any steel and could not be harmed by normal weapons - his own included. That experiment concluded, he had moved on to attacking the eye, as Lyss had said. This hadn’t gone much better. He couldn’t get up to its face to attack directly due to its antimagic field, and he couldn’t summon a blade close enough to aim properly. He had tried launching blades from thirty feet out, but just couldn’t get any accuracy from that distance. He had scored a glancing hit once, he thought, but the golem hadn’t reacted and the eye didn’t look damaged. If it was as durable as the golem’s own body, he might as well just give up now. As a last resort, he had called for bows, but what few guards had actually listened to him couldn’t land a solid shot either. The wind and rain ruined archers’ accuracy, and all the moisture was terrible for the weapons as well. Several arrows had struck, just due to sheer volume, but again he noted no damage. And all the while, guardsmen died around him as the golem continued its march through the town. He wasn’t sure where it was going now - it seemed to just be inspecting or trampling almost random buildings - but given the eye was still intact, it had to have a reason.

19:03

Finally, as he perched on the roof and considered his next plan, an officer gave the call to retreat. Zohi wasn’t a member of the guard, but he was under no illusion to how he would fare continuing his assault without any support. It was time to admit defeat and live to fight another day. Hopefully the kid hadn’t gotten into any trouble while he was- Lyss was gone. Zohi thumped onto the roof where he had left her, searching for any clues. Nothing visible, so he leapt down and checked for footprints - obviously nothing there either, given the continuous pouring rain. Someone shouted at him from inside, so he hurtled back into the sky, trying to get a bird’s-eye view of the town. Again, the rain blinded him. Swearing, Zohi splashed back to earth, still listening to the golem’s rampage with half an ear. Where the hell could she have gone? Had someone taken her? Had she just left? Wait - he should go back and check with the person inside the house, right? Hell, hell, hell. [Where is Lyss?] ✍️ - Still on the deck and still working on her idea.

- Approaching the golem to put her idea into action.

- Hiding from more townsfolk who keep showing up everywhere! (Winner: a tie between ✍️ and

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 10 The mud was too wet to hold the markings for any longer than a minute at most, and often only a few seconds. Lyss could picture the end result in her head: a slightly curved slab of hardened muck inscribed with a new set of control glyphs that would allow her to override the golem’s original master if she could just get the thing attached. Well, that was the theory, at least. She honestly had no idea if it would work the way she wanted, but figured that there was no better time to find out than when she could stop the golem and prove her own innocence simultaneously. Of course, the thought that being able to easily stop and command the golem would only inflame the townsfolk further never crossed her mind. But thankfully for Lyss, she never got the chance to try it as the mud just wouldn’t cooperate! Her etching needle was supernaturally sharp and able to carve out just the right set of grooves to imbue its markings with magic, but it wasn’t able to stop the sodden dirt from just squishing together again and ruining yet another set of inscriptions. Frustrated, she threw the latest failure off the deck, splattering it against the opposite building’s wall with a dull thump. She was supposed to be better than this. Wasn’t that why her- “Lyss!” someone shouted overhead. She jumped, breaking off that particularly dangerous train of thought and scanning the sky. With the rain finally thinning out, she could make out a dark figure leaping from roof to roof, cloak billowing and blades whipping around him. “H-here!” she called back, trying to wipe her hands clean as if embarrassed about what she had been doing. Zohi landed gracefully and ran up the steps to the deck, stopping just short of Lyss and peering around suspiciously. “What happened? Are you okay?”

21:07

She quickly explained, though omitting just how long she had been trying to carve glyphs into uncooperative muck. In return, Zohi briefly described his own failures with the golem. That made her feel a little better, though also much worse. Just in different ways. “This patch you described; do you know it would work? If you can craft one, I can try to attach it to the golem.” “Er-” She hesitated, trying to maintain confidence but realistically unable to. “I don’t know. And... I would have to be the one to attach it, since it’s bound to me.” It was Zohi’s turn to hesitate now, reviewing the multiple half-baked, mostly-failed plans that had defined the night so far. And the idea of sending Lyss into battle with the golem to try and attach a plate that she didn’t even know would work... “I can’t let you put yourself in danger like that. We need to leave.” “But what about the golem? If you can’t stop it and I can’t stop it, who’s going to?” “Listen, in order to make it to my age in my profession, you have to know when to retreat. We’re not giving up; we’re regrouping and reassessing to come back later with a better plan. It’s going to help no one if you get yourself killed today by going in over your head.” Secretly relieved at not having to confront the monster - but desperately trying not to show it - Lyss brought up one more concern. “But if we leave it here, it’s going to destroy the town!” “There’s nothing we can do about that right now. And in fact, based on what I’ve seen it doing so far, it seems to be looking for something rather than just causing mayhem. If... we...” He trailed off, peering upwards. Lyss glanced around, anxious. Then she noticed. “Do you hear tha-” A heavy stone foot tore through the roof and a bulbous clay hand reached down with fingers wide open as if it were trying to snatch the last morsel from the back of a drawer. Lyss didn’t even have time to yelp before Zohi had hefted her over his shoulder and ran for it.

21:07

You may be wondering how the golem - famously not a master of subtlety - had snuck up on two relatively observant and quite on-edge individuals. Well, in brief, know that magic is merely another type of energy like light or sound: vibrations in the tightly-woven fabric that makes up the universe. Golems are capable of dampening these magical vibrations to an extreme degree, so from there it’s only a small leap to dampen sound, light, heat, and the like. Not to the same degree as magic - it can’t evade notice under normal circumstances - but it can stay just quiet enough to remain relatively undetectable beneath the still-loud rain. It can also turn off these abilities when it wants to be noticed. For instance, in attempting to draw a rival golemancer out of hiding. Of course, these are only my hypotheses about the incident. It would take Zohi and Lyss quite a lot longer to draw their own conclusions. Trees collapsed behind him as the golem trampled portions of the forest, but the crashes were growing ever quieter; Zohi was outpacing it. He made an abrupt turn, angling across the road and into the woods on the other side. The crashes grew quieter still, and eventually became inaudible. Lyss still held onto him tightly, a heavy warmth on his back, saying nothing as they continued their flight. She had been struck by a falling beam as the roof caved in, severely bruising her back at the very least, but she would live until he could stop and assess the injury. Their priority right now had to be gaining as much distance as possible from the golem that - undoubtedly now - was looking for Lyss specifically. [Where should they go?] ↖️ - Northwest (towards the Spinetail Mountains) ↗️ - Northeast (across the Purple River) ↙️ - Southwest (towards the Vitrean Desert) ↘️ - Southeast (towards the Purple Coast) (Winner: ↘️ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 11 Well, I have. And unfortunately, I know that some - not all; not even most - but some of those stars are looking back. Not with a wide, benevolent gaze, but with a focused, malicious one. In recent decades, I have come to discover that a small portion of the stars above actively hate us. An even smaller portion, to my dismay, have the means to do something about it. My immediate research, you should be unsurprised to learn, has involved delving into the obvious question: how do we stop a star that means us harm? We can’t simply slay such a being as we would a terrestrial beast, and in fact it isn’t exactly alive as we understand it. No, there must be more esoteric defenses employed. So far, I have found only a few of even marginally useful potency. ... “Made it. How are you feeling, kid?” Zohi asked as they finally emerged from the mess of muddy underbrush onto a more solid trail. It was now midafternoon of the following day and the previous night’s rain meant much of the ground was still muck. Lyss twisted back and forth, raising her arms to feel her back. “Good, I think. Just a little pain when I move too fast.” Zohi nodded appreciably, swirling his arm to briefly produce a small pouch from midair before letting it vanish again. The pouch had previously contained two tiny vials of bright red liquid, but now held only one. “These things are good. Take it slow for a few more days and you’ll be fine.”

20:44

She nodded, then looked up and shaded her eyes against the glare. The Purple River stretched on before them, running roughly north to south and glittering with light reflecting off its turbulent waters. It was several miles wide at this point, just after the Lesser Sindle merged into it. The river’s width after the merge meant that no bridges were possible further downstream until it began to break up into smaller streams near the Purple Delta at the southern coast. Ferries or barges were the only way to cross for well over a hundred miles, which gave towns on either bank an easy and obvious industry. “So... where are we going?” Lyss clambered down the bank to the river proper as she waited for a response, shucking off her cloak and swishing it through the clear water to clean some of the mud off. Zohi glanced towards the horizon in all directions before joining her. A few barges were visible downstream, but far in the distance. “I was thinking we’d head downriver until we reach Sorem. That should be safe for you.” “How far is that?” He closed his eyes, trying to remember the maps. “Two weeks’ travel, I think? It’s on the coast, so we have a ways to go.” “And you’re sure the golem won’t hurt anyone else since it’s chasing... me?” “It should leave Virnscross alone now that you’ve left, yes. And Sorem is a much larger city, with better defenses. Even if it shows up after us, the city guard will be able to hold it back.” A few more moments passed, drifting gently along the wind and water. “I’ve never been to the southern coast before; what’s it like?” She lifted the cloak to check its progress, squeezing out more dirty water.

20:45

“It’s very busy,” he began simply. “Lots of trade on the continent passes around or through the Purple Bay region, since so many rivers reach the ocean there. You’ll see ships of all sizes, merchants with exotic goods from foreign lands, and likely more crowds than you’ve seen before.” A pause. “Actually, you aren’t originally from Virnscross. Where are you from, originally?” Lyss checked the cloak again, more satisfied this time, and climbed back up to the main path. She glanced down. “North” was all he got in reply. Right, Zohi remembered. Something happened with her parents. “Maybe not originally; what about the aunt that sent you to Virnscross?” She eyed him faux-suspiciously, regaining some energy at the slight change in topic. “Not planning on sending me back, right?” “Not unless you want to go.” “Del’Say. Up in the mountains.” Zohi still looked a little blank, so Lyss continued. “The source of the Purple River? Right below the Worldspire?” He blinked. “Ah! Isn’t that a monastery?” Lyss grimaced. “There is a monastery there, yeah, but there’s also a town. There’s a lot of dwarven culture, since the monks were originally saved by dwarves of the mountains or something, but that combined with the religious stuff just means a bunch of emphasis on honor and rules and being all grand and regal. My aunt is an artisan who works on those giant crystal murals, so when I said I wanted to apprentice as a carpenter she was all for it. I just had to make sure someone else had already taken the job with the guy in Del’Say itself.” “Still, all the way down in Virnscross? Surely there was something closer.”

20:45

“Probably, but Brissen was visiting the monks to deliver a set of chairs, he said he was accepting apprentices when I asked, and I just left with him. I just couldn’t take how serious everyone was all the time. I get that honor is cool and all, but surely you can just take a break sometimes? Even the dwarves who visited seemed a little less uptight than the town based on them, even though they never really minded.” A pause. “He’s okay, right? The golem-” “He’s fine. It followed us, and we didn’t go the same way he did.” Lyss nodded, rubbing her hands. “Hey, Zohi...”

️ - “... do you want to learn how to make a golem?” ❔ - “... where do you come from originally?”

- “... why did everyone think I was a changeling?” (Winner: ❔ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 12 “Hm?” “Where... are you from originally?” “Ah, I suppose that’s fair.” He looked west, where the last rolling foothills and forests of the Spinetail range began to give way to the dry, sandy landscape of the Vitrean peninsula. “North as well, actually. That way-” he pointed out towards the desert. “-then up until you reach the ocean and keep right on going.” “You don’t mean all the way-” “No, no. Not quite that far. Ever heard of the Tidelands?” “A little. A bunch of islands just off the northern coast?” “That’s the ones. They’re actually about as far north as most of Leng, but for whatever reason - apparently some sort of ocean current, I’m told - they’re significantly less frigid than the plateau itself.” He paused, reflecting. “It’s not a bad life there; weather’s warm enough and if you like rain, it certainly delivers. Most of the islands are only a few miles across, or even smaller, so you can have ‘cities’ spread out across a big chain of them and connected only by boat routes. The only islands large enough for more than a small town are near the center, so that’s where most of the civilization happens, but that just means everyone near the edges is pretty self-reliant since it takes so long to get there. You really need to be pretty laid back to enjoy living in the Tidelands; the water’s too shallow for any large ships, so most of the time people end up in slow, small sailcraft or even just swimming if they aren’t going far.” Another pause. “Yes, it’s a nice place.” Lyss tried to imagine it; she could get part way there by picturing the massive Purple River intersecting itself hundreds of times, but the ocean was hard to see. She had never been to a coast. “Why did you leave? Was it because you can do...?” She swished an arm through the air in an imitation of Zohi summoning his blades.

15:36

“Ha, sort of.” He took a breath and glanced up before continuing. “You might not be able to tell, but I’m actually half-sylph. Mom was a human; dad was a spirit of elemental air. That’s part of why I have powers like that, but not all of it - others like me can’t do all the things I can.” “A spirit of elemental air? How does that... work?” Zohi grinned briefly. “Never underestimate the craftiness of nature spirits, Lyss. If they want something badly enough, they’ll figure out how to make it happen. My parents met on a trading voyage down the coast, and after the many months there and back, two had become three. Dad moved on shortly afterwards - wind spirits find it hard to stay in one place for long - but he comes back every now and again to spend time with mom. She’s retired from her sailing life to become a scholar now; spends time studying the weather and how to predict it. I asked to see her work once, and you would not believe how much information is involved. Almost looks like magical rituals with the amount of minutiae on those pages.” Lyss smiled gently, dutifully imagining the pages of tiny scribings, reminiscent of her own golemancy manuals. The ones that had been burned by Ralib only a few days earlier. The smile faded, but she managed to put it back by trying to picture what a sylph actually looked like. Invisible except for gusts of wind? A miniature tornado? Waves on a river?

15:36

“Anyway, I didn’t leave for any particular reason, really. I just had a strange experience that enhanced my abilities to what you see today, and figured I should use them. Life in the Tidelands is nice, but it can be a bit... rustic? Static? Not exactly boring, but something like that. So I headed south and went where the wind took me. Hunted monsters because I could, and because it helped those who couldn’t. And eventually I happened to end up in Virnscross at exactly the right time. I like to think it wasn’t a coincidence; maybe dad or one of the other wind spirits was guiding me.” Lyss twisted the hem of her cloak, squeezing a bit more water out. “... Thank you, Mr Zohi’s dad.” A hearty laugh. “If he’s around, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. If not, I’ll let him know next time I see him.” Time passed in relative peace. The sun sank lower, casting the mountains’ long shadows across the northern path. The Purple River, swollen with rain, grew wider until the far shore was only visible as a smudge on the horizon. The Spinetail’s pine forests thinned out to the shrubby grasslands more common in the southern tip of the continent. Before long, the bloated orange-red sun began to sink beneath the western horizon. It would soon be time to stop for the night.

- Camp near the river, closer to the main road. [Closer to people; further from animals.]

- Go out into the grass a ways. [The other way around.] (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 13 Thankfully, Zohi was well experienced with traveling and set up camp a ways off the main path, sheltered from the road by a low hill. He had spent plenty of time in the area before and knew there weren’t really any dangerous animals around; the biggest threat to them tonight (besides the golem) would be fellow people. There probably wouldn’t be any trouble, but it still paid to be careful. Lyss asked to borrow a scrap of paper after the night’s meal, scribing careful glyphs by firelight and memory. Zohi helped her dig up, sculpt, and dry a few handfuls of clay, watching curiously as she formed thick limbs and a simple round head. Finally, as the fire burned low and the moon climbed into the sky, she carved the last set of life glyphs into the little golem’s chest and - with the needle’s help - dripped a single drop of blood onto the central symbol. The blood was gone in an instant, wicking away into tiny grooves faster than Zohi could see. A fitful glimmer reflected off the symbols, then... “Is it going to-” “It takes a minute.” Almost forty seconds later, the little golem sat up. It was a curious thing, watching the limbs that had just a moment ago been dry, inert clay move and bend like smooth skin. The central glyph still held a little glimmer of reflective light, but otherwise it looked for all the world like a hand-sized doll had simply gotten up and started walking around. “Hey, come here!” Lyss happily instructed, waving at the tiny construct to catch its attention. It waddled over in her direction, climbing onto the proffered hand and taking in the clearing. “They’re not very smart,” she confided to Zohi, whispering so the golem couldn’t hear. “But don’t believe anyone who says they aren’t alive. I mean, look at this little guy!” She held the golem up to Zohi and he peered down at it, meeting the little clay figure’s empty eye sockets as it stared back up. “Fascinating. Does it understand me?”

19:30

“You have to be kinda careful what you say, but yeah!” Lyss seemed to have recovered almost all of her energy at this point, sparkling with pride in her work without even needing the book. “Listen, uh - hm, it should have a name. What do you think its name is?” He glanced at the golem’s smooth, round head and empty eyes again, discomfited despite himself. “... Pebble?” “Hmm...” She turned her hand around to look critically at the golem. “Okay, I think that works. Pebble, go sit on my shoulder please!” The newly-christened Pebble dutifully began clambering up Lyss’s sleeve, somehow grasping onto the cloth despite having no hands or fingers with which to do so. “They respond best to commands,” she said as it climbed. “Asking a golem what it thinks about something doesn’t usually work; it gets confused. But telling it to go somewhere or do something works, and if you leave it alone, it goes back to the basic instruction.” “Which I recall you said was ‘be nice,’ right?” “That’s right! Which is really vague, so it gives them a lot of flexibility. Usually they just stand around, but sometimes I catch them actually doing things just on their own!” Zohi couldn’t keep his eyes off the little golem as it finished its ascent and settled down into a recline on Lyss’s shoulder, one stubby arm braced against her neck so it wouldn’t fall off as she kept moving around. Just as promised, it wasn’t sitting perfectly still; Pebble was moving its head to take in different sights with what honestly resembled curiosity. “Such as?” “Well, sometimes they would help me clean up, or bring me stuff, or go sit on the table (I think it was trying to help Brissen cook!), but one time I saw one go pick up a coin and put it on a nice little rock. I don’t know why, which is so cool! None of the books ever mention stuff like that; they just talk about golems as tools. I’m sure someone studied them outside of just carrying stuff or punching things, but I’ve just never seen it.”

19:30

“Have you ever made one that can speak?” Lyss chuckled self-consciously. “I tried, but it never worked. I don’t know if I’m not good enough at sculpting a mouth, or if you need to add lungs too, or if golems just can’t speak at all. Maybe it’s the materials I’m using - you’re supposed to be able to make golems out of basically any material, as long as you know the right control glyphs. There’s just so much to learn, but so little that anyone knows! And, well, you saw what happened when they found out...” Pebble swung its little legs innocently, looking for all the world like a child sitting on a wall. Zohi had never seen anything quite like it; the construct was so lifelike in its mannerisms. “We’re definitely going to find you some more books,” he promised. “If nothing else, I need to know more about these constructs too.” “Really?” Oh, gods. It was beginning to sink in that he was responsible for this kid now, for an indeterminate length of time. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that. But... for how happy she looked with that smile and that little golem on her shoulder? “Absolutely.”

- Meanwhile, an apprentice wizard overhears something he shouldn’t...

‍⬛ - Meanwhile, a witch and her familiar receive a new assignment... (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 14 Molin Alderson carefully considered the arcane assembly in front of him, double-checked his notebook, then gingerly drew a pinch of fine pink powder from a pouch on the table and sprinkled it softly around the rim of the outer circle. One more step, then... “transmute,” he whispered, placing two fingers on the edge of the circle and somehow rotating the entire chalk ring - powder and all - slightly counterclockwise. A low hum vibrated the table, but he corrected for it almost immediately with a twitch inwards. A moment later and the entire circle collapsed into a single point, burning away the chalk, powder, and other magical paraphernalia to leave only the little glass disc at the center. Unremarkable, except that it had been made of wood until only moments ago. Molin breathed out in disbelief, picking up the disc to feel its grain, now formed entirely of smooth, flawless glass. “I did it?” The woman sitting at the desk on the other side of the room looked up from her grading. “Was that a success I just heard?” “I - I think so! Come take a look!” Ms Khasil was one of the two transmutation instructors at the Sorem Academy of Magical Arts, and one of Molin’s biggest supporters among the faculty. She consistently made time after class to supervise and assist with his make-up labs, believing that he could get them right with just a little extra time. More often than not (today included) she was right. After inspecting the disc, she set it down with a smile. “Good work. Make sure you note down the little issue you had with the resonance chain in your report; that was a well-done correction.” “You... saw that?” “Heard it. That hum got the better of me more than once back when I was your age, and if you can beat it consistently, you’re well on your way to becoming an adept transmuter.”

21:06

Molin had to suppress a wide grin as he quickly dismantled his apparatus and shoved books back into his bag. “Thanks. I really feel like I’m making progress now.” “You are.” Ms Khasil returned to her desk to pack up as well. “And just make sure to tell me if Mr Narink gives you any more trouble.” “Will do.” Molin scanned the area one more time for anything he had left behind, then headed for the door. “See you next week!” It was already late when he left the building and turned left to take the shortcut around the back that got him home several minutes faster than the main entrance. The sun had almost set and the moon was visible hanging low overhead; dim shadows of twilight darkened the city. He had to hurry up and get back before he completely missed dinner. Still, it didn’t pay to rush through this alley; something about the way the nearby roofs and walls were angled meant the cobbles were constantly soaked with a slick, fast-growing moss. He slowed his step to avoid falling, and in the relative silence, heard a voice. It was a little unusual to hear anyone else back here, but not completely out of the ordinary. What really got his attention was the name “Khasil” - had some other students learned about him staying late so often? He crept closer, crouching against the mossy wall until he reached an opening into a small courtyard full of dull grass and one strangled tree. It was almost too dark to see, but he could barely make out two silhouettes: one perched jauntily in the tree’s lower branches, holding what looked for all the world like a broom, and a second standing at the base of the tree and looking up at the first. Both wore loose cloaks that made it very difficult to tell what either one looked like. “I said: ‘your meeting spot is terrible,’” the tree person said, speaking in an oddly echoing but distinctly feminine voice. “‘Can’t even see the castle from here.’” Wait, “castle?” Not “Khasil?”

21:06

“Apologies, my lady, but we thought it prudent to vary our locations after last time.” The person standing on the ground spoke quickly, as if nervous, and had a more masculine tone. “And the school-” “Whatever. Get on with it, then.” “Of course.” The standing fellow cleared his throat. “You are charged to assassinate Headmaster Faveo Rosche of the Sorem Academy in a manner that is exceptionally brutal and obviously identifiable as an assassination. You are to do so without being seen, and you are to leave... this-” A slight clink as something changed hands. “-on or nearby the body. Understood?” “Hold on, I don’t do ‘brutal.’ You are aware I’m not a willing goddamn participant in this mess, right?” “Yes, which is why you will obey your instructions to the letter and no further. Correct?” The ground person’s voice had shifted during his last few statements, growing much more confident. Muttered swears from the person in the tree. “One of these days, you’re going to push me too far.” “Is today that day?” A pause. “No. Give me the damn advance. Rosche will die, ‘brutally.’ Timeframe?” More clinks as another object changed hands. “Within the next week. You will receive further instructions once the deed is done.” “Better hope it’s something less terrible, or I’m...” The tree woman’s voice drifted off into grumbles as Molin shrank back in shock. He... had to do something, right? An... an assassin? Here? After Rosche? Why? What-

21:06

“Mew.” He glanced down to meet the eyes of a sleek black cat that had appeared out of the gloom. Deep orange eyes. Some connection sparked in his mind between the cat, the broom, and bedside tales of cackling witches from his childhood. He didn’t even wait for the cat to dart into the courtyard before taking action.

- Run!

- Hide!

- Fight!

- Pretend he didn’t hear anything. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 15 ... And that action was to look around in a panic for anywhere that might serve as a hiding spot. The cat ran off as he had expected, leaving Molin alone in a pretty barren alleyway. No bins, no doors, but maybe if he- An exclamation from the ground person. The tree person seemed less concerned. “Oh? What’s got you all spooked?” Molin dug through his pack for a pouch of metal shavings and a tiny vial of thick, dark oil. He couldn’t hear the cat mewing back to the possible witch, presumably explaining what it had seen. “Ah, I see.” “What is it?” the ground person asked. “Nothing; she just saw a great big raven and wanted to tell me about it.” Molin blinked, confused, oil on one finger and metal shavings in the other hand. He didn’t know what was going on exactly, but he still needed to hide (even though by now he would have had plenty of time to run or even walk away). He traced a symbol in the metal shavings with the oil, breathed into his palm, and felt the magic take hold as its components burned away. Shadows drew near, binding to each other and layering on top of him like gossamer sheets. He pressed up against the wall, crouching down in a slight corner and watching his vision grow darker as shadows accumulated. From the outside, he knew he would be nearly invisible; just a slightly darker portion of the wall in the already dark night. Nothing unusual to see here. At least, that was the hope. The ground person left the courtyard first, passing by Molin without a second glance as he hurried away into the gloom. Short, stocky, bearded; could be a dwarf, but he couldn’t be sure with the cloak and the darkness. He quieted his breathing even further, keeping his palm spread to maintain the spell and waiting for the assassin to leave too.

17:07

She stepped into the alleyway, holding the broom over one shoulder and glancing down at the cat rubbing against her legs. Took a deep breath of night air, then... swept back her hood? The darkness must be playing tricks on him; from his hidden cubby, her skin appeared dull grey and her hair ghostly white. “Good hunting, Alhuia,” the witch murmured to the cat, rummaging in a large shoulderbag secured under her cloak. “Here we are.” She retrieved a tiny sphere, maybe the size of a fingernail and colored dull orange. With a quick motion, the witch crushed it between two fingers and tossed the remnants upwards as the sphere burst into thousands of little orange motes of light. Molin only had a moment to process what was happening before dozens of motes zipped towards him, drawn to his magic, and tore through the gossamer shadows to highlight him in a dim orange outline. The witch darted forward, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him to his feet in a surprising display of strength. Orange motes drifted aimlessly without further magic to cling onto and he swallowed back a scream as she just... let him go. Took a few steps back and folded her arms, leaning the broom up against the wall. “Found you, ‘great big raven.’ Now, are you going to explain just what you were doing here? Eavesdropping isn’t very polite, you know.” “Er-” The orange motes provided a little bit of light, and with his vision no longer restricted by his concealment spell, her appearance was quite distracting. Light grey skin, ghost white hair, and completely black eyes that seemed to hold star-like pinpricks of light to answer for pupils. The cat sat primly by her feet, laser-focused on him with those big, fiery orange eyes. “Oh, and don’t worry about yourself, whatever you heard. I don’t hurt anyone unless I have to. And unless you give me any trouble, I don’t think I have to, right? So go on and explain.”

17:07

[Unless otherwise stated, Molin will explain with basically the truth. Choices will be weighted, not first-past-the-post’d. For all choices, you can specify what or how, or let Molin decide. Write-ins are also allowed. Very freeform; this set.]

- Pretend he didn’t hear anything. ❓ - Pry for more info. Carefully.

- Convince her to not do the murder; she clearly doesn’t want to.

- Promise not to tell anyone.

- Ask if he can help. [Not with the murder; don’t be ridiculous.] (Winners:

> ❓ >>

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 16 And he did. Cautiously, but essentially truthfully as he hadn’t done anything wrong and he hadn’t forgotten the witch’s complaint that she was an “unwilling participant.” Plus, she hadn’t pointed him out to the other guy, which she obviously could have. He almost ended his explanation with a promise not to say anything, but hesitated at the last minute. That part was implied, and he didn’t really want her to think too much about what to do if he did. The witch shrugged once he was done, hefting the broom again and seemingly preparing to leave. “Okay. Sounds fair to me. Now as long as you don’t get in my way, I won’t have to get in yours. Alright?” “Er-” You want to be a wizard. A wise man: respected, powerful, and capable of solving big, important problems. This is your chance to prove yourself. Somehow, that thought was enough. “Right, but...” “... But?” “I don’t want to get in your way, but I could maybe... uh...” He couldn’t tell if the witch’s stare or the cat’s was more piercing. “You... said you don’t want to do this. Maybe I could... help you?” A few seconds’ pause, then she burst out laughing. Molin glanced away, caught somewhere between embarrassment and anxiety. “You? Really...? Pfft; gimme a break, kid. You’re an Academy student, right? And you think you can just ‘help’ me out? You can’t even cast a proper concealment spell!” Molin looked back towards her, preparing a rebuttal, but both of them were interrupted by Alhuia nipping the witch on her calf. “Ow! The hell? What are you-” Information passed between them, though no sounds were uttered. Somehow daring to push his luck, Molin asked, “Is your cat willing to give me a chance?” Despite the grim words earlier, this witch didn’t seem nearly as mysterious or dangerous as she had first appeared. In fact (though it was hard to tell through the darkness and her unusual skin tone) she didn’t even seem that much older than Molin himself.

20:03

“My cat is trying to forfeit her prize for finding you; that’s what she’s doing.” A swat to the leg; the witch smirked. “Alright, you. Name?” “Er - Molin.” “Amelisce. Now, you don’t know anything about who I am or why I’m doing this, right?” “... No...” “Well unfortunately, I can’t tell you. Alhuia could, but you can’t speak cat. I assume.” Alhuia mewed at him. He stared blankly at her. “Yeah, figured. Here’s the deal: you figure something out within the next week that changes the parameters of my assignment enough that I can’t complete it. I’ll dawdle around as long as I can, but that won’t be forever. And just as a heads-up, if you end up warning the headmaster or the guards, I’ll have to explain what went wrong to-” the witch cut herself off unnaturally, almost coughing. “- yeah, you get the idea, right? So make it natural-looking.” “I, uh - how-?” “Sorry; can’t help you there. Plus, if you tell me what you come up with I’ll be duty-bound to stop you too. In fact, you better not even tell me if you accept, ‘kay?” “...” “That’s more like it. Anyway, if you - somehow - manage to pull this off, I’ll have to get an updated assignment in person. A clever eavesdropper could learn a bit more than today if he knew the place ahead of time. Good?” “I... understand.” The witch - Amelisce, he supposed - softened her tone a bit. “Listen, I don’t expect you to pull this off. But even just offering is right kind of you. Alright, Alhuia, let’s fly.” The cat leapt up to curl around Amelisce’s shoulders. She gripped the broom with one hand, waved once, and shot off into the sky. Molin sank down against the wall, still glowing vaguely orange and replaying the conversation in his head to try and sort out what exactly he had just agreed(?) to.

20:03

[Does Molin have an initial plan?]

️ - Convince the headmaster to take a trip.

️ - Arrange for the headmaster to be under guard, though without him knowing.

- Recruit some assistance. [Who or what?] [Or some other plan! Or...] guess_ill_die

- Not really. [Does anything else happen on the way home?]

- Yes. ✊ - Yes.

- Yes.

️ - No; give the guy a break! (Winners:

️ ,

️ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 17 By the time he got out of the alleys and back onto more well-lit streets closer to home, he had mostly gotten the idea. And, against all assessments of his quick-thinking abilities, he had managed to actually come up with the outline of a plan. The witch needed to assassinate Headmaster Rosche, but she had a week to do it and had promised to wait as long as possible before trying. Maybe if Rosche left the city for whatever reason, it could delay things long enough to run her out of time. It would certainly be easier than trying to fight her. How to get Rosche to leave without arousing any suspicions was another matter, but Molin figured he had gotten far enough tonight. He’d think more on it tomorrow. “Hey, dad.” “Molin, lad; good timing. Dinner should be ready in a minute, if you want to help with the serving.” He dropped his bag off and went to help out, keeping half an eye on his dad’s leg to make sure he was doing alright. Seemed like today was a good day; he was relatively stable on his feet and the glossy wood of the prosthesis looked like wood instead of deep green glass. Lightly relieved, he helped finish up preparing the table. Molin’s father had previously served in the Imperial army, taking part in the grueling Vitrean campaign that saw long marches through the seemingly endless desert. The harsh environment and occasional brutal fights against ambush tactics and horrible native beasts took their toll on many soldiers, sending them home crippled if they were lucky or not at all if they weren’t. His father had been “lucky,” losing most of one leg but gaining a prosthetic... and a persistent curse to replace it.

15:30

Although I never spoke to Alder either (obviously Molin Alderson’s father was named Alder), the descriptions of his curse suggest to me that he was a victim of a sliver worm, one of the tiny snake-like creatures native to the North Vitrean Desert. Sliver worms (as opposed to silver worms, much larger creatures found deep underground or beneath certain mountain peaks (or silver wyrms, another name for argent dragons)) - sorry, I lost my train of thought. Sliver worms are parasitic creatures that can begin to crystallize a host body into glass if left to their own devices. They gain purchase on a victim through an open wound - say, after a tough battle - and can fester just beneath the skin for weeks undetected. Treating a sliver worm infection is not easy even for skilled local healers, and the Guldan alchemists and clerics sent along with the army had never encountered the things before. It wouldn’t surprise me if they prescribed amputation to prevent glass from spreading further up the leg, but unfortunately the worm’s venom circulates throughout the body well before additional symptoms appear. Without the worm itself, the venom isn’t nearly as dangerous, but it can still cause spontaneous vitrification in certain body parts (or prosthetics, apparently!) These episodes often revert on their own after several hours, but I haven’t had the opportunity to study such cases in depth to understand how they would have interacted with Alder’s replacement leg. Truly fascinating little bastards, those worms, though I have admittedly gotten somewhat off track here. “So, dad,” Molin began after half-lying about why he was late again. “Have you heard about any sort of like, traditional sort of witch recently? Flying broom, cat, that sort of thing?” “Not around here, no. Have you?”

15:30

“We’re talking about that sort of magic in class recently. Y’know, the non-arcane stuff - like alchemy, but more magical. Er... did you know about anyone like that back in your army days?” “Hm...” Alder leaned back, reminiscing. Despite his leg, he didn’t have a particular distaste for his time in the army. He had met Molin’s mother there, among other things. “I think you’re talking about essentia casters. They were quite rare among Guldan troops, but a number of Vitrean natives had those powers.” “What sort of powers?” “Let’s see... From what I remember, essentia magic differs from arcane magic in that it always requires components and rituals; it can’t be done spontaneously like your spells can. But unlike alchemy, essentia magic isn’t just limited to crafting items (magic or otherwise) - it can directly create effects via specific rituals. And I believe it requires some sort of a connection to a higher power through a familiar, but don’t quote me on that. This was a while ago. Anyway, I suppose it’s sort of a midpoint between traditional arcane casting and traditional alchemy: limited by always requiring rituals and ingredients, but strengthened by producing more powerful effects than are possible without them. Does that sound like your witches?” “... Yeah.” Molin paused. “If you met some natives with those powers, did you have to fight them?” “Well, sometimes, but I was never involved. They’d send out the high-ranking mages to deal with enemy essentia casters, since us normal men would just get in the way. One of the only sound tactical decisions the brass ever made in that campaign, eh?”

15:30

They shared a chuckle at that - both Molin and Alder (and a large number of other Imperial citizens) belittled the Guldan leadership over the ongoing disaster it had caused in the desert. Though the war was technically still on the books, the current emperor had ceased all operations in the area due to the near-total infeasibility of waging any sort of successful campaign there. Though there were rumors of rising tensions and new strategies... After finishing up the meal, Molin returned to his room to work on that report for Ms Khasil and devise a plan for the weekend.

️ - Be Molin; work on a top sneaky plan to get Rosche out of the city.

- Be Amelisce; work on your other current assignment. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 18 Amelisce hovered to a stop just above the balcony, then hopped over the broom, landing with a soft thump and pulling it down with her. Alhuia leapt off her shoulders to nudge aside the unlatched door and prowl inside. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she warned the cat. “We’re heading out again as soon as I get changed, remember?” A plaintive mew. “Yeah, yeah. You can pick something from the market on the way back.” She wound her way through the messy lab, dodging around cauldrons and bottles and books spread over every available surface. Amelisce was many things - witch, assassin, cursed - but no one could accuse her of being a neat freak. “Hey, you think that kid’s going to get anywhere with Rosche?” The cat considered this as Amelisce rummaged through her closet, retrieving tighter, warmer clothes more practical for long-distance flying than her current attire. A thoughtful mew. “What? Why? He can’t be more than, like, 16, right?” Another mew. Amelisce tossed the form-hiding but extremely impractical cloak somewhere bed-wards, intending to pick it up later. “Really? Okay, if he pulls it off I’ll ask. I think you’re gonna lose that bet, though. But really, you think he’s got a chance?” She struggled with the sweater for a moment, then managed to pull through. A noncommittal mew. “I don’t think so. But I guess you’ve got a point; can’t hurt to find out, right?” A quick spin around to check the fit and she was good to go. “Alright, c’mon. We’ve got a long way to go and I’d like to be back before dawn.” Alhuia met her back at the balcony, where Amelisce snatched the broom again, hopped into the air, and shot off into the sky. “We’ve really gotta move tonight,” she said, speaking loudly over the wind. “So please get in your pouch.”

20:51

The cat’s warmth migrated down from her shoulders as Alhuia wormed her way into a specially-designed pocket in Amelisce’s sweater sewn for exactly this purpose. She poked her sleek black head out, sneezed, then gave an affirmative mew. “Alright; let’s do this.” Amelisce’s broom was possibly her most valuable possession. Not because it was particularly stylish (it was a broom) or durable (again, it was a broom), but rather because it was significantly more functional than other cleaning implements of similar design, flying or otherwise. When she reached back to spread a finger’s worth of deep red paste onto the bristles, then leaned forward and pressed both feet firmly against the rests, the broom flew. The paste erupted into a fiery comet trail and wind tore at her face and hair as the humble janitorial brush lurched towards its top speed. There were no speedometers on the continent, but at her fastest, Amelisce had previously traveled from Sorem to Irem (a distance of over 450 miles as the crow - or broom - flies) in just under five hours. That had been a pretty grueling journey, spending most of it rocketing across empty ocean and staring up at the stars with wind-watering eyes to try and stay on course. She had needed to spend weeks remaking the fuel she had burned that night. Tonight, the trip was much shorter - only a little over an hour passed before Stellidwen Island became visible in the night’s dull moonlight, and it was nearly directly beneath them before ninety minutes had gone by. Amelisce began to slow and descend, allowing Alhuia to clamber back out to her traditional perch around the witch’s neck. Master and familiar peered down at the steep, almost plateau-like outcroppings, trying to make out the open caldera that would form their destination. The island was large, but so was the former volcano. It didn’t take long to spot the partially-collapsed mountain, but it also didn’t take long to spot an anomaly.

20:51

“Are you seeing those lights?” Amelisce asked, gesturing down to a few bobbing glimmers that seemed to form a path leading up to a break in the mountain ridge. Alhuia mewed her assent. “This place is supposed to be completely unpopulated...” She descended further, trying to convince herself that the lights were natural - fireflies, or wisps, or even fresh lava from a future eruption - but they sure looked a lot like purposefully-placed lanterns. Eventually she stopped the broom, hovering only a few hundred feet in the air above what was clearly an artificial path. The tinkles of little wind chimes rose from below. Alhuia mewed. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know what all this is. Are there people... living here? How?” A mew; a soft bap on the temple. Amelisce glanced in the indicated direction, taking in a field of rich, dark soil clearly plowed in rows and hosting tall, woody plants. Many of the young trees held dimly glowing fruits in their lower branches. “Ah. Well.” Mew. “Interesting, sure. But also really unfortunate, given what I’m here to do.” [The actions Amelisce takes to fulfill her contractual obligations will determine just how “unwilling” a participant she actually is.]

- Screw it; destroy what you’re here to destroy and go home.

- Descend and sneak around. Get an idea of what’s going on here.

- Descend and investigate those lights. Find the people. Figure out what’s going on here. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 19 The two of them descended towards the base of the caldera path, landing with a crunch on smooth, dark gravel. Alhuia stayed perched on the witch’s shoulders, peering into the night and sniffing at the new smells. Amelisce, meanwhile, whispered a set of instructions to the broom and then tossed it back into the sky. The thing was great, but sneaking around with a six-foot length of wood in one hand was needlessly annoying. It would come back when she called it. With that taken care of, she set off for the fields to determine exactly what was going on here. The soil was well irrigated, with the sound of trickling water leading her to a small cleft in the rock from which bubbled clear spring water. Someone had carved a series of narrow channels into the mountain stone to direct the water’s flow, both to the farm and into a series of stout wooden barrels before continuing downstream. She tapped one of the barrels, disconcerted. “This is well made. Is there a carpenter here or are they somehow trading?” A placating mew. “You’re right; I wouldn’t have missed that. They have to be self-sufficient.” The trees were unfamiliar, with jagged, interlocking scales of bark that held a near-bronze sheen. Running her fingers along it, Amelisce was unsurprised to find the bark exceptionally strong and marginally flexible, feeling almost like rough metal. The fruits were shaped oddly, like pears but a little larger and a little more angular, and they all glimmered softly with yellow-orange inner light. Alhuia nibbled one, wrinkling her nose at the taste and mewing softly. “From Carnelia, really? Huh. I wonder how they got all the way up here? And how did you know that?” A nudge with her head. “Fair enough.”

14:25

Following the farm along the side of the caldera, they eventually came across a moderately-sized cabin constructed from cut planks. The bronze sheen made it obvious which trees the planks had come from, and the firelight flickering from within made it clear the building was occupied. Amelisce snuck closer, ducking down next to the wall, and was quickly rewarded with a chuckle and snippets of conversation in some foreign language from inside. “Alhuia?” she asked, boosting the cat so she could cautiously peek inside. After a quiet mew of safety, Amelisce lifted herself up to get a look as well. Three men and a woman sat around a decorated wooden table, all focused on a series of cards arranged on the surface. They were all very dark-skinned and had unnaturally warm-colored hair - shades of red, orange, or yellow mixed in unique patterns. Very light clothing despite the relatively cool night: red or maroon fabric covering a minimum of skin. They seemed to be enjoying their card game, so Amelisce scanned the rest of the interior as well. Counters, chairs, furniture; simple, but well crafted. A home. She ducked back down before anyone could notice and crept back towards the farm before urgently whispering to Alhuia. “The trees; their hair - are you going to tell me those people are Carnelian natives? Solars?” She paused to glance at the cat, who mewed an assent. “What are they doing here? Just setting up shop on an uninhabited island to play cards? No, it’s got to be related to the anchor, right?” Mew. “Sure, but I don’t think they’re here to destroy it. If they were, they’d have done it and gone home. Just like we’re supposed to. I mean they’ve got to be guarding it, right? But this doesn’t look like much of a guard post...” A series of thoughtful mews. “That’s fair; they are supposed to be enormously powerful. But you’d think there would be something here, right?” A pause. “Hmmm...”

14:25

Alhuia hopped down and led Amelisce back to the caldera path, then sat down primly (tail wrapped around paws) and sniffed the air pointedly. The witch got the idea and withdrew another one of the little orange spheres, crushing it and tossing it upwards. This time, the little motes hardly had time to spread out before they zipped forwards, drawn in by powerful magic. In an instant, the majority of the path and portions of the caldera itself were outlined in orange lights clinging to thousands of tiny invisible filaments. The entire place was lined with magic tripwires, no doubt rigged to an alarm that would summon the solars at the very least. Possibly even some more... exciting results. “Good thing we didn’t just fly in, right?” Amelisce commented to her cat, stepping a little closer to try and read the lines before the orange motes dissipated. “I could probably get through at least some of these... This first one looks like a basic exclusive proximity sensor, so I should just be able to change its signature to add to the list. The next one...” She squinted, trying to make it out through the maze of lines. “Hard to tell. It’d take a while at least. You up for the challenge?”

- Cut through the wards, one painstaking layer at a time.

- Go talk to the solars. They don’t know you’re here to destroy anything.

- Ambush the solars. They’re said to be powerful combatants, but still mortal. A very powerful opening shot could end the fight before it begins.

- Wait around; maybe watch some more. They have to go to bed eventually, right? (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 20 Alhuia cocked her head noncommittally. Amelisce rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. You know what, they don’t have any idea why we’re here. Maybe I can just go ask them what they’re doing. Hell, maybe they’ll just let me go right in if I ask. Can’t hurt, right?” Her head rotated the other direction. “Yeah, yeah, it could hurt. But I’d be shocked if they just come out blasting... and probably dead or severely injured. Maybe we’ll play it just a little bit safer.” She removed a talisman from her bag: a little bronze mirror inscribed with tiny glyphs and treated with a clear lacquer to protect the miniscule lines. It had an attached chain wrought of the same material, and she dropped it around her neck to let the mirror rest just below her collarbone. Despite the chill night, the metal felt warm on her skin. “Aaannd... maybe one more, actually.” Another shuffle through the bag; this time she came out with a small blue hair clip with an enamel depiction of a three-petal flower. One petal was deep purple, while the remaining two were light pink. As Amelisce clipped it into her hair, a second petal shimmered and changed to purple - simultaneously, her monochrome appearance gained color and definition. In moments, she looked like a normal human instead of a greyscale witch. “Good? Did I miss anywhere?” She gave a quick twirl for Alhuia, who mewed in approval. “Alright, let’s go. You stay back and be ready to call the broom in case anything goes wrong, got it?” The cat nudged her ankle in response, tail curling briefly around her calf. “Thanks. Good luck to me, indeed.” With that, she left Alhuia to blend into the shadows by the wall. Amelisce approached the cabin’s front door, adjusted her bag and pleasant but unassuming smile, then knocked. It may be prudent to explain why Amelisce - clearly a powerful witch of significant skill - was so nervous about encountering denizens of Carnelia. Well, let me be brief.

19:03

Carnelia is the name given to the coastal land of the southernmost continent in the world, where the sea begins to boil due to excessive heat. Obviously, ordinary humans or similar races cannot survive there without some sort of protection for both them and their ships. Natives of the coast, named solars for their close association with the sun, thrive there unaided. They have incredible constitutions, can almost universally use powerful magic innately, and together protect some golden secret lurking in the boiling, humid jungles surrounding the south pole. But beyond their mere combat prowess, solars are fairly isolationist. A handful travel and trade with ordinary people at the ports of Sorem, Redport, and others along Ailoe’s southern coast, but these are almost always the same people voyage to voyage and only a few hundred members of the civilization have ever been recorded as visiting. Finding four immensely powerful people here - in a place that made no sense given all prior actions - meant that Amelisce was missing something. And in her line of work, missing information tended to get people hurt, or worse. Thankfully, she didn’t get shot immediately by the solar who opened the door. One of the men; the one with the long, braided ponytail of deep red hair. He had to be nearly seven feet tall; Amelisce felt positively dwarfed. “Can I help you?” he asked calmly, correctly choosing a Purple Bay dialect of Guldic that she understood. “I was wondering if I could get into the caldera? Someone seems to have put up a lot of magical defenses over the path.” She took a breath as he glanced back, presumably to one of the others. “Also, isn’t this island supposed to be uninhabited?” Someone in the background called a question in a foreign language; the one at the door answered likewise, then addressed Amelisce again. “Why don’t you come in and we would be happy to answer some of your questions?”

19:03

She pressed one arm against her bag. This was the plan, but going straight in - surrounded indoors - suddenly seemed like a much worse plan than it had mere minutes ago. Still, not much to do but proceed. “Sure,” she said aloud, stepping politely inside. Her host followed, closing the door and gesturing towards the others still sitting at the table, left to right. “This is Arud, Tivel, and Hojeh.” Tattoos, glasses, and ribbons, she repeated, listing quick facets of each’s appearance. “And my name is Olmer.” Ponytail. He paused, obviously waiting for her response. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Ef - Amelisce.” Efenne. Her old name, from before all of this. It had been a long time since she had slipped up like that; why now? “Amelisce.” Olmer nodded. “Unfortunately, the caldera is closed to all entry. But if you are willing to listen to the answer to your second question, you will understand why.” She looked towards the far wall, where a high shelf held a handful of intricate clockwork gadgets. Most glowed in some fashion, like tiny suns. “Sure, go ahead. Nothing but time.” “Thank you. Tivel, do you have any more lantern tea for our guest?” Glasses nodded. He spoke in a deeper voice than Olmer, despite his slimmer frame. “Would you like some?” “Er, sure.” Carnelian traders sometimes brought lantern leaves, from which the tea could be made, to Sorem. She’d had some before. Like lemon, but far sweeter even without any additives.

19:03

Tivel got up to make it, leaving Olmer and the others to begin the story. Which, I’ve just now realized, is rather detailed as they told it. Amelisce was quite thorough in her recounting of these events; I suppose it must have made an impression on her. Still, I’m almost at the end of this ink bottle and I would have to get more... Perhaps I could omit some of the more fanciful portions?

- I suck it up and scribe the story (essentially) as it was told.

- I scribe a summarized version. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 21 ... No, of course not. Fine. ... Alright, I got the new bottle. In fact, I’ll change the color since this is essentially an insert of a Carnelian legend. I will tell you the tale as it was relayed from those solars to Amelisce and eventually to me: the story of the sun and the stars beyond. Long ago, the people who would eventually be known as Carnelians or solars had no name. They called themselves merely people, for they were the only people they knew. These ancient solars lived under the protective gaze of their patron and guardian, the sun. They were birthed from the reflection of rippling sunlight on the water and strove to model themselves after their glorious collective ancestor. Over time, they grew closer to astronomical perfection, drawing more of the sun’s heat south towards their coast and eventually setting the oceans to boil. Simultaneously, the unending stream of raw life energy caused jungles to sprout, rivers to grow, and the very ground to dream. Solars grew strong and wise, infused with sunlight and life-giving fire. As years, decades, and centuries passed, the sun’s lesser rivals - the stars - grew angry with its children. Fortunately, these astral interlopers were weak and distant, and the sun’s glow always returned to banish the night before any harm could be wrought... until it didn’t. One terrible day, the sun rose as a darkened halo - an inversion of itself. Eclipsed by the traitorous moon, it traveled across the sky impotent for an entire day and granted the evil stars time to act. To descend to the world, gain a foothold, and send their messenger.

19:20

New essence dripped into the oceans and distant lands, raising other species not from sunlight, but from starlight. The next day, the sun rose again and valiantly attempted to burn away these new creations, but only succeeded in imparting a measure of divine goodness before their souls were set. Thus are other sapients only half-divine, only partially connected to the light of the sun. And partially connected to the moon and stars swirling just beyond. Thus was the stage set for a disaster. The solars - keenly attuned to their guardian sun above - received warning first. A new star, too dim to spot with the naked eye but quickly growing brighter in the night sky. The messenger - the herald - the conduit - having traveled for millennia through empty space, was arriving at long last. And the solars would be the ones to do something about it. So they prayed to the sun. They traveled farther south to the poles and farther north to the equator, where it was presumably stronger. They asked it for help, and it delivered a prophecy. A guarantee of future events, though couched in vague language and emotions that came to seekers in dreams and visions. A sequence backed by the undying power of the sun itself. Instructions to follow, locations to visit, shrines to build. And, important to Amelisce’s specific case, a hero to seek. The sun provided instructions to build anchors throughout the world, powerful magical machinery capable of reinforcing the planet against the schemes of the evil stars beyond. But it also cautioned the solars against activating these anchors too quickly, playing their hand early and allowing an opening for their enemy. A hero would be needed; one who could stand as a symbol and a legend to inspire the world and lead a unified effort - in concert with the anchors - to defend against the messenger from the stars.

19:20

Unfortunately, the identity of this hero was never solidified. The only certainty was that they would not be a solar; beyond that, all was vague. So, now that the messenger from beyond would be appearing to the naked eye in a matter of weeks rather than years, many solars had been sent into the world to guard the anchor points and seek out the hero so the world could be saved before it was too late. The idea was that a hero would surely be drawn to the anchors by the fickle whims of fate; they would be destined to do their part. They would appear in time. When it was time. The hero, they knew, would be someone: - Of low status, but high standing. - Of exceptional skill, but constrained talent. - Of selfless nature, but ruthless disposition. - Defiled by the stars, but forsaken by the sun. Of course, many of these truths seemed to be contradictory. And despite years of pondering and searching and questioning, no one had yet been found who definitely for sure matched every line. Some potential heroes had been identified, but their journeys had been cut short by misfortune, adversity, or loss of heart. None had yet answered the call in full. And so the solars remained, watching and waiting and inspecting each visitor to their anchors to determine if, just maybe, they would be the one. Amelisce was the first visitor to Stellidwen Island since these four solars had arrived months ago, and the first visitor to any of the anchors to already know about them. Of course, she hadn’t told the solars this, for if they knew why she was really there...

19:20

- Convince them that you’re the hero so they’ll let you into the caldera.

- Wait for an opportunity, then ambush them. They’re here to guard it; you’re here to destroy it. Gonna have to deal with them to get at it.

- Leave, ponder, and come back later with a more informed plan.

- Pretend to leave, but then come back and sneak in, cutting through the wards as necessary. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 22 To add further complications, most of these more useful defenses involve complex rituals and immoral sacrifices. I would have to spend a great deal of time searching out rare ingredients, or unilaterally decide to harm the few in exchange for saving the many. Historically, such judgements by leaders have gone over poorly at best or led to bloody conflict at worst. I need a better option. The anchors designed by Carnelian solars seem to promise an effective defense without major sacrifices, but this plan too has its drawbacks. Chief among them: their reliance on a Hero who must unify the world behind the anchors in order to present a flawless shield to the Outside. I have several qualms with this process, but my greatest concern is a matter of sabotage. Capital-U Unity is the goal of the enemy, according to my own visions, which makes the more common term lowercase-u unity seem less... appealing than it normally would. Perhaps it is only a coincidence, but the specific wording of prophecies is often of paramount importance and I simply worry that the sun - a star itself - may have more in common with its brethren than we would like. ... Amelisce went home. The solars didn’t stop her and - though she did briefly consider turning around and cutting through the wards anyway - she needed some time to think. There were still a few weeks before the deadline for this particular task, anyway. They stopped at Sorem’s night market on the way back, where Amelisce let Alhuia perch on her shoulder and sniff at the various cuts of meat still on display at this late (early?) hour. Eventually, she picked out a glazed disc of some exotic (and quite large) worm. Amelisce tried a nibble: tough but the glaze added a lot of flavor. Alhuia attacked the meat with her pent-up energy, seeming to delight in having to work harder to tear it apart.

11:04

It was still dark by the time the cat had finished with the meat and the witch had finished getting ready to rest. The former hopped onto a windowsill to watch the stars, while the latter flopped down into bed and shuffled around to toss the cloak from before into the closet. Close enough. A minute passed. “Hey, you’re going to ask about the whole... star thing, right?” A flick of the tail. “Good, good.” She wiggled around a bit more, but couldn’t quite get comfortable. “Not to like, suggest anything, but just out of curiosity...” A pause; she tried to find the words. “Your bond with him. Could it be... broken? Or, like, reassigned?” Alhuia wrapped her tail tightly around herself and flicked both ears. “I get you don’t want to, but this could be important. I need to look more into what those solars said, and you should too. I know - we both know - that we were never doing ‘good,’ but there’s a difference between a few localized things and ruining the entire world, right?” A heavy exhale from the cat, almost like a sigh. “I know that; that’s why I was asking if we could do something about it! Like, without your bond to him, it’s down to just my contract with-” she coughed, unable to say it. “Paranoid ass; you already know his name. Whatever. I could get out of that one; it’s not divine-backed. There are punishment clauses, but who cares?” Alhuia hopped down from the window, landing between Amelisce’s ankles. She flicked her whiskers, eyes aglow in the dim moonlight. “I know, it’s a scary thought. Treason. But we could be free, if we pull it off. Wouldn’t have to move, or kill, or destroy possibly world-saving magical artifacts. That would be nice, right?” A little chirp. Alhuia padded up the witch’s legs to settle down in a tight curl just beside her hip.

11:04

“Yeah, I think so, too.” As usual, the cat’s warm touch made her drowsy; the bed finally felt comfortable. “We’ll-” She broke off in a yawn, which Alhuia echoed a moment later. “Heh. We’ll figure it out tomorrow. G’night.”

- Check on Lyss and Zohi.

- Check on Molin. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 23 It had been almost a week since leaving Virnscross. They were making good time, Lyss was now up to three miniature golems clinging onto her and Zohi as they walked (Pebble, Orb, and Skit), and they had just arrived at the moderately sized town of Ruthaea, roughly halfway down the river towards Sorem. The golems had to hide while within settlements of any size, both due to the standard prejudice and because news of the... “incident” at Virnscross had already made its way downriver. Actual casualties had been limited to only members of the town guard, but many homes and businesses had been destroyed with little hope of repairing them all before winter. Ordinary townsfolk talked of golems and evil magicians in hushed breaths, wondering what their final target was and which unlucky town would be next. Thankfully, Lyss was smart enough to stay quiet and keep her head down while they traveled through civilization. They had designed a cover story - that of an out-of-work father and his daughter traveling to the coast for employment in Sorem - and generally stayed out of trouble. Ruthaea, though somewhat larger than the previous villages and hamlets they had passed through on the way here, was supposed to be not much different from them. Slip in, stay the night in an inn with access to a bath and food beyond trail rations or fresh game, slip back out the next morning. Easy as that.

21:13

They arrived late in the evening, tired from a long day of travel; it had been an early start and quick pace today to make it to town before the gates closed. Even Lyss’s normally boundless energy had been tempered by a week on the road and she plodded blearily along, already yawning and ready to sleep. The three golems were stuffed into her backpack under a stack of books and papers, hidden from the casual inspections these rural guards gave. She looked up briefly to take note of the sights, but wasn’t particularly impressed. Not much different from the other villages on the route, or even Virnscross. Over to the inn. Zohi noticed the disturbance, but didn’t take any action just yet. He saw Lyss to the inn and a room, making sure she was safe and settled in, then slipped back out to investigate. There was a man on the main street preaching to passersby. Not particularly unusual in larger cities, but somewhat out of the norm for towns such as this one. But that wasn’t what had caught his attention. No, it was the contents of the man’s speech. “He comes!” the man shouted. “The Great Unifier arrives in mere months! Are you prepared to bare your soul; to open yourself to all who exist and embrace your friends and enemies alike?” He stood tall, pointing a quivering finger at various people shuffling quickly down the street. “You! Have you any regrets? Sins? Obligations that must be put right?” The woman he had pointed at hurried on her way, not responding or even looking at him. “You! Prepare yourself to become one with every creature on this blessed planet! How? Well-” The two quietly-murmuring gentlemen passed without interrupting their conversation. Undeterred, the speaker picked another target. “You! We can atone, I promise you! There is still time to make it right before He comes with His glorious emerald fire. You can be saved!”

21:13

The night was growing dark and the crowds were beginning to thin as people finished up their work and evening commutes, returning home for the night. A smaller group began to emerge instead - those aiming to make the most of the darkened evening - and the speaker didn’t slow down. He continued to call out to random citizens on the street, shouting about unity (or... Unity?) and how to atone for their sins before the reckoning. Which would, apparently, come in about a month. The only reason Zohi had stopped, listened, and wondered, was because of the little scrap of paper he still held in his pocket dimension somewhere. The one he had stolen from the campsite of the enemy golemancer. “...will bring Unity,” it had said. Capitalized. This man could be a regular fanatic, but he could be a fanatic with information. How should he proceed?

️ - Go talk to the guy. Find out more.

️ - Watch the guy. Tail him, maybe.

- Talk to a few different people. Does anyone know this guy?

️ - Go to bed. Zohi isn’t immune to exhaustion and there’s another long day ahead tomorrow. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 24 Instead of approaching the man, Zohi joined the passersby walking along the street. He wasn’t singled out as someone who needed atonement on his way past, and he slipped into a likely looking pub not too far down the block. There, he stepped up to the bar amongst the steadily growing throng of patrons, ordered something relatively light, and whispered a silent question to the breeze. Conversations and interesting little tidbits flowed towards him as he sat and sipped at his mug, as if the entire room’s air were caught in a whirlpool with him at the center. It wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone else (unless they were paying very close attention) but the effect let him survey most of the patrons all at once. And once he had made it through the first mug and came back up for more, he had a reasonable idea of who might be best to approach. Well, time to get to it. ... Something woke Lyss up. She lay there for a while, eyes cracked open but otherwise utterly still, uneasy but unsure why. In fact, it took her so long to figure out what was going on that she almost fell asleep again, but something stopped her. Eventually, it clicked: the night was entirely silent. Lyss sat up, rubbing her eyes and blinking, still feeling stupid from grogginess. The room was utterly quiet, and her movements in sitting up hadn’t produced the faintest rustle in the sheets. There wasn’t a peep coming from the window. Even her own breathing was inaudible. She rubbed her ears and heard a faint rushing; nothing more. Like she was underwater, but worse. “---,” she said aloud, disturbed enough to stand up on silent feet and pad over to the window. Nothing unusual out there; the moon glowed overhead and streetlights mirrored it with warmer tones below. No one was visible from here, but that was just because her room overlooked the inn’s back lot and stables. She moved towards the door and put a hand on the knob, then hesitated. Would that be dumb?

21:39

Instead, she returned to the table. All three golems sat in a circle there, formerly with heads bowed as if they were sleeping but now curiously watching her walk around. “---,” she said, instructing Pebble to... “---!” The golem tilted its head sideways, confused. “---! ---!” Lyss half-yelled, half-grumbled. She dug through her bag for more scraps of paper and a quill, fumbling for a bottle of ink and wishing she had remembered charcoal. She narrowly avoided stabbing herself on the etching needle again because for some reason she had put it in its slot upside-down, corrected that, and finally began to scribe out instructions for her golems. All three, without commands to do otherwise, crowded around her hands to watch. ... Zohi stepped out into the cool night air, thoughtful. He had spoken to several locals and a few travelers, all of which corroborated basically the same story. The man wasn’t from here, but he had shown up only a few weeks ago and hadn’t left since. Apparently he did clerical work at a local brewery, but spent many of his evenings preaching like that. The themes were usually similar, revolving around preparing for Unity by atoning for sins and getting ready to merge with every other living thing. The countdown was similarly consistent, targeting a date only about four weeks from now as the day all of this would occur. No one he had spoken to had humored the man with more than a passing comment, but they had all seen someone talking to him at least once.

21:39

And he had heard one separate report of a much more serious conversation with a cloaked figure wearing a hood to fully obscure their features. “Kinda creepy,” the witness had described them. “All dark ‘n mysterious.” Which, to Zohi, meant that this unknown person was less concerned with actually hiding their identity and more concerned with looking like they were. What that meant specifically, he wasn’t sure. But the man was gone by now and he had little desire to stay out overnight hunting down someone he didn’t think was a current threat, so he headed back to the inn. He would check on Lyss first before preparing for bed himself. ... Lyss sent Pebble out into the hallway to look around and report back. She was somewhat loath to put any of her creations into danger, but Pebble was small and (due to the strange magic around) completely silent. It would check to see how far the silence aura stretched, then return. In the meantime, Lyss huddled nervously near the door with Orb and Skit, one hand on the wood since she wouldn’t be able to hear Pebble’s return otherwise. The little golem returned in short order, accepting the quill from Lyss and dragging it around the rough diagram of the hallway she had drawn to add in a similarly rough estimate of the silence’s range. It appeared to only cover a few rooms near the back of the inn, with Lyss’s being on the left of the three impacted. That was good, she thought. That meant- Lyss gasped awake in bed, instantly wide awake and thrumming with fear. Disoriented, she stumbled to the window, then the table, taking in the same sights as just minutes earlier. Moonlight, streetlight, curious golems. Everything was still completely silent. She tore through her bag again, avoiding the etching needle this time and retrieving the quill and paper faster than before. She couldn’t hear her heartbeat, but she could feel it as she shakily scribed the instructions again, unsure of what else to do. The door was stuck.

21:39

Lyss tugged at the handle, shouting silently at it, but it refused to budge. She could still see out a little through the crack at the bottom of the door, but neither she nor the golems were thin enough to fit through. Pebble tried anyway, bless its little heart. She couldn’t help but smile a little at that.

- Stay passive. Be calm. Carefully consider and gather information. ✊ - Stay active. Be assertive. Break out of whatever this is before it can claim you. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 25 “---.” Okay, stay calm. Something magical was happening twice over and it always paid to be careful. She just had to be rational, gather information, and work out what was going on. The door was stuck now, but seemingly nothing else had changed. Had she dreamt her previous actions or was it more of a loop? She needed more data. So, instead of doing anything else with the door or golems, she walked carefully through the room and studied various objects in detail so that if she- Lyss woke up with a start. Utter silence. She jumped up, trying to scan the room and keep a careful count at the same time. It was hard; she kept rushing the numbers and losing her place out of nervousness. Everything looked to be in the same location as before. She tried the door again; it opened this time, but she didn’t dare leave. Not before figuring out what- Lyss woke up. The room was much darker now, walls and floor formed of some black, smooth substance that deformed slightly under her feet. She grimaced, poking it and trying to keep count again. The door opened, but only a few inches; it was held shut by a chain on the other side. Keep the count. It felt like- Lyss woke up. The loop was definitely getting shorter. Maybe ten seconds each time or a little more? How many loops did that leave? What would happen when time ran out? ... Zohi quietly unlocked the door and stepped inside, gathering a few things from his pocket dimension and dropping off his cloak. Lyss was asleep, tangled up in her sheets as if she had been moving around a good deal. He took a step closer just to be sure, but she didn’t seem to be distressed. Dim light from the full moon filtered in through the window to illuminate her face and upper body. He left the room to go clean up. ...

19:39

Lyss sat up, trying to control her breathing. The changes that kept happening between every loop didn’t seem to make sense or stay consistent. Sometimes the door would open normally, then it would be stuck, then it would just lead into a cavern or lake. The room couldn’t keep a consistent size, shape, or material, though at least the golems and her bag seemed to always remain in the same place. The one thing that did seem consistently normal was the sky outside. It always remained unchanged, and based on the movement of the moon, it was obvious that time was actually passing despite the constant resets. She woke up again and immediately jumped up to try the door. She was basically out of ideas at this point and was very relieved it wasn’t stuck this time. The hallway wasn’t correct - it was a narrow corridor of cut stone instead of a wider wooden passage. At least it wasn’t made of meat like a few loops back. She shook her head, then turned sideways and squeezed towards the corner. After a dozen feet, sound returned in a rush. She could hear her own too-fast breathing and the scraping sound of her clothes against rough stone. And, somewhere ahead, a deep bassy pounding like that of an enormous drum. Or, she thought, listening uneasily, a massive heart. Lyss woke up again. That loop couldn’t have even taken a full minute. She ran to the door, desperate to get out of the silence and maybe shout for help or something. Maybe if she could get to the heartbeat, she could find whatever was doing this? The hall this time was a dark, partially flooded cave. Little crystals and polished bits of rock protruded from the floor and walls; her footsteps splashed through ankle-deep water. Sound returned, bringing the heartbeat back into perception. Lyss drew a deep breath, but then cut off at the sound of rapid clicking or tapping from somewhere ahead. Getting closer. Very, very quickly.

19:39

Something that resembled a clockwork spider the size of a horse skittered around the corner, glowing deep red from its many eyes and screeching a trumpeting howl. Lyss screamed and fell backwards trying to run, then woke up. She clutched at the sheets, eyes wide and breathing heavily. What was that? How much longer did she have? “...” Lyss got up anyway, ran unsteadily to the door, and tried the handle. Locked. She woke up. That hadn’t even been thirty seconds. Right? Had it? There couldn’t be more than two or three loops left. The door - stuck again! Something heavy impacted it from the other side and she jumped back, screaming silently. The moon dipped into view now, moving faster than it should in reality. Cold, distant. Lyss woke up. Twenty seconds. Maybe. Was this the last one? She leapt up, ignored the door, and wrestled the window open. This could be her only way to escape. The door didn’t work; it might even be a trap. The sky had never changed. She clambered onto the sill and looked down. Three stories looked like a much longer drop when you were considering jumping. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. She woke up again. Ten seconds left. This was the last one. The door rattled, wood splintering from powerful impacts. No time to think. She whipped the window up, climbed onto the sill, and- ... Zohi walked back towards the room, hair still slightly damp and in generally good spirits. He had thought a bit more about the preacher, but hadn’t really gotten anywhere and just ended up distracted thinking about Sorem. Lyss would like it there, he thought. She seemed to enjoy civilization, though the rules and authority that came with it maybe a little less. Sorem was big enough that no one got in your business like in Virnscross; you could get some actual privacy to do things like practice golemancy. He could probably even source some books.

19:39

He slipped the key into the lock again and pushed open the door, half-distracted and expecting Lyss to still be asleep. He was certainly surprised to see her crouched on the windowsill and about to jump off it. ⏬ - Lyss is faster.

- Zohi is faster. ✝️ - The... preacher is faster? [???]

- The... moon is faster?! [?!?!?!] (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 26 “Lyss!” Zohi rushed forwards, reaching out and summoning the wind in case he was too late. The air responded, but sluggishly, and as soon as he crossed into the distorted rectangle of moonlight painted across the floor, it stopped. He stopped too, or at least vastly slowed. Trying to move further forwards was like sprinting through thick gelatin. Doubts assailed his mind; images of him accidentally being the one to push her off the edge as he fumbled the rescue. Why does she want to jump? Did I do this? Does she hate me that much? A breeze stirred timidly against him. His vision shifted; shimmering green light surrounded Lyss. Tongues of green flame, seen reflected in the surface of an unstable pond. The same light burned around him, but less so. The fear of him causing this melted quickly away, replaced by a much more external fear. Something else was causing this; something beyond his knowledge. Perhaps beyond his ability to defeat. He still couldn’t get close to the window. Fight it, Lyss. You can resist it. ... Something made her hesitate. Lyss counted down in her head, knowing she only had seconds left before the loop reset for the last time, but this wasn’t right. Throwing herself out the window wouldn’t save her from whatever was going on; everything was just pushing her in that direction. And if the loop wanted her to do something, well... “---! ---.” Nothing happened. Whatever was banging on the door stopped, she didn’t wake up in bed again, and the bubble of silence fell away. She could hear wind rustling the trees outside, as well as her own pounding heartbeat and shaky breathing. Lyss stepped down from the windowsill, perplexed and still wary. “Was that it?” she asked aloud. “Are you done?”

10:49

Quiet for a moment. Then, the entire roof of the inn lifted off. Splintered wood rained down; Lyss covered her head in fear of a repeat of the golem incident, but no larger pieces came close to hitting her. She stood up again, now standing on nothing but a flat wooden surface beneath the night sky. The moon hung directly overhead, having moved from its prior location out the window at some point. Feeling a strange undercurrent of determination - and starting to understand what was going on - Lyss shouted up to the green-tinged full moon above. “Let me go! You failed!” The air shimmered, rippling with green light as if she were underwater. A rumbling, distant glimmer from high, high above. A new star visible just beyond the moon. Shining brilliantly green and feeling colder than the empty darkness around it. Lyss woke up. Except this time she wasn’t in bed, but rather clinging onto the windowsill. She scrambled backwards in surprise, tumbling ungracefully to the floor and then popping back up to close the window. As a final touch - staring distrustfully at the definitely-still-slightly-green moon - she drew the curtains as well and dipped the room into near-darkness. Zohi was with her a moment later, falling to one knee and glaring up at the now-closed window. “Lyss. Are you okay? What... was that?” Somehow, she didn’t feel terrified. Scared, sure, but tempered with that same streak of determination from earlier. “I’m okay. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I think something up there doesn’t like me.”

- Continue towards Sorem as planned. Be careful of the moon.

- Try to research more around here first. Was Lyss the only one affected? Is this a known phenomenon? (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 27 With the moon seemingly kept at bay and both of them quite tired, Zohi and Lyss managed to rest through the night without further issues. In the morning, after verifying no additional dreams or sleepwalking to the window, Zohi took some time to conduct another investigation. Several people around town were in fact discussing uneasy feelings or nightmares. One visiting oarsman who happened to have a spyglass on him swore he saw the moon turning green, but his fellows either didn’t seem to believe him, or ascribed completely unrelated superstitions to the event. No one aside from Lyss had experienced dreams as vivid and real as hers had been. As an aside, I am aware of two other individuals on the continent who dreamt specifically of our collective enemy during that night. Myself, as a diviner of no small skill, and the curse-bound witch Amelisce. My own vision was hardly relevant - it lacked so much detail that I initially considered it a false alarm or simply a normal dream. As for Amelisce, well, I shall discuss her experience later on. It seems likely that others across the land also received initial warnings during this night, but as should be obvious at this point, no one put it together for a while yet. Events would have proceeded much differently if anyone had. In any case, to Zohi’s continued anxiety, he left Lyss alone for only a few minutes. By the time he got back, she had managed to get herself into trouble again. “Lyss?” Zohi asked, then groaned at the lack of response, scanning the street but finding no blonde-haired youth in line of sight. “This is getting to be a pattern I’m not thrilled about,” he muttered, calling on the wi- Something gently poked his ankle. He looked down to spot Orb - the roundest and smoothest of the golems - peeking out from under a porch and tapping his boot. Feeling somewhat silly, Zohi knelt down. “She left you here for me, I take it? Where’s she gone?”

20:34

Orb, of course, could not speak. Instead, it trotted ahead of Zohi down a nearby alleyway, glancing back with its blank expression to see if he was following. “That’s not going to work; not in a town as populated as this one.” Zohi picked up the little golem and set it between his neck and shoulder. “Stay out of sight and point me where I need to go. Got that?” The little construct tapped at his collarbone. “I’ll assume that means ‘forward.’ Alright, let’s go find her.” ... Several blocks away, Lyss crouched between a fence and a row of rain barrels, hardly daring to breathe and definitely not daring to move. She had spotted a scraggly man speaking to a suspicious-looking guy in a cloak, then they had both started glancing over at her. She had stayed put until the scraggly one had nodded and wandered across the street towards her. Then she had run off, dropping Orb with instructions to bring Zohi when he came back. A few minutes later, the tables had turned. Using Pebble and Skit to knock into doors and debris, she had successfully sent the scraggly man and cloak guy down different alleys until - with everyone confused - every participant in the chase had nearly run into each other at the same backstreet intersection. Lyss managed to hide before anyone had seen her, and now she listened intently to the angry conversation taking place just feet away. “Maybe if you weren’t as obvious as a rampaging bear, we would have caught up!” That was cloak guy berating scraggly man. “I tell you, I kept hearing her from two streets at once!” scraggly man defended himself. “You gotta be careful of them moon witches. I know you think you’re hot stuff ‘cause you bound one already, but-” “Shut it! This isn’t helping; we need to track her down. You know what happens if we don’t find her today, right?” A grunt from scraggly man; they shuffled through some trash bins nearby. “Thought you said your witch was busy killin’ some headmaster.”

20:34

“She has the capacity for multiple assignments at once. And an unbound Animator could cause us far more trouble than even a golemancer. Possibly enough to rival ‘my witch’ if we hadn’t caught her. Now shut up and get looking before-” Lyss froze, covering her mouth as the rain barrel wobbled ever so slightly. Her leg had twitched; it was pinned in an awkward position. Both men were quiet now. Pebble looked up at her, confused; Skit was somewhere nearby. And Orb... Please, please have found Zohi...

- Full attack! Surprise them; get the golems in on it.

- Stay right there. Quiet.

- Cause a distraction; find somewhere else to hide.

- Run for it! (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 28 Anxiety spiking, she drew a few rushed glyphs in the dirt and tapped them for Pebble. “Motion,” “forward,” and “noise,” roughly. She hoped it got the idea, since speaking aloud seemed like a terrible idea right now. The little golem darted out from behind the barrels and ran across the intersection, having disabled the miniature sound-dampening field I mentioned earlier. Lyss couldn’t see from her current position, but she could hear both men exclaim in surprise. Very close by. “The hell is that?” Scraggly man stumbled, then got a better look. “A little clay man!” “Go chase it down!” cloak guy ordered. “Maybe it’s going back to her!” Footsteps receded; Lyss waited a few heartbeats before peeking around the side to get an idea of where everyone was and where she could run to. “Ah ha!” Cloak guy hadn’t actually left with scraggly man, instead having moved right up next to the barrels - presumably to investigate. He lunged forward. “Gotcha!” Lyss stabbed him in the arm with the etching needle she was still holding. It was an awkward blow from an awkward position, with the man’s own lunge carrying most of the force. Still, due to the angles involved, the full length of the tool pierced up his wrist, carving out a deep gouge of flesh. Cloak guy screamed and pulled back, clutching his arm as blood dribbled to the dirt below. Lyss scrambled away, shaking with fear but holding the tool threateningly. She turned to run, but almost stumbled over Skit (the burliest of the three golems, standing nearly nine inches tall) charging at cloak guy. She slowed, conflicted. Skit had no such conflicts, hurtling itself forward in a cannonball formation to collide with cloak guy’s head as he tried to stem the bleeding.

19:47

The golem was small, but very dense and moving at a rapid pace. It impacted with the force of a warrior’s punch, sending cloak guy sprawling away with a bruised jaw. Events slowed somewhat as scraggly man finally noticed something was wrong and turned to see the kid he was supposed to be chasing standing over his boss, wielding a glimmering needle still coated in his blood. Her miniature construct stood ready between them, and the one he had been chasing returned as well, somehow managing to seem menacing despite being less than six inches tall. Then someone else called her name and pounding footsteps announced the arrival of yet another combatant. Scraggly man knew when to call it quits and ran off, leaving cloak man on the ground. Zohi arrived with a rush of wind, fluttering Lyss’s hair as she glanced back to spot him. “They’re trying to kidnap me!” she quickly explained, returning her attention to cloak man on the ground... just as he dropped a clear grape-sized bead and crushed it beneath his palm. There was an echoing pop, a brief flare of shuddering air pressure, and he was gone. Zohi slowed to a stop. All three golems converged on the intersection, their various duties fulfilled. He did a slow circle, taking in the situation. “Good job, kid.” ... Later that evening, a different man in a different cloak handed a scroll to a witch. “Capture the child and return her to us if possible. Kill her if not. They will be arriving at Sorem via the river road within the week. Consider this task of paramount importance.” “I’m not killing a kid for you,” Amelisce muttered. Alhuia growled in support. “You can’t make me.” “We can’t make you, but we can make her.” The messenger nodded to the cat. “And what are you without your little familiar? Just a scared little girl with a curse she can’t cure and sight she can’t use.”

19:47

Greyscale hands gripped the scroll tightly enough to crumple the parchment. “I’m not that person anymore. You made sure of that.” “Just follow the instructions, witch. No killing will be necessary if you complete the task expediently.” “And if I deliver the kid? What then? Are you going to just give her a pat on the head and let her go free? Or are you going to bind her, enslave her, and put her magic to use sowing destruction across the kingdom?” “I sense a little projection. Our methods are of no concern to you. Deliver the child, kill the child, or resign yourself to a terrible fate. Three options. You have a week.” He began to walk away. Alhuia hissed at him. “I like his brother better,” Amelisce confided to the cat, defeated. “And I hate his brother.” What nice thing should happen to Lyss to make up for all the not-nice things recently?

- :D

️ - D: [Not a nice thing. She will be sad. :(.] (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 29 Several days and many miles later, the Purple River had begun to split up into a vast, interconnected delta that marked its terminus at the southern sea. Sorem was close now. It sat just to the west of the main delta, surrounded and bisected by various smaller streams that had once been part of the same mighty river. Lyss and Zohi would probably arrive there tomorrow. Still, there was no immediate need to rush. The Purple Delta region was irrigated with fresh water and rich sediment from upstream, and plant life flourished because of it. Without all the water concentrated in one massive bed, various species of water-loving trees sprouted up around each shallower stream. From tupelos and willows near the freshwater source of the delta to even occasional mangroves near the saltwater shoreline, the entire area was covered in verdant greenery. Away from the water but off the main road, forests of varying composition and density intersected with cleared, plowed fields of crops to feed the hungry city. While hiking some distance away from the road to set up their last campsite before arriving in Sorem, Zohi made a discovery. A small building, raised above a tiny creek to let the stream flow under its floor. The missing tiles from the roof, flaked-off paint on the walls, and general absorption by foliage and shrubbery made it clear the place was abandoned and had been for some time. It probably wasn’t stable enough to stay in, but the creek bent around a relatively clear area shaded by a willow tree nearby that would do nicely. Delicate purple flowers grew all around the old building, though they thinned out after only a few dozen feet. “What do you think it is?” Lyss asked as she crouched next to the building, examining the portions of the interior she could see while staying outside. “There’s a long hole in the floor so you can see the river, and what looks like a big wooden table.”

13:38

He stood, considering. “It might have been a shrine to a lesser deity of the forest, or river, or some sort of local nature. You don’t see any modern symbology, right?” She peered around inside. “I don’t think so. There’s just carvings of trees and stuff. A few wooden bowls. Nothing metal; it’s all wood.” “That’s what I’ll say, then. Shrine to a local protector of nature around here.” He gestured to the trees and shrubs overtaking the building. “Seems like it’s doing its job, at least. This place is definitely lively.” “It’s pretty cool,” she commented. “The shrines in the mountains aren’t anything like this; they’re all big stone monoliths with some words - usually in dwarvish - explaining what they stand for. Like courage or honor or some other big important thing. But this is just like a cozy little house! Skit, can you go tell me what that is?” Zohi smiled softly as Lyss continued to explore the shrine. He didn’t really believe in capital-G Gods, divine beings with nigh-omnipotence who shaped the course of events. Instead, he preferred smaller, more localized deities like the ones this shrine venerated. Elemental spirits, like his own father, could dispense miracles to an area if they felt like it. Like praying to a god, but you actually got something back. Honestly, if the big, universal gods actually did exist, he expected they would probably just turn out to be more powerful versions of the same spirits found in places like this. That’s probably how clerics and the like actually worked, even though they wouldn’t believe it themselves.

13:38

By the time he finished getting the campsite ready, Lyss and her golems had nearly finished making a little wreath out of twigs and flowers they had found nearby. “Orb found a wooden hook inside,” she said by way of explanation. “I think something important used to hang there, so I thought it might be nice to put something pretty back. At least for a little bit, until it falls apart again.” A glance at the building and the nature surrounding it. “But that’s okay. Eventually, this whole place will fall apart and just go back to the forest.” She hesitated self-consciously. “I-I’m not really explaining this well. Maybe I’ll just stop trying to. Anyway, these guys aren’t tall enough to hang it. Can I go in for just a bit?” “I’ll go.” Zohi wasn’t about to let Lyss crash through the probably-rotten floor and fall into the river. He took the wreath, harnessed the wind to step more lightly, and gingerly placed it on the hook she indicated, just over the open section that allowed him to see the stream flowing below. Kind of peaceful. Something fell from the ceiling. Zohi turned, alert, but it was only a little wooden doll. Nothing else was visible, so he just picked it up and left. “What’s that?” Lyss had seen the thing fall, too. He passed it over. “Not sure. Some kind of effigy, maybe? Or just a toy?” She brushed away some of the dust from the thing’s years of rest, then suddenly got a lot more interested. “That’s a life glyph! I know that one; that’s ‘animate.’ The base. So then the material glyph should be... here!” “It’s a golem?” “A very old one, yes. Deactivated by now; probably from glyph warping. But if this is really the material sequence for wood, then I should be able to make my own! I’ve only been able to do clay so far because that’s the only one that was in my books, but you should be able to - hey, guys, go find me some sticks, please - have different properties based on the...”

13:38

Zohi sat down, half-listening to Lyss distractedly explaining the nuances of golem material theory while scratching out varied copies of the symbols found on the wood golem. The setting sun happened to glint off something on the shrine to make some of the remaining tiles glow with orange-yellow sunlight. Thanks, he thought. Whatever you are.

- Molin was successful in convincing the headmaster to leave (somehow). [Requires more than a simple majority.] guess_ill_die

- Molin was not successful. (Winner:

~ 83%) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 30 “Honestly, I didn’t expect him to get this far. You wanna guess what he told Rosche to get him to leave with only a few days’ notice?” Alhuia chirped, though she was muffled from within her flying pouch. The two of them hovered over Sorem’s western gate on the broom, watching a small caravan negotiate with the guards. Today was the last day of her week-long deadline to kill the headmaster in an “exceptionally brutal” fashion, and for whatever reason, he seemed to be leaving the city. “I doubt it. Maybe he found some buried battlefield or something; Rosche is said to love military history. Maybe even something from the Vitrean campaign.” A soft headbutt. “Yeah. I’m thinking.” She had completed two more tasks in the last week, leaving only three currently on her list. Kill Rosche, destroy that solar-guarded anchor, and kidnap the kid. The latter was just a waiting game until she showed up (or Amelisce could figure out how to weasel out of it), she had already reported her issues with the middle and was now awaiting further instructions, and the former... Well. She could potentially just give up and report that Rosche left. But that stipulation of “exceptionally brutal” kept giving her pause. What had he done to deserve it and (more to the point) what could be more brutal than a broad-daylight burned-alive assassination right in front of all the people charged to protect him? And that thought was the problem. Amelisce’s curse wasn’t just a legal contract; it worked on her thoughts and intentions in a way that was both effective at giving her free reign to approach the tasks in whatever way she found best... and extremely difficult to consciously circumvent. She knew today was the last day of her timeline and her next meeting with (cough) wasn’t until the weekend. If Rosche managed to make it out of the city, she would probably lose him. Fail to complete that task. And with the obvious solution right in front of her...

21:06

It wasn’t that she wanted to kill the man. It was just that she had to. “Okay,” she murmured. Alhuia had good ears; she’d hear. “I’m gonna have to go in. Last chance before he gets away. I’ll put you down on this roof first, then... big and flashy, I think. As obvious as possible. Getting set on fire in the middle of the day right outside a major city counts as ‘brutal,’ right?” A mew of agreement. “Alright. Stay here for now. If I screw up, just head home. You remember what to do, right?” A mew of affirmation. “Here we go.” Amelisce was already wearing her defensive charms, so she didn’t need to equip anything else. Just rummage through her bag for something big and flammable, then shoot into the sky. She flew low, the better to be seen by both city and caravan guards alike. The better to create fear - or to be stopped. Rosche’s wagon was only a few hundred feet beyond the city walls and the man himself was visible walking alongside it, holding a book and discussing something with a scholar next to him. Most of the guardsmen wore simple spears or swords. She almost sighed in regret; they wouldn’t be able to stand up to her. Someone on the walls noticed as she rocketed over their head; shouts of alarm rose behind her, but far too slow. She readied the firebomb; raised an arm; took steady aim. Two guards near the rear of the caravan had noticed her approach, but neither were anywhere near Rosche. Their shouting would get his attention in moments, but she didn’t need moments to drop the - it’s not brutal if he never sees it coming.

21:06

In the middle of her throw, Amelisce adjusted her aim, unable to fully stop in time. Instead of detonating right on top of Rosche’s shiny bald head, the bomb impacted in the middle of the wagon that (she hoped) contained nothing but books and other supplies. It erupted in a roaring whoosh, sending globs of burning liquid in all directions. Civilians scattered; guards began to form up. Amelisce arrowed downwards, pulled a feather encased in a light blue crystal from her pack, and slammed it and herself into the ground with a thunderous crash. The feather broke; her legs didn’t. Plumes of dust spread along with heavy smoke from the fire. People screamed and ran in a panic, blocking most of the guardsmen from getting close. Headmaster Faveo Rosche struggled to his feet, simple travel robes now smeared with dirt and ash. She stalked towards him. As soon as he noticed - there. Rosche saw her now and shouted something in an ancient language of magic. Alhuia would have understood; Amelisce wasn’t allowed to. Lightning crackled from his outstretched arm and sank into the little bronze mirror worn around her neck. The metal heated up. Thunder rumbled overhead and clouds began to form. Rosche was an adept electromancer, capable of channeling electricity and even summoning storms to call down devastating lightning strikes. Her little mirror wouldn’t stand up to anything like that, but the perfectly sunny day would take many minutes to generate any thunderclouds worth using. She’d be long gone by then. “Rosche!” she shouted over the cacophony, flinging a magic bolt of her own. He deflected it easily enough, but it certainly kept his attention. In her other hand, she retrieved the little medallion - simple iron, forged with a raised hexagonal eye in the center - that (cough) had given her. “You didn’t think we forgot, did you?”

21:06

To be clear, she had no idea what the medallion meant or if Rosche actually had history with whatever group it presumably represented. As luck would have it, however, she was entirely correct. His eyes widened and he backpedaled towards the burning caravan. Scraps of burning cloth drifted in the air. “I - a-after so many years? You return like this?! I... I meant what I said all that time ago. I will NOT continue like that, not for any price!” And then a caravan guard finally made his way through the dust, smoke, and flames. He was almost as surprised as Amelisce when he melted out of the smoke right next to her, but- [Each choice is potentially deadly to at least one character involved in the current scene.]

- Amelisce reacts first.

️ - The guard reacts first.

- Rosche reacts first. (Winners:

️ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 31 -before either of them could raise any sort of attack, Rosche unexpectedly beat everyone to the punch. Presumably learning from his earlier lightning bolt, he instead cast a squall of driving rain and immediately flash-froze it into a hail of six-inch icicles enchanted to have the strength of steel. It was a smart, potent attack, but unfortunately a very inaccurate one. Amelisce changed tactics quickly, breaking off her own spell for a different artifact. The poor guard, punished for his efficiency, barely managed to start a swing before he was cut down by a torrent of icicles. The witch fared better, with many spikes scoring only glancing hits and deflected by an enchantment that made her skin hard as stone. A few still pierced through, lodging brutally deep in legs and chest. She fumbled with the counterspell and managed to produce a burst of scorching flames, melting the icicles back into mere rain. Startlingly red blood - contrasting her monochrome skin - spilled towards the earth and two well-hidden charms at the nape of her neck and small of her back activated, slowing the bleeding and dulling the pain. Given enough time, they would heal her fully. Perhaps that could have been enough. Perhaps she could have retreated then, pleading that her wounds were too much or that Rosche was too strong. But at this point, after dodging a swift death by mere moments, thoughts of escape fled in much the same way that she... didn’t. “Look what you did,” she yelled, gesturing to the guard’s ice-pierced body with one hand while covering her own wounds with the other. “Do these men mean nothing to you?” Rosche may have responded; she wasn’t listening. Instead, the arm pressed against her stomach slipped into a hidden pocket, withdrew a tiny pouch reminiscent of a dumpling, and suddenly threw it at him.

20:21

The headmaster responded with some sort of magical shield, as expected. But Amelisce wasn’t just a witch; she was also an alchemist. The concoction held no innate magic and simply sailed through the web of yellow lines unaffected. It burst on impact into a sparkly cloud of powdered glass and crystal. Each miniscule fragment was shaped by nature of the fracturing process into a peerlessly sharp, barbed granule. And though he stepped back quickly, his involuntary breath of surprise was enough to inhale hundreds of them. The effect was near-immediate as Rosche choked, coughed, and began to desperately backpedal, spitting up blood and only agitating the granules further with every ragged breath. Amelisce stalked forward, still leaving little dots of her own blood on the ground. She pressed a pad of simple wet gauze against her nose and mouth; breathing in any of those granules herself would be beyond unpleasant. Without the ability to speak beyond a splutter, Rosche couldn’t incant any of his most powerful magic. The thunderstorm began to break apart and, though he got off a few weaker bolts by gestures alone, none of them were enough to break through her mirror. “Sometimes I wonder why I took this godsforsaken deal in the first place. You know that, Rosche? Why did I sell myself to those who use me like this?” He couldn’t respond. She pressed the iron medallion into his bloody hand. “Sometimes, I can admit it to myself. I enjoy this. Power. Being somebody important. Even if I know I’m working for the wrong side.” She removed a little silver pin from her bag. Pressed the sharp end to Rosche’s forehead. He had enough strength left to struggle, but not to push her away. “And isn’t that worth a few sacrifices?”

20:21

The pin ballooned in size as she jammed it in, leaving the headmaster’s body skewered to the burning wagon by a stake of metal the size of a shortsword. Amelisce shook her head ruefully, then launched into the air. Ascended with the plume of smoke. Opened her ears, forcing herself to listen to the horrible screams of those who remained below. This was the price she had chosen to pay so many years ago. The price she still paid, though it seemed less and less worthwhile with every passing day. “Headmaster Faveo Rosche,” she muttered to herself. “Assassinated. Brutally. Obviously. And with the medallion left behind. Full marks.” The charm on her neck unexpectedly ran out of power and she cursed, swerving the broom as a deluge of held-back pain hit her all at once. Tears mixed with blood as she careened back towards the roof where Alhuia waited. “This is what I wanted, right? Little stupid Efenne. Fuck.” The second time in only a week she had used her old name. It felt strange to say it aloud. Why now? ⏩ - Zohi and Lyss arrive in Sorem before the weekend meeting with (cough) ⏪ - Zohi and Lyss arrive in Sorem after the meeting. (Winner: ⏩ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 32 After picking up a concerned Alhuia and heading back home, Amelisce peeled the useless charm off her neck and tossed it into a bin to be recharged later. The one on her back had by now mostly stopped the bleeding, so she slowly put together a concoction to help her heal, gulped it down, and peeled the second charm off, too. Pain washed up like a wave, then slowly receded as the potion began to take effect. She carefully cleaned up the blood, dust, and glass shards - paying especially close attention to the last category to avoid spreading them around her lab, head drooping and movements slowing as the potion continued its work. Finally, she could do no more. Amelisce lowered herself into bed even though it was only a little past midday. “Alhuia?” Her voice was weak; she was desperately sleepy. The potion had a lot of work to do and it needed her unconscious to do it. The cat hopped onto the bed as well, turning in a circle by her leg to curl up. “No, not yet. I need you to-” A deep yawn. Alhuia mirrored it. “-heh. I need you to go tell the kid when and where to go. He tried, at least. I owe him that much.” A questioning mew. “Note on the table. After that, please just be ready to wake me up if any of the scouts spot the other kid. The one I’m supposed to kidnap? I want to get an idea of what her deal is. Okay?” A swish of the tail. Alhuia hopped down and trotted across to the table. “Thanks...” At that point, she was too tired to stay awake any longer. ... “What do you think happened?” Lyss murmured, skirting around the perimeter of city guards surrounding the burned wagon. “Did it just catch fire?” Zohi eyed the scorch marks on the ground. They were pretty far away, but even from this distance he could tell there was more than one. He considered lying, but figured she’d find out soon enough anyway. Something like this couldn’t happen without most of the city knowing about it.

19:59

“No. Something attacked it. See those outer marks, and the rubble there? Explosions.” She glanced towards Sorem’s walls, now only a scant few hundred yards away. “Something attacked it... here? We’re right outside the gates!” He frowned. “Yes. It’s somewhat concerning. I’ll look into it; please don’t worry too much about-” “I’m worrying about it.” “What did I just say?” They entered the city around sundown and - just as Zohi thought - were quickly warned about a faded witch capable of extremely fast flight and extremely potent magic who had assassinated Sorem Academy’s headmaster just this morning. Details were sparse, but fire had been involved. They knew what the wagon had been now. Few people seemed to have an idea of the motive behind the attack, though many had guesses. Simple terrorism, some sort of duel between warring schools, an old rivalry come back to haunt him, or even Vitrean agents come for revenge. That last theory was clearly the most popular, especially with the discovery of an iron medallion representing who knew what on the body. Perhaps one of the desert tribes, or a warning. People were uneasy. Tensions were high after such a brutal, obvious killing just beyond their gates. “No one is safe,” the witch seemed to promise. Perhaps the next murder would be within the walls instead of without. Lyss was not exactly comfortable, and Zohi was not exactly pleased. After traveling such a long way, they hadn’t found peace at all. And he had a sinking suspicion he would have to get involved in sorting things out. ⏰ - Alhuia wakes her as requested.

- Alhuia lets her rest. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 33 Such was my dilemma when I first heard of the Obsidian Pillars from an old mystic who claimed to have been alive during the era of expeditions to the Elder Continent. She claimed that an order of ancient sages had built the Pillars in the far north of the world, where their connection to the planet’s void heart was the strongest. These sages had apparently sought to harness the world’s inner energy as a hub of the grand weave in order to cast magic on a scale none could rival. With five imprisoned titans linked through the voidstone conduit to the Pillars, she claimed, the wielder’s power would eclipse the gods. Of course, such matters contradict the historical record. The Elder Continent has not been visited beyond a few foolhardy ships in living memory - even that of the longest-lived species. Frostfound has never been inhabited, much less home to an order of enlightened sages. And there are only four imprisoned titans, with the fifth having been slain at the hands of his brothers during the world’s genesis. Still, the idea of ancient artifacts lying within the endless blizzards of the planet’s most dangerous continent stuck with me. I resisted the urge to travel there for many years, exhausting my other leads as best I could. Many brave adventurers had perished in the frozen wastes; I would be no different. And then I met a brilliant evoker who changed my mind. ... Alhuia wasn’t just a simple cat. Obviously not, you might say. I’ve detailed her conversing with Amelisce and even hinted at her being the witch’s connection to a so-called “higher power,” as Alder put it. This cat is obviously a fragment of something divine, you might claim. Well, sure. You’re right. But in this particular case, Alhuia is also a little different from other familiars of similar status.

15:54

For one - most relevant at this point - she didn’t have to obey Amelisce. At all, really. Their familiar bond simply excluded that provision, which meant that, although she usually followed Amelisce’s instructions, she didn’t have to. Especially if she had her own plans. And this particular sundown, when the scouts sent word that Lyss had been spotted entering Sorem, Alhuia wasted no time in completely ignoring her master’s request to wake her up. Instead, she headed off on her own mission. First, the note. She darted through the city streets, a sleek black shadow in alleyways, until she approached a particular house near the Academy. A few quick headbuts simulated knocking reasonably well and she only had to wait fifteen seconds or so before Molin opened the door, looked around confused, and then noticed her sitting primly on the doorstep. “Ah! You - you’re her... cat?” Alhuia offered the letter she had carried all the way here, grateful to finally get it out of her mouth. Molin took it hesitantly. She stayed put, waiting for him to read it. “Er... tomorrow? For... I thought you wouldn’t - since the headmaster...?” She chirped encouragingly. “I need to find a druid or someone,” he muttered. “Being able to understand you would be really helpful.” “Molin?” someone called from within the house. “Who’s at the door?” Alhuia nipped at his trousers before he could answer, gently but firmly trying to tug him out of the house. Bewildered, he went along with it. “Uh, just someone from school. I need to go with them for a bit; forgot something there.” “Well, alright. Don’t be out too late.” “I won’t.” He shut the door, then leaned down to address the cat. “Look, your note says not until tomorrow morning. Where are we going now?” She released the fabric, meowed cheerfully, and sauntered away down the street, tail high and checking back every so often to make sure he was following.

15:54

“You know, just yesterday I knew what I was doing with my life,” he complained, shrugging once and then following along as requested. The walk wasn’t particularly short, and Alhuia had to turn around and meow at Molin several times to ensure he was keeping up. He tried to get more information out of her as they went along, leading several passersby to wonder who he was talking to, but she refused to elaborate. Eventually, as they entered one of the districts nearest the western gates filled with taverns and inns for guests, he started to wonder if he was being taken to meet the witch’s masters. Was he about to be dragged into a back alley and killed? He had tried to sabotage her mission, even though he hadn’t been successful. It had been a lot of work to convince Rosche to leave - the man rarely spoke to ordinary students. Finally she led him to a particular inn, nudged the door, and led him inside after he opened it. Threads of shadow spread up from the floor to obscure her - he recognized the effect as a much more potent version of the spell he had cast just last week. Due to the spell, none of the other patrons noticed the cat as she slinked between tables, finally coming to rest by the feet of a pretty girl with short blonde hair who looked up curiously as he approached. The white-haired man next to her eyed him warily instead. Great. What am I supposed to do now? Cats, right? [You may specify more details beyond the emotes in #story_discussion, if you want.] [Zohi]

[Lyss]

[Molin]

‍⬛ -

‍⬛

(Winners:

‍⬛ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 34 “Er,” he began. It wasn’t like he could pretend he hadn’t just walked up to their table specifically. What do I say? Neither of them spoke, both just waiting for him. “Uh.” Say anything! “Do... either of you know this cat?” “What ca - oh! Hello there!” Lyss leaned under the table as Alhuia rubbed against her leg, while Zohi only glanced down quickly before returning his attention to Molin. “No” was all he said. He didn’t need to elaborate, not with a glare like that. Lyss popped back up, still stroking Alhuia under the table. “She’s so sweet! What’s her name?” “Er-” Think! Why did she bring me here? To talk to these people, obviously, but WHY? Are they supposed to help me? Her? “Alhuia,” he said, making a quick decision. “She’s... not a normal cat. She, er, knows a...” He lowered his voice to whisper the word “witch.” Lyss figured it out immediately. “Y-you mean like the one who-” “Yeah.” “...” Across the table, Zohi breathed an invisible sigh. Hadn’t even made it two hours before his prediction came true. ... Amelisce blinked awake, feeling far too well-rested for her own good. It was light out, but she wasn’t tired at all, which meant... “You let me sleep a whole day?!” she shouted, scrambling out of bed as Alhuia leapt out of the sheets to safety. “Did the girl show up? What happened with the note? What time is - okay, not a whole day; not late. Not yet.” She turned to glare at the cat. “You have a lot of explaining to do.” Alhuia lied smoothly as Amelisce quickly got ready for her meeting. The cat admitted that Lyss had arrived in Sorem, but claimed she had tried and failed to awaken Amelisce - that the potion had been stronger than anticipated. She reported her success in delivering the note, but completely omitted any mention of meeting with Lyss, Zohi, or even “speaking” to Molin.

20:15

“You’re such a liar!” the witch exclaimed as she examined another batch of charms and tossed them aside in disgust. She hadn’t had time to recharge the ones she had drained yesterday and - apparently - had forgotten to charge her backup set. Bad, but it couldn’t be helped. She slotted both sets into position and resolved to charge them immediately on her return. “What are you hiding? You could wake me up out of a coma with those claws; you just didn’t want to. Why?” A noncommittal meow. “What’s that supposed to mean? If this is one of your secret plots...” Amelisce cursed, then relaxed, digging out the enamel flower to find that it still had one pink petal left. She clipped it into her hair, shimmering to become full color again. Today’s meeting in broad daylight necessitated at least a minor disguise. “How long am I going to have to wait to find out, at least?” A self-satisfied chirp. “Oh, ‘not long,’ is it? That’s good. Am I at least going to have anything to report on the kidnapping mission? Did you hear from the scouts?” She paused, eyeing the cat. “What’s with that smirk? Oh, you are insufferable sometimes.” Rolling her eyes, Amelisce gave Alhuia a few scratches before nodding towards the stairs. “Come on, then, you dork. Let’s get going before your smugness becomes even more extreme.” The two set off through the morning streets of Sorem, heading for the modest castle that marked the center of the city. The very same castle she had complained hadn’t been visible from her last meeting with (cough). Maybe it would actually be him again instead of his brother; he was so much easier to deal with. “Oh, I almost forgot. You gave Molin the note, right? So he knows to stay hidden and where to - what’s with the smirk?” Alhuia nudged her leg, indicating a detour down a nearby side street. Amelisce caught on quickly. “This is it, isn’t it? Your grand plan? I don’t even want to guess; it had better be good.” It was.

20:15

Sitting on a dilapidated bench beneath a lonely tree was Molin, chatting amiably to a girl with short blonde hair. Amelisce stopped in place, processing, as Alhuia hopped up on the bench and settled down next to the pair. Lyss looked up, petting Alhuia. “Oh, good morning! You must be Amelisce. I think you’re supposed to capture me?” She shuffled through a pocket. “I’ve got some rope here if you didn’t bring any.” “What?!” Alhuia purred. Even Molin, who didn’t speak cat, could sense the smugness on display. [This is the start of a branch point. The next few scenes, in combination, may lock out at least one ending to the story. It is recommended you review what you know about Amelisce’s curse before voting.] How patient is Zohi feeling today? ⏱️ - Not very. ⏰ - Moderately. How observant is Amelisce feeling today?

- Not very.

- Pretty darn. How confident is Lyss feeling today?

- Not very.

- Reasonably. (Winners: ⏰ ,

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 35 “I mean, that’s what you have to do, right?” Lyss stood up, handing Amelisce a short loop of rope and holding out her hands. “Here!” “... I see. Okay.” Trusting in her cat, the witch went along with it. “Nice to meet you, I suppose. Lyss, right?” “Mm hm.” “And my cat convinced you to just give yourself up like this?” “Well, Molin helped too. But I think you’ll be happy with the results. I mean, you don’t have to go running around chasing me down, and you get it done right away!” Amelisce finished the knots, giving the rope a tug to ensure it was secure. She knew she probably shouldn’t ask, but... “And you know what you’re getting yourself into? You understand who I’m going to be giving you to, and what they’re going to do?” “Alhuia was very detailed!” “Really.” She started back towards the meeting place, but Molin suddenly spoke up. “Er, do you want me to come with you? For, uh, the...?” “No, it’s okay. You’ve got your own instructions, right?” “Right...” He did still have the letter Alhuia had given him earlier. Though the plan had changed somewhat since then. “Just... be careful.” “I will!” “You damn well won’t,” Amelisce grumbled. “Or at least you aren’t. How did you talk to her, anyway?” Lyss was only too excited to explain. “Okay, so you know how golems can sorta understand their masters even if they can’t speak?” “Not really.” “Well, I figured that it might work the same way if I gave Alhuia control over one of them, and it turns out it sorta did! She could tell it to do things by meowing at it - which, by the way, was super adorable - and even though the golem itself still couldn’t speak, it could mime things out enough to get the point across. It could even write things out in normal Guldic if she described the letters in the right way.”

20:23

“Huh.” Impressive, actually. Amelisce wasn’t a golemancer, but as a witch and alchemist, she worked in two vaguely adjacent disciplines and understood at least the high-level basics. Using a golem as a sort of translator wasn’t anything she had heard of before, though. “Although after that discovery, we just wrote all the letters and some common words on a piece of paper and had her just spell things out. Faster than the golem, actually. But it was still cool!” “Less impressed now,” she commented. “Better work on your translator golems for later. Making them speak would be very useful.” “I know! I just don’t know how to let them do that. I need to find more books. I heard Sorem has a magic academy, actually; do you think-” “Okay, I’ve had enough.” Amelisce stopped in place, pulling on the rope to drag Lyss close enough to whisper to. “You are about to be enslaved, cursed, and forced to do horrible things on pain of torture or death. You said you know that. And yet here you are, happily delivering yourself to me and chattering away like you haven’t a care in the world. Are you mad?” A light breeze drifted between them. The cheerful expression slipped a bit. “I’m a little nervous,” Lyss admitted. “But I know I’ll be okay. There’s a higher power watching out for me!” Amelisce stared at her a moment longer before huffing in annoyance and continuing along. “Your wannabe wizard back there isn’t going to be able to save you. If that was your plan, you’re both in way over your heads.” “Molin? He’s nice, but not exactly a ‘higher power.’” A quiet giggle. “He turned his hand green trying to show me a trick last night. It took an hour to go back to normal.” “Is this just your way of coping? Jokes and upbeat chatter?” “Maybe!”

20:23

After another few minutes, Amelisce suddenly turned down a few more streets before knocking quietly on a nondescript wooden door. Two clicks and it opened, allowing her, Lyss, and the cat into a small room halfway packed with untidy stacks of crates and barrels. A short man in a cloak lounged against the far wall. Good, it’s him. Not his brother this time. “First update,” she said neutrally, holding the rope up for him to see. “Got your kid.” Cloak man hesitated for a moment. “Expedient. Your skills truly are unmatched.” “Yep. And Rosche is dead, too, but you would have seen that. The only thing not yet done is-” “The altar.” He waved his hand in a beckoning motion. “Bring her here.” Amelisce shrugged, striding forward and handing him the rope. Lyss stayed quiet. “Yeah, the altar. Anything about the solars?” “Kill them.” He handed her another little notarized scroll, her official contract to form the requirement. A mouse scuttled past cloak man’s boot and he swatted at it in annoyance. “Damn rodents. Next meeting will be outside again, I swear it.” She eyed the floor. “Alhuia, why don’t you see what you can do about those mice?” The cat hopped down, settling into a hunting crouch. “Anyway, here. You’ll find this useful.” From another pocket on his well-worn cloak, he produced a full-size dagger formed entirely of a smoky grey glass or crystal. “Smokestone,” he explained. “Apparently this stuff is poison to solars if defiled properly. Moonlight rituals. Don’t ask.” She weighed the blade. Something about it felt almost cold, even though it should have been warm from cloak man’s pocket and hand. Vaguely discomfited, she stowed it away. “Fine. Anything else or is it just the altar?” Alhuia pounced on something. A few blurred forms darted past cloak man again, making him jump. “Damn rodents!” he shouted again. “Do your job, cat!” “I’ll assume no more tasks for the moment.”

20:23

“No. We expected it to take you much longer to handle the kid. The others will be humiliated to learn how easy it was for you, given what she did to them. Isn’t that right, little lady?” Lyss still didn’t say anything. “Bah. She stabbed them right good. Deserved it, given how incompetent you’ve proven them. Alright, back to work. Destroy that altar and kill the solars by next meeting. We’ll have further instructions then.” Cloak man swept his way to the door, dodging another pair of mice as Alhuia rushed by. Lyss plodded along behind him, head down as if despondent. This illusion was ruined somewhat by her hidden smile as cloak man missed the bolt the first time and had to try again to unlock the door. Then they were gone. Amelisce waited a few beats, then knelt to the dusty floor. “Alright, ‘cat,’ you can drop the charade now. These ‘mice’ have arms.” Alhuia emerged from behind a barrel, followed closely by Orb, Skit, and Pebble, all cloaked in familiar-looking guises that made them look like simple rodents if they were moving quickly. “I made these charms; you can’t fool me. Now, I’m going to sit here with these ‘charming’ little clay men for a few minutes, and you four are going to explain what just happened. Right?” [This scene is part of a branch point.] How merciful is Zohi feeling today?

‍

- Very.

- Not at all. What do these charming little clay men have to say for themselves?

- “For you!”

️ - “For us!”

- “For them!” (Winners:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 36 Zohi crouched on a tiled roof and watched Lyss disappear into the storeroom where she was to be kidnapped. Great plan. He hated the plan. After the witch’s familiar had more or less explained what was going on - and specifically, her master’s task to capture Lyss - the girl had of course wanted to help. And the cat already had a fairly simple plan: just fulfill the contract. As long as no one told Amelisce, she wouldn’t be violating the letter or spirit of her instructions, since she wouldn’t know that everyone else involved planned to steal Lyss back within only a few minutes. Of course, even a few minutes could be far too long if the man had a long-distance teleport ability, some sort of permanent curse brand, or even just a big knife. Or if he was stronger than they expected and was able to beat Zohi when he went in for the ambush. It was possible; he had lost to the big golem, after all. So he had initially vetoed the idea for her own safety. They had spent a good amount of the evening thinking of possible alternate ideas, but most of them involved knowing how to break the witch’s bond or putting her out of commission in some way, which Alhuia refused to allow. Eventually, Lyss had employed the favorite technique of many teenagers who wanted to get their way: reasoned debate, followed by pleading, bargaining, and eventually going off to sulk in the corner when Zohi still refused to budge. Eventually, he gave in after being guilt-tripped by Lyss and the cat (Molin wisely stayed out of it) and agreed to help. It wasn’t like he could stop her from putting herself in danger anyway; not without becoming the bad guy himself. So he had to do his part, which currently involved keeping a close eye on the door and waiting.

15:19

After a relatively short time, a shorter man in a cloak emerged, pulling Lyss along with him. Zohi waited just a few more beats to ensure Amelisce would stay put like Alhuia had promised, but the witch did not appear. Excellent. He followed the two, leaping lightly across rooftops and relying on both his own senses and the wind to guide him along. Gentle breezes from ground level carried the footsteps and muttered threats he needed to keep the trail even when he lost sight of them temporarily. And eventually, after dodging one false trail, he tracked them down to a small stone building in a back street behind a pawn shop. Quiet, isolated. Good. No time to waste. And so he didn’t waste any time, immediately hopping down into the narrow road and summoning his heaviest greatsword to smash straight through the unremarkable wooden door with an almighty crash. The blade vanished into thin air as he stepped through after it, taking in the scene in moments. Lyss was half-sitting in a bolted-down chair with one arm in a restraint and the other up as if she had been fighting back. A nearby unlit brazier, brand, and assorted magical paraphernalia suggested that the man wasn’t intending on wasting any time either and was about to begin some sort of dreadful ritual. The man himself gaped at Zohi for just a moment too long before a heavy punch took him in the temple, sending him stumbling across the room and away from Lyss. He would have used a dagger instead, but wasn’t about to risk getting any more weapons out so close to her. He removed a small patch of green fabric from thin air and handed it to her. “Go; you know the plan.” Lyss nodded, quickly working on the one attached restraint with her free hand. Cloak man shouted and rushed back in, wielding twin glass knives he had drawn in the intervening few seconds. Zohi took a step forward to meet him, summoning his own blades and staying deadly quiet.

15:19

Metal met glass and neither won. Lyss slipped out of the restraint, slapped the patch onto her shirt, and vanished in an eddy of swirling air. Zohi shouted now, attacking furiously so cloak man would be too distracted to notice the quick, quiet footsteps and slight shift in debris near the door. Lyss hadn’t teleported, but was merely invisible. Hopefully for long enough to get out of sight by the time that patch burned away. His distraction almost worked too well. Still off-balance from the start of the fight and loss of his captive, cloak man dropped a dagger when Zohi managed to smash his hand with a crossguard, stumbling back and drawing a clear, grape-sized bead from an inner pocket. Zohi recognized it immediately and lunged forwards with a blast of air to knock it out of his hand, but was slightly too slow to stop the man from crushing it and vanishing in a flare of shuddering air pressure. He paused a moment, then heard a matching echo nearby; the breeze bringing him information. “Not done with you yet,” he growled, rushing back outside and launching into the air to listen and watch for... “Ha!” Cloak man had swapped the remaining dagger for a glossy green-blue shield and a glass-headed maul. He heard Zohi plummeting down and brought the shield up to block. The glassy surface pulsed with magic, sending such a jolt through the blade that the steel actually broke, shattering into shards of metal and tossing Zohi back to land awkwardly a few feet away. He flexed his hands and dismissed the broken sword to investigate later, retrieving twin scimitars instead. Neither man spoke, just slowly circling for a moment in the street as ordinary city noises began to give way to muttered concern and a few shouts. They had witnesses now. [This is the last part of the branch point that began on scene 34]

️ - Kill him.

️ - Retreat. (Winner:

️ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 37 The thought of retreat didn’t cross his mind. This man was dangerous and he had far too much information. He couldn’t be allowed to go free. So Zohi leapt forward in a wind-assisted attack. This cloak man, unlike the one he had briefly seen back in Ruthaea, was a competent fighter. He stayed low and stable, carefully watching Zohi’s movements and always managing to angle the shield for a deflecting blow no matter how fast or erratic he jumped and half-flew. The maul swung out rarely, but was aimed well each time, forcing broken-off attacks or awkward dodges. It was a very defensive fighting style, which was both a good counter to Zohi’s offense and a somewhat baffling choice. Surely city guards were already on their way and getting arrested would serve neither of them. So why wasn’t he in as much a hurry to end the fight as Zohi was? Finally, he managed to get a strike in by distracting the man with a falling blade summoned from behind, followed up with a threefold slash from the front. Two blades skated off the shield, but the third - newly summoned only an instant prior - barely missed the edge and sank into a lightly armored arm. Cloak man hissed, pulling back. The shield dropped as blood flowed from the arm holding it; he couldn’t support its weight. Zohi pressed forwards, careful to keep a close watch for-! The maul swept low, sparking against cobbles and igniting something in the glass head with a whooshing flame. The hammer burst with streamers of fire, accelerating into a blur. Wind whipped around, confused by the sudden burst of heat, tugging Zohi’s leg just far enough back that the blow failed to shatter his tibia. Instead, the weapon carved out a seared wedge of flesh and only narrowly grazed the bone.

19:38

Zohi crashed into the man and both fell to the ground... where a set of three blades had just materialized. Cloak man choked as a trio of swords pierced through his torso, two of them long enough that their tips even nicked Zohi as he rolled to the side and struggled to stand. By the time he managed to get to his feet, strongly favoring his left leg, cloak man was already staring glassy-eyed at the sky as blood dribbled down each of the fatal swords. Zohi dismissed all the weapons, then looked up warily at the few brave (foolhardy?) townsfolk who hid nearby and peeked out at him. “Do not fear,” he managed through gritted teeth. “This man is the one who ordered your headmaster’s death. He shall not harm another person.” No response. He figured he should probably get out of here before- Cloak man’s body exploded. Zohi stumbled back, shielding his eyes from the burst of wind and heat, but when he looked back, there was nothing there but a scorch mark on the ground and a discomforting, vaguely chemical scent. Several onlookers gasped. None of the man’s possessions had survived; only a few fragments of the heavy glass weapons were visible nearby or embedded in Zohi’s clothes. Armored boots nearby. Time to leave. He hobbled off - couldn’t leap with that leg wound - aiming to get out of view before the guards arrived. ... It was a little metal cylinder about the size of her pinky. Amelisce took it from the golem with the round head, hesitant. “Is this...?” Alhuia headbutted her leg.

19:39

“Okay, fine.” She got on with it, as requested. Unscrewed the cap, having to exert a good deal more force than expected due to the waxy seal mixed into the threads; this container was not designed to open. Discarded the cap and shook the contents of the tube into her hands. A tightly rolled length of paper, maybe as long as her hand and tied with a piece of simple red yarn. Cut the yarn and shakily unrolled the page, reading the distant but very familiar runes scratched in minute rows. Her own signatures rested at the very bottom. Efenne on the left; Amelisce on the right. Alhuia’s pawprint in the middle. And a dried drop of blood from all three (two) of them, binding the contract. “You stole it,” she breathed. “Neither of us could; it’s forbidden in so many different ways. But you charming little clay men...” The golems stared blankly at her. One of them picked up a small chunk of wood and examined it. “This is only half of it,” she noted. “His brother has the other half. This isn’t freedom; not yet.” A pause. “But it’s so much closer.” Alhuia chirped, nudging the witch’s hands. She fumbled the contract and almost dropped it, then retrieved the pen she had kept for years, hoping to be able to use it someday. Instead of an inked nib, there was just a tiny dot of perfectly black stone. [Unbinding this contract will partially release either Amelisce or Alhuia. Their bond means neither will be completely unbound until both are, but the one chosen here will have more freedom.]

- Unbind Amelisce. [She will no longer be obligated to obey the spirit of her instructions; merely the letter.]

‍⬛ - Unbind Alhuia. [She will no longer be obligated to obey the brother or any other members of the organization, but will remain unable to harm them.] (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 38 She hesitated for a few more moments, holding the pen tightly. “It can’t be both of us for this one alone, you know. I should unbind your vow; if they discover what we’re doing, he could...” A defiant mew. “Well, yes, he could also require me to do the same, but I’m bound more tightly; I’m more useful to them.” Rumbling chirp. “... That’s right. Okay, okay, you win.” Then, before she could reconsider or lose her nerve, Amelisce slid the pen across her own signature. The one on the right; not Efenne’s. The paper came apart underneath the nib, burning away as if from a heatless flame. Flakes of ash broke away and crumbled to nothingness as the dissolution spread, engulfing the whole paper in only a few moments. The entire thing fell to ash, then burned away entirely. Nothing remained. Amelisce took a deep breath. There was a little spike of pain in her right eye and she blinked, tears welling up as if she had caught something in it. The sensation passed quickly, but Alhuia mewed that something had changed. A little pocket mirror tucked into her bag quickly revealed the difference. Her right eye - formerly pure black with little starlike dots that answered for pupils - was now Efenne’s eye instead. Normal white with a dappled green-brown iris; the only point of color on her entire body now that the disguise spell had worn off (or been broken by the contract, perhaps - it should have lasted longer). “I didn’t expect that,” she commented to the cat. “These changes were supposed to be permanent. Part of the curse. Part of me now. If I can go back...” Alhuia nudged her head into the witch’s free hand. She absently rubbed the fur. “No, there’s no going back. My eye color doesn’t change that.” Another pause; she closed one eye, then the other, trying to see if there was any change to her vision. Seemed not. “We should get going, I suppose. There’s a certain young lady who will want these golems back.” ...

21:30

I’m afraid that the events of the next week are too numerous for me to cover in any semblance of detail, so I will simply include some of the more relevant points to the broader narrative. This chronicle has become quite lengthy already, and I only have so much time to write before the final challenge is upon us. Even with Brick to ride upon, I am often required to assist with various threats in our travel and need to keep things at least marginally brief. ... But I do have at least a little time. Perhaps I’ll note the outlines of some events, then ask the participants which I should detail further. That could work. Let’s see... [Choose which scene(s) you’d like to see in more detail.]

- Lyss and Amelisce work on golemancy and alchemy together.

- Molin and Amelisce research the solars and Stellidwen Island.

- Zohi and Amelisce discuss plans and their mutual distrust.

- Lyss and Molin go collecting alchemical reagents.

- Lyss and Zohi visit the ocean.

- Molin and Zohi visit the Academy. (Winner(s):

> [we'll see] ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 39 “D’you think they’re weirded out doing this?” Amelisce mused, watching the three small golems and one much larger - nearly adult-sized - carefully put together the body of a fifth. The three clay golems were familiar, of course - Orb, Skit, and Pebble - but the fourth still caught her off guard every so often. Twig, as Lyss had named it, was slightly taller than its creator and made of smoothly carved wood. The girl had spent over a week working on the details and still wasn’t finished, often deactivating it for an hour or two to sand down or etch another set of intricate lines. “Why would they be weirded out?” Lyss was in the thick of things too, as she usually was, wearing protective boots and gloves to protect herself from the heavy blocks of stone being carried around. Zohi had required the equipment and it had already saved her toes twice. She had stopped complaining about the weight after the first incident. Today, she was busy etching a complex material chain into the back of the bulky stone body while her other helpers assembled and glued together the rest of it. “Well, they’re basically carrying body parts around and sticking them together. Wouldn’t you be weirded out if you had to carry around severed limbs or buckets of guts, then glue them together?” She peeked around the golem for a moment, eyes obscured by a set of deep green lenses. Apparently they helped her see the structure of magic that would animate the golem-to-be. Amelisce had tried them on once but didn’t see anything. “You know, flesh golems do exist. You can build them if you want, though it’s hard to imagine why you’d want to.” “Blegh.” “But no, I don’t think they mind.” She glanced at the floor. “Hey Skit, are you uncomfortable helping build this?” The little clay man looked up at her uncomprehendingly. “See? They don’t really know what’s going on. Smarter than constructs, but not really sentient. Okay, back to work, please.”

12:10

Skit continued with its tasks. Amelisce wandered closer, eyeing Twig suspiciously. Lyss hadn’t given it more of a face than the clay men - just two dots and a horizontal slash for a mouth - and at the larger scale, it looked a little less endearing than the smaller versions. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask, actually. It’s only taken you a week to make the wooden one, and I imagine not much longer for the stone if the glyphs work. These things are better soldiers than people in a lot of cases: they’re very strong, incredibly tough, and highly magic-resistant. If you - a relative amateur - can make them so fast, how did all the golemancers get killed back then? Surely they could have had thousands of war golems waiting for any imperial troops.” “If I make too many, I lose control of some of them,” Lyss responded nonchalantly. “The bigger they are, the harder they are to control. And I think some materials are harder, too - Twig is more fidgety than the clay ones even if they were scaled up. I think. So this stone one might be even worse.” She inspected a line she had just etched, comparing it to the book Amelisce had stolen for her a few days ago. “Anyway, I couldn’t have a thousand golems, especially not person-sized. Maybe like five total? Or one really big one?” Amelisce narrowed her eyes, counting the golems in the room. “You’re up to five with this one. You sure none of them are going to go nuts once you turn on Mr Stone here?” “It’s not going to ‘go nuts,’” Lyss said reassuringly. “It just goes back to the core order, the one right above ‘animate.’ See, here?” Amelisce leaned in to where Lyss was pointing. “A circle with a line through it?” “The traditional core order is just ‘stand,’ which is what I use. Everything else branches off of that, so if I lose control, it reverts back to just standing in place and doing nothing. Golems don’t just ‘go rogue’ - I even tested it once by making a whole bunch of the little guys! Perfectly safe.”

12:10

“... You’ll make a really good mad scientist when you grow up.” Lyss giggled at that thought, peeking around the golem again. “Like you? With your charms that - ow!” Not paying attention to the supernaturally sharp etching needle, Lyss had once again managed to stab herself with the tool. Not particularly uncommon, even through the thick gloves. What was uncommon was her hand’s current position: not hovering a few inches off the stone to hold the needle, but rather set directly on the golem’s back as she talked to Amelisce. Blood spilled onto the central symbol, wicking away into tiny grooves faster than either of them could see. A fitful glimmer. Lyss took off the goggles and gloves to inspect the wound, missing the change in the golem’s animation magic as she walked over to a nearby table to bandage her finger again. “You’ve really got to get a safer blade on that thing,” Amelisce commented as Lyss wound a piece of cloth around the third injured finger in two days. She rolled the tool between her fingers, inspecting the tip and the tiny drop of blood still hanging there. “It’s almost like it wants to bite you.” “Don’t be silly; it’s just a tool. Maybe I could make a guard or something, though. Metal sheets wrapped around the sides...?”

- The glyphs are (mostly) finished. ⭕ - The glyphs aren’t finished. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 40 The unfinished golem stood up. All four other golems just stood in place and stared at it blankly, clearly unsure what to do. Amelisce was the first of the living people to notice. “Hey, is it supposed to be moving yet?” Lyss looked up, then yelped. “What?! How - wh - my FINGER!” She leapt up and hurried over to it, snatching the offending tool from Amelisce on her way past. “Stop. Stay put.” The golem wandered around in a fumbling gait, arms out and knocking into whatever was in front of it. The head hadn’t yet been carved, so it didn’t appear to be able to see. Similarly, its hands were still only blocks of stone - though lack of fingers didn’t stop the smaller clay golems from picking things up, and the same problem didn’t stop the soon-to-be-christened Brick either. It knocked into an empty cauldron, swiping it off the table to cause a ringing crash on the floor. “Stop it! Listen to me; hold still!” Lyss chased the thing around the room, Amelisce and the other golems watching in amusement or mute impassivity respectively. “They never go nuts, huh?” she shouted over the sound of another rack of tools toppling to the ground. “Oh, come here, you!” Lyss managed to leap onto the golem and wrap her arms around it, clinging to its back as it ran around in increasingly tight circles. She whipped the etching needle across the material chain she had just spent so much time meticulously constructing, severing the flow of animation magic and causing the golem to jolt to an immediate halt. Lyss fell off and rolled inelegantly across the floor to thump against a table leg. “Oof,” she said, looking upside-down at Amelisce. “Uh...” The witch regarded the carnage. “You’re fine, kid. Nothing’s broken and that was the funniest-” The inanimate stone golem, frozen in an awkward position when Lyss managed to slash through its symbols, toppled to the floor. Wood cracked as its elbow punched a hole in one of the boards.

20:11

Lyss stopped midway through standing up, wincing at the damage. “... sorrrryyy...” ... “So let me get this straight: you found nothing useful in the entire library?” “Well, I wouldn’t say nothing, but...” “You found a few papers on solar culture, one secondhand account of an explorer who visited Carnelia, and some analyses of their trading habits. Nothing about how to kill one (or not!) or what the altar on Stellidwen Island might actually be.” “Er, smokestone was mentioned once.” “Okay, sure. One time, but it doesn’t go into any more detail than what I already know. And of course, nothing on that prophecy.” Amelisce grumbled for a few seconds, stuffing handfuls of dried leaves into a rough fabric doll. “Glad you volunteered to do the research instead of me.” Molin didn’t say anything. Amelisce almost sighed; of the two kids, she got along with Lyss far better. Unfortunately, the golemancer girl had no taste for research outside of her crafts, so she was stuck with him. A spark of guilt complained at her exasperation and she tried to be a little more kind. “Alright, your work did help out. It’s useful to know that no one around here has heard of this stuff - that means it’s kept pretty quiet by the solars. Which of course leads me to wonder how (cough) learned about it, which leads to another few ideas.” He shuffled the papers but still didn’t respond. “Look, I’m just saying I still don’t have a way around having to try to kill them. I can misinterpret the assignment all I want, but if I show up with a dead handler and no proof of a destroyed altar next week, they’re going to assume the worst. I appreciate your scheming with my cat, but you understand you’ve put me in a delicate situation.” “... Yes.” “So. If you were in my delicate situation, how would you approach Stellidwen?”

20:11

[Not a full branch point; you will have some opportunity to change your mind later.]

- Kill them; destroy the altar. You have to.

- Tell them what’s going on; get their help.

- Destroy the altar, therefore “killing” their mission. No need to physically murder them.

- Don’t do anything; just steal the scroll off (cough)’s brother and kill him too. [... Except with this one; waiting out the clock can’t be undone.] (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 41 “Well... maybe I would try just asking the solars for help?” ... Amelisce hovered above Stellidwen Island, obscured by clouds and the night, hesitating. “They don’t have any reason to help,” she complained into the wind. A storm was approaching. “If I go there and explain everything, the easiest solution is to just kill me. Right? Remove the threat; remove a tool from the enemy. Trying to move against (cough) is risky, even for people like them. Why reveal yourself? Just to help a mediocre witch who made a bad deal? They can’t break the contract any more than we could.” Alhuia’s response was muffled by Amelisce’s jacket. She had known about the storm; it formed part of her backup plan. “They’re not altruistic, remember. Molin’s notes show that: they’re goal-driven. These ones care about the altar and their legends, not us. Not unless we try to break something.” Several pointed mews. “Okay, yes, I feel it too. And after that dream...” Amelisce paused, shivering. “Rain hasn’t even started yet and I’m cold.” A meow. “I’m not changing the topic; you’re changing the topic.” Another series of mews. “... Yes, I can’t really dispute that. It’s coming, and soon. And with these legends and altars...” She dropped the broom a little lower, fishing through her bag for a little orange sphere. “Let’s at least take a look, okay?” The pair descended towards the island, crushing and dropping the sphere to reveal an arching web of lines encircling the collapsed volcano that formed the central portion of the landmass. Amelisce stopped the broom only a few feet above the highest ward, then retrieved an ordinary spyglass and a thin leaf soaked in solution long enough to become near-transparent. Pasting the charm onto the lens allowed the assembly to grant a sort of night vision, and thus allowed Amelisce to scan the broken rocks below to catch a glimpse of the altar itself.

20:04

The caldera path continued down towards the deepest and most shattered portion of the landscape, where molten rock had once flowed up in ages past. There was a little lamppost to mark the end, unceremoniously painting the altar itself with a dull yellow glow. To the unassisted eye, it most resembled a three-legged arch joining together at the center to hold a dim chunk of some dark rock or crystal a dozen feet off the ground. Convoluted networks of pipes, wires, and tubes connected the crystal to various portions of the arch, lending the thing an air of jumbled engineering usually reserved for rushed prototypes. One of the arch’s legs bulged out slightly to present a bulky control panel. That was it; everything was dark and dead. To Amelisce, she saw the arch normally in one eye. In the other, she saw a gaping tear in reality, fuzzing at the edges and revealing meaninglessly flashing images behind. The assembly pulsed with invisible power, straining the tear and teasing it further open. Something lurked just on the other side of the breach; something with such sheer presence to seem a god or archdevil. It felt so obviously and offensively wrong that she had to hold herself back from blasting the thing apart from here. Amelisce pulled away from the spyglass, shaken. “What hellish rites are they weaving down there?” she wondered aloud. “Alhuia, look. Do you see the same?” Arranging the glass so the cat could use it was a challenge, particularly while riding the broom. Still, they managed. Alhuia saw it too, even more strongly than Amelisce. “It’s because of our bonds, right? To each other, and to It. Sight is one of Its most common curses. But... what is that down there? Extensions of some extradimensional menace? Something we need to destroy? We can’t trust the solars to explain what it is, but we can’t exactly trust (cough) either...” Thunder rumbled nearby; the storm would arrive soon. They had to make a decision.

20:04

[This is a branch point. One option is potentially deadly to a main character.]

- Side with the solars, in this case. [Intend to ask for their help. Intend to not destroy the altar.]

- Side against the solars, in this case. [Intend to destroy the altar. Killing them is optional; discuss in #story_discussion.] (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 42 Rain began to fall as Amelisce descended to the cabin she had discovered last time. Lights glowed in the windows as before, but now shutters were drawn against the encroaching storm. She slung the broom over her shoulder, took a deep breath, and knocked. Ponytail guy - Olmer? - answered the door, same as last time. He greeted her, though less pleasantly than before. Her monochrome coloration raised a question that he might very well know the answer to. She didn’t give him a chance to act on it, though. “I’ve been sent to kill you and destroy your altar,” she said. “And I hope to whatever gods may listen that I’m making the right choice to ask you to help me avoid that.” “... Let us talk.” They did. Amelisce explained her situation in some detail, describing her partial bonds and escalating tasks. She didn’t give detail on her patron or the cult overall (partially because she couldn’t; partially because she didn’t want to), but she provided enough information for the solars - well versed in this sort of magic - to understand what was going on. And so, when glasses (Tivel) said “Of course we can help you,” he was telling the truth. There exists magic that can break a patron bond, nullifying all of Amelisce’s contracts. These solars knew how to cast it, and they had the required materials available. There was only one issue. “... G-great!” she stammered, shocked it had been so easy. “Can you do it now? I only have a few days left before, well...” “Of course. We’ll just need your familiar present as well.” “Right, right; she’s bound too. Alhuia?” The cat emerged from her flying jacket with a wary sniff, almost sneezing at the magical residue in the air. She growled, but climbed onto the table as requested. “It’s okay; they’re going to help us. Weren’t you listening? No need to be nervous.”

20:51

“No; not at all.” Arud and Hojeh (tattoos; ribbons) bustled about nearby preparing a complicated device formed from the little glowing mechanisms Amelisce had noticed on the shelves during her last visit. Many of them snapped together like building blocks, forming into a much larger sphere that she could only describe as a miniature (two feet across) clockwork sun. “We will be able to dissolve your bonds with this dusk machine; it contains a fragment of the true sun’s power. Operable even in a storm like this, thankfully. It should only take a few minutes.” Alhuia still seemed upset, ears flat and staring distrustfully at the machine. “So... what exactly is this process?” Amelisce asked. “She’s still a little uncomfortable, as you can see.” “It’s very simple. You’ll grasp the dusk machine with both hands, recant your vows in order from most recent to the original, and then we will send a spike of charged sunlight energy through your familiar, back up the conduit to your patron, where it will dissolve the bond at its source.” “... Through my familiar? What does she have to do? Will she be okay?” Tivel seemed genuinely confused. “Will she be...? No; of course not. Breaking the bond in this way requires the destruction of your familiar. But without your patron bond, it hardly matt-” “Like hell it doesn’t!” Amelisce stood up angrily, knocking the chair back in her haste. “Not happening. You’re finding another way to do this or I’m leaving right now - and taking her with me.” The other three solars slowed down, watching the confrontation carefully. Tivel still seemed confused. “Are you... fond of it? Familiars are merely manifestations of your patron’s power given form. It has no soul; no being outside of serving as a conduit. Destroying it is like destroying a used-up staff.” “Not. Happening.”

20:51

“I’m afraid there is no other way to break the bond without explicit consent of your patron itself; the familiar is the bond.” He paused, presumably trying to find some way to convince her. “You will get over it quickly, I’m sure-” “Come on, Alhuia. We’re leaving.” Olmer stepped in front of the door, his previously easygoing demeanor now cold. Amelisce stopped, Alhuia slinking by her legs. “If you won’t destroy it, we will. With your bonds and skills, you are too dangerous to simply let leave.” She scanned the room, tense. The smokestone dagger rested near the top of her bag, along with a variety of other combat charms. A low hum emanated from the dusk machine, its original sunlike glow now a strange inverted purple-black. Shimmering sunlight formed in Olmer’s hands, stretching to form a golden sword. The other three circled closer, all with similar sunlight weapons. Alhuia pressed against her leg, making a low warning growl as she tracked Tivel with her eyes. [This is a branch point. Both options are deadly. Sorry.]

- Amelisce is fast enough. [Amelisce dies.]

‍⬛ - Amelisce is not fast enough. [Alhuia dies.] (Winner:

‍⬛ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 43 It was over in a few moments. The solars were fast, armed, and already in position. Before Amelisce could activate a single charm, searing heat flared against her leg and - with a bolt of black lightning from the machine - the bond was shattered. Shattered, but not undone. She hadn’t recanted her oaths. And that put Amelisce - now Efenne again? - into a position shared by only the barest handful of people throughout history. Witches by name and oath, but not by power. A unique situation that she was absolutely uninterested in exploring at the moment. “You see?” said Tivel, already dismissing his blade with the deed done. “Your body is already returning to its natural state. You may feel upset now, but in a matter of-” He cut off, glancing down in surprise at the smokestone dagger buried in his chest. “Oh.” The solar crumpled to the floor, bleeding golden ichor blood onto the planks below. Dead in an instant. Amelisce said nothing, but merely re-aimed the dagger and threw it. Dead-on. A second demigod fell; the dagger rippled back into her hand due to the charm she had attached to its handle earlier. The two remaining solars moved now, bearing sunlight weapons and magic from an ancient age. None of it helped. Not against someone like her. ... Efenne stumbled through the rain, half-delirious and heavily burned. The storm poured down to mask her tears, pounding on her head and back. Golden flames rose from the mountain’s edge behind her, defying the rain as the cabin burned. Nothing there would survive the night.

20:17

The altar rose in front of her, its magical defenses dispelled, cut through, or simply endured by a broken woman. She raised the smokestone dagger, its tip broken off in one of the solars back at the house. It leaked a dark, glutinous smog from the break, curling around her arm and chest like a snake. Wretched, poisonous thing. Dozens had died in agony to grant it the power to cleave through light. Now it would serve one last purpose. She left her entire bag. Every single charm brought to the island would be consumed. Used not for their intended purpose, but for their raw energy. With a simple glyph scribbled on the side of the pouch in mud or blood - she didn’t know and didn’t care - every charm became part of a bomb. She jammed the dagger into the dull crystal at the center of the assembly, letting the smoke leak into that instead of her arm. Drips of pitch-black liquid seeped into her bag set just below it. Efenne couldn’t see the altar as the tear it was. She was weak. She needed Amelisce back, but Amelisce wasn’t available at the moment. Efenne would have to do. She kicked the broom into action, jetting away from Stellidwen Island at top speed. Raindrops felt like bullets on her skin, but she couldn’t care. Couldn’t stop, or even slow. Fresh blood welled, but she still couldn’t care. The bomb went off. A burst of brilliant white light, immediately subsumed in a much larger blast that sent chunks of pulverized rock and crystal raining down miles away. And then... The third blast was wholly unexpected. The entire island erupted, the once-dormant volcano flaring back to life as the altar’s destruction pierced deep enough to unleash a torrent of gas and molten rock. Efenne managed to care about that one, but only because the shockwave sent her spinning towards the ocean at an appreciable fraction of the speed of sound.

20:17

She pulled out of the dive and glanced back, blinking against the storm. A plume of dense black ash mixed with storm clouds, forming a pulpy mess splattering down into the ocean for miles around. A hellish orange glow was visible at the base: new rock flowing up from the caldera to trickle down towards the water below. But the cataclysm unfolding behind her couldn’t compete with the one rising into the heavens far, far to the north in front of her. A brilliant green star, never before seen outside of dreams but now the second-brightest object in the sky. It spoke to her in rumbling, alien tones that had no words but only intentions. North. She had to go North. The Obsidian Pillars could help her. The Pillars would bring Alhuia back. This, the star promised. The messenger promised. Her patron promised. Journey to the Pillars, and It would restore her. ... “Zohi! Zohi!” He blinked awake, squinting against the sudden glow. “What’s happening?” Lyss hopped from one foot to the other, nightgown rustling as she glanced nervously behind her. The recently reactivated stone golem she called Brick stood guard at the door, reassuringly solid and dependable. He liked Brick. It had already taken on a guardian role over the kid, refusing to let her work in the lab without proper safety equipment. “T-there’s a new star in the north. It’s... green.” “Like your dream at-” “Just like it. And there’s-” Something thumped heavily on the roof. Lyss spun around, Zohi stood up and shook himself further awake, and Brick lowered into a ready stance. Amelisce stormed into the hallway, squeezing past the golem at Lyss’s word. The witch looked terrible: soaked through, bleeding from a dozen wounds, burned in multiple places, and wearing a frantic, haunted expression Zohi had seen only a few times on desperate men. Dangerously desperate men.

20:17

Lyss peeked around the witch’s legs. Which, Zohi noticed in a surreal revelation, were now ordinary skin tone instead of monochrome grey. “Where’s-” She slammed her broom to the floor, splattering more rainwater and blood onto the tiles. “I’m going north. Immediately.” [This is the end of Part 1. There will be a brief intermission before we return to the main cast.]

- ...

- ... (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 44 At this point, events in this chronicle have almost caught up to the present. I should, then, perhaps introduce the last few relevant characters now instead of continuing along the timeline entirely chronologically. Lyss didn’t tell me much about her journey north, regardless; she’s had other matters on her mind recently. Poor kid. And of course, given their pace, there wouldn’t be much to tell in any case. Yes, I’ll do things this way. Almost a week after the eruption on Stellidwen Island, I arrived in the somewhat perplexingly named city of Wyrmtooth, nestled at the narrowest point of Frostwyrm Bay and source of the like-named river. I had been exploring the Cryptwarrens to the southwest for several weeks now, hunting for additional clues that could help in my quest to defend against a rogue star, but with the volcanic eruption and simultaneous appearance of the green interloper in our sky, I admitted I was out of time. It would have to be the Pillars. “Hello, Wayland!” Dave called from across the room as I came down the stairs. He looked excited, as usual, and was talking to someone else at the table. I picked up a bowl of something resembling oatmeal from the innkeeper, then slid into a seat beside my traveling companion. Dave was the evoker I mentioned earlier, a younger elf with incredible command over fire. He had his quirks, but his confidence and enthusiasm were welcome contrasts to my own doubts and careful consideration. “Morning. I see you’ve made a new friend.” “This is Tay Nahvt! They’re exploring the ruins around here and think there might be something to help us with our... you know.”

11:20

I nodded politely at Tay, inviting further clarification. Even now, I couldn’t tell you much about their appearance. They take great care to keep it as forgettable as possible, even including a dab of enchantment to aid in the effect. At best, I would say Tay is androgynous, with an average build and average features. Difficult to pick out of a crowd. Darker hair and darker eyes, though I had to go peek at them to confirm that and I’m still not entirely sure. “You’re heading north, right?” Their voice was soft and quiet. Deliberate. “Chasing Kadath or the Pillars, I assume?” “What is it to you?” I didn’t mean to be standoffish, but fewer people who knew what we were after meant fewer people who could betray us (even accidentally) to the enemy. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’” A little grin, which quickly slipped back into a more neutral expression. “Just northwest of here, there are old tunnels dug by ritualists from the age of expeditions. They were experimenting, combining the dreamlike properties of this plateau with a substance they called voidstone. I hear they were trying to create a similar device to the Pillars in a place more habitable than Frostfound itself.” “And if we were traveling to the Pillars for whatever reason, how would these - presumably failed - attempts to reproduce them help us now? Obviously, there may be great academic value, but for practical purposes, only the actual Pillars work.”

11:20

“Shielding,” they said simply. “I’ve been studying dream magic for quite some time; you always need some mechanism to separate yourself from the dream you’re attempting to etch into reality. Otherwise... well, bad things will happen, like getting stranded in an unfinished dream with no way back to reality. The Pillars, as far as I can tell, are just incredibly powerful focuses that allow for this kind of dream etching. No one knows what sort of protections are required, so to examine what these ritualists thought was sufficient could help us design a more modern barrier.” “Ah,” I said. “Dave, you’ve found another scholar. How do you keep running into these people?” “Intuition!” “Of course. Tay, would you mind if I took your hand for a moment? I’m merely intending to divine if working with you is bound to lead to success or betrayal.” “... Sure.” Of course, they couldn’t decline my request and both of us knew it. To do so would be tantamount to admitting to betrayal in advance, which is why I asked so openly. I grasped their hand in mine, closed my eyes, and listened. “The weave speaks kindly of you,” I said, releasing their hand. “I believe we have much to gain from each other.” “That’s good to hear. You are seeking the Pillars, then? Why?” I glanced at Dave; he shrugged. He usually left the decisions up to me. “Yes. We intend to use them to prevent a certain green star from causing the end of the world.” Tay blinked. “I was wondering about that. No one seems to know what to make of it, except for some of those new religions that call it the Great Unifier or something. You’re saying it’s dangerous?” “As far as I’ve sensed, yes. Dave and I have been investigating it for months now, though its physical appearance means we’re out of time. It has to be the Pillars now; we can’t prepare any other method of defense fast enough.”

11:20

“Well, it’s a good thing you found me, then. Let’s get to the ruins right away and I’ll show you what I’ve found.”

- Along the way...

️ - Upon our arrival...

️ - Within the tunnels... (Winner:

️ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 45 I wasn’t particularly impressed upon our arrival. The ruins didn’t command much of a presence above ground, being limited mainly to occasional broken stone walls packed into snow drifts by years of storms. Wyrmtooth itself thawed out for a few months during the summer thanks to ocean currents in the bay, but even only a few hours inland was another story. Almost all of Leng was like this, the plateau entombed in permafrost and slumbering to await an uncertain future. I found it depressing; Dave enjoyed the contrast. “Something else has been here since my last visit,” Tay warned us, crouching slightly and retrieving a well-worn dagger. “See those prints?” I knelt to examine the perforated snow they indicated. Dozens of little holes the width of a staff and arranged in facing semicircles. “A creature with many thin legs?” I guessed. “Are you familiar with Leng fauna?” “Somewhat. I don’t think those are legs; see how shallow the holes are? Maybe feet, or spines. And see how smooth the snow is here, like something was dragged along? But then it gets all tumbled here... Could be a blue worm.” “Should we be worried?” Tay grinned at me in a way that definitely reminded me of Dave’s confidence. “Not if you’re confident enough to visit the Pillars. Come on; stay close and keep an ear out for vibrations.”

20:47

They led us into the tunnels, which were generally as unimpressive as the structures on the surface. Dave cast each of us a warm light to bob above our heads, illuminating the narrow, ice-choked warrens and occasional side rooms littered with shattered debris from an age long past. Every so often, we would come across a section of tumbled ice and snow; Tay would grow more tense as we passed. Blue worms could burrow through ice like fish could swim through water, they said. We’d only have moments to react if one decided to try its luck for a hearty meal. Thankfully, there was enough stone around to feel moderately safe most of the time. Eventually, Dave spotted something interesting through a broken section of wall, revealing a much larger room behind. He increased the flame’s brightness to get a better look. “What’s that? A well?” I followed him as he clambered through the wall to approach, Tay trailing behind. The well was formed only of a few roughly hewn blocks arranged such that a bar could be placed between them. The bar was still there, made of a light, bluish metal I figured could be mithril (what a waste of it, by the way), but the rope had long-since broken and let the bucket fall. “I’ve never seen this room,” Tay admitted. “Never had a good enough light before.” They peered around, uneasy. “Lots of ice in these walls. Careful about vibrations with that worm around.” Dave walked straight up to the well and leaned over to look in. “It’s very deep! I’m going to throw something in it!” I stepped up beside him, feeling a chill despite the heat ward he had placed on us earlier. I didn’t have anything to say. He chose one of the many broken fragments of stone around the area, ignited the rock with a thought, and tossed the burning debris into the well. It bounced against the walls with decreasing clacks for ages, eventually splashing into some sort of dark liquid and extinguishing. I looked at Dave, frowning.

20:47

“Sure are a lot of spikes down there,” he said neutrally. “... Yes.” There were, in fact, a lot of spikes down there. Curved upwards to slice or impale anything falling from above, jutting jaggedly into the well’s throat every few feet and from every angle. Formed of glassy black obsidian, a few of them still reflected dying embers from the rock. “Sure would have made getting the bucket down there a hell of a task,” he commented. “And getting it back up, too.” “... Yes.” “Don’t think this was a well for drinking, then,” he concluded. “I have to agree. Any ideas on what its actual purpose could have been?” He thought about it for a moment. “Extreme sport for tiny people?” “What?” “Really inefficient automatic butchery chute?” “... Hum-” “Or maybe it used to be a normal well, then the rocks grew into it?” “Rocks don’t grow like that... I believe, at least.” I glanced at Tay to see if they had any ideas, but they were poking around a set of iced-over vases near the far wall. “They are egregiously sharp. I wonder if this could have been some sort of sacrificial altar. Dump a pig or a person down, slash them up on the obsidian spikes, power your Obsidian Pillars?” “You want to go look?” “I’m not going down the - ah, yes. Perhaps.”

️ - Take a clairvoyant look down the mystery well.

- Go see what Tay found instead.

- Just move on; this is a distraction and that worm is still around. Probably. (Winner:

️ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 46 “Go on! I’ll keep watch.” “... Alright.” As an advanced diviner, I didn’t have to physically descend the well to get a look at it. Instead, I retrieved a polished silver mirror from my pack, intoned a few words, and was quickly looking at both of us from above. I could control the invisible scrying sensor with a thought and wasted no time sending it down the well to investigate as I watched via the mirror. Dave, despite his assurance that he would keep watch, was also stealing enough glances at the mirror to take up more than half of his time. I expected nothing less from him, really. Serrated obsidian spikes passed the sensor, each one bearing a semitransparent corona of roiling darkness to its aura-sensitive “eyes.” Likely some sort of necromantic power, I guessed, though the auras were a little too lively for my comfort. A few close-passing spikes almost seemed to reach out of the wall for the sensor, though I was fairly certain they didn’t physically move. Dave had given up the pretense of keeping watch at this point. “Nasty little things,” he commented. “Some of those wiggles remind me of that lockstone we found in the Cryptwarrens, huh?” “Ah, yes. That lends a little more credence to the sacrifice hypothesis, doesn’t it?” The lockstone Dave was referring to had been a carved prism of fluorite hiding down one of the deeper warrens in that cursed place. It had bound several dozen lost souls to itself, which attacked us as we tried to find the damn thing and destroy it. A similar aura pattern here suggested that these spikes might contain bound souls in a like manner, even though we hadn’t detected any ethereal visitors yet.

22:06

The sensor arrived at the still, dark surface after several minutes of flying and hovered above the liquid as I debated what to do. It wasn’t water - or if it was, it was water contaminated with an oily sludge - and it gave off similar necromantic ripples to the spikes above. The mirror also relayed sound, so we could hear dull, muffled muttering voices emanating from below. Tay had finished with the vases by now and came over to see what we were doing. I showed them the mirror and sounds, which seemed to be from several overlapping throats all speaking in a quiet monotone. With some effort, we were able to pick out five distinct voices. Four of them spoke of being hungry, demanding food, or similar topics. The fifth gibbered in a less consistent way, only occasionally forming a coherent word like “power,” “dream,” or “self.” Things that could be related to the Pillars. “I don’t like this,” Tay said. “The hunger is too obvious, but the ones who hunger are too unclear. Leng itself is said to slumber and dream; though I’ve never heard of wells like this, it could be a conduit towards the plateau’s heart below. Maybe that’s what they were using to power their Pillars here: Leng’s own dream energy, fed through wells like this and channeled through obsidian taps.” I frowned, regarding the liquid again. “That can’t be how the actual Pillars work, right? They’re situated on Frostfound, far north of Leng.” “I don’t know. It’s possible there’s something deeper here that both Leng and Frostfound are connected to. Some deeper heart of the planet’s dreams that the snow and cold of the north wastelands exposes. It’s hard to be sure.” Dave peeked down the well again. “You want to know what’s down there? I can think of a few ways to find out.”

22:06

[Not first-past-the-post. You can also submit other experiments.]

- Drop some food down the well; see what it does.

- Drop some "food" down the well; see what it does.

️ - Turn the scrying sensor into a submarine; see what's under the liquid.

- This is still a distraction; go find the actual failed Pillars already. (Winners:

️ >

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 47 “Such as?” “Well, it’s hungry, right?” Dave produced a bit of jerky swiped from the inn at breakfast. “Why not see how it eats?” “And if it doesn’t like your meal?” He shrugged. “Didn’t react too much to the flaming rock I threw in, so a piece of bacon should be fine.” I glanced at Tay; they shrugged too. I took a step away from the well. “Alright, then.” “Really?” “Before I change my mind.” Dave gleefully tossed the bit of meat into the well, then hustled back to the mirror so we could watch its reaction. It was, admittedly, underwhelming. There was a moderate splash, the scrying sensor jostled a bit, and the voices continued to demand food. Nothing else really happened. “Had fun?” He nodded enthusiastically. “Go on; take a look underwater. I know you want to.” “You’re right; I do. And theoretically, if it didn’t mind your magic earlier...” I pushed the scrying sensor beneath the surface. Little sparkly artifacts appeared on the mirror, but by and large we could still see... not much. It descended through murky liquid, occasionally passing another spike identical to the ones above. But as seconds and minutes passed, the watery consistency of the liquid began to give way to a thicker muck shot through with strands of hairlike fibers. “Like a spiderweb,” Dave commented after a particularly thick tangle of the strands. “Just... an underwater spider.” I didn’t respond, simply pushing the sensor deeper into the morass. Other objects began appearing now: roughly shaped stone cubes pitted and dissolved from their long immersion in the well. A fragment of something white appeared once, but it receded away before I could tell if it was a bone or not. The cubes grew more prevalent, sometimes forming a cohesive enough barrier to block my sensor’s movement. It could just barely phase through the muck, but anything more solid put a stop to it. “Ooh, that’s a bone for sure.”

22:04

Dave was right again. Yellowed and half-dissolved by age, it was impossible to guess a sense of scale without any reference. A set of the stone cubes was tied to it with a loose-fitting metal band, seemingly impervious to the muck. “The cubes were fastened to the creatures that were thrown into this well,” I surmised. “Some sort of charm?” They didn’t appear magical, but some ritual components didn’t until they were used. “And is it just me, or is that bone less dissolved where the band is fastened?” “Protective charm,” Tay guessed. “But why? Surely anything thrown down here would be killed by the spikes or the fall, regardless of the liquid itself.” I had no answers and merely piloted the sensor ever deeper, passing more and more bones, charms, and strands, until progress quite suddenly stopped with a pop. The sensor dropped through a brief band of empty space - maybe an inch at most - then touched a smooth surface of deep black stone before I had time to correct its movement. The spell exploded instantly, cutting off the image on the mirror and reverting it to ordinary silver. “...” “... So that’s voidstone,” Tay said. “At least, so it seems. Violent stuff.” “Voidstone conduits...” I whispered, remembering the old mystic’s words. “Imprisoned titans? No, not here. Further north.” “Imprisoned-” Tay broke off before finishing that thought, tensing up and spinning to face the icy rear wall. “WORM-” And then there was a worm.

- Luckily, we were seasoned adventurers in our prime and the worm stood no chance against us.

- Luckily, we were faster and managed to get back into the narrow stone tunnel.

- Luckily, we managed to dodge to either side of the worm, separating the group as a portion of the roof came down. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 48 The next few seconds were fairly chaotic, but between a protective explosion from Dave redirecting the worm and our own alacrity, all three of us managed to retreat into the narrow stone tunnel without being devoured. The thing was not your everyday earthworm; it was thicker around than I was tall and lined with protruding spikes and armor plates. A segmented mouth gnashed at air and ice alike, chewing through the latter with shocking ease. It disappeared under a deluge of crashing ice, snow, and rock - Dave’s explosion had damaged the ceiling enough to collapse much of the room. When the dust finally cleared, there was nothing but a vanishing rumble and a pretty well blocked-off passage. “I suppose we weren’t careful enough with vibrations,” I noted. “Good job, Dave, though I doubt we’re getting back to the well any time soon. Anyone injured?” Only cosmetic scratches from flying debris; no one was hurt. We continued towards the main section of the ruins as we had originally planned before finding the well. “Hell of a job to get out of a blue worm ambush unscathed,” Tay said. “But it’ll be back eventually. Those things know how to hold a grudge and I guarantee it’s still alive.” “I’ll just blow it up again!” Dave said, making a spellcasting gesture at the ceiling. “One good delayed fireball down its throat and...” He spread his hands out from his stomach, miming an internal explosion. “Boom!” I smiled; Dave and I had overcome stronger enemies than that worm before. “I don’t doubt it. We’ll just need to be extra-careful around ice to make sure you have time to cast before getting swallowed.” “Ice, like the entire trek back to town?” Tay commented dryly. “If we can get rid of it while down here, that would be great. I don’t particularly feel like watching my feet for hours of otherwise-peaceful walking. Or bringing it back with us. They usually don’t go too near the coast, but if it’s angry enough, you never know.”

20:01

“I’m sure we can cause enough vibrations to summon it back even if it doesn’t return on its own.” “Explosions make vibrations,” Dave chimed in. “I’m good at those!” The tunnels stretched on. Thin, sticky filaments began to appear drifting from walls and ceilings, glittering in the light of our flames. I pointed one out to Tay and got a frown in response. “Some sort of spider web? I’m not sure unless we see something more telling.” Which was fair enough. Dave set one on fire, burning it away like a fuse. But I was still curious. “Tay, you mentioned traveling here to study dream magic. Not dream-based divination, but the kind of magic used by the Pillars. Why? It’s halfway-forbidden and no one has been able to reproduce it in modern times.” “You just said it,” they replied, voice somehow not echoing even in the narrow tunnels. “The Pillars are real - they have to be; they’re moderately well documented in ancient historical records. So if we had the ability to harness dream magic on such a grand scale millennia ago, why have we lost it now? Was it too hard to control? Too powerful? Was it a golemancy situation, where the practitioners were executed and their texts burned? I need to know, and perhaps even use that knowledge to recover it for the modern age.” “Very noble. You’re doing this for purely scholarly purposes, then?” “Well, I was until you two mentioned that green star. Now I’m in it to save the world, too.” “Mm. Even more noble.” Tay wasn’t telling the whole truth. I didn’t know for sure, but something about their responses just gave me that feeling. The morning’s divination still felt true, though, so perhaps the secret wouldn’t be a problem. People concealed information for all sorts of reasons, many of them not nefarious. I took a breath and decided to give them the benefit of the doubt. “We’re here,” Tay whispered.

20:01

I peered around them to take in the large, low-ceiling, natural-seeming cavern formed into a rough ellipse. Tumbled rocks sat immersed in ice, making the entire floor a slippery, jagged mess. Dave boosted our flames, allowing me to make out three glossy, flawless obsidian columns arranged in a triangle near the room’s center. Segments of curved obsidian walls stood around them like a dashed circle, low enough that I would have to crouch to be hidden. The place was covered in a haze of drifting webs, muffling sound and reflecting our lights. Everything was eerily quiet. “Was this place a spider’s nest the last time you were here?” I whispered back. “... No. That was a week ago; whatever creatures did this definitely moved fast.” Dave nudged my shoulder with a wide grin and a flame dancing on his fingertip. “Come on, Wayland,” he said quietly. “You know what needs to be done.”

- Kill it with fire! Whatever “it” is.

- Maybe be a little more careful; scout it out first and get an idea of what’s happening before leaping to conclusions.

- That’s a great idea; we’ll get the worm to deal with this for us! (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 49 “Patience,” I advised him. “Let me at least have a look around first.” He sighed. “More mirror magic?” Tay asked, scanning the deeper reaches of the room. “Yes.” Not every task needed a different tool, and scrying was handy in an enormous variety of situations. I summoned a new sensor, retrieved the mirror, and sat down a few paces back the way we came to control it. “At least one of you should be keeping watch - actually keeping watch, Dave - for any spiders or other creatures while I scry. We don’t want anything sneaking up.” “Bugs and beasties; crawlies and critters. They all burn the same!” Dave half-chanted in a singsong voice as he ballooned the flames again to peer further into the darkness. “Did you make that up just now?” “Could you tell?” “Yes.” The sensor had darkvision as well as its ability to see magical auras, so I had no issue piloting it into the darkness. The three obsidian pillars - Pillars? - still held tenuously pulsating webs of dark, ethereal magic around them, despite their age. I followed the lines back into the ground, where they connected to odd little stakes driven deep into unmelting ice and presumably, the actual stone far below. “Voidstone, you called this?” I asked Tay as they monitored just behind me. “It’s encased in a layer of a separate stone, here.” “That’s obsidian,” they noted, surprised. “Just like the Pillars. I thought voidstone was supposed to destroy anything that touched it, but that obsidian seems to be doing fine. Maybe it’s a sort of protective sheath, to prevent it from vaporizing the ice?” “That could be very important if we encounter more in the north, if it’s as dangerous as you say. Obsidian isn’t particularly rare; we could likely acquire more without too much difficulty.”

13:14

I turned my attention to the walls next. No auras surrounded them, but after some investigation, I figured that might be the point, actually. The pillars’ lines all bent around the curved walls, snaking either below into the ground or between them to dissipate like weakened filaments. “Tay,” I mused. “Does obsidian have any historical associations with antimagic? I know it doesn’t today, but...?” They frowned. “Not that I know of. It’s mentioned to be much more prevalent up north, near Frostfound and the barrier mountains, but I don’t recall it being associated with anything more than its normal, mundane uses for knives and the like.” “Perhaps it only reacts with dream magic specifically...” “If only we could test that.” If only, indeed. None of us knew how to craft any dream magic ourselves (my ability to divine using dreams notwithstanding) and practitioners of the craft were essentially nonexistent in today’s modern age. Hence Tay’s original quest to the Pillars, which themselves might be the only remaining source of dream magic on the planet. That is, unless these lesser, failed pillars actually worked. I moved on from the central pillars to inspect the rest of the room. Fairly barren, though I noted heavy damage to the actual stone walls behind the smoothly unmelting barrier of ice. Something had broken off huge chunks of stone, some of which may have become the protruding boulders in the floor. Spiderwebs covered almost every available surface towards the back of the cavern, where I finally began to detect signs of life. Then the scrying sensor pushed through a dense curtain of heavy webs to reveal a scene that I had to wince at.

13:14

Dozens of lithe, chitinous spiders the size of dinner plates scurried across all surfaces of the smaller chamber off the main room, the walls so coated in webs I couldn’t tell what its original purpose might have been. Fitful daylight spilled from a number of jagged tunnels presumably excavated up towards the surface in a variety of locations, though it did little to dispel the sickening gloom (particularly when filtered through so many layers of webs). Dozens of bodies hung cocooned from the web-covered ceiling, most seemingly exsanguinated and chewed down to bones. A few towards the end seemed a little more lively, including a dog-sized tundra slug, a wooly arctic wolf, and what appeared to be an actual living human. I couldn’t make out any features of the person with all the webs in the way, but they still struggled occasionally and kicked at a spider as best they could when it crept close for a nibble. The spider retreated and went for the slug instead, though I expected the little creature wouldn’t last much longer. I looked up from the mirror. “Dave, I have good news and bad news.” “Oh?” “Good news: you’re going to get to set quite a lot of spiders on fire.” He chuckled faux-evilly. “Bad news?” “Bad news: there’s a person in there we’re going to try and save first. So you won’t get to just throw a fireball in there and run.” “Wayland, I thought you said that was bad news!” He cackled again, cracking his knuckles. “This way, I get to enjoy it for longer!”

- Dave loves fire; bugs do not: let him do his thing. He’ll be careful.

️ - Tay acts as primary support to try and get the person out before they burn to death.

- I act as primary support to try and get the person out before they burn to death. (Winner:

️ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 50 I showed Dave the nest’s interior via the mirror so he had a reasonable understanding of where the human was in order to avoid setting them on fire. I also guided him to set a trail of floating lanterns along the ceiling to light our path past the pillars to the nest and discussed strategy with him and Tay on the way there. Apparently, Tay was confident enough in their speed and knives to volunteer to go in and retrieve the human while Dave distracted the spiders with sheets of flame on the other side of the room. Then Tay would retreat, Dave would incinerate the entire nest, and I would monitor to ensure no spiders got past anyone to sneak up on us elsewhere. None of us knew what sort of venom they produced, but given they were clearly capable of subduing both people and wolves, we didn’t want to take any chances. As we passed by the lesser pillars jutting up from the center of the room, I spared a moment to inspect the nearest one outside of a scrying sensor’s link. The stone was smooth, glassy; flawless. Deep, perfect black without a single chip or imperfection. Even without the ability to see auras, the columns exuded an obvious sense of power; of monumentality. If these failed copies were so grand, I wondered, what would the real ones be like? Regardless, we carried on and arrived at the nest. I set up my clairvoyance and tuned it to spiders, allowing me to get a sense of the roiling mass just beyond the web curtain. “Alright. Dave? Tay? Everyone ready?” Everyone was ready. “Then let’s do it.”

10:37

Dave started strong, with a step forward and a long series of escalating hand gestures culminating as he put both hands to his mouth and blew out an enormous sheet of flame into the next room. The curtain burned away almost immediately and Tay leapt into action seconds later, after finishing an enchantment of their own. It wasn’t quite invisibility, but in the flaming chaos, it might as well be. I split my attention between my own clairvoyant eyes to monitor for spiders and the scrying sensor to watch the interior and guide Dave’s aim accordingly. This was a common tactic for us and we worked using a combination of words and gestures. He swapped between larger sheets of flame and smaller, precise firebolts to target escaping spiders, but avoided his biggest spells for the moment. It wasn’t easy for him - the correct tool for this job would be one of his signature room-filling explosive fireballs - but he was a powerfully adept pyromancer and was able to hold off the horde even with only half the room actively burning. Meanwhile, Tay sprinted into the room cloaked in a dazzling gleam to match that of the overbright fire. Spiders, confused, parted around them as it seemed a piece of the pyre had broken off and ran towards the captives. I would have liked to rescue the wolf and slug as well, but both were weakened and merely wild animals; we didn’t have time for an extended operation. Tay cut through the strand holding the human cocoon, fumbled the catch, and dropped the person awkwardly onto the floor. Hopefully the webs cushioned their fall. At that point, the spiders noticed someone escaping with their meal and swarmed Tay as they tried to drag the cocoon back towards the entrance. I calmly tapped Dave’s shoulder and redirected his right arm, helping him carve a precise semicircle around the two people while incinerating a multitude of spiders around them.

10:38

Of course, such tactics weren’t sustainable; radiant heat from the flames themselves had already set portions of the cocoon alight and Tay’s clothes were smoldering. The temperature in the room by now was akin to an oven and was already starting to roast even spiders out of the direct fire. People were tougher, particularly adventurers like Tay, but they wouldn’t be able to last forever. Dave’s abilities were meant to be used at a distance and far away from his allies. Thankfully, by now enough of the spiders had burned to leave a fairly open path back. I met Tay a few steps inside the room and helped pull the cocoon the last few feet. We slid back on slick, partially-melted ice. “Dave! We’re clear!” He swapped spells immediately and pushed his hand forward to direct a chicken egg-sized ball into the room, like a miniature sun. I ducked, covering my head. The spider nest exploded with a bone-rattling report, blasting chunks of ice and stone into the main room and - likely - even up to the surface. Snow rushed down into the cavity, now unsupported by the broken roof, and crushed any remaining spiders. I carefully stood up, again thankful for the permanent ear protection I had enchanted a while back for both of us. Matching earrings, both shaped like a stylized sun and both undoubtedly having saved our hearing many times over. Tay wasn’t so lucky, but they could still hear me, so they’d be okay. After verifying no one was actively on fire, deaf, or injured from debris - Dave was still cackling like a schoolboy at the explosion - I focused on our rescued captive. They were wiggling in the cocoon, so I had to calm them down before getting a knife to- I suddenly realized we had forgotten something. An instant later, my clairvoyance confirmed it as a huge, wormlike shape swam into perception just beyond the lower wall where it met the floor. “WORM, NOW!” I shouted, pointing.

10:38

And then there was a worm. Again.

- You heard Dave; the man had a plan. Fireball -> worm mouth. Make it happen.

️ - Use my clairvoyance to avoid the worm’s lunges and get to a safer location with the cocoon.

- Use the lesser pillars, or the voidstone nearby. It should destroy the worm on contact, presumably. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 51 We were in better shape than last time. The room was larger and allowed us more space to dodge, and - crucially - I could see the thing burrowing and predict its movements just a few moments before they happened. Its first lunge carved a trench through the ice between us as everyone scattered to one side or the other; Dave had been too distracted with the spiders to send more than a weak burst of fire at it. The worm vanished in a mound of trembling debris, but I could tell it was curving around for another strike. Weaving curiously around the space directly below the pillars, I stood just next to Dave and helped him carefully adjust his aim as he worked through the first phrases of his spell. A marble-sized ball of orange-red substance materialized in his hand and began to grow, flashing urgently with condensed energy. “Tay, over there, please.” I nodded in the indicated direction. “Take the cocoon.” “How long?” they asked, moving as directed. “Four... three... two...” I nudged Dave’s arm marginally. “One...” The worm reared out of the ice directly in front of us, missing Tay and the cocoon by feet and Dave and myself by an even smaller margin. He released the delayed fireball exactly on time, jetting the orb straight between the segmented jaws surrounding the thing’s mouth and lodging it deep down its throat. Unexpectedly, the orb didn’t detonate immediately. Both of us had expected it to, but presumably the worm’s throat was too soft or something had gone wrong in the casting. My clairvoyance, finely tuned to creatures in order to get an earlier warning of the worm’s movements, didn’t detect the dud ahead of time. It did, however, detect the worm rearing back in confusion and pain as a blazing-hot ball dug into its flesh. This turned its deadly bite into an awkward body slam and sent all three of us - Dave, the worm, and myself - tumbling across the icy floor.

18:31

Single-use protective barriers flared up and broke, absorbing some but not all of the impact. I jumped up quickly, still counting the delay in my head. “Back!” I shouted, taking my own advice and running for it. Dave, with his own shields akin to mine, sprinted away in the opposite direction. I saw the worm would follow me, deviated from my direct path, and dropped a glass bead in the original direction. A moving copy of myself appeared in my place and I faded into semi-intangibility. The decoy even made physical contact with the ground, so it would fool the worm. Ideally. And it did. The worm coiled and launched itself at “me,” tearing through the decoy with a single bite. “DOWN!” I yelled, reaching the end of the countdown and watching the gruesome results a few seconds ahead of time in my clairvoyant sight. Delayed fireballs have a maximum time limit before they will detonate on their own, regardless of how carefully they’re handled. The issue - depending on how you wish to define “issue” - is that they also grow increasingly stronger with every passing second. A fireball that detonates at the time limit will be roughly five times stronger than one that detonates almost immediately. In short, the worm exploded. It did a marvelous job of containing the explosion’s force and sound, preventing Tay from losing even more hearing and the cavern from collapsing, but all of us were still thrown off our feet by the blast. Shattered ice, rock, and worm plating rained down around the new crater where the thing had been. Portions of its body were still intact, amazingly, but it definitely wouldn’t be troubling us again.

18:31

Dave was pretty tired out by this point, as well as battered from his various tumbles, but was still in high spirits as he merrily helped burn away portions of worm debris and loose strands of the cocoon. Tay was also fine, having been much farther from the blast than either of us. And the unlucky human covered in webs, after being cut and burned free of their bindings? Well, Amelisce certainly wasn’t pleased with her predicament. Not that she could tell us at the time, being unconscious from a combination of spider venom and consecutive explosions. Of course, I didn’t know her at the time, nor was I even immediately aware of her abilities - as they had been stripped away due to events on Stellidwen Island. And obviously, none of us had any idea how or why someone obviously from the Purple Bay region had made it all the way up here without expedition gear just to fall into a spider den.

- But we still had pillars to investigate, so we did our best to stabilize her and spent some time studying them before heading back.

- We returned to Wyrmtooth immediately with our new patient to ensure we got her to proper medical care before anything else happened. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 52 So we returned to Wyrmtooth immediately, having made only marginal progress towards our original goal. Still, it was a good thing we did; none of us were capable of casting more than basic healing spells and regular potions went only so far against venom like that. An apothecary in town sold us a vial of antivenom tailored for the specific spiders we had encountered, though she cautioned that it would still take up to a week for our patient to recover her strength. As it happened, I was the one with her when Efenne woke up the next day. After the expected questions - “who are you?”, “where am I?”, “spiders?” - she managed to explain most of how she had gotten there before falling asleep again. You, reader, already know most of her relevant story, so I’ll simply fill in what happened after waking up Lyss and Zohi in the middle of the night. ... “I’m going north,” Efenne declared. “Immediately.” “Wh - wait; what’s going on? What happened?!” She ignored Lyss and shoved past Brick a second time to retrieve the backup jar of broom paste and a few other assorted charms. She had one mission right now and would let nothing slow her down. “Amelisce, please stop! You’re not thinking straight; please at least stay one night before deciding!” She swung a leg over the broom. Zohi knelt next to the kid and spoke quietly to her, assorted golems watching silently in the background. Just outside, the green star burned. “... Sorry, but I can’t.”

21:03

A kick into the air, a liberal application of paste to the broom’s bristles, and Efenne rocketed across the sky like a shooting star. She flew the rest of the night and part of the next day before finally running out of paste entirely. The broom continued to fly at its normal, lesser top speed for another few hours before running out of stored energy and drifting back to earth. Efenne didn’t have anything to recharge it with; all of her equipment was still in Sorem and her portable batteries had been lost in the Stellidwen explosion. Burnt out and stranded somewhere in the chill forests of the northeastern Guldan Empire, she had to admit she had made a mistake. Efenne slept briefly in the woods and continued north when the sun fell and the green star rose into the sky again. Its rays sustained her and drove away lesser threats with whispered promises of unending torment. Bears and wildcats steered clear, while even occasional trolls and bandits hesitated and sought easier prey. When day broke again and the star’s light disappeared beneath the horizon, her weakness and hunger returned. Still, she wasn’t helpless. Without a familiar, Efenne could no longer cast spells or enchant new charms, but she retained her alchemical skills and could continue to recharge most of the charms she hadn’t blown up. Small, local villages traded her food and alchemical ingredients in exchange for various concoctions and minor miracles. Mend a broken bone here; cure a bloody cough there. A traveling alchemist was a rare sight in these rural communities, and most waved her onwards with gratitude.

21:04

Her travels here lasted less than a week, but profoundly affected her to the point she refused to tell me more details. I can’t pretend to know exactly who she encountered or what experiences changed her, but she crossed the northernmost border of the Guldan Empire feeling more like herself - like Efenne - then she had in years. No fights, no assassinations, no serving the damn brothers. Just helping others, and being helped in return. Often, she found herself reaching back to pet or comment to a companion who was no longer there. After leaving the Guldan Empire, she entered the borderlands of Leng, Ailoe’s great arctic plateau. From there, she took the cold road north along the coast towards Wyrmtooth, but deviated inland due to, of all mundane things, a fresh snowstorm and a poorly-maintained signpost at the fork only a few miles outside of town. It took only one unlucky misstep near the ruins to fall victim to a new den of frost spiders searching out their initial meal. And so, when I first met Amelisce, she told me her name was Efenne. She seemed a polite but deeply distraught alchemist seeking the Pillars to reverse an incredible loss. And repeated divinations, despite all my skill, refused to show me her future. Of course, Dave took a liking to her after she showed him one of her explosive mixtures. Tay expressed no strong feelings one way or the other. And I, keenly aware of that damnable star hovering just to the north and growing brighter by the day, had to decide whether I would trust that vaguest possible sense of impending disaster... or basic human empathy.

21:04

I put off the decision as Efenne rested and the three of us explored the pillar ruins further. We learned some from the failed artifacts, but not enough to activate them - or even if they could be activated. I spoke with Efenne often, learning more about her travels and companions, and sharing tidbits from my own life in return. I started to write this very memoir, though I have since reordered and rewritten much of it. I pondered solars, altars, and green stars. I discussed familiars, patrons, and bonds thereof. And, over a week after Efenne had joined us in Wyrmtooth, I received yet another surprise in the form of a large stone golem sprinting into town.

- “Brick (for of course the golem was Brick) carried an exhausted Lyss and an only marginally less exhausted Zohi.”

️ - “The creature surveyed the town, kicked aside several members of the guard, then left. I didn’t understand until later what it was looking for.”

- “The creature surveyed the town, kicked aside several members of the guard, then left. At Dave’s urging (and my own curiosity) we followed it.” (Winner: a tie between

and

was selected as the winner by a d2 roll) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 53 The creature surveyed the town, kicked aside several members of the guard who came to investigate, then left. Dave and I happened to be outside at the time, walking back to the inn from the apothecary, and we both stopped to watch the thing go. Golems like this hadn’t been seen in public since... essentially since the original banning of the art. Someone was clearly quite practiced, and in quite a hurry. Of course we followed it. Dave hardly had to start the question before I was agreeing and beginning one of the few non-divination spells I regularly prepared. Flying was just too useful to dismiss, even though it was still irritating to cast due to the differences between it and my more standard repertoire. In any case, the two of us rose into the air and shot off after the fleeing golem, gaining speed and squinting against the stinging-cold wind. We kept relatively high as we traveled, pulling cloaks tight against whistling air. At altitude, there was enough arctic chill to nearly overwhelm Dave’s warming charms, which reduced the experience from “life-threatening” to “uncomfortable.” I would have sent a scrying sensor instead, but I was actually worried the golem would outpace it - the little orb wasn’t very fast and the large stone man absolutely was. Despite its speed, the creature was relatively crude. Twenty feet tall, with dot-eyes and a wide slash for a mouth, it seemed on closer inspection to actually be made primarily of clay with stone plating on the surface. A blue crystal eye above the golem’s own suggested the controller was watching - or perhaps even controlling it directly. I regrettably didn’t have as much knowledge of golems at the time as I do now.

14:47

Nearly an hour passed before the golem deviated from its path. My magic was waning as well, so I allowed us to drift lower towards a clump of petrified, frozen trees sheltered beneath a sheer outcropping of icy stone. The golem slowed as it approached the dead forest, then finally came to a stop just at the edge - its massive frame was too large to fit between the trees within. Dave and I touched down lightly on two adjacent trees, gripping slick branches tightly as the magic ended and our weight returned. Stone wood creaked, but held; we had a fairly hidden vantage point just overhead. Dave winked and flashed me a thumbs up. I whispered another spell to enhance my vision, betting that whoever might be about to meet this golem wouldn’t care to speak to it. As it turns out, I was correct. A shorter person in a heavy winter coat soon emerged from the trees, carrying a backpack and a smaller pouch I recognized as a portable campsite. Their hood fell back as they loaded the bags onto the golem’s back, revealing a woman with braided black hair and tired, pale green eyes. She pulled the hood back up before climbing onto the golem, making use of a clearly-enchanted self-tying rope to secure herself and the luggage. Out came a map of Leng’s eastern coast, a fresh “X” on Wyrmtooth, and a few muttered taps at smaller cities further north. Dave leaned across to my tree. “You wanna blow ‘em up?” he asked, pointing below to make sure I couldn’t possibly misinterpret. “Why would we do that? The caster hasn’t done anything beyond knock a few guards over and be somewhat secretive.” “You wanna jump down like it’s a surprise party, then?” “I doubt that would be appreciated.” “Well, you gotta decide on something real quick; looks like the big boy’s getting its instructions.”

14:47

Indeed, the golemancer was scribing down a list of directions, referencing the map at the same time. In only a few minutes, they would presumably be off to another town further up the coast. I only had the ability to fly us back to Wyrmtooth; I couldn’t go any further without stranding us for the night.

- Talk to the (presumably hostile) golemancer.

- Talk to the (presumably friendly) golemancer.

- Nah, Dave’s plan is better. Fire in the hole!

- Leave them alone. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 54 “Listen, let’s just go talk politely to them.” I peered towards the ground far below. “Jump on my mark, alright?” “Thought you didn’t want to do a surprise party!” “It’s not a surprise party. Three... two... one... now.” We leapt at roughly the same moment, which let me slow our falls at the same time with another brief burst of magic. I stood quickly after landing, now only a few dozen feet from the still-immobile golem. “Ho there,” I said loudly. “We mean no harm.” The caster didn’t reply, instead just closing her eyes after a brief jump of surprise. The golem jerked to life, spun away from us, and sprinted off to the northeast at full speed. I stood there in the snow, somewhat bemused. “Surprise!” Dave shouted, sending off a colorful firework to explode in the air. “Good party, Wayland.” “We’ll need to keep a close eye out for those two,” I warned him. “I have a feeling we haven’t seen the last of them, particularly when we head further north.” We returned to Wyrmtooth by air, unable to catch up with the fleeing golemancer without flying north instead of back to town. After catching up with Tay and Efenne, verifying that the latter was almost back at full strength, and finishing up some final preparations for the journey further north, we rested one more night. In the morning, I would have to decide what to do about Efenne. She intended to come with us, of course, but I was still unsure if that was a good idea. Fate seemed confused. ... Fortunately, I was again spared the decision by the arrival of a large stone golem in town.

22:29

Unlike the last one, this golem arrived from the south and moved at a normal walking pace after crossing the boundary. Additionally, it was accompanied by its master - a girl called Lyss - and her guardian - a man called Zohi. These two exhausted travelers spoke with the town guards, who were understandably cautious after the last incident, and were eventually allowed to remain without fuss. People of the north were less affected by the golemancy burnings and had fewer superstitions about the creatures. To them, golems like Brick were concerning due to their physical prowess, not their mere existence. Of course, Lyss quickly found out that Efenne was still in town and who she had been staying with. And so it was that I first met her: exhausted, sleep-deprived, and yet somehow still cheerful enough to introduce herself and her companions to me in a perfectly pleasant manner. I hated to be delayed any further, but figured that perhaps they would help me decide what to do about Efenne. [Green fire burns in the night sky.]

- ???

️ - ???

️ - ??? (Winner:

️ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 55 I walked with Zohi to the edge of the town as Lyss and Efenne talked inside. I had both received and given a brief overview of the situation, and both of the golem’s passengers had taken some time to rest and recover from their greuling, nonstop trek across a continent. It was now a little past midday. “You must care quite a lot about her, to have undertaken such a journey,” I said softly, eyeing the horizon. Gathering clouds threatened the sun high above. The taller man sighed. “I do. And I can’t help but believe that a better means of showing it would have been to stop her.” “Stubborn, is she?” “Only when it comes to helping people, it seems. Blasted kid’s gotten it into her head that she somehow caused Amelisce to leave, or could have stopped her, or something like that. So of course there was nothing to do but saddle up on a walking slab of stone and sprint through the entire Guldan Empire. And somehow I let her do it.” I snapped off a row of icicles hanging from a fold in the snow with my boot. “How did you track Efenne, by the way? Are either of you a diviner?” “No. We did it the old fashioned way: by stopping every so often to ask if anyone had seen a crazy witch heading north. By the time we got to the northern reaches, people in the smaller towns actually had, so we were able to keep correcting the course afterwards. Before that, it was more guesswork based on the angle we thought she had left at.” “Astonishing.” “Of course, it helped that Lyss kept having her dreams...” I glanced at Zohi; he was looking back at me, gauging my reaction. “Yes, you’ve piqued my interest. Care to continue?”

20:39

He sighed again, rubbing his still-tired eyes. “We swapped off sleeping so there was always someone awake to direct Brick. It’s smart for a construct, but it can’t deal with ambiguity or uncertainty very well, so the ‘driver’ had to pay attention. Anyway, that schedule meant Lyss wasn’t always sleeping at night. During the day she was fine, but if she was asleep at night...” “The dreams.” “Yeah. Nightmares. Always some sort of imprisonment, always some variation on a cycle or a loop, and always an... increasing pressure to... hurt herself.” I nodded but stayed quiet. He wasn’t done. “Sometimes she would figure out she was in a dream. If that happened, a green star would appear in the sky - just like the new one some religions call the ‘Great Unifier’ - and she would wake up screaming from some vague terror. If not, things usually went... worse for her. After I figured out the timing, we swapped the schedule so she always sleeps during the day; she’s been okay since. But before that, Lyss seemed to just have a sense of where to go right after waking up.” I frowned, troubled. “The interloping star led you both here. It has been interfering with us in the north as well, though in a different way. Your friend Efenne - Amelisce; apologies - also claims to see it in her dreams, though in more of a benevolent light. It pulls her north as well, along the coast. Towards the Pillars.” “... What does it want, Wayland? You’re a diviner; do you have any idea?” “... My sight goes only so far towards the heavens, and be wary of anyone who claims otherwise. I can only assume that its goal is Unification, of some description, and somehow bringing this group (and particularly Efenne and Lyss) to the Obsidian Pillars will help it. Why and how, I don’t know.” We arrived at a steel bench under an oil streetlamp near the edge of town. No one used it, since it was frigid and perpetually covered in ice. I tapped the coating pensively.

20:39

“She’s going to want to go with you,” Zohi eventually said. “To the Pillars, that is.” “Despite her nightmares?” “Partially because of them; she wants to prove she can beat this thing. This star; this god. Whatever it is. But more because Amelisce will go and Lyss desperately wants to save her.” “I have been considering that,” I admitted. “Efenne is deeply troubled, and the weave of fate appears to break - or at least bend - around her. Most of the time, I can get a sense of someone’s character and whether it will be beneficial to work with them just by a touch. Such as yourself, Lyss, and my own companions. But not for her. It’s worrying, to say the least, and we are working against the potential for a catastrophic event here. I have considered rather unsavory measures for the greater good.” “You’ve considered assassinating her?” “Assassin - goodness, no! I’ve considered leaving her behind. We recovered her broom from the spider nest, but without any way to charge it, she could hardly follow us.” Zohi smiled in a dry sort of way. “I’m afraid you won’t get away with that now that Lyss has arrived. Unless you intend to leave her behind as well, but you’ve seen how fast her golem can cross a continent. I doubt you could outpace her.” “No, likely not. I just failed to outpace a different golem yesterday, coincidentally.” “Really? How many of the things are around these days? I fought one only a few months ago.” “Far more than I had thought, apparently.” Both of us let that topic drop, painfully unaware that we were discussing the same golem. We would figure it out in the next few days, but not soon enough. “So, we’re all going north to the Pillars together, then?” I tapped the bench one more time, then stood up to nod with a moderate level of resoluteness. “So it seems.”

20:39

[This is a branch point, and marks the beginning of the last major act of this story. I estimate maybe 30 scenes are left, though I may be way off.]

- Travel by land. Faster via Brick, but slower for everyone who can’t fit. Higher chance of encounters (both good and bad).

- Travel by sea. Slower than Brick individually, but faster as a group. Lower chance of encounters (both good and bad). (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 56 And that, roughly, catches us up to the present. I wrote some of the chronicle you now read as we traveled east to the larger port of Bridgeway, then much more of it over the next several weeks on a chartered ship that took us up the coast of Leng. I intend to continue documenting the remainder of this journey to the Obsidian Pillars as time allows. The captain, Lucien Vyron, is an old acquaintance of mine and once a well-traveled adventurer who retired from that life after a particularly lucrative expedition. Yes, not all adventurers retire due to death or serious injury; some do actually decide to cash out when they’re ahead. Of course, one could consider his involvement in a journey to Frostfound at the age of 59 an adventure regardless, but at least he wouldn’t be coming ashore. We passed several smaller fishing towns on the way up the coast, then the larger city of World’s Edge, marking the easternmost point of the plateau. We stopped there for a day to gather additional fuel and supplies - as most are aware, the city is home to a large and surprisingly modern refinery. After World’s Edge, true to its name, civilization became scarce. No further towns were marked on any map, including that of the golemancer Dave and I had chased down earlier. Apparently, they hadn’t been spotted in World’s Edge, but several of the smaller towns along the way did have tales to tell of a massive stone golem looking for something. It seemed they had either found it before World’s Edge or we had gotten ahead of them.

12:00

The green star burned brighter and larger the further north we traveled - or perhaps simply the longer we spent. The new religions preaching of the star all seemed to suggest a timeline of mere months before Unification would arrive, and we would spend almost an entire month on the ship. Time was running out, but speeding up was impossible in the dense, treacherous ice fields between the northern reaches of Leng and the southern coast of Frostfound. We passed close to the Worldcrown mountain range, marking the very northern tip of the continent, on a particularly clear day. I pointed out several of the more famous peaks to our passengers, including the one still shrouded in mist and clouds despite the clearly visible peaks of its neighbors. “Mt Kadath,” I said, gesturing to the massive basalt spire. “It’s claimed to be so tall it reaches up to the heavens, where the gods themselves use it as a meeting place. The mists never dissipate, and no one to climb it has ever reached the top. Those who attempt to fly - by magic or machine alike - are knocked out of the sky by brutally strong winds. Divination and teleportation spells fail in the mist. The truth is, we still don’t know how tall it actually is. For all we know, it could reach the heavens.” Lyss borrowed a telescope from Cpt Vyron to examine the mountain in more detail. She struggled on the voyage, with her practically-imposed sleep schedule meaning she couldn’t keep the same hours as the rest of the crew. Efenne often stayed up with her, at least, and Zohi, Dave, or myself would join them somewhat regularly. But she still felt isolated to a different experience, perhaps. One of a fragile bubble of light in the darkness and of forging through the invisible nighttime waves beneath a burning green star. “Is that a little lake?” she asked, handing me the telescope and pointing. “I thought it was too cold for that; even the ocean’s freezing.”

12:00

After a few moments, I managed to focus on the same feature she had. A relatively small lake, pale blue and steaming with a low fog in the frigid arctic air, nestled right in the northern foothills of Mt Kadath. “I believe it is,” I answered, putting down the telescope. “How strange; no one has reported a lake in that location before. Of course, only a handful of ships ever sail this passage at all. It must be very warm to steam like that... I wonder where it’s fed from? Some wellspring deep within the mountain itself?” “Can we go look?”

- Yes. Take the ship over towards Leng’s northern coast. Delay of maybe a day, plus stopping time.

- Yes. Fly Wayland, Lyss, and one other person (specify who) over, as three is his maximum flight capacity. Delay of a few hours, plus stopping time.

- No. Time is too tight and it’s out of the way. Continue towards Frostfound. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 57 Yes, as it turned out. We could. I cast my flight spell again, targeting myself as well as Zohi and Lyss - I wasn’t practiced enough to spread the magic over more than three people. The ship anchored in a relatively calm location so it wouldn’t outpace us, and off we went. Lyss had some trouble controlling her flight to start with, but Zohi was of course a natural and helped her straighten it out. I spent part of the journey looking down and back to avoid getting lost on the return, then the rest of it peering forward and untangling what I could from the messy skein of fate hanging over Kadath. The mountain was a focus for many significant events, and it would continue to be in the future. All those echoes - past, present, and beyond - muddied the waters, so to speak, and made it quite difficult to pry any solid answers out of the ether. Still, I saw some. Green lights burning in the eye sockets of a cackling skeletal figure. A sleeping form, encased in a glacier-sized block of ice. The warm, gravel shores of a lightless subterranean sea. Glimpses only, disconnected from context or even time. Merely events or locations that the mountain considered important as it slumbered away the long eons. We landed after nearly fifty minutes of flight, passing over the brief expanse of snowy beach between the ocean and the pale blue lake. The water was just as warm as we had thought from afar, steaming off into the sky and circulating well enough to avoid icing over or losing too much heat. The whole area was obscured in a thin blanket of mist, though it didn’t seem overtly magical like the mist concealing Kadath’s peak. A high, whistling piping was barely audible on the wind, possibly from nearby rock formations catching the breeze in just the right way.

19:44

I examined the water itself while Zohi and Lyss explored the area in more detail. It seemed to be ordinary freshwater, though perhaps with moderately higher mineral concentrations than average. Ocean brine had so far failed to contaminate it, though less than a half-mile separated the two. The pale blue color was striking, and I eventually decided it was due to the slight presence of similarly-colored algae. Enough to decline attempting to drink the stuff. I bottled a sample for Efenne’s alchemical analysis and then caught up with the other two. With help from Pebble, who could safely explore the bottom of the lake without needing any of us to touch it, Lyss and Zohi discovered a number of thin, winding passages leading towards Kadath. Following in roughly that direction, we uncovered a partially hidden cave in the mountain’s basalt base, revealing another pool of pale blue water presumably linked to the first by those burrowing tunnels. Here, combining my scrying sensor and Pebble’s ability to physically manipulate objects on the lakebed, we followed the current to a trio of much larger tunnels leading deep into the mountain’s roots and constantly pumping out jets of hot water from somewhere far below.

️ - Send the scrying sensor down.

- Send Pebble down too.

- Don’t send anything down. (Winner:

️ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 58 To avoid the risk of losing Pebble to a strong current or unexpected drop, it stayed above with us while I piloted the scrying sensor through a maze of winding, interconnected tunnels. Hot, bubbling water buffeted the partially-intangible orb, making it difficult to control or tell where anything was. Not that there was anything to see, really. Dull, narrow tunnels wound endlessly down into the roots of the mountain and the continent itself, passing through sections of basalt before sinking into dark, homogenous bedrock. Eventually, the sensor emerged into a wider cavern, formed of a misalignment between two layers of rock. Here, churning water surged in every direction and the sensor was merely swept along in one of many nearly-random currents. This lasted another few minutes before entering another smaller tunnel, much like the one we had started from. Again, hot water pushed along a winding path, faster and more violent than before, until finally the sensor was shoved out into a much calmer body of water. I raised it upwards, surfacing out of what must have been several hundred feet of water to glimpse the smoothly rippling surface of the warm subterranean sea from my vision. The cavern containing all this water was so large it faded out of view in every direction. Several gleaming lights pulsed in the far distance. Without any other ideas and with only a few minutes left before the scrying sensor would lose its cohesion, I directed it towards these lights. Unfortunately, it dissipated before making it all the way there. We were left with only the fading silhouette of a gargantuan humanoid figure, lying half-submerged in water and lit indirectly from behind. The scale was difficult to discern with so few reference points, but I would guess the titanic form was over half a mile long.

21:15

Although we would soon be late in returning to the ship, I sent another sensor down at Lyss’s request. Unfortunately, the maze of tunnels and currents was too complex to possibly remember a route through. Fortunately, I didn’t have to. All it took was a little augury rite and a number of choices left to the whims of fate and we were back in the larger maelstrom of churning waters much faster than before. However, at this point, the sensor was unable to control itself and no augury could help me wrest it back from the whims of whirling water. The orb went down a different tunnel from before and emerged into the subterranean sea in a completely different spot. No lights were visible, and sending the sensor off in an augury-determined direction only revealed them after several minutes of top-speed flying. We eventually got close enough to reveal the silhouette again, but the orb dissipated before revealing much more detail. All I could tell was that the enormous titanic thing submerged down here at the bottom of the world... was slowly, but clearly, breathing. I started to wonder if that old witch had been telling the truth about the fifth titan. ... We returned to the ship later than anticipated and without much to show for our efforts. The slumbering titan(?) was of course a momentous discovery, but there wasn’t anything we could do about it at the moment. Navigating those tunnels in person would be close to impossible, and teleportation was one skill that none of us on the ship had mastered. Lyss, perhaps surprisingly, actually seemed less shaken about all this than Zohi. When I asked, she just told me, “He’s not bothering anyone, right? So not as big a deal as the green star. Maybe we can wake him up later!”

21:15

Efenne came to talk to me a few days later, after she had finished her analysis of the lake water. It was early in the night and the ship was slowly breaking through another barrier of thick ice. The southern coast of Frostfound was not yet in view, but trailing clouds from its constant blizzards were occasionally visible in the far northern sky. “I made something out of it,” she said, clinking a handful of vials at me.

️ - Something dangerous.

️ - Something protective.

- Something healthy.

- Something... confusing. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 59 “Oh? What did you make?” “Hell if I know. I was trying to make something to protect against Frostfound’s blizzards, but it ended up this weird blue color and seems to be basically permanently cold. Stuck it in a fire for a few minutes (courtesy of Dave) and it didn’t heat up at all.” I accepted one of the vials and rolled it between my fingers, curious. As advertised, it was significantly colder than the ambient cabin air and refused to warm no matter how long I held it. “Interesting, but is it useful?” Efenne shrugged. “Maybe. If the heat energy just goes in and stays there, you think we can get it back out later? Maybe in one big burst?” “Dave would love that.” “I’m sure he would.” She swirled one of the other vials, but the liquid was so thick it hardly moved. “One thing’s for sure: you probably shouldn’t drink this. It’s all gummy so it might get stuck, and having a permanent block of ice in your guts doesn’t seem like a healthy idea.” “Agreed.” I gave her back the vial; she packed them away but didn’t leave. “Was there anything else...?” “... Yeah.” “...” I waited. “When we get to the Pillars - if we do - do any of you honestly have any clue how to activate them? I know you three were searching around the other ruins down near Wyrmtooth, but...” I sighed. “Not really. Tay and I have a general idea, based on our understanding of dream magic and etching, but realistically no one has attempted anything on this scale in generations at least.” “...” Efenne shifted uncomfortably. “I know I can use them. At least, if you trust me to.” I considered several possible responses before going with, “How do you know that?” “...” Even though she must have been expecting the question, she still hesitated several seconds before answering. “You don’t trust me. I understand that. But... you know Lyss’s dreams about the green star?”

21:18

I nodded, but she hardly paused before continuing, as if she would lose her nerve if she waited for my reply. “I have those too, sometimes. They’re different from hers, but it’s always a nightmare. Spears of light; endless ocean depths. A green star in the sky that tells me how to save myself. And when I do, climbing onto a piece of debris or a convenient island, it whispers something about the future. Promises.” A breath. “It knows how to operate those Pillars, Wayland. It watched the people who built them, so many millennia ago. This star owes me, and it will let me control the Pillars. I know it will. That is, as long as you don’t kill me when I try.” “I-I wouldn’t-” “Don’t lie to me. You don’t know why I’m doing this or if I’m going to betray you. You were going to leave me behind until Lyss showed up again. You think I’m a pawn of some much darker force. But you’re only half right.” Fine. I would be candid. “Half right is still right enough. I can’t let anyone corrupted by the enemy have control of the Pillars. Not with what they could do to the world.” “I broke my contract. I lost my partner. I’m hardly a witch anymore, but I still cling to the last shreds of my bond. I could have let it fade away by now, but I haven’t. This is my choice to remain as I am; to keep that connection open as long as I have. I am in control of myself. Not the brothers, not their master, and not even my patron. And I will swear to you that I will not harm the world when you stand back to let me activate the Pillars.” I remembered a detail I had dutifully scribed down in this chronicle only a few weeks ago. “The other brother still lives, as does the second half of your contract. You only destroyed half of it in Sorem.”

21:18

Efenne hesitated, but only briefly. “True. But he will meet us at Frostfound and he will have the scroll with him. It must stay on his person now that the other one has been burned; otherwise the bonds would slip. We can take care of that little problem quickly.” “Another tidbit from your patron?” “Seems to be serving me better than your divination, up here.” I couldn’t dispute that; my sight grew more clouded the further north we traveled. Kadath had been bad enough, but now even the ordinary arctic sea was nearly as obscured. Frostfound itself would be impossible to divine if the trend continued. “We will revisit this matter once the second scroll has been destroyed. If it will.” “It will.” Amelisce stood up, the dappled green-brown of Efenne’s eyes having faded to a dull grey sometime during the conversation. “Have a good night.” She left. I stayed put for several moments before sighing, rubbing my eyes, and pulling my journal from its bag. Needed to write that down before the details faded. Like her eyes. [This is a preliminary choice to get a feel for the opinion balance. You will be able to change your mind later.]

- Wayland would be okay with letting Efenne operate the Pillars, with precautions taken.

- Wayland would not trust Efenne to operate the Pillars. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 60 After leaving me to scribe down our conversation, Amelisce headed out to the bow to meet a solitary figure leaning against the railing. “Hey, Lyss.” She stopped next to her, looking out to the north as well. “Anything interesting tonight?” “It keeps getting closer,” she said, nodding up to the green star that now threatened the moon’s position as the brightest object in the sky. “There can’t be long left. Do you think we’ll make it in time?” “That doesn’t sound like you at all. Come on, where’s that cheerful optimism? We’ll make it.” “I mean, I think we’ll make it, but we’ve been sailing for weeks and still can’t even see the coast. And Wayland keeps getting more nervous every day.” “Wayland can’t divine properly this far north; of course he’s worried. But anyway, we’re supposed to have months and we’ve been going for less than a month; it’ll be fine.” Amelisce fiddled with the glass vials still in her hand from earlier. “The real question is if anyone here will be able to use the Pillars properly.” Lyss turned away from the frozen ocean for the time being. “I’ve kinda wondered about that. Wayland and Tay did all their studying of the smaller pillars at Wyrmtooth, and they’ve got their obsidian... thingy, but-” “Obsidian thingy?” “Yeah; it’s like a dream magic shield or something? Supposed to help protect whoever uses the Pillars, since obsidian resists that kind of thing. They were pretty secretive about it.”

15:21

To be clear, this device was indeed intended to be a portable shield against powerful dream etching, modeled after the barriers around the failed pillars. I had been hiding it from Efenne (and thus the rest of the crew) as a backup plan in case something went wrong and she ended up betraying us. Of course, I would have revealed it to be used during the activation had it been finished. Lyss’s knowledge of the project likely came from one of her golems; they wandered all across the ship and often brought back tidbits of information to her, though she never admitted to spying on purpose. “Hm. Interesting.” I feel the need to insert another comment here. This conversation was relayed to me by Lyss, and though I did not accuse her of lying, I do believe she purposefully omitted some details. It is... disorienting to be unable to judge intents and mistruths by spell alone up here in the frozen north of the world; it feels as though I have lost a sense. I shall be glad to return to more temperate climates as soon as our work here is complete. “Yeah... A-anyway,” Lyss continued. “These Pillars have been around for thousands and thousands of years and no one has ever been able to use them. I just don’t know if we’re prepared enough.” “We don’t have a choice,” Amelisce said bluntly, raising an arm to the sky. “But I wouldn’t worry too much. I know I can use the Pillars.” “Really? Why? How?” To be brief, Amelisce answered in much the same way she had when I asked the same question mere minutes ago. In fact, it was such a similar description of even the wording that I have to wonder if it was another lie. I... find paranoia easier to come by up here. Isolated from the world and my strongest magic, on the most critical journey of the age, and stranded on a single ship making its slow, painstaking way towards the frigid ends of the earth. It’s certainly possible that neither Lyss nor Efenne were intending to mislead me, but I do find it hard to trust them.

15:21

“Wait... you have nightmares too,” Lyss murmured, thinking. “But why is the star so nice to you and so terrible to me?” “Well, it could have something to do with my patron bond, I suppose. But I’m not sure why it would single you out specifically. Have you done any blasphemy recently?” Lyss smirked, but the expression faded quickly. “I don’t think so. How would you even blaspheme against a star that isn’t an established deity?” “It sort of is - at least it’s got a few religions already. I wonder if there are any tenets in there you’re breaking. But yeah, I don’t think so.” She thought about it for a bit. “Maybe I can try asking it. Hell, maybe you can come with. You think if we both fell asleep at the same time we’d have the same dream? Seems like something that could happen.” “I-I’m not sure if I want to risk it...” “Are you just going to live without sleeping at night? I mean, that’s valid, but it might make it pretty hard to travel on Frostfound. Can’t sleep in shifts as easily there without the boat. You could probably manage it, but if we can fix it...?”

- “... Okay, let’s try it.”

- “I think I’ll just live with it...” [This is a preliminary choice; you will be able to change your mind later.]

- Lyss would be okay with letting Efenne operate the Pillars.

- Lyss would not trust Efenne to operate the Pillars. (Winners:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 61 “... Okay.” She turned her back on the sky and green star above. “Let’s try it.” ... Lyss stood alone beneath a tall, triangular arch made of deep black stone. Twin rows of tall obsidian monoliths marched into the blizzard before her, twelve in total. They all pulsed with purple-black lines of light, leaving afterimages as she moved her eyes. The arch hummed, beating with the same power. Ghostly copies of herself spanned into an infinite arctic plain behind. Every duplicate stared at her. A sickening twisting sensation ripped at her torso and Lyss dropped to her knees in pain. Duplicates stepped closer. The arch thrummed with a note so low it passed below hearing. Then, in an instant, everything stopped. She cautiously got up, pressing arms to stomach against a fading ache. The arch was quiet and still, as were the Pillars. Duplicates lay scattered around the snow, also picking themselves up where they had fallen. Ghostly no longer, every Lyss looked as real as she did. Something felt... stretched thin. Strained. One of the other Lysses looked towards her and shrieked in fright, taking off at a dead sprint away from Lyss and the arch. On cue, dozens of other copies reacted in similar ways. In moments, she was the center of an expanding ring of fleeing duplicates. The stretching sensation grew worse; more painful. Every running copy was a fragment of herself and brought increasing agony as it fled. “Stop! Come back!” Lyss shouted, her voice powerful enough to cause the very ground to tremble. A few duplicates stumbled, but none stopped. Pain mounted. A grey mist seemed to surround her body, ballooning into a much taller figure above her head.

20:19

Lyss screamed; she couldn’t take it anymore. She ran towards a large group of duplicates, bounding across the snow with inhumanly quick strides and feeling immediate relief as the stretching forces lessened with proximity. The group began to scatter, however, and she couldn’t chase all of them. “Stop! Why are you running?!” A nearby copy tripped from the force of the shout and fell into the snow. Lyss caught up momentarily, reaching down to grab her by the arm and pull her upright. Instead, she fluidly planted one foot on the duplicate’s back, wrapped two hands around her chin, and yanked back with a horrible snapping sound. Lyss fell back into the snow along with her own dead body, stunned. She hadn’t meant to- She picked herself up off the ground at the center of the arch, surrounded by dozens of duplicates doing the same thing, plus one mangled corpse. Again, the others screamed and ran. “No! No! I won’t - I didn’t - just hold STILL!” None of them stopped. Lyss half-screamed against the awful stretching sensation; it felt like she was being torn apart. She couldn’t - she had to - she dashed after a different group of duplicates, just to feel some relief from the mounting pain. “I won’t touch you! Please, just stop!” They didn’t stop; instead, they scattered again. She couldn’t keep close enough to them to push down the pain; the other duplicates she hadn’t run after were too far away now. “I - I don’t want to - please - please don’t make me-” She caught up to a second duplicate, trying to gently grab her by the wrist to maybe drag over to some of the others. Again, her body had other ideas. One hand caught her by the shoulder while the other formed a narrow fist. She punched straight through her back and out her chest, spraying the snow with droplets of pure, deep red.

20:19

Lyss got up at the base of the arch, heart already pounding from the previous two chases. Her hand dripped blood and she frantically wiped it in the snow. “Stop! STOP! I won’t move if you don’t! PLEASE!” They ran. All but two broken corpses in the snow. “NO!” The grey mist grew thicker around her, winding insubstantial tendrils around arms and legs. Lending her strength. Do it. You must. She resisted, but couldn’t bear it for long. A third duplicate fell, spine snapped nearly in half by a flying kick. Lyss stood up in the arch. Grey mist. A blizzard whirled and laughed, delighting in the unwilling slaughter. Somewhere high above, obscured by endless clouds, she knew the green star looked on.

- Lyss gets it over with. Once all her duplicates are dead, they’ll stop running away. It won’t hurt anymore.

- Lyss resists as much as she can. It’s only pain. Horrible, tearing pain. Chasing them down is her choice. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 62 More cycles passed. Lyss kept holding back, trying different ways to stop the killing. She only ran to catch up and didn’t try to grab any of the duplicates. This worked for a while, until the pain became too great and she just lost control. She tried to direct the duplicates into larger groups, like a sheep herder. This didn’t really work; there were too many and she wasn’t fast enough to chase them all. She tried just sitting down in the snow and doing nothing, squeezing her eyes shut and simply enduring the stretching, tearing sensation until it was utterly unbearable, and then- Something broke inside of her. The grey mist swirled, twisted; joined with the blizzard howling just outside of the Pillars’ influence. Her skin split apart and more mist poured out, grey just like the rest, leaving her aching and powerless and deflated. An empty waterskin left behind. Her bones and muscles and organs were gone, all replaced by mist, so she couldn’t move or think or do anything, really. At least it didn’t hurt anymore. ... Lyss woke up shaking, still reeling from the sensation of being dead. She had died in other dreams before, sure, but that had always been it. That had been the end. Here, she had died and stayed dead for... a while. Too long. Just... lying there, completely immobile and unable to even think about her predicament, yet somehow still conscious of the horror of it all. Conscious without thought. How was that even possible? ... Was that what actual death would be like? She got up and paced the small room. Amelisce was still asleep nearby; they had both taken the sleeping drug at the same time in hopes of joining the same dream. Clearly that hadn’t worked. ... Death couldn’t be like that, right? Everyone talked about gods and the afterlife. A soul that separated from your body at death and lived on, peaceful. Or reincarnation; some people believed that. Or even... even nothing at all.

20:51

No one mentioned the possibility of remaining tied impotently to your corpse, forced to stay fully aware but unable to move or even think to pass the time. To be buried or burned, left to stare forever into a void of pointless emptiness after your eyes had decayed or turned to ash. Unending nothing, but not the peaceful nothing of the void. Simply mind-destroying boredom on and on and on until the end of time. No. Nope, it was just the star. Had to be. Toying with her; trying to hurt her. Why? What was the point? What if it was right?

️ - Go back to sleep. The drug is still making her drowsy.

️ - Wake up Amelisce.

️ - Go find someone else to talk to. [Who?] ⌚ - Wait for Amelisce to wake up. (Winner: a tie!

️ won due to digital coin flip) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 63 ... She needed to talk to someone. To not be alone with her thoughts. The obvious choice was Amelisce, but Lyss hesitated to wake her. What if she was communicating with the star right now, negotiating clear dreams in the future? Interrupting that wouldn’t go well. She left the room instead to see if anyone else was still awake on the deck. As always, there was one crew member at the wheel and one on lookout, the latter wearing enchanted goggles to see in the dark. She could potentially bother the helmsman, but didn’t want to distract him in the sea of crackling ice. Even now, the lookout shouted something down and the ship began to turn; getting in the way there could cause a serious collision. Instead, she walked along the outer railing before being unexpectedly startled by a soft voice. “Something on your mind?” Lyss jumped away from the railing; Tay had been almost invisible in the darkness. She still didn’t know much about them, really. They tended to stay indoors, either studying various old texts or working with me on Pillar-related projects. Even outside of that, Tay had never been particularly talkative. “... Yeah.” “More about the Unifier?” They flicked their hand up to gesture at the ever-burning green star hovering above. “Or something else tonight?” “Well, it’s sort of related, but it’s kind of something else.” Lyss shivered, staring into the darkness and wind and imagining the blizzard from her dream. “But... would you mind going inside to talk about it?” Of course Tay didn’t mind, and the pair left the outer deck to return to a warmer, more well-lit cabin. Lyss provided a summary of her dream and finished with “So, do we actually know what death is like?”

22:12

“If you ask a clergyman, absolutely. And we do know that clerics, paladins, and the like do have legitimate, measurable magical abilities - without using the same techniques that more traditional arcane channelers rely on. Similarly, we know that witches also have measurable powers that are granted via a connection to some distant, powerful being. With evidence like that, it is easy to believe in gods, even though there are no direct accounts of them appearing or intervening physically.” “So... if gods are real, then their afterlives are real? It’s just that easy?” Lyss paused for a moment, remembering. “Also, what about that giant person under Kadath? Wayland said he might be the ‘fifth titan,’ which is sort of like a god. Is that good enough to prove anything?” “We can’t be sure what the creature beneath Kadath is until we return to investigate in more detail. If it is indeed the mythical fifth titan... I - I don’t know how we would prove that without awakening it, which could cause all sorts of...” Tay stopped that train of thought. “Enough of that; we’re getting off track. There is another source of information about life after death that is much more trustworthy than stories of gods that likely exist: stories from people who have died and returned.” “That’s not just a legend? People have done that?” “Extraordinarily powerful magic can restore the dead to full life - not just undeath like an average necromancer. Typically, these rituals must either be cast either very quickly - within seconds of life leaving the body - or require extremely rare and specialized ingredients. “Accounts from the former process aren’t very helpful, unfortunately. People who have died for only a few seconds typically report nothing more than a brief period of extremely deep sleep. In some cases, they are actually unaware they died at all until told by the resurrectionist.” “What about people who died for longer?”

22:13

“Reports... differ. And keep in mind the number of people who have been resurrected beyond even a few hours is very small; there are perhaps only a few dozen documented cases in the history of the Guldan Empire. Of those cases, about half don’t report much of anything. A deep sleep, with perhaps some half-remembered dream fragments that don’t seem to correlate to anything. However, what I find very interesting is that believers in a religious afterlife have a much higher chance of reporting that very afterlife upon being resurrected.” “So... afterlives are real after all?” “Well, not all believers report an afterlife. Some speak only of the deep sleep, while others describe a sort of vague, hazy reflection of the physical world, similar to what some dimensional scholars have called an echo or ethereal plane. I don’t want to get into the full semantics of such a concept, so to simplify, assume these people became ‘ghosts.’ Or at least something akin to that idea.” “So... if you believe in an afterlife, you might go there, or you might just go to sleep forever, or you might become a ghost? And... if you don’t believe, you just get nothing?” “Well, maybe. It’s certainly possible that one’s devotion to a specific deity’s afterlife will send one’s soul there after death, some of the time. I’m sure a cleric would tell you that it relies on the strength of your faith. But there’s a different explanation, which is that your mind makes up a story to fill in what happened between its death and return to life. Perhaps if you believe strongly in an afterlife, your mind is more likely to fill in the blanks with a tale of that afterlife. Maybe that’s all it is: a simple mental illusion.” “... Is that what you believe? That there’s nothing, and it’s just minds playing tricks?”

22:13

“Me? Well, it is hard for me to support the idea of extradimensional divine afterlives since we’ve never been able to visit them in centuries of modern dimensional research. But once I learned about dream etching, I figured there might be another way to support life after death. You see-” [This is a branch point.]

- Lyss’s bag is in the room.

- Lyss’s bag is somewhere else. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 64 “- the idea behind dream magic is to take dreams and translate them into reality. A lot like conjuration, really, but dream etching in particular goes farther than any conjuration spells you could find. Are you familiar with the process of nonmagical etching, Lyss?” “Yeah!” She hopped down and pulled her bag from its place under the table, slowing down to very carefully retrieve her etching needle from its pouch. It was again upside-down with the gleaming point exposed, but due to her extra caution, she got away unscathed. “I use this to etch glyphs into my golems. You scrape away the protective surface, then wipe it down with a wet cloth to seal in the magic. At least, that’s how it works for me.” Tay eyed the proffered needle curiously. “That’s essentially how it works in dreams as well. You build up a dream behind reality, then scrape away the barrier to let it seep in. If done correctly, it’s one of the most powerful - and most permanent - ways to change the world currently known.” They accepted the needle, noting the slight imbalance that seemed to pull the tip towards flesh of any sort. “This is an interesting design. Did you make it?” “Well, with the help of my master Brissen and my friend Tasie, yeah. He helped with the wood part and she helped with the metal part. It’s kind of an adaptation of a design I found in a really, really old golemancy book - I adjusted the proportions to fit my hand better.” “Very curious indeed.” Tay inspected the point again, tapped it against the table, then rubbed the wooden surface. “Extremely sharp, too.” “Yep! It’s got to be, so it can cut through any material I might make a golem out of. Anything from clay to wood and stone up to steel plates. I don’t know if it will cut anything harder than that, but-” Tay had already fished a small, partially-melted mass of a deep, dark red metal. “This is adamantite. Took it off a warrior I fought many years ago. You’ve heard of it, right?”

20:58

“Y-yeah. Supposed to be the toughest metal on the planet. You don’t think my little needle will-” The adamantine plate snapped in hardly a moment, neatly scored into two pieces by the etching needle. “...” “... It seems it will.” “It’s... not supposed to be that easy to break, is it?” “No. Lyss, what is this needle made of? Simple steel?” “Well, mostly. There was a pouch with a little bit of dust left in the book where I found the instructions, and it said to put that into the blade. I don’t know what it was, though... Tasie just told me it glowed really bright even at low temperatures.” “Mm hmm...” Tay was holding the needle up to the light now, peering closely at the tiny glimmering glyphs traced onto its blade. “Can you tell me what these glyphs mean?” “Er, some of them, probably?” Lyss fumbled for a book that she had actually been writing over the last few weeks with my assistance - a new compendium of golemantic knowledge to replace those she had lost. Her memory was good, but writing things down still helped her a lot. Not to mention the benefits to all who would come after. “Uh, yeah. That one’s ‘life,’ then ‘grant’ or ‘provide,’ and then the chain down this side means something like ‘bind to wielder’s will,’ I think... I wrote these myself; why is it so hard to remember what they say?” “It was years ago; memories fade. Please keep going.” “Um... wait. I don’t have that symbol in my book. The one that’s like a triangle in a circle?” “That symbol is called the metzamat. It’s seen only in the most ancient records and symbolizes dominion over dreams. It was once the symbol of a primeval overgod, worshipped by a culture long-since passed into dust. Of course, now it has been co-opted by a number of more mundane uses, but the original meaning still persists in some deeply secretive sects.”

20:58

“What... does it have to do with golems? The book always said that the glyphs I use weren’t invented by man, but by nature. So I don’t think it’s a coincidence that it looks like that.” “I don’t know, but I agree that it’s hardly a coincidence.” Tay frowned, thinking. “Interestingly, your golems in particular have always seemed more lively than other reports. More capable of independent action. Needing less precise instructions. I would imagine your needle is likely one-of-a-kind; I wonder if the two are related.” “... Do you want me to try and make one without the needle?” “Please.” ... Using an ordinary knife instead, Lyss quickly sculpted a little clay man of similar build to Pebble, Orb, or Skit. She had to deactivate Twig temporarily - using the etching needle to carve a blocking glyph into its back - to ensure she wouldn’t lose control of any of them during the process. Then, back to the knife to finish the glyphs, material chain, and finally the instructions. She pricked her finger with a clean knife, pressed a drop of blood into the central symbol, and stepped back to await its rise. “It’s a lot harder without the needle,” she commented. “And with the boat moving around like this.” The night had nearly passed by now, but the sun wouldn’t rise for hours more at this latitude. Lyss was used to staying up all night, but Tay hadn’t rested either, instead rifling through various books or odd rocks they referred to as “memory stones,” searching for references to anything that could be related. “I can imagine. Will it still rise if you’ve made a slight mistake?” “As long as it isn’t in the life glyph. Even the material chain can handle a few mistakes, especially for a simple material like clay - look, there it goes!”

20:58

The golem shuddered, then sat up. Stared straight ahead for a moment. Then stood. And finally, it...

- Fell over and did not get back up.

- Collapsed into a pile of sloughed-off clay fragments.

- Did absolutely nothing. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 65 ... did absolutely nothing. “Huh?” Lyss returned to the table, reading over the glyphs carved into the golem’s back. “You shouldn’t be just standing there...? No, it looks fine; I don’t see any issues with the carving. What’s going on?” Tay stood up and walked over as well. “What should it be doing?” “Well... anything, really. I gave it my normal base instruction scroll of ‘be nice’ - maybe I somehow wrote it wrong?” “Does it respond to other instructions?” Lyss addressed the golem directly. “Be nice, please. Walk around a bit. Do something?” It didn’t move. “What about something exact and simple?” “Er, take one step forward?” The golem moved, taking a single step forward and then returning to staring ahead without even a glimmer of intelligence. “Turn left?” No response. “Turn left one quarter rotation?” It did so. “Keep turning so that you’re facing me as I move around?” It complied, rotating in place to keep its vacant dot eyes on Lyss until she said to stop. “This seems to be fairly strong evidence. It’s clearly obeying you, but it doesn’t seem to be as capable of interpreting abstract instructions as your other constructs. Perhaps it just doesn’t understand ‘be nice,’ so it’s falling back to simply doing nothing.” Lyss frowned, checking the glyphs one more time. “This is more what most books said golems were like - animated and capable of more intelligence than simple constructs, but not really ‘alive.’ Just like living tools. I didn’t really think that, uh...” A pause as she tried to phrase it correctly. “I thought the authors just didn’t give them a chance, you know? They just thought golems were just like constructs and gave them really strict, regimented instructions, and no one had ever really thought to give them a little more freedom.” She looked down. “I guess that was kind of silly to think I would be the first person ever to figure that out, right?”

20:04

“I think you were just... Huh. What is it doing?” Brick had wandered in again, as it did every half hour or so just to make sure everything was still okay. But this time, it didn’t do a quick scan of the room and leave again; it stopped and stared at the little clay golem on the table with a tilt of the head that perfectly imitated confusion. “What’s the matter, Brick? I just finished this one; what do you think?” The hulking stone golem approached the little clay one and leaned down to inspect it, bringing massive clublike hands close but not touching anything. The smaller golem, as usual, didn’t move. “Do you not like it?” No response, obviously, as Brick could not speak. It remained in that position for nearly twenty seconds. “... Can you show me how you feel about it?” Brick squashed the clay golem immediately, bringing a fist down to the table with a heavy thunk. Lyss jumped; Tay stepped back in surprise. “Why did you do that?” she managed to ask after a few moments of shock. “Show me, please.” “Lyss, be careful-” Tay took a step forward as if to protect the girl from being squashed in the same way. Instead, Brick scraped its arm on the table, leaving behind several wobbly lines of clay debris. Once it was done, it stepped back to the door and returned to its post outside. “That’s... what did you call it? A metaman symbol?” “The metzamat. What’s the one next to it?” Lyss hesitantly picked up her book, though she already knew what the symbol meant. She just wanted to double check. “... Death.” “I... see.” “Tay, what does this mean? I’ve never seen any of them write before, at least not in glyphs like that. And...” She hesitated again, paging through the book again. “Actually, that symbol can mean ‘death,’ but it can also mean ‘to kill,’ ‘to be killed by,’ or ‘absence of.’ It’s really vague without being in a proper chain for context.” “Will it elaborate?”

20:04

“I doubt it.” She opened the outer door. “Brick, can you explain what you drew there in more detail?” It stared at her blankly. “Thought so.” She closed the door again. “I don’t think Brick even knows why it did that. I certainly don’t. But I do think it’s pretty clear at least that my etching needle is definitely way more special than I thought.” [This is a branch point. One choice is potentially deadly to Lyss, though not immediately...

]

- Lyss accidentally got some clay on her shirt. She should probably go clean that up before it sets. [Lyss will leave the room relatively quickly.] ✨ - Lyss is plenty clean and doesn’t need to go do that. [Lyss will stay in the room a while longer.] (Winner: ✨ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 66 ... Lyss stood with Zohi near the bow of the ship, both of them watching the horizon. She had just finished explaining her rather eventful night with Amelisce (who was somehow still asleep), Tay, and the etching needle. Zohi had questions, but first... “That’s it, isn’t it?” “I think so.” The southern coast of Frostfound had finally come into view, and with it, the end of their long journey north. Blizzards whirled around the main landmass of the island and jagged frozen spires lanced out of the ice-choked water ahead, but a distant ledge of snowy ground was visible. Captain Vyron had announced they would likely be able to make landfall tonight or tomorrow, depending on how treacherous the sea grew for the last few miles. And after that... no one knew. “Intimidating, don’t you think?” Zohi asked. “The unending blizzards are famous.” “You don’t have to pretend to be scared to make me feel better.” Lyss nudged him. “You’re all about wind, right?” “Sort of. I do wonder how well I’ll be able to make use of the storms there. Something we’ll need to test before going too far. But enough about that; you asked for my thoughts on what happened last night.” “Yeah! I don’t really know what to make of the dream (or why Amelisce hasn’t woken up yet), but I’m really really curious about the needle.” She lowered her voice. “You know, Tay thinks it tries to stab me on purpose.” “I did wonder how you managed to keep hurting yourself with it nearly every day back in Sorem. I figured you were just really clumsy.” “Well... I am, sometimes. Like when I’m on a roof and some lady with a broom comes out to knock me off.” She grinned briefly, but returned to a neutral expression quickly. It was hard to remain cheerful with Frostfound looming so menacingly in the distance. “Anyway, what did you think?” “I was wondering,” he began thoughtfully. “Where did you get your books? The first ones; the ones that had the powder in them.”

21:54

“Ah.” Lyss hesitated, looking down. “Y-yeah, I guess that’s relevant.” A breath. “They were from my, uh, father. Or so I was told.” Her parents again. Careful. “Your father is a golemancer?” “I don’t... know. Maybe.” “Lyss, I know you don’t want to talk about this. Just keep in mind that we’re about to venture onto an island that is widely considered the most dangerous location in the known world. And, despite my best efforts, you’ll be coming with. You don’t have to tell me, but if you think anything might be relevant...” “...” She glanced over briefly, then looked away again. Zohi was alarmed to note a spark of anger in her eyes. Highly unusual for the kid. “... Yeah. You’re right. Sorry, I’m being dumb about this; what happened isn’t even that bad.” A deeper breath. She continued, a little faster. Eager to get it over with, once she made the decision. “Okay, so here’s what happened. I’m a half-elf, right? My mother was the human; my father was the elf. He was a wandmaker and enchanter; she was a treasury official. They met in Gulda - you know, the capital - courted, and married. “I don’t really know when or where I was born - I heard most of this from my aunt - but apparently they traveled with me a lot when I was really young. Back and forth between Gulda and the village just south of the Cryptwarrens. And then eventually - again, I barely remember this; I heard it from my aunt - one of the villagers followed the sound of crying to find me just left on a table in the warrens with a knife stuck in my arm and a few books on the floor. They sent me to my aunt after that. “No one knows why they did it, either. I talked to the guy who found me and he said he had talked to them a few times on earlier visits; nothing seemed weird. We just know my father’s name was on the books and no one saw either of them again after they went back to Gulda.” “Lyss, I’m sorry...”

21:54

She angrily rubbed her eyes. “I just don’t get it, you know? What was even the point? Why just leave me there? If they wanted to kill me, it would have been so easy. It just doesn’t make any sense! I - just... give me a minute, okay?” Lyss hurried off; Zohi took a step as if to stop her, then sighed and returned to his prior position. Brave of her to talk about it; he wouldn’t harry her. She’d come back when she wanted to return. But still, she was right. What was the reasoning to leave behind a child, a knife, and several extremely valuable banned books? If there had been an attack, someone would have noticed, right? If they had just been in a hurry, they would have at least taken Lyss with them... right? Or perhaps there had been some further clues at the scene that the villager who found her hadn’t understood or thought to note down. So many years later, it was impossible to know for sure. ... And yet... [This is the second half of the branch point from the last scene.]

️ - Zohi figures it out.

- Lyss figures it out.

- Tay figures it out.

️ - I figure it out. ‼️ - ... later that very day. ⌛ - ... but not for a while.

️ - ... but not until it’s too late. (Winners:

️ , ⌛ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 67 ... No, that wouldn’t make sense. He’d have to think about it. ... Not long after that, Amelisce woke up and went to find Lyss. She wasn’t that hard to find, having just gone back to her cabin, but Amelisce did have to knock a few times before finally being let in. “Oh no, you’re sad again. Have something to do with why you woke up so much earlier than me?” “Y-yeah.” She explained her dream in some detail, though without mentioning the conversations with Tay or Zohi. “Ouch. Sorry to hear that; guess we didn’t go into the same dream after all. Mine was pretty productive though; want to hear?” “Sure.” “So, I showed up in the ocean like usual, but it was this arctic one instead of the normal kinda warm one. The star showed up like usual and helped me out of the freezing water by doing something with the tides so I washed up on land. I guess it was probably Frostfound by all the blizzards, but I was warm enough on dry land at least. “Then it started whispering promises of the future again, like I told you before. But this time I interrupted like ‘Hey, why do you keep sending nightmares to my friend Lyss?’ It didn’t seem to notice for a while, until I got the idea to just go back into the water until it paid attention to me. That got it to stop whispering, so I yelled at it again.” Lyss smiled. “The way you describe this sounds like a child throwing a tantrum.” “Heh. Not far off, really. By then I was pretty annoyed. Anyway, it actually responded. Not with words, so I’m kind of translating. It basically said ‘The golem?’” “Wait, weren’t you asking about me?” “That’s what I said: ‘She’s not a golem! She just makes golems.’ Maybe it got confused because you hang out with them so much?” “I guess I don’t know how stars ‘see’...”

13:08

“Yeah. So I explained about you for a bit to try and clear up the misunderstanding, and it seemed to get it. I asked it to stop sending you nightmares and it basically just gave the mental equivalent of a shrug and an ‘Okay, makes no difference to me.’ At least, if I’m interpreting it right. So... I guess give it another try tonight and see if you’re all better?” “... Hang on a minute. You’re telling me that the star didn’t even know who exactly it was doing this to, and it didn’t really care one way or the other that it was? It didn’t have a point? It could have been just any random person and it just doesn’t care?” “I guess so? I mean, it is a star. Maybe sending nightmares is just something that it does without even thinking about it? We don’t really know how it thinks.” “I... I guess not.” Lyss fell dramatically back onto the bed, exhaling. “Well, whatever. If it works, that’s great. Just feels kind of, y’know, anticlimactic? I’ve been dealing with these for months and apparently there was never a deeper purpose? Just some cosmic mistake?” “Tell me about it. At least it’s fixed now.” “Say that again once I’ve had a good night’s sleep for the first time in ages.” “Will do. I don’t doubt it’s fixed, though. The star’s been good to me since... well, you know.” “Yeah.” I’ll note here that I am growing increasingly concerned with this star’s relationship with both Efenne and Lyss. I don’t believe it would have done such a thing (cursing poor Lyss with nightmares for months) unintentionally, and I have some suspicion it is only removing it now in order to gain further favor with the two of them. Favor that it intends to trade in very soon now, when Amelisce intends to use the Pillars.

13:08

I... do not believe I should let her. I must be prepared to do what I can - what I must - to prevent the world from falling beneath the enemy’s conquest. Unfortunately, someone must use the Pillars to stop it, and the list of people I trust to have both the knowledge and intent to use them properly contains close to no one. Our best options may be myself or Tay, due to our studies of the failed pillars near Wyrmtooth, but realistically it is easily possible for either of us to make a mistake and cause catastrophic damage with an artifact of that magnitude. It’s so difficult to practice dream etching in a safe format, and the Pillars have such power... Additionally, it’s unclear if I can even trust Tay either. My divination agreed initially, but I have only known them for less than two months. Is there... anyone I can trust to operate the Pillars? Or will I be forced to attempt it myself, despite my own doubts? Dare I even trust myself? Dilemmas upon dilemmas. It will soon be over, one way or the other.

- The final approach goes well.

- The final approach is nerve-wracking, but not too dangerous.

- The final approach goes seriously wrong. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 68 “... And you’re certain that it won’t damage the ship?” “Yep! And if it does anyway, I can always turn it off in an instant!” “Captain, I’m not sure...” “Oh, let him at it. There’s no way we’re getting through before the storm without doing something.” Dave cackled and leapt onto the bow, balancing in the wind. Occasional drifts of snow now floated around us from the eternal blizzards hovering only a few miles away. A more ephemeral storm, flashing with lightning, had become visible rushing in from the southeast as well, which necessitated us hastening our landfall to avoid getting caught between them. “Here we go!” He ran both hands along the railing and grabbed hold of it tightly, forcing a pulse of magical energy into the metal. I felt the deck vibrate with power. Then, a few seconds later, powerful flames began to lick up the sides of the ship. Steam hissed from the waterline as ice melted and water boiled away from the surface. “Like a hot knife through... ice, I suppose. And it’s a boat instead of a knife. You get the idea.” “Forward!” someone shouted back towards whoever was manning the engines. The ship lurched and ground against weakened ice, breaking off large chunks due to the intense heat. Dave laughed heartily and leapt back down to the deck. “Fast as you can, gents. That fire won’t last all day.” “How long can you keep this up?” “Hours! But not many.” “He means one hour,” I interjected. “This spell is quite strenuous.” “Spoilsport. But yes, that sounds about right. I could squeeze out a bit more time if I take it easy, but not much more without a solid nap.” “Well, that won’t get us all the way,” Captain Vyron mused. “But we should be close. Wayland, is there any way you could help us go faster?”

20:15

“I’m afraid I won’t be of much use at the moment. As you know, my divination magic is scrambled up here and hardly works. And of my remaining repertoire...” I mentally leafed through my bag of magical tricks. “I could potentially fly some of us to shore individually, but the ship as a whole is beyond my abilities.” Light footsteps on metal announced two new arrivals. Zohi and Tay were both below assisting with the engines, which meant Lyss and Efenne had joined us on deck. “Your engines run on fuel oil with alchemist’s fire primers, yes?” That was Efenne, obviously. “Right. Are you suggesting a change?” “An additive.” She removed a handful of little vials filled with black liquid from her bag. “A few of these should boost the combustion reaction significantly. Might get us moving quicker.” I hesitated, wanting to reject the plan. Thankfully, I didn’t have to as the captain responded first. “I appreciate the thought, but let’s save that until we’re a little more desperate. The engines aren’t currently the issue; it’s the ice. This fire is helping, but it’s not broken up enough to melt-” Heavy stone footfalls thunked across the deck. Lyss gestured behind her to Brick, standing taller and wider than any of us by far. The golem pounded one fist into its other hand with a powerful impact. “Do you think Brick could help with that?” “... Oh, most certainly.” Minutes later, the golem had leapt out of the ship and onto one of the many icebergs choking the sea around Frostfound’s coast. Somehow, its relatively smooth limbs stuck to the ice, much like the smaller clay ones could climb without any apparent means of grip. Without any people nearby to injure, it was able to attack the ice with full force, pummeling hails of powdered chips into the air with every mighty blow.

20:15

Between the heat and constant strikes, the ship’s prow was able to break a path towards the shore with relative alacrity. Wind swirled around us; Zohi appeared from belowdecks stained with oil and grease to channel it and push us further along. Tay remained below, assisting with calibrations and tweaks to the oil-fed beast driving us north. Towards the shore, towards the storms, and towards the Obsidian Pillars. It wasn’t an easy approach, and everyone had to work together to keep the ship making steady forward progress. Lyss called orders to her golem from the bow. Dave lounged not far back to keep his strength up and the fire burning. Zohi commanded the edges of the blizzard to part around us and push us closer in. Tay managed the engine’s heat and power in close coordination with myself and the captain, who directed the rest of the crew as best we could. And Efenne... Where was Efenne?

- Suspicious, I stepped away to look.

- Busy with other matters, I stayed where I was. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 69 Suspicious, I stepped away to look. Lucien was capable of directing the crew without me anyway. Remembering her black vials from earlier, I checked belowdecks first to make sure she hadn’t gone to the engines to inject them anyway. Tay and the chief engineer both reported she hadn’t been there, however, so I did a brief search of the holds and headed back up. I didn’t expect her to be somewhere as obvious as in her cabin, but checked anyway just to be sure. “Oh, it’s you again. What do you want now?” “Everyone else is out on deck assisting with the final approach; I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t fallen overboard.” Efenne rolled her eyes and covered a bowl of powdered reagents. I noticed one of the permanently cold vials she had shown me earlier sitting innocently nearby, the top open and potentially awaiting some modification. “Listen, I’m not as stupid as you seem to think I am. I know you don’t trust me, I know you’re spying on me, and I know you think I’m going to do something terrible with the Pillars.” I raised a hand to say something, but she waved it aside. “You know what? No! I’ve had enough! What have I ever done to you? I’ve always been honest; I’ve never hidden my past. I’ve helped Lyss and everyone else on this ridiculous voyage. I’ve always acted by my morals, not by patron’s or anyone else’s! Hell, Lyss even tells you everything we talk about so you can write it down in your oh-so-important little fucking book! What more do you want from me?! What do I need to do for you to give me a chance?” “E-Efenne, it’s not your actions on this voyage specifically; I’m merely concerned that your patron bond combined with-” I intended to remind her of what she had done, theoretically of her own devices, on Stellidwen Island, but her interruption put a stop to that.

20:03

“If it’s not what I say or what I do, then you don’t have any reason to be acting like this. You’re just a paranoid, no, delusional old man out of his depth and looking for anyone to blame it on.” “Th-” “What are you going to do with the Pillars if you’re so smart, oh wise chronicler? If you get there, grasp infinity in the palm of your hand, and know you have to release it. What do you do? Destroy the star? Send it away? Is that it? You’ll leave the world how it is? Could you leave it alone? All those secrets hiding away that you could uncover with just a harmless little tweak?” “Of course I would be sparing with the Pillars’ power! Deal with the star, and that is it!” “Well, if you get your hands on those Pillars first, then I guess we’ll all find out, won’t we?” She glanced down momentarily. Just a twitch of eye movement towards that opened vial. I inhaled subtly, drawing on my magic. A deep sense of unease hinted that she could attack me right here and right now. ... She didn’t. “Get the fuck out of my room,” Efenne said tiredly, her eyes fading from grey back to hazel. I hadn’t even noticed when they had changed. Or had they been grey when I got there? “... Fine.” I left. I didn’t know what else to do or how to address the problem she presented. I still don’t, and I wager that when we arrive at the Pillars - if both of us are still alive - I still won’t then. I feel that there is a strong possibility that I will kill Efenne, or she will kill me. The danger of her using the Pillars is simply too great, and I see no easy way to guarantee a nonviolent answer. I will keep thinking, but if the worst happens... ...

20:03

We made landfall well after sunset, anchoring the ship in several places against the blizzard hovering permanently overhead. The new storm passed just south of Frostfound not long afterwards, scouring the broken ice we left behind with bolts of lightning and screaming winds too strong for even Zohi to temper. We would rest overnight, then prepare and set off into the wasteland in the morning. The final segment of our journey begins tomorrow.

- Those sure are some strange markings in the snow...

- That sure is a strange silhouette in the storm...

- There sure is a strange howl on the wind...

- Oh, nevermind. It was just some crustaceans. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 70 “So, Lyss,” Zohi asked conversationally. “You’ve mentioned different materials for golems several times and have used at least three. I was wondering if there’s a limit on what can be used to make one.” We were all together for once, the whole crew having dinner belowdecks away from the ever-present threat of hail and snow. Morale was reasonably high, though with an uneasy undercurrent due to our upcoming task. Still, for now, we had made it. I focused on Lyss through the hubbub of other conversations to hear her response; I was curious as well. “Wel...” she considered, tapping a fork. “I don’t know if there’s a limit, really. I don’t think so; at least not theoretically.” “So is there anything stopping you from making a golem out of, say, obsidian? The material that’s apparently very resistant to dream magic?” “In theory, nothing! But to actually do it, I’d need to know the material chain, and that’s specific to each substance. Some are really simple - like clay’s chain is just a few interlocking glyphs - but tougher materials get more complex and less tolerant of mistakes. Stone’s chain - the one I used on Brick - took me two days to etch in and I had to fix several errors.” “Isn’t obsidian just a kind of stone? Or is it glass?” “Uhm...” “Come to think of it, is there really a hard difference between stone-like glass and glass-like stone? Where do crystals and gemstones fit in? In fact, there are many different types of ‘true’ stone as well; does your material chain for ‘stone’ work for all of them?” Lyss pondered this for several seconds. “I don’t know! Boy, I wish someone had brought this up earlier in the trip so I could have experimented a bit more. I don’t think I’d have time to even try to make an obsidian golem by tomorrow, even if I had the materials. The stone chain is really hard, like I said.” “I wonder if it’s so difficult because it applies to so many different substances...”

13:33

“Maybe! That’s what’s so fun about figuring this stuff out!” Zohi glanced down the table momentarily, as if looking for a serving dish. He didn’t ask for one, instead subtly lowering his voice. Not enough that I couldn’t still hear, being seated just diagonally across from him, but anyone further away would have a very difficult time. “What about less traditional materials?” “What do you mean?” “Well, when you think ‘golem’, the big stone and clay ones come to mind. But you can use wood - that’s a substance that used to be alive. What about paper, or flesh, or other strange things?” She half-grinned, a little confused. “I don’t know if paper would work; you’d run into issues with strength, I’d guess. Would be fun to try!” “Flesh? I would almost expect it to work, given wood’s success.” “... Yeah, it does.” Lyss grimaced briefly. “But it’s super taboo. Like, even among golemancers. The story goes that some guy was trying to help with a plague, so he started carving runes into dead people to get them to carry themselves and other infected corpses out of the city. (I don’t know why he wouldn’t just use normal golems to do that but...) Anyway, the corpses did get up and follow his instructions, but they were basically zombies and kept breaking free of the runes every so often. Eventually, he couldn’t reassert control anymore and the city had a plague and a zombie horde to deal with.” “How did the corpses manage to disobey? Ordinary golems never do that.” “I’m not sure; it was written like a fable, not a historical report. If I had to guess, maybe the glyphs got messed up because of their gross, rotting skin?” She stuck her tongue out. “Bleh. Did you have to ask about this at dinner?” “Heh. My bad.” ... Late that night, after everyone had gone to sleep (including Lyss, testing to see if her nightmares had gone), I awakened with a strange premonition.

13:34

We had only been underneath Frostfound’s endless blizzards for less than a day, but already the eternal howling had grown familiar. An echoing, constant shriek of despair and frozen malice. But as I sat up and listened, I heard a distinct second howl beneath the first. Quieter than the wind, but piercing in tone and timbre. Intelligent. The howl grew closer; louder. My premonition grew more and more pronounced, zeroing in on that specific noise as the source of incoming disaster. I stood, gathering my cloak and boots, then hesitated. It was the dead of night. We were anchored just offshore with only two lookouts above and everyone else having some much-needed sleep before tomorrow’s trek. My divination had been growing less and less reliable the further north we traveled. What would be the smartest way to address this possible danger?

️ - Go above and investigate without waking anyone. Check with the lookouts.

- Awaken someone specific to help. [Who?]

- Sound the alarm; awaken the whole ship.

️ - Hesitate long enough for the feeling to pass. Return to bed. (Winner:

️ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 71 I climbed to the main deck by myself, readying what little combat magic I had available, and squinted into the night. A lantern near the bow marked the position of one lookout, but I couldn’t see the other. I hurried across the ship to ask. However, it quickly became clear that I didn’t need to, as the second lookout was on the shore near one of the anchor points, apparently pounding the heavy spike back into the ice from which it had slipped overnight. The howl grew closer, now almost visible as a swirling tempest of ice and snow flaring in from the island’s interior. “Come back!” I shouted, startling both lookouts. “Immediately!” Blessedly, the man had the presence of mind to obey, drop his tools, and run for the ship. He scrambled up the rigging and made it back to us on the bow only moments before the moving tempest swept over the ice where he had just stood. Tools and debris were swept up in the storm; several heavy chunks of ice thunked against the ship’s hull and railing. I took a deep breath and looked. An Everwraith. Eleven feet tall, formed of a loosely-bound grey mist, it moved quickly across Frostfound’s shoreline and birthed new tempests in its wake. I had never heard the name before, but knowledge leapt into my mind from unknown sources as I maintained my spell. Immortal guardians of the eternal north, bound and sustained by the Pillars that spawned them so many years ago. The figure Lyss had reported in her dream? Perhaps. It stopped for a moment, its mist-built form coalescing into a vaguely humanoid shape as it faced the ship and regarded us. The lookouts shrank back, but for some reason, I took a step forward. It couldn’t leave the island, I somehow knew. Separated by even the thinnest barrier of ocean water, we were safe. “...”

21:04

Ordinary wraiths are formed from souls who died in twisted, wretched agony. Hateful, pitiful things, they seek to drain vitality from the living in hopes of abating the emptiness they carry within. Everwraiths, as something informed me at that very moment, are different. They are echoes; shades of those who lost themselves in this frozen land. Chained to this plane by the Pillars, they are stripped of themselves and now exist merely to fulfill a duty. These wraiths, then, have a void not of vitality, but of identity. They do not drain the life from their victims, but the self. To be consumed by an Everwraith is to be utterly destroyed. There is no escape for the soul; no afterlife awaiting. There isn’t even the void’s empty embrace. Instead, there is the imprint of a stranger. One who limps formlessly on in servitude to those who destroyed the person it used to be. The Everwraith whirled about and sped further down the beach, its eerie howl growing fainter as it traveled. Searching; hunting for those it could use to feed itself and remember, just for a moment, what it felt like to be. “... Better stay away from the shore tonight,” I advised the man who had narrowly avoided the wraith. “In case it decides to return.” “T-that... would be wise, I think.” ... On my way back to bed, I happened to pass Lyss in the hallway, rubbing the back of her neck and seemingly lost in fearful thoughts. She didn’t notice me until we had almost collided, at which point she half-yelped, covered her mouth and neck momentarily, then tried to regain her composure by nodding cordially to me. “Still having nightmares?” I asked sympathetically. “Huh? Oh - oh, yeah! Yeah, I guess it didn’t work, uh, yet.” “... Are you alright?” “Uh, fine - sort of - er, I need to go.”

21:04

She went, hustling past me down the hall and hiking up the collar of her pajamas to hide her neck. I glanced after her, suspicious and nonplussed, but turned the corner back towards the cabins regardless, just to check. As I suspected, a dim light was on in one room. Zohi’s. At least it wasn’t Efenne this time.

️ - I went to ask him about it.

- I waited for Lyss to return to ask her about it.

️ - I returned to bed. Perhaps I would mention it in the morning. (Winner:

️ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 72 I knocked. “Zohi?” He came to the door quickly; too quickly to have been asleep. Of course, the light was a giveaway as well. “Evening,” he said neutrally. “Or ‘morning,’ perhaps.” “I just passed Lyss in the corridor,” I said quietly, nodding in her direction. “She seemed quite upset - with something on her neck? I saw your light on and wondered if she had mentioned anything to you?” He glanced to either side, lowering his voice yet further, then said something that rather surprised me. “Everyone needs some privacy, Wayland. Lyss is under a lot of stress - far more than anyone her age should ever have to bear. For her sake, don’t pursue this any further. At least, not until we’re returning to the south. Alright?” Ah. At least with Zohi, I knew where I stood. He was honorable enough to admit he was hiding information from me. Unlike a certain witch. Still, I couldn’t in good conscience pry too deeply into whatever secrets Lyss kept - at least, unless... “Just tell me: could whatever this secret is cause any issues with our mission? It will be perilous enough as it is.” He hesitated for a moment. Guilty, judged some voice in the back of my head. “It would cause more trouble if revealed. I will help her deal with it. Please, focus on the Pillars and Frostfound’s own dangers instead.” “... Very well.” “Thank you. I know she will bring it up when she’s ready.” I nodded, bid him good night, and returned to my cabin. ... I couldn’t leave well enough alone. Efenne’s obvious treachery combined with my lack of ability to rely on divination magic forced my hand; I couldn’t just sit here and trust him. Her. Anyone, really. That damnable green star shone through the blizzard, casting a faint glow on the ship that I swear can penetrate through wood and steel and into the deepest, most lightless rooms.

20:18

I’m not proud of it, but I had to know. To be sure that nothing would come of it. I cast a scrying spell, maneuvered the invisible sensor through the hall, and slipped under the door to Lyss’s cabin. I had meant to merely search for anything that could prove if she would become a threat, but apparently she had returned earlier than I thought and was sitting on the bed staring at the wall and absently rubbing the back of her neck. With the scrying sensor’s darkvision and Lyss unaware of its presence, I brought it closer without risk of detection, now able to make out what it was on her neck she was so worried about. A golemantic sigil. It started just above her shoulderblades with the glyph I now knew was called the metzamat. Dominion over dreams, or the symbol of a primordial overgod. Then, it extended down, tracing through dozens of glyphs in a format I recognized as a material chain, though not one in any of Lyss’s books. The rest of the pattern was hidden beneath her sleepwear, but I had seen enough. It wasn’t tattooed in ink or drawn in paint. It was carved in old, precise scars, thin and white and raised just enough to be obviously visible from a close distance. These weren’t recent, but if they weren’t, how had I never noticed before? Why was Lyss suddenly so upset about them? And why would anyone carve... a... I let the sensor fade before turning to my desk and rifling through the notebooks of this chronicle. It hadn’t been far back, surely... There. Lyss describing her father to Zohi, relayed to me afterwards to record as part of the journey’s history. Only a few days ago. Yesterday. Zohi prying, just a little too curiously, into the materials that could be used. Paper, he had mentioned, and... Flesh. Lyss was a flesh golem. How? When? Who? And - most importantly - why?

20:18

How could she act so lifelike and intelligent? Was it exceptional magic, or direct control from someone else? When had she been created? At her “birth,” as she claimed, or later, with a fake backstory crafted afterwards? Who controlled her? Was it her father, or was that just another fake story to hide her true intentions? And why? What was her controller’s end goal? What did they hope to gain? The Pillars? The Pillars. I didn’t have all the answers, but there was only one prize to claim up here in the very north of the world. There was no other reason to risk it. But that meant... Efenne was a lost cause, obviously. Corrupted by the star; there was no way she could be trusted. Lyss was a double agent, a golem sent and controlled by an unknown master. Zohi trusted her too much; he would never believe me. Tay... I couldn’t risk them. I didn’t know them well enough, and they were friendly with the rest as well. Dave. I knew him, right? But he had always been a bit of a wild card, especially with particularly powerful magic. Could I trust him to restrain himself with the Pillars? If I had to ask, I couldn’t. And that was it. No one else would come ashore. I would be alone in a group of turncoats, traitors, and wildcards. I could trust no one, which meant I could tell no one of my discovery. I needed to wait, bide my time, and only move when I could seize the Pillars for myself. I am the only one I can trust to use them. [Who wrote of their own experiences on Frostfound, besides Wayland? You may pick multiple options. I have significant latitude in interpreting this result, and may add in minor scraps from any character’s perspective, even if they are not chosen.]

- Lyss.

️ - Zohi.

- Efenne.

- Tay.

- Dave.

️ - No one else; just Wayland. ("Winners":

️ ,

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 73 ... That was the end of the neatly bound chronicle. Everything after that night appears to be contained in this loosely-organized pile of pages of varied sizes and writing styles. Seems that Wayland wasn’t the only one to scribe his experiences on the island. Although... some of them seem to have notes, edits, or clarifications written in Wayland’s script. Most of them, in fact. Was this a collaborative effort? Could a combined, finalized tome still be planned, even after everything that happened? How did he even get his hands on all these accounts after... well, nevermind. It seems the best way to find out - at least, the fastest way - is to just read on. Well, time to get sorting. ... The winds were all wrong. On the edges of the blizzard, near the coast, I could command them just like normal storms. Difficult, yes, but far from impossible. However, after struggling through even a mile of inland travel, the very same winds refused to listen. And it didn’t take much listening to learn why. Normal winds - even storm winds - are capricious. Sometimes gentle, sometimes playful, occasionally furious. But always amenable to change. That’s the nature of air spirits and part of the reason I can direct them so effectively. Go with the flow. If you don’t mind doing anything in particular, why not do what I want?

22:27

These winds had only a single mind, constantly directed by some distant but enormously powerful will. Harm. Freeze, scour, kill. These winds weren’t capricious; they were malicious. No storm could last so long without such dedicated spirits. So dedicated that they couldn’t be persuaded away from their task for any reason. Flying or parting the storm around us was out of the question, and even my basic abilities like storing and retrieving items from the air took much more effort than normal. I buckled a pair of the most useful blades to my belt for safety, in case it got even worse further in and I couldn’t get anything else out. Even beyond the winds, travel through Frostfound was brutal. Tracks were impossible to follow with the constant snowfall, but compasses also spun randomly and the sky was a whirling mass of snow. We had to resort to exclusively magical means of finding directions, which often involved Tay or Wayland performing some unclear magic, then arguing with Amelisce about the specifics. To ensure we could get back to the ship, we left both magical residue and physical markers. Brick carried the bag of them, so there was no shortage. The terrain itself was no better than the storm or wayfinding. Actual ground was limited to just the beach, leaving the rest of the island covered in thick, sweeping sheets of ice. Jagged spires and cliffs rose or fell at random, often forming cruelly slick slides leading directly to arrangements of deadly spikes. Some pits were even completely obscured by fresh, powdery snow; perfect hidden traps. After Dave narrowly detected the first one by melting away some of the covering, we set the two larger golems to go first. Brick was sturdy enough to survive a fall, and Twig was thin enough to catch any smaller crevices that Brick’s limbs couldn’t fit into.

22:27

And then there was the cold. Thankfully, Dave and Amelisce had spent many days preparing warming stones, potions, cloaks, and the like, all with enough stored energy to keep us warm for almost a week. Still, even with all the magic, the island’s chill found a way to infiltrate. Just enough to know it was there, lurking and ready to kill if our defenses ever faltered. In all, it was a slow, treacherous, miserable experience to trudge through ice and snow on our way to the Obsidian Pillars. Such an environment brooked no distraction. So of course, I was at least halfway preoccupied with Lyss. The blizzard’s ongoing howl made conversation while walking extremely difficult. Not that I would have known what to say even if we could talk. What was there to say? I hadn’t even intended to bring it up to her until we were done here, but the kid was too clever and figured it out on her own because I hadn’t been subtle enough. Woke me up in the middle of the night to ask about it. Ran off. Didn’t want to talk about it in the morning. And now this. At least Wayland seemed to be honoring his promise. He wasn’t keeping a closer eye on Lyss, hadn’t been badgering her about it, and didn’t seem upset that I hadn’t told him. Sometimes, he seemed a little too motivated to track down every last scrap of information to record in his chronicle. But I still didn’t know what to do about Lyss, or if I could do anything at all. She had told me about flesh golems being made from corpses, but... well, it didn’t seem like she was something like that. So that left three possibilities I could think of, in ascending order of concern. First, Lyss could be exactly who she thought. A normal half-elf child, mutilated by her father in a failed ritual to... do something. Nothing had changed besides the addition of a few scars.

22:27

Second, Lyss could be a golem made from a living person. From... herself? I didn’t really know how that would work, even though I had been thinking about it for hours already. What could the glyphs force her to do? Anything? Was her personality who she really was? Third, Lyss could be a golem created from scratch by a golemancer of unparalleled skill. This could mean her entire being might be a lie, something crafted just to deceive us (or even herself!) in pursuit of some hidden goal. She might not even know, only to suddenly reach a trigger and turn into someone else. I couldn’t know which was true, if any, and I doubted Lyss could know either. Of course, I didn’t believe for a second that she was an intentional spy or fakery, but the tiniest sliver of worry still remained. That was, of course, why I didn’t want anyone else to know before we were done here. I didn’t want the worry; the fear; the distrust. Because, almost certainly, that would hurt Lyss far more than anything else she or they could do. She was already struggling enough with the physical reality of walking through so much snow and ice. Ordinarily, I would have suggested she ride Brick, but with it taking the lead to trigger any traps ahead of us, she obviously couldn’t do that. It was the least I could do to walk in front of her to help clear a path. I felt a tug on the rope that connected myself to Lyss - we were all tied together because the visibility was so poor - and stopped to look back. She hurried through the snow to catch up, exhaling big puffs of condensation into the frozen air. “---!” “I can’t hear you! The wind!” Lyss finally caught up and leaned against me, tired. “I-”

- “-can’t find-!”

- “-hear something like-!”

‍

- “-can’t keep up with-!”

- “-found something that-!” (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 74 “- found a --- one else who ---!” It was impossible to get all the words, even with her shouting right next to me. Another property of the endless winds; they seemed to purposefully snatch away conversation beyond even their normal noise. Still, I got the gist. Calling a halt to the whole group was an even larger ordeal. After a few minutes, though, there was enough slack on the rope for Lyss to lead us back to what she had spotted. It was a corpse. Partially hidden under a mound of snow, sheltered beneath and pierced by a curved ridge bristling with unnatural ice spikes. A dwarf, by the look of it, though it was beyond difficult to tell how long it had been here. The frigid, relatively sheltered environment had preserved the body astonishingly well. It could have been here for weeks or decades. With Brick standing by the entrance, it and the ridge blocked enough wind to allow for limited conversation. Wayland, of course, was the most interested as he hunched over the body. ... Midway through the first day, Zohi stopped the group to investigate a dead, frozen dwarf he had found. He had been a warrior in life, given the armor, build, and empty scabbard. But given the magical residue I could still feel, the broken warming stones inserted throughout his armor, and the intricate runework on every bit of metal, he had clearly also been a competent enchanter - or supported by someone who was. I waved Dave over, giving him one of the warming stones and a rune-lined pauldron to examine as I dug through the dwarf’s pack. Magical as well; bigger on the inside than out. Objects presented themselves for my inspection as I felt around inside. Rations for a long journey. Climbing gear. Tent, whetstone, repair kit. Nothing unusual so far... a cube?

12:35

I retrieved it, pulling out a smooth metal cube a little smaller than my head. It was made of a deep purple material that Tay quickly identified as “meturgium,” an extremely rare alloy prized for its almost complete immunity to magic of any kind. The cube was plain and uninscribed - obviously, as any runes carved into it would be rendered entirely ineffective. The only breaks in its surface were a pair of hinges and a locking mechanism with the key still inserted. Curious, I turned it and opened the box. The interior was lined with velvet and had a hollow for a smaller cube to sit inside. Clearly, this was only a case and the former contents were elsewhere. Not in the bag - I had searched through the whole thing at this point - but perhaps there was a clue still in the case itself? Tay helped me pry off the velvet lining, revealing the obsidian-lined interior surface of the case - interesting - and a scrap of paper that had slipped inside at some point. “IMPORTANT: Only remove the keystone from its case once AT the Pillars and ready to use it,” it read. That was it. Presumably this case had then held a “keystone” at some point, which had been intended for use at the Pillars. Going further, the antimagic casing combined with the warning indicated that either this keystone was incredibly sensitive to ambient magic, or that it was powerful enough for something undesirable to quickly detect it. But what had the keystone been intended to do? And where was it? The long-dead dwarf - half a century gone, according to Dave’s analysis of the magical traces left in the warming stone - had no answers for me. I took the casing anyway; perhaps it would be useful later, or if we happened to find the keystone. Unlikely, yes, but it had been similarly unlikely to find the case. Stranger things had happened. ... Under the blizzard, I feel like myself again.

12:35

Well, sort of. I’m not really sure who “myself” is at this point. Two names; two souls? But the point is that all that wind and snow - despite how annoying it is - blocks the star. I can still feel it distantly, hovering overhead and watching, but it can’t get to me through Frostfound’s... aura? We’ll go with that. I hadn’t quite noticed just how heavy that presence was until it was gone. But anyway, being “myself” isn’t all that great, really. It just means I don’t have guidance or the promise of protection. The star showed me how to use the Pillars. It kept me safe on my journey to Wyrmtooth - well, aside from the SPIDERS. And it whispered bits of the future to me. Now, all that’s left is... whoever I am. I still know how to use the Pillars. I still know what I’ll do with them. But now I’m worried I won’t win when Wayland inevitably tries to kill me before I can get there. He still thinks I’m not myself, but I bet he’d be just as willing to fight even if he knew I am. It feels like he’s changed a lot on the journey north, but I guess I haven’t known him for very long. Maybe he’s always been like that. I should have talked with Dave more. Did you know that my eyes change color sometimes? Lyss told me that, after I asked her why she kept staring. I haven’t figured out why, but apparently sometimes they’re grey like Amelisce’s and sometimes they’re hazel like Efenne’s. I don’t feel any different when they’re one color or the other, but I’m sure if Wayland noticed, he’s going to use it as more reasons to think I’m not in control. Gods, what a piece of work. Anyway, complaining about him isn’t why I’m writing this down. [Why is she writing this down?]

- ...

‍⬛ - ... ⬛ - ... (Winner:

‍⬛ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 75 I’m writing this down because I’ve had a lot of time to think about things on this stupid journey up north, and because I’m not an idiot. Sometimes I feel like one, and some people seem to think I am, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I know scams, fake promises, and how to manipulate desperate people. The star told me it would give Alhuia back if I went to the Pillars, and it told me how to use them. An offer that’s too good, made to a person who won’t dare question it since they have no other choice. Like I said, I’m not an idiot. But I don’t think the star can see me here, and writing it down helps me think. So far, it’s only helped me. Guidance, protection, and - as far as I can tell - it’s the one that gave me my powers in the first place. I still don’t technically know for sure that it’s my patron since I’ve never actually talked to them. The brothers always acted as my intermediary. But the way it feels in my mind... I don’t think there’s any other option. But if that’s true, then it’s involved with what they made me do. It approved of it, actively or not. And just because I agreed to do it doesn’t mean I’ll trust anyone else who did. I made it this far because I need to bring her back. I held onto my bond this long because that’s the only way to keep her there, even if only faintly. But... I don’t know. Is the star actually evil, like Wayland and Tay think? What is it trying to do? Why recruit me? I’m kind of rambling. I don’t really have any point to any of what I’m saying here. But just writing it down, I kind of feel like it’s out of my head now. Like I can focus on something else.

20:27

It still hasn’t actually told me what to do with the Pillars, just how to use them. Maybe I don’t have to do anything bad. Maybe I can just bring her back and leave. But... if that’s the case, why did it want me to come all the way up here at all? What’s the point? It can forge a new patron bond between us with a single contract if it wanted to. There must be something it wants me to do with the Pillars. When is it going to tell me? Bleh. Now that I’m thinking about it again, I wonder if --- really? I can’t even write his name? The second brother. He has to be coming here, right? If I can use the Pillars, I can break my own contract. This is his last chance to stop me. But... how? There’s no way he can win a fight against this whole group, even though he’s stronger than the... other brother. Gods I wish I could use their names. I wonder if he’ll have help. ... It just occurred to me thinking about that: this has been too easy. Sure, it hasn’t been easy, but all we’ve needed so far is some good warming spells, a way to not fall in holes, and a good sense of direction. Any reasonably prepared explorer could make it this far, but Frostfound has a way worse reputation. People have come back, sometimes, but never after going much further inland than the shore. I wonder what it is that makes this place so dangerous. No one really knows. Maybe an even bigger worm, like the one Dave blew up while nearly deafening me? Probably not dangerous enough. You know, I wonder if Mr Divination knows anything else that he’s keeping from the rest of us. He says his spells don’t work well up here, and I guess I believe that, but surely he wouldn’t know nothing. He intended to come here for months; he must have done some more research. ... He really doesn’t trust me. Maybe he doesn’t trust anyone? ... No... he wouldn’t. There’s no way he’d be that insane to withhold information just to get everyone else killed. Would he?

20:27

No, I don’t think so. I don’t think Wayland is evil; he’s just worried. Still, he’s likely to be my biggest problem if we ever do get to the Pillars. I need to have at least two plans to face him, if it comes to that. ... I’ll think about it. [Day 1 of travel into Frostfound comes to an end. The Pillars remain out of reach. Something prowls the night. At least one combination of options is potentially deadly.]

- ...

- ... [...]

- ...

️ - ... (Winners: a tie between

and

was chosen by a pseudo-random algorithm. ,

️ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 76 ... The blizzard grew worse overnight. Wind shrieked and dashed itself against cliffs, snow, and our collection of magically-reinforced tents, making it nearly impossible to get any solid rest. Even if we had intended to press on through the night, however, the blizzard’s howls weren’t just from the wind. I didn’t even have to explain the Everwraiths to get agreement to stop - the day’s worth of struggling through the snow did enough on its own. I still had to defend against the wraiths, however. I knew they hunted for Identity, which meant simply hiding from sight and hearing likely wouldn’t be enough. Presumably, even an antimagic field wouldn’t be able to mask the concept of consciousness, though I couldn’t test that without being able to observe the result. I did have access to several mobile constructs without a sense of real Identity - the assortment of golems tagging along - but how to use them to mask the rest of us was still an open question. There wasn’t much time to ponder, given the steadily-increasing volume of encroaching howls. It seemed obvious that most explorers who dared to stay more than a single day on the island would be killed by these inevitable creatures, giving it its fearsome reputation. And despite my inexplicable knowledge of them and my magical talents, I still wasn’t certain my plan would work. Even if it did, I only had so many ingredients, so the wraiths would still prevail in only a few more nights. Regardless, it must be done. We must continue forward, wraiths or no. So, I prepared my obsidian crucible, dropped in one of the three cylinders of encased voidstone I had stolen from the failed Pillars without anyone knowing, and commanded the magic of dreams.

20:42

This was a brand-new spell, designed partially by Tay but primarily by myself, originally intended to harness the Pillars’ power but later scaled back as we were unable to generate the required depth. It wasn’t safe, but it was safer than letting those wraiths get any closer. The voidstone melted under my guidance, spreading into a pool of utter darkness in the obsidian bowl and leaving behind the hollow cylinder that had formerly encased it. I felt the magic tug at my mind momentarily, but I banished it and sent it to other targets. The only other people nearby, of course. Wisps of gold and silver began to appear in the basin, streaking in amidst the black like smears of metallic paint. I blinked, startled, as I had only expected one color of dream to emerge. I didn’t know what the second color meant, but I didn’t have time to find out. By draining the dreams of my companions, I drained them of their Identity. A sleeping person with no dreams is, in many ways, identical to a corpse. Just one that is capable of waking up more easily. With no Identity, the wraiths would have no reason to target them. Of course, I now had a boiling pot full of dreams that the wraiths would undoubtedly come for. Not to mention my own Identity, which I had neglected to drain into the mix with the others. I dreaded to think what would happen to a person if they were awake when such a spell targeted them. I skimmed off the glowing, silver-gold slurry from the mixture with a handful of vials borrowed from Efenne, leaving the burning, smoking voidstone residue at the bottom to boil off and escape. Then, I stood up and went to confront the wraiths. Three of them approached, screaming over the dunes and barely visible in the horrid storm. And thank whatever gods might still be watching, I had prepared four vials.

20:42

For all my apprehension, it was over quickly. All three wraiths rushed straight at me, the only source of Identity nearby. I threw three open vials of concentrated dreams, one for each wraith, and kept the last as a reserve. Each wraith halted, spun ever faster, wicked the liquid out of the vials and into their mist, then flowed away at a sedate pace, satiated for the night. It worked incredibly well. Shockingly so. Unfortunately, the last vial’s contents evaporated within the hour, leaving me unable to study it to any significant degree. I cleaned up and stashed the cauldron, hardly spared a thought for the possibility of any additional wraiths visiting in the night, scribed down this entry, and finally returned to sleep. ... Wayland did something last night. The others felt horrible in the morning, afflicted with a mental fog that blurs thoughts and actions, leaving them clumsy in mind and body. I, of course, am unaffected, presumably due to my own peculiar condition. And it didn’t take much to see that Wayland was faking his own symptoms; beyond being tired, he’s as unaffected as me. I did ask him, of course, but he denied any wrongdoing. Also of course. One of those three voidstone batteries he thinks I don’t know about was missing, so I have a feeling it was involved. Perhaps he managed to actually cast a semi-stable dream spell? But if so, he really should be telling me. We agreed to work on this together, as the two with the most chance of getting the thing right. Maybe I’ll corner him again later, without the rest of the group so close. In these tents, it’s almost possible to have a real conversation, meaning he might be worried about eavesdropping. From... Efenne, maybe? They don’t get along. I have to wonder if it was like this last time, too.

20:42

Oh, and Zohi spotted a golem shortly after dawn. He struggled to pinpoint any specifics due to the aforementioned mental fog, but figured it was roughly to our west and heading northeast. It’s a big one, too, larger than Brick by a good amount. I didn’t get to see it, but Wayland seems to think it’s the one he and Dave spotted while flying up the coast. I figure that’s a good guess; how many of these things can possibly be hanging around? Lyss seems really nervous about that. I assume she’s under the impression she’ll have to deal with any enemy golems should a fight come up, and I’m afraid she’s probably right. I’m no good with those things, and from what I remember, never have been even before all this. Still, how curious that something like that is stomping around somewhere like here. I wonder if it isn’t looking for us. Wouldn’t that be interesting!

- The group finds the golem.

- The golem finds the group. ❗ - Something else finds both of them. (Winner: ❗ ) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 77 ... Tay knows more than they should. As the rest of the group drew ahead to keep watch for the other golem we were roughly following - heading down a valley flanked by walls of sheer ice, there was nowhere else to go - they dropped back to confront me a second time about the previous night. Apparently I hadn’t been as unseen as I had thought with those cylinders; I had to explain at least somewhat or they would have grown suspicious. This is a problem, as now they are aware of the Everwraiths and that I am capable of casting some dream magic. Ordinarily this would be fine, but with the Pillars so close, I’m trying to keep as much information controlled as possible - it’s just too risky to trust anyone with it. But now that Tay knows, they might do something with that information. Or worse, they might tell someone else. Everyone is a liability. I might have to... Hm. Regardless, I’m still trying to record a log of this journey, so let me try to catch up. We were traveling through a valley, buffeted by screaming winds from the north and constrained by cliff walls on either side. Every so often, in more sheltered spots along the trail, one of the group would spot an indentation in the snow - quickly filling, but indicative that the golem from the morning wasn’t far ahead.

13:33

Assuming it was the same one that Dave and I had encountered, and assuming it was the same one that Zohi had fought earlier (which isn’t a horrific stretch, given its similar appearance and size, and the rarity of golems in general), that meant we were quickly approaching an encounter with a powerful golemancer committed enough to search the entire northern coast and somehow beat us to Frostfound. I had previously judged them likely non-hostile, but at this point, anyone on the island was searching for the Pillars, and anyone searching for the Pillars was an enemy. Realistically, it didn’t much matter why or how they were here; just that they had to be stopped before they could beat me to the goal. So it was thoughts like those that were whirling through my mind like the snow around me when, quite suddenly, a loud series of cracks echoed through the pass. I looked up, but couldn’t see anything through the blizzard. Tay hurried forward towards the rest of the group and I followed, catching up in moments as a heavy rumbling grew more pronounced. Someone shouted something, but I couldn’t tell who or what through all the noise. Zohi and Efenne gestured in opposite directions, Brick leaned down to receive new instructions from its master, and the ground started to shake. “Avalanche,” I said quietly. No one could hear me, of course. The whistling cracks just prior suggested its cause was anything but natural. So... who? Not the priority right now. We were in a terrible position, trapped in a valley and without even an idea of where the avalanche would fall. Running in any direction could send us into its path, likely as not. I couldn’t fly in these winds and scrying would take too long, but perhaps if I tuned my sight just right... Seconds passed. The rumbling grew worse, almost knocking several people to the ground. I finished my spell and looked.

13:33

“----!” I shouted, rushing to him and pointing his arm up at a steep angle. Thankfully, we were well-practiced in communication even without speech and Dave cast a mighty fireball in a matter of moments. It detonated less than a hundred feet up the slope, momentarily burning through the storm to break up a massive rush of ice and rock, and causing it to rain down in pieces from above instead. I re-oriented to the other side, but that half was already too close for an explosion of similar magnitude. “--- -----!” I yelled instead, making the appropriate gesture for Dave to understand. A sheet of brilliant flames rushed across the secondary avalanche, unable to push it away without blowing up our own group, but still with enough force to lessen the impact. Someone had enough presence of mind to orient the golems appropriately after those blasts, and the avalanche finally impacted Brick first as it braced against the onrushing tide. I was ripped away from Dave by the torrent, ropes snapped by shards of partially-melted ice hidden in the mess. My single-use defenses flared up to mask the worst of the damage, including any spikes that could have pierced me, but I was thrown against the opposite cliff wall and partially buried regardless. The others would have suffered similar outcomes, but at least no one died instantly. ... Zohi seemed more worried about the avalanche than what caused it, but I knew better. By the time Dave had blown through the first wave, I had almost managed to pinpoint the oh-so-familiar presence. By the time I got half-buried in a wave of snow and ice, I had figured it out. Knowing the brother was here definitely lent an extra sense of urgency to digging myself out of the new snowbank.

13:33

I wasn’t attached to anyone anymore and didn’t know where anyone was - it was way too windy to hear and way too snowy to see. I could vaguely sense the magical residue that marked the way back to shore, but had no idea if anyone else would go there. In any case, my main concern at the moment was finding the brother and killing him before he could kill me. Or worse, take me back. Still, Lyss and the others could need help. And that other golem was still around somewhere - and something told me it might have been involved in that avalanche. I had a few potions, bombs, and other alchemical items, as well as four gloopy blue vials of that perma-cold stuff that I thought could probably release all its heat at once if I had managed the mixture just right. No magic; no charms. All that versus the man who had clearly survived Frostfound enough to get all the way here and - presumably - just orchestrated the avalanche. I didn’t like my chances. But if I didn’t find him before he found me... [This, and the next few scenes, form a branch point. At least one combination of choices is potentially deadly.] [Efenne will...]

- Try to find and help the others.

- Try to find and ambush the brother.

- Try to run and/or hide.

- Try to track down that other golem.

️ - Wait, no. Amelisce will do that, not Efenne. [Can be combined with any other option.] [

- !

- ¡ [

- !

- ¡ (Winners:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 78 Yeah, I didn’t have a choice. I set off to find him. It was impossible to see or hear in the blizzard, but I could still feel him, tugging at the part of my mind that still belonged to the contract. With the right amount of focus, I could almost automatically walk towards him. As I went, I shoved aside thoughts of the others (I had plenty of practice compartmentalizing like this; believe me!) and rummaged through what remained of my combat gear. No charms left - any I had were either destroyed at Stellidwen or had run out of charge in the time since. Instead, I had potions to bolster and heal myself - I got to work chugging a few of the longer-lasting ones now, in case I got surprised - and a wide variety of bombs. Explosives, primarily, but also some less conventional ones that could freeze or electrocute or call upon any of the traditional elements. Everything was hand-thrown, though, which would be an enormous problem in the wind. Beyond that, I had the permafrost vials. Still frigid, but now each with a little timing mechanism I could activate to prime them to explode. And, ideally, the stored heat inside would translate to a much, much bigger boom than the vials’ size would suggest. I hadn’t tested it yet, at least not beyond a few drops. And that was it. I had a knife, sure, but if it came to a proper melee, the brother would easily outmatch me. I was an alchemist and a witch, not a warrior, and I just couldn’t fight properly without my magic. Without my cat. Still, all I had to do was get in one surprise attack; one solid explosion could take him out even with all his gifts. I just had to be careful and sneaky. There. A glimpse through the snow; a cloaked figure surveying the area and facing partially away from me. He held a familiar brass spear, the tip crackling with a cursed green flame. Couldn’t be anyone else. That bastard.

17:28

I didn’t hesitate; I grabbed the first of the four permafrost vials, primed the mechanism, and threw it as hard as I could. Wind gusts buffeted the tiny object and I just had to hope as I scrambled away that it wouldn’t blow the bomb right back at me. A bone-rattling thump echoed against the valley walls seconds later and I was shoved several steps away. Looked back, hoping to see a dead brother, but I was more surprised by the fact that I could see anything at all. The winds had stopped, for the first time since we had arrived (possibly the first time ever!), leaving a section of the valley relatively clear of blowing snow. The blizzard continued to rage just outside, but here - right where I had detonated the vial - it stopped. “There you are,” he said, completely not dead and in fact seemingly entirely unharmed. “Surely you didn’t-” I chucked a second vial at him, now with much better aim since the wind wasn’t in the way. Then, as he dodged aside, several more bombs followed in rapid succession. I didn’t have the resources to outlast him, and besides, I didn’t want to listen to whatever stupid monologue he had planned. Explosions peppered the snow and sent up plumes of broken ice, but he had always been quicker than his brother. Embers scattered against his cloak as he zig-zagged through the snow in quick bursts of magical speed, impossible to pin down without guessing which angle he would choose next. I tried anyway, tossing out a wider spread that forced him back for a moment, but he knew I couldn’t have any other tricks and all he had to do was wait. “Not so fearsome without your partner, are you?” he sneered, somehow finding time for insults between dodges. “I hope it hurt.” “Shut UP!” Not the most eloquent, but I was a little stressed. “Fuck OFF, you smug, arrogant-”

17:28

This time, I had to duck away as his expression suddenly changed and he jabbed with the spear. A bolt of jagged green lightning blasted a crater in the snow just to the side as I jumped. “Stop this. We both know you can’t win. Just put your bag down, come over here, and we’ll get you a new contract. A new familiar. Easy.” “Not gonna happen.” “Good. But I had to offer.” The brother had stopped even attempting to look pleasant or neutral; he lunged forwards in a pattern reminiscent of the lightning his spear had just released. I figured he had probably been required to make that offer before doing anything else, but now he just wanted me to die. He had always been fond of his brother. I was out of everything except the last two permafrost vials and couldn’t get an angle on him anyway with all the uneven movement. I primed one of them anyway, tried to aim, and braced for a burning spear through my chest. Brick thundered onto the scene and took the spear through its chest instead. Well, not through - the dude’s made of stone - but there was definitely spear-to-chest contact. Both of us stared at the golem for a moment, startled by its sudden appearance, and then I remembered the activated bomb I was still holding. [This is a continuation of the branch point that started on scene 77.]

- I threw it at the brother, hoping he’d be distracted enough with Brick to miss it.

️ - I threw it away, not willing to risk it at such a close range. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 79 I threw it at the brother, low, trying to get it between Brick’s legs so he wouldn’t see it. It almost worked. Unfortunately, I hadn’t coordinated my plan with the golem and Brick went for an attack, lurching forward to clobber the brother with heavy stone arms. I hurled myself backwards, knowing the vial was about to explode any moment, and the brother did the same to avoid the golem’s limbs. Brick, at this point, was standing almost directly on top of the thing. Boom. That was the one with the second-most heat stored in it, below only the one I had let Dave burn for hours at a time just to see if there was a limit. I went tumbling backwards and blacked out briefly, coming to seconds later and only lightly on fire. I wasn’t badly burned, but only because I had thought to drink a fire resistance elixir only minutes earlier (both to help deal with the brother’s flaming spear and in case I managed to blow myself up). Good planning on my part. Hopefully the brother hadn’t been as foresighted. I put myself out and hurried forward, again hoping to see a dead brother through the haze of falling snow and rock kicked up by the blast. I was again disappointed, but only halfway. He was still alive, but I had actually hurt him this time. He struggled to his feet, bracing himself on the spear, as I fumbled for another bomb to finish the job. Too late; he thrust the brass tip to the side and zipped away. I knew from experience he was moving too quickly for me to catch now, retreating somewhere to patch himself up and try again later. Hell. Now I was down to my last reserves and I hadn’t even killed him. “Oh well,” I sighed aloud, watching the blizzard begin to slowly creep back in as the explosion’s power waned. He wouldn’t bother me for a while, at least. He could heal quickly, but he’d also want to make a better plan before trying again. He was meticulous like that, again unlike his brother. Much harder to deal with. Bastard.

21:27

... Where was Brick? ... Ohhh fuck. It had been made of heavy, enchanted rock and had seemed so durable I hadn’t even thought my bomb could hurt it. It took a spear to the chest and had barely been scratched! But here, all jumbled up in the crater I had just created, was most of the golem’s torso and upper body. The legs were mostly missing, having been mere inches from the vial when it went off. And the material glyphs on its back that Lyss had spent so long carving - broken. Not entirely, but enough damage had been done that it wouldn’t be a quick fix. I had to look away from its head; its expression had always been sort of empty, but now - without any movement - the blank eye-dots took on a much more melancholy cast. Lyss was not going to be happy when she dug herself out of the avalanche. Hell, I wasn’t happy now. On top of the guilt that I had just “killed” Brick, I kinda liked the dude. And it had just saved my life and probably would have been able to do it again. Bad news all around, but there wasn’t anything I could do to fix it. Even Lyss wouldn’t be able to; she couldn’t put it back together quickly enough to outlast the cold, and we couldn’t move it back to the ship. Even though the golem was definitely repairable with a few days’ effort, I knew we’d have to leave it here. God DAMN it. Dave showed up after a few more minutes, saying he followed the explosions to find me. I told him what happened and then went to punch a wall. Lyss showed up with Zohi not long afterwards, but thankfully the blizzard had mostly reasserted itself by then, making communication near-impossible again. I didn’t know what I would say to her if it hadn’t. ... “It was a noble death,” I said, patting Lyss’s shoulder as she knelt over the golem. I had never been any good at this sort of thing. “If they had to go, no warrior could hope for better.”

21:27

Dave stood nearby, far enough away that he could have been out of earshot. He was keeping an eye on us, Amelisce, and looking out for the others and any further threats. He had explained the basics - the second brother had arrived and Brick had been destroyed defending Amelisce - before leaving Lyss to it. She wiped her eyes again, wincing as frozen tears crumbled away. “I know... and I shouldn’t be sad, right? It’s not like a person died.” “You don’t believe that,” I said softly. “... No, I don’t. My golems are smart. They might not have souls, but...” She set Pebble and Skit onto the stone, followed by Orb and her etching needle. Twig stood with Dave, keeping watch. “I told it to come here, you know. I was stuck in the snow and heard the first boom. I told Brick ‘go find if anyone’s in trouble and help them.’ And it did.” “And did it well.” Lyss carved several lines into the golem’s chest, nodding to her three little helpers to carry away slabs of stone as she cut out and removed them. “I know we have to go. I know I can’t rebuild it now. But I will, later. As soon as I can.” Tay and Wayland had shown up by now, completing the group and talking with Dave. Amelisce was still over by the cliff wall, pretending she hadn’t noticed us yet and looking miserable. “Will it remember being Brick, when you do?” “... I hope so. That’s why I’m taking...” She carved out one more slab of stone, had Pebble lift it out, and then reached in with her hand. “This.” The instruction scroll, which Lyss had buried in the center of its chest. But something was different. “Did you encase it in crystal before putting it in there?” “No.” She turned the crystallized scroll over in her fingers. From certain angles, it looked almost exactly like a stylized heart. “I think that has to mean something, right?” “Definitely.”

21:27

[The winds begin to calm and a distant pulse begins to beat, here at the end of the world.]

- ...

️ - ...

- ...

- !!! (Winners:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 80 The winds were much calmer now. Towards the center of Frostfound, the blizzard slowed - though it didn’t stop. Snow still sprinkled down and wind still blew, but it was again possible to speak. The spirits here still held their sense of grim purpose, however, and remained as single-minded as those in the storm to the south. Their purpose here wasn’t to kill. Here, the winds acted as spies. They watched and listened and reported their findings back to the nebulous central intelligence that oversaw the island’s endless storm. Anything that survived long enough to get this far warranted special investigation. We continued longer than yesterday for a variety of reasons. The avalanche cost us time that needed made up. The mysterious golem was still nearby and we didn’t want to be surprised overnight. And it was much easier to walk without the storm’s main fury. Lyss seemed okay for the most part, though she didn’t say much even as the wind lessened. Not many of us did. Finally, we stopped beneath another half-sheltered cliff at Wayland’s insistence, though the rest of us were exhausted as well. Set up camp, let Dave heat up some provisions, and tried to rest. Though given the muffled conversations not-quite-audible on the breeze, it seemed not everyone was taking that opportunity. ... “Oh, yes, he’s always been a real thinker. Head in the clouds, or the water, or the tea leaves, you know? Sometimes I even caught him trying to divine the meaning behind the pattern of my flames! Imagine that!” Dave chuckled, summoning a burst of embers for effect. “As if these mean anything beyond the obvious. Why d’you ask?” I hesitated a little, but I needed to figure this out. There wasn’t long left. “And you don’t think he’s changed... at all? Not on the journey north?”

20:35

“Well, I wouldn’t say at all, no siree! He’s gotten a lot more serious. And grumpy. Much less appreciative of any sort of fun little tricks. I mean, what use is an adventure if not for fun little tricks?” “Saving the world?” “Ah, see? Now you sound like him too!” “Sorry. Er, wait, no. Look, Dave, don’t you think Wayland is getting a little paranoid?” “Hum?” “We’re going after the Pillars, right? Everyone here knows that.” “Mm hmm.” “What are we going to do when we get there? Wayland, ostensibly the Pillar expert, hasn’t even explained what he’s going to do with them. Instead, he’s been busy spying on me because I can use them.” “Hum. Has he?” “And you’ve seen him being all secretive with those cauldrons and weird little cylinders, right? What even are those? Something important, probably, but who knows? He’s not telling anyone!” Dave nodded jovially, which only riled me up further. “Listen, he clearly thinks that I (at least, and possibly more) am plotting to betray him and steal the Pillars, and he’s risking all of our lives to keep secrets because of it. Dave, I think Wayland is going to try and kill me before we get there.” “Hmmmm.” “... Well?!” “Are you?” “Am I what?” “Are you plotting to betray him and steal the Pillars?” “What kind of a question is that?!” “An honest one, I think.” “...” I exhaled. “I don’t know. I didn’t think so, but the more he acts weird and hides stuff, the more I think maybe I should. Or that I have to? I know he thinks I’m going to ruin everything if I use them, but what if I think he is? Or if he can’t use them at all - remember, he can’t do dream magic - and then no one uses them? I’m just...” I paused, confused. “Man, I really said more than I meant to. You wearing some sort of truth serum cologne or something?” “Your eyes changed color; did you know that?”

20:35

“Don’t counter my question with a question.” I blinked, stupidly trying to look at my own eyes without a mirror. “But, uh, they’re hazel now, right?” “Mm hm! And no, no truth serum. Though that would be a dastardly idea, heh.” “... So, about what I said-” “Wayland is prone to overthinking,” Dave said slowly, contemplating his words and mine. He really could be a lot more serious than I gave him credit for. “And he has trouble trusting others to handle things properly. Especially now, when he’s on a mission to decide the fate of the world, I think it’s reasonable for him to be a little stressed.” “A little-” “I’ll talk to him. But, just in case you are some devious double agent, what is your plan for the Pillars? The smart ones seem to think they can reshape the entire world. Lots of power and not many safeguards. Do you truly think you can handle it?” “...” Dave smiled pleasantly at me. I still wasn’t convinced about the truth serum thing. “I’m going to...” I stopped there, still considering. What would I do? “This isn’t an essay question,” he noted cheerfully. “Say that tent pole’s a Pillar. It’s right in front of you, right now. What do you do?” “I - I’m going to bring back my cat. And... make the green star leave. And...” I hesitated again, truly thinking through the consequences for what might have been the first time. I really hadn’t considered it all that much before. What an idiot I had been. “I’m going to make it so no one else can use the Pillars unless the world’s in danger.” Another pause. I let go of the tent pole, letting my hand fall somewhat lamely back into my lap. “Er, that’s it.” Dave looked me in the eyes for a few seconds. “Okie doke, then! I’ll go tell him.” “W-what? Wait, he’s not going to just believe you-” “Well, I won’t say it like you just did.” Dave winked, already starting to get up. “I know how to speak his language. By the way, what’s that howling? The wind come back?”

20:35

I stood as well, feeling a jolt of icy adrenaline as I peeked outside and felt hardly even a breeze. “I don’t think so...” [This is a branch point. Both choices are potentially deadly to at least one character.]

- Wayland is ready for the wraiths. Well, sort of.

- Wayland is not ready for the wraiths, and he knows that. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 81 “Ooh, you think maybe it’s the brother back again?” “He wouldn’t waste a surprise attack. You know, I sorta remember vaguely hearing howling like this last night...?” “Sure is getting close.” I darted out of the tent. Zohi had already come out as well, swords ready and scanning the area. Dave followed me to Wayland’s tent, where he stood over a bubbling cauldron with Tay, looking extremely nervous. “Wayland. What is going on?” He shouldered past me - I strongly considered stopping him - and started shouting. “Everyone out, now! We need to move immediately!” “Tay, what’s happening?” They hurried out of the tent as well, only pausing to snatch a small cylinder that Wayland had left next to the cauldron. “No time, unfortunately. The Everwraiths will be here in moments.” “Everwraiths?! What does that-” Tay was gone. I glanced at Dave, who shrugged amiably. “Fucking - alright, let’s go, I guess.” Outside, everyone had gathered alongside the remaining full-sized golem. Wayland was gesturing to the right, leading the group up a hill and away from the howling while shouting something about “Don’t engage them; you can’t fight them! They chase Identity, so try to behave like you aren’t a person!” “What the hell does ‘don’t be a person’ even mean?!” He didn’t respond. The wraiths arrived. Two almost-humanoid clouds of mist whirled into view over a snowbank, screaming and howling and stretching out long, undefined appendages towards us. Lyss screamed “THAT’S FROM MY DREAM!” and I recognized the silhouette from her description. The thing that had been bound to her, forcing her to kill her duplicates or suffer excruciating pain. Wayland called it an Everwraith, but hadn’t explained what that meant. More secrets.

21:47

Dave sent a fireball down the hill, detonating a huge explosion right between the two wraiths. Well-aimed, but it only scattered the mist. The pair reformed in seconds, hardly even slowing. I didn’t have anything left besides the one remaining vial of permafrost, and they were too close to risk that. Besides, it would only be another explosion. “Don’t fight them - just RUN!” Wayland yelled again, clearly forgetting a crucial detail of the situation. “THEY’RE FASTER THAN US, MORON!” What did he want us to do against creatures like that? What could we do? Zohi threw a dagger experimentally, but as expected, it only passed through the wraith. He backpedaled, dragging Lyss up the hill with him as she tried to tell Twig to do something. It rushed down to confront the mist-creatures, but they flowed around it and ignored its strikes. No Identity. Wayland, you absolute disgrace. Run? How?! “...! Zohi, Wayland!” I hated relying on the latter, but had no choice. Because... “There’s no wind! FLY!” The wraiths, despite being made of mist, flowed down into the valley and then back up. They never rose more than a few inches off the snowy ground. Maybe they couldn’t fly. We couldn’t outrun them anyway, so there wasn’t another option. Wayland began an incantation behind me, but Zohi looked back for only a moment. “I can’t - the spirits here - NO!” The first Everwraith arrived, passing straight through Zohi’s swords and curling up his arms. He stiffened, pivoted, and threw Lyss bodily up the hill. Stumbled, fell to his knees. The grey mist swirled; vanished into him in moments. Then he crumbled to dust. I stopped dead, shocked by the suddenness of it. Lyss, recovering from her fall, looked back in confusion. Disbelief? “What-?”

21:47

The second Everwraith swarmed over the reforming mist of its comrade and - before any of us had more than a second to think - overtook Lyss too. I took a step forward, reaching out like I could maybe do something, but it was over in an instant. She fell forward into the snow, disintegrating into a fine grey powder as she hit the ground. Gone. If the wraiths had wanted, I would have been easy pickings next. I had seen my fair share of violent deaths - and caused many as well - but the immediate, unstoppable... I just froze. Like an amateur. Like someone who didn’t know how to process what had just happened. Like someone who was spared as both wraiths simply turned around and swept back the way they came, leaving nothing behind but disturbed snow. Wayland floated down next to me, followed by Dave and Tay. “Efenne, I-” I punched him square in the face. A magical force slowed my fist, but I still knocked him out of the air. Dave told me later that he and Tay had to actively restrain both of us to prevent a deadly fight, but I hardly remember what happened. My eyes are white now, or at least the lightest grey they’ve ever been. Twig is pacing around like a lost puppy, while Pebble is clinging to me and just seems confused. The other two little clay golems are gone. Maybe disintegrated with Lyss. There are tears on this page, but I don’t feel them falling. I’m so numb. [We are now entering the finale.] ⏩ - Follow the wraiths. Maybe there’s something that can still be done.

- Go to the Pillars, now. Just finish this.

- Rest for the night before doing anything. Sleep will be... difficult, but at least rest. [The second-highest option will be done in the morning.] (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 82 ... You leaf through the rest of the pages, but don’t find anything after that. Not from Efenne, or Wayland, or anyone else. Did they just stop recording their experiences? Would it be impossible to know what finally happened at the Obsidian Pillars? Are you going to be left with a cliffhanger forev - oh, the meturgium box. It had been hidden under the table. Where did you get it from, again? Was it with the other pages? You can’t quite recall. The box opens easily, and though the inner obsidian lining is now cracked, it otherwise perfectly matches Wayland’s description. However, it’s no longer empty. A few smoky glass marbles are secured to the velvet inside, tied with weathered lengths of string. A quick touch, and you’re reliving someone else’s memory. Efenne’s again, by the look of things, and not long after the written record left off. Time to finish this. ... Snow splattered against Efenne’s goggles and mask as she flew through the storm, angling her flight to stay in line with the burning lights Dave had attached to the others so they could keep track of each other. Wayland could only enchant himself and two other people, but with her carrying Dave and Tay carrying Twig, their unfortunately reduced party could all take to the skies. Wind still pulsed and occasionally buffeted them around, but the howling blizzards of the south were well past. Everwraiths sometimes howled from below. They were flying to the Pillars now. Immediately, without stopping to rest for the night. No one had any solid idea on if further wraiths would arrive or how many would come, and at this point the Pillars were really the only hope for Zohi and Lyss as well as the world overall. The thrumming vibrations of unbelievably powerful dream magic were clearly audible to all four seekers now, so from here it was just a straight shot to the destination. And then...

20:57

Well, someone would have to use them. Who that would be was still a matter of debate. Minutes passed. A dull purple glow became visible ahead, painting the clouds with pale, sickly light. The group slowed somewhat and began to descend, a thumping pressure from above suppressing the flight spell and pushing them down to a hard landing on packed snow. This was it. The Pillars themselves weren’t yet visible, but the weird, omnipresent purple glow still illuminated the night. Broken stone structures - obsidian and otherwise - rose from the ice sheet nearby, suggesting ruined buildings or even the impression of an ancient town. Nothing habitable remained, of course, and the fragments now only served to mark the path towards the source of it all. “Pretty spooky here, isn’t it?” Dave began, moving each person’s lights to above their head instead of trailing behind. “You can just taste the magic in the air.” “...” “Okay, fine. You and you-” Wayland and Efenne- “Need to agree on who’s going to touch those spooky things before we get there. I don’t want any more fights! Right, Tay?” They nodded in agreement, somehow seeming unperturbed by the Pillars’ nearby presence. “Are either of you willing to concede?” Nope. “And adding us in doesn’t change much either,” Dave continued. “Since I think you’d both do fine and Tay here doesn’t have an opinion.” “It wouldn’t be right for me to interfere.” “You keep sayin’ that! So we’ve got a conundrum.” Tay - facing away from the Pillars - noticed first. “Turn around,” they said neutrally, drawing two engraved knives. The massive clay golem stood several giant’s paces behind the group, bathed in harsh purple light from the Pillars and carrying both the golemancer woman from before... and the second brother, his spear already flaring with green fire.

20:58

“I would have just skewered you from back here,” he spat, glaring at Efenne. “But someone wanted to talk to you first.” He tilted his head at the golemancer, her braid spilling out of a thick hood. “Go on, then. Talk.” The woman spoke without a voice, signing a series of gestures from an old northern language. Tay might have been able to decipher it with some books and time, but luckily, the golem itself began to translate with a voice like an avalanche. Its mouth didn’t move, and in fact the voice seemed to emanate from somewhere around its chest. “Altar destroyer. Anchor breaker. Your crimes against Carnelia are known and recorded. You untethered the Unifier and pierced the shield that would drive Him back. We could not repair it, despite our best effort. Surrender the Pillars to the prophesied Shepherd and receive absolution for your actions. Leave this place or be destroyed.” The brother clung to the golem with one hand, leaning further down with hatred in his eyes. Staring at Efenne. “Well, what’s it going to be, little miss not-a-witch? Are you just going to leave and let this so-called ‘Shepherd’ do whatever she wants with the Pillars? Or are you going to try and stop her?” [From here to the end of the story, every scene could be considered a branch point and every choice might be potentially deadly. I will omit the warning text. Be careful.]

- Try to bargain with the “Shepherd.” Whatever that means. [Specify in #story_discussion.] ⏪ - Agree to the terms. Leave this place. [Neither Efenne nor Wayland will agree to this without a backup plan.]

- Surprise attack. This has to be dealt with, right now. [Starts combat.]

- Decline the terms. [Starts combat.]

- Get to the Pillars. Outrun them. Nothing else matters. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 83 “You can have the Pillars,” Efenne said. “But first, I need to bring back my friends.” Wayland looked over at her, surprised, but the Shepherd responded first. “Pawns of the Unifier cannot be allowed access to the Pillars. Your evil corruption will spread. Leave peacefully, now.” Something occurred to her. “Hang on, if you’re the same golem as...” A pause, a louder voice. “Didn’t you destroy most of a town only a few months ago? Virnscross, right? You’re calling me evil when you did that?” “The prophecy must be fulfilled. A journey had to be started. All else is inconsequential. Your destruction is of a much more serious nature.” “What? You don’t even have a reason? Come on; ‘fulfilling a prophecy’ doesn’t even mean anything! At least I have a defense for my ‘more serious destruction:’ I was forced to do it. By that star you’re so worried about, and by that man standing on the other shoulder of your golem! I broke free, but now you’re working with another agent of the ‘Unifier?’ How hypocritical can you get?” There was a pause. Dave - somehow - chuckled. “Ooh, bet she didn’t know that,” he whispered. “Is this true?” The golemancer turned to address the brother. “You are but another pawn of corruption?” He rolled his eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Then he launched himself off the golem, spear extended straight for Efenne. She ducked aside, but hardly needed to; Dave had been watching and was keenly ready. A burst of concussive force detonated like a bomb in front of her, shaped such that the blast sent the brother spinning aside without harming Efenne at all. She dug the last vial out of her bag and drew back to throw it, only to be distracted by the golem lurching into motion. A heavy stomp cracked ice and knocked her to the ground, though thankfully not breaking the vial.

15:44

Flames snuffed out as the golem’s antimagic field blossomed to its full strength; Dave half-jogged backwards to get to a distance where he could actually be useful. The brother - spear’s green flames extinguished but still perfectly deadly - ignored everyone else and charged after Efenne. Wayland retreated in the opposite direction as Dave, while Tay ducked underneath the golem and ran after the brother. “I’ll get him if you turn off that field!” Dave yelled, presumably to the golemancer. She didn’t appear to be interested, instead stomping towards him with boneshaking cracks of ice. “No? Sorry, Efenne! You’ve got this!” he shouted encouragingly as he doubled back, still trying to outmaneuver the golem. The brother wasn’t in the mood for banter this time. Tay was still too far behind to be of any help, Dave couldn’t get clear of the antimagic field, and Wayland was off in the middle of nowhere. Efenne gripped the permafrost vial in one hand, acutely aware she’d only get one chance. He wouldn’t miss. She couldn’t afford to either. Which meant waiting several excruciating seconds as the ground shook and the brother grew closer until she could be sure he wouldn’t be able to dodge. Now. She threw. The brother grinned widely, his spear bursting with green fire, and zipped sideways with magical speed. The golem - busy chasing Dave - had gotten far enough away for magic to return. And Efenne, witch no longer, hadn’t been able to sense it. Still, no one had expected the sheer size of the blast. Efenne should have been killed instantly. Burned to cinders; reduced to ashes. The brother certainly was, as was the half-contract he was carrying. An inglorious, unceremonious end to such a major part of Efenne’s life. She was only slightly further away. Wayland and Dave were both sent flying, the golemancer was knocked down into a snowbank, and even the golem itself stumbled into a kneeling crouch against the explosion, stone armor cracking and exposed clay flaking away.

15:44

And yet, when she woke up minutes later, staring up at purple-lit clouds from the bottom of a several-foot deep crater and surrounded by broken ice, Tay Nahvt crouched beside her. And winked. “You got him,” they said. “And very nearly all the rest of us, too. Feeling alright?” She struggled upright, clutching her head and noting a thin trickle of blood dripping from - alarmingly - both eyes. “Fine. Wha’s - gods, my head - what’s this?” She wiped her face, showing Tay the blood. “Doesn’t hurt, I think. Wha’s bleeding?” “Nothing important. Come on, up we go.” They half-dragged, half-supported Efenne as they climbed out of the pit and made for the damaged, kneeling golem. “Wayland’s okay, but Dave’s in rough shape. Slab of ice hit him in midair and broke a few bones. Nothing that can’t be healed, but not quickly.” “Sorry,” Efenne mumbled, still battling a throbbing headache. “Wha’bout Shepherd?” “Injured and very mad. Apparently the bomb was so powerful it damaged a portion of the golem’s material chain, just like... well, you remember.” “S’dead?” “Essentially. It can be repaired, but again, not quickly. You seem to have a talent for disabling golems.” Efenne wiped another trickle of blood from her eyes. At least the headache was starting to clear; the frigid air was helping to numb it. “Hell, w’can’t talk to her now.” “Unfortunately. And I don’t mean to alarm you, but in case your hearing was damaged in the explosion, there are additional Everwraiths on their way. And some of us can’t run.” “Dammit.” Now that she was listening for them, she could distantly hear a chorus of ghastly howls. Her ears rang. More blood covered her eyes, irritating them and causing tears to flow as well. “Gods, what - you sure it’s not anything important? My eyes-” “Side effect of your transposition. It’ll stop soon. Believe me, it’s the least of your problems right now.” “... Transposition?” “Yep. Later. Look, here’s everyone else.”

15:44

The remaining survivors were gathered around the collapsed golem. Wayland paced by its knee, deep in thought and holding an obsidian cylinder. Dave lay nearby, partially bandaged but still bleeding from some lighter wounds. He turned slightly, giving a weak thumbs up. The Shepherd’s left arm hung uselessly, but she stood at the golem’s back, staring angrily at the cracked glyphs visible beneath the half-broken rock armor. Tay helped Efenne over to a mound of packed snow that answered for a seat, then stood tall to scan for wraiths. They - oddly - were completely unharmed. Aside from the blood Efenne had just gotten on them during the walk over, their clothes weren’t even disheveled. “Right,” Tay announced, clapping their hands once. “Pillars: that way. Everwraiths coming to kill us: that way. Ability to fly: nope. It’s too... purple, it seems. And you can see we’re not in the greatest health, as a whole. If we want to reach the Pillars before the wraiths get here, we may have to, well...” “Leave some behind,” Wayland finished, clutching the cylinder. “In any case, we need to move immediately. I’ve already stayed here too long.” [Characters with more votes will be more likely to come with to the Pillars, and vice versa. Choose carefully: a larger / more injured group will move slower, but a smaller group may not be able to tackle any further challenges...]

️ - Wayland.

- Tay.

- Efenne.

- Dave.

- The “Shepherd.” (Winners:

️ =

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 84 “I know I’d just slow you down,” Dave said, still with an impossible edge of mirth in his voice. “Someone get me up there and I’ll distract the wraiths a bit. Buy some time. Maybe add me to your list of friends to bring back, eh?” He winked at Efenne. “I’ll probably need it.” “...” “Well, come on, put some hustle in! Get to those damn Pillars! Wayland, c’mon. Up we go.” Dave called Wayland over to help him up to the top of the broken, kneeling golem, where he would have an excellent line of sight over any approaching wraiths. On the way up, Efenne could see him speaking quietly to the diviner, but couldn’t catch the words. Maybe... maybe he was making good on his promise to tell him about her plans for the Pillars. Selflessly sacrificing not only his Identity, but also his last words. She really should have gotten to know him better. Before it was too late. And then they ran. Wayland forged ahead, followed closely by Tay and Efenne. The Shepherd, arm still unusable and plan still unknown, tailed not far behind. Presumably just another individual trying to claim the powers for her own ends. Still, it wasn’t like Efenne could just attack her. Both for moral reasons and because she had used her last vial on the brother. She had no weapons left besides a knife. It would all be over soon. Everwraiths howled and shrieked behind the group, followed by a blossoming roar of flames and a deep, rumbling boom. Smoke rose from the golem’s corpse, obscuring it and whatever might have happened to Dave. No wraiths were visible, but their howls still pierced even from such a distance. Efenne pushed herself a little harder to catch up to Tay and puffed out a question between ragged breaths. “Trans... transposition. Is now... later?” “Not yet. After the Pillars.” “But - fine.” “Save your breath to keep up with him. If you want to get there first, at least.” “...” “Good.”

21:21

The occasional scattered ruins became more scattered and more ruined towards the interior of the great snowy plain, as if battered by some immense force from the center. Few hints remained above the snow at this point; mostly just protruding nubs of stone worn down over the years. The purple glow grew brighter and closer. Shone brilliantly against the snow and the sky, transforming the world into near-daylight with the immense luminance. Until, suddenly, shapes began to fade into view through the glare. Twin lines of tall obsidian monoliths marched from the blaze before them, twelve in total. Harsh, angular lines of shining purple light crawled up and down their surfaces, leaving afterimages and fading glows behind on the dark glass. And behind these pillars - these Pillars - was a large triangular arch of the same material, stretching towards the sky. Its interior shone with the light of a purple sun; clearly it was the source of the glow visible from so far away. Everyone slowed to a stop near the end of the rows, unable to continue towards the Pillars against the light shoving like a physical force. Wraiths howled nearby. The Archway’s glow increased, blindingly bright and almost burning in intensity. Then... Darkness. The Archway faded to a dimmer glow similar to the Pillars themselves, returning the area to a subdued luminance similar to a full moon. Clouds overhead, laden with purple light, began to shine instead, releasing the glare back to the surface below. The repulsive force lessened, allowing some forward progress towards the Pillars. A small figure appeared out of mist, swirling in from the Archway to coalesce into a familiar humanoid form about halfway down the rows of Pillars. Lyss was crying, her body trembling as portions of her limbs melted into mist and reformed. “Don’t make me do it,” she whispered over and over, eyes squeezed shut against the tears. Efenne raised a hand almost despite herself. “Lyss...?”

21:22

Her eyes opened with a gasp, completely shot through by strands of purple stardust. She let out a sigh of relief, tension melting away much like her limbs. “I’m dreaming,” she breathed. “It’s not real.” “...” “Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming...” A little step forward, foot puffing to mist for a moment before reforming. A heavy scythe of crackling dark energy formed between her hands, tiny bolts of dark lightning flickering between it and the Pillars. “You can’t have them. Good night.” [You can specify which character(s) should partake in which course of action, or detail more specifics, in #story_discussion. I have significant latitude in interpreting the results of this vote.]

- Talk to her.

- Fight her.

- Ignore her. Activate the Pillars.

- Avoid her. Activate the Archway. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 85 “It’s an illusion,” Wayland declared, eyes alight with magic. “Just mist, but it can likely wield the Pillars’ magic. Efenne, distract it while I construct a defense.” “... Okay - hey, hang on, where’s she going?” The Shepherd hurried towards the nearest Pillar, hand raised as if to touch it. “Hey, what are you guys talking about over there?” the illusion asked, walking forward at a normal pace but coming closer at the speed of a dead sprint. “You - get AWAY from those!” Wayland made a complicated gesture and cast one of the few non-divination spells Efenne had seen him use. A blast of tangled, swirling air sprang from his arm, slamming into the Shepherd and throwing her away from the Pillar. Relatively normal. What wasn’t normal was the sprinkle of bloody droplets that sprayed out on hit and the series of long, shallow cuts visible in the aftermath. A blast of air alone wouldn’t do that. The Shepherd struggled to rise from the reddened snow. Lyss - or the illusion of her - stopped at the last row of Pillars, perturbed. “Hey, it’s no fun if you fight each other. You’re supposed to be fighting me! That’s the game!” Dust. That’s how he was doing it; Efenne had done the same thing to murder Rosche. He had a pouch of something sharp and could... but she couldn’t see it. Whatever, time to act. “Lyss,” she said carefully, backing away from both her and Wayland (and “coincidentally” towards the second nearest Pillar on the left side of the arrangement). “What’s this game you’re talking about?” She stuck her tongue out at Wayland, then followed Efenne towards the other Pillar. He kept a close eye on them, but also retrieved two obsidian cylinders and snapped them onto a large shield-like disc. Little glyphs began to flicker on.

19:39

“Don’t tell me you don’t know. It’s the only game anyone plays with me. You try to get there-” She gestured broadly to the Pillars and Archway. “- while I try to stop you. It’s been a long time since it was people I know, but you’re still not real, so it’s okay.” Efenne continued backwards, eyeing Wayland and the scythe. The Pillar had to be close, right? “How do you know it’s not real?” “Oh, don’t start that again.” She nodded to the scythe and her continuously-disintegrating limbs. “I wouldn’t be doing that in real life. Plus, I wouldn’t be sitting here for years and years doing nothing except playing this game every so often. I’d get older, or at least bored. You’re not the first one to ask that, you know.” She raised the scythe. Black lightning crackled out to flash against Efenne’s hair and clothes, scorching tiny pinpricks away. “W-wait-” Come up with SOMETHING! “-How long have you been here?!” A shrug. “I stopped counting. Anyway, time to go-” Several things happened at once. Efenne’s outstretched hand touched cool, smooth stone. The cosmos burst behind her eyes, a connection forming with the Pillars and their ultimate power. A frigid-cold flame brushed against her mind, dwarfing her own thoughts and shouting its own demands for how to use it. Lyss swung the scythe, but her blow was interrupted by a blast of razor-sharp and burning-hot air, generated from the shield-like device Wayland now carried. Efenne was sent tumbling across the snow along with Lyss, her connection to the Pillars broken. She needed more time. Lyss sat up, disoriented, and turned towards Wayland. The back of her outfit had been burned away by the blast, revealing a strikingly familiar golemantic pattern carved in scars. Efenne would have gasped if she hadn’t been busy bleeding into the snow. “Ow?” Lyss asked. “How did you... You’re not supposed to be able to do that. I think? No, I’m right. What is - HEY!”

19:39

He ran for the Pillars, shield in one hand and some sort of spiked cord in the other. Lyss got up, her form fuzzing partially to mist but reforming with the same damage visible, and chased after him. Efenne struggled to stand. What about - ah. Tay, for some reason, was hanging back and not contributing much to anyone’s struggle. They happened to glance over at Efenne and met her eyes, nodding sideways towards the Pillars with a hard-to-read expression. Meanwhile, the Shepherd had gotten up again and was following after Lyss and Wayland instead of returning to her original Pillar. Efenne didn’t know what to make of that. She got up and stumbled into something approximating a jog back towards the Pillar she had just been punted away from. “You can’t have th - agh! Stop that!” Lyss had caught up to Wayland and hooked him away from the Pillars with her scythe, but the crackling blade couldn’t cut through his obsidian shield. He spun towards her again, slapping something on the shield’s back, and blasted another jet of plasmised air between them. They both went flying; he passed through the right-hand row and rolled to a stop on the snow outside, while she tumbled head-over-heels to land not far from the Shepherd. Who immediately changed course to rush over, a glinting blade visible in one hand. No one was really in any position to stop her, so Efenne just had to watch from a distance as the - oh hell. She figured it out seconds before it happened. As the expert golemancer etched three final lines into the golemantic pattern on Lyss’s back. Somehow, despite being made mostly of mist, the lines took. The completed symbol glimmered briefly, then settled into a subdued glow. Time slowed down. “The prophecy is fulfilled,” Lyss said in a dull voice, speaking for the Shepherd. “A Hero has been crafted. The Pillars take conscious form under the command of the one who controls their avatar. Now, watch the world be born anew.”

19:39

The Shepherd raised her arm. Lyss mirrored the motion, eyes still closed. All twelve Pillars burst with brilliant purple light, firing beacons into the cloudy sky potent enough to break apart the clouds and reveal the starry darkness beyond. The Unifier’s green star watched and hungered just above. Reality swirled in the Archway. Efenne reached the nearest Pillar, but she couldn’t get close enough to touch it through the blazing purple flames. Wayland, on the other side of the arrangement, had the same problem. He took aim with the shield, but a glance from the Shepherd and a mirrored motion from Lyss raised a mound of snow to intercept the blast. The world began to shake. Tay jammed a dagger into the Shepherd’s back. She fell with hardly a sound, collapsing into a mound of bloody snow. The Pillars’ lights extinguished, Lyss dropped to her knees and opened her eyes in bewilderment, and Tay nodded to both Efenne and Wayland. “Always hated prophecies,” they said, as if that somehow sufficed for an explanation. [Despite Scene 82’s disclaimer, I will note a warning here. This isn’t a branch point; it’s the branch point.]

- Efenne takes control.

️ - Wayland takes control.

- Lyss(?) takes control. (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 86 They both leapt for the Pillars, clinging onto cold obsidian monoliths on opposite sides of the central aisle. Efenne with her hands; Wayland with his spiked cord. Tay stepped back. Lyss stood up. The universe poured from the Archway, channeled and focused through the Pillars into a brilliant, unimaginable lance of cosmic power. Wayland’s cord burned away and he was thrown back, clothes smoldering from intense heat. It had been a clever idea, but the Pillars’ power was too much for the device. He managed to get up and tried to limp back, but by then it was far too late. Efenne shone with the light of a star, bound to each Pillar by a tiny thread of brilliant radiance. He fired one more blast from the shield - consuming the last battery in the process - but even its obsidian-enhanced antimagic properties had no hope of stopping her now. Everwraiths howled nearby, but could not advance against the light. Lyss began to dissolve, her form spreading out into a more natural-seeming mist. “I guess I lost,” she said with a contented little smile. “Finally. It’s no fun if I just win every time... huh?” The mist snapped back together and more poured from the Pillars. Everwraiths screeched as they were sucked in, barreling past Wayland and Tay to merge into Lyss. Efenne’s lavender star, now hovering above the Archway as it swirled in preparation to release its power onto the world, lurched. Streaks of green appeared. The Unifier’s star hung directly overhead, pouring its emerald glare onto the snow. “This isn’t...” Lyss dissolved entirely for a moment, flickering in and out like a dying torch. “I - I don’t... this was the point, right? It’s supposed to... after... I?” More Everwraiths swirled in from outside, rocketing at such speeds that the air itself broke apart in echoing booms cracking across the landscape. The continent withdrew to its northernmost point. “It - it’s supposed to be used! That’s - it’s - THIS ISN’T RIGHT!”

21:17

Equal parts pale lavender and deep emerald green streaked across Efenne’s star now. The ground shook and all twelve Pillars burst aflame with deep, cosmic fire. Twelve lances of light speared into the sky. The Archway vibrated; stabilized. A deep void shimmered across its surface. The etching began. Dreams became reality. “!!!” ... You set down the last marble and close the meturgium box. Sit down. Take a breath. You remember now. Your name is Efenne. Not Amelisce - not anymore. Not some faceless, nameless observer. You look around your little reading room for the first time, now immediately conscious of the obvious facade. It’s decorated in wood and metal, sort of copying the style of cabins on Vyron’s ship, but the detail is all shallow. The grooves aren’t right. The view out the window is just a nondescript, blurry ocean scene. You open the door and there’s nothing there. It’s been maybe ten seconds since you took control of the Pillars. Your thoughts move so much faster now - reading the entire chronicle can’t have taken more than half that time. Your memory is better now, but still somewhat fuzzy. Where are you? What happened after starting the etch? How did you forget who you are? And where’s...? Something soft nudges your calf and you kneel, tears already forming in your eyes before you can even hear the purr. Alhuia rubs against your leg, back arched and tail curled around your arm as you lean down to embrace her. “I’m so sorry,” you hear yourself say, voice muffled as you cry into her side. “I never should have trusted them. I should have-” A purring mew cuts you off and Alhuia headbutts you right in the mouth. “Ow! Little - little pest! Why you-” You break off in a chuckle as Alhuia nudges you again, more gently this time. Another chirp. It’s okay. She’s okay. You’re okay. “Th-thanks. You dork.”

21:17

Minutes pass, though time outside will have progressed hardly at all. Finally, your cat chirps and springs out of your lap, trotting to the door and nudging it open to reveal a hallway that hadn’t been there before. Another chirp. “Alright, alright. Keep your whiskers on.” You stand, wipe your eyes again, and follow. The hallway leads to a door, which leads outside. You step out of a small, simple house on top of a cliff. The ocean crashes hundreds of feet below, pounding against a sheer rock wall. A green sun is setting into the sea, painting the landscape with a weirdly fiery hue. The Obsidian Pillars stand just behind you, large as life, a small dusting of snow around them the only indication of their original location. “The Unifier,” you remember, nodding at the setting sun. “He got me, didn’t he? That’s why I’m here; I died.” Alhuia meows and flicks your leg, sauntering away from the cliff. The house has vanished. “No. Not yet, at least. You’re right; I’m in a dream. But... a real one. Sort of. I know the Pillars can ‘etch’ dreams into reality. I knew how that worked at some point... but I can’t remember now.” You follow Alhuia towards the Pillars, brushing the closest with your hand. It blooms with soft purple light at your touch, the luminance spreading to the other Pillars in a matter of moments. Memory returns. “Ah. He didn’t kill me; he needed my connection. He just sort of...” You flounder for a word, eventually deciding on “... displaced me. And it hasn’t been long enough to do any real damage yet - at least, not outside of Frostfound. I can still do something. I still have some control.” Another mew. “You’re asking me? I mean, I have to stop him, right? I guess? I don’t really know how I could-” The Pillars flare. You understand.

21:18

You hold half their power; the Unifier holds the other half. There is only enough cognitive energy remaining in the world to hold the Archway of Creation open for less than a minute more. After that, the gate will shut and the Pillars will go dormant for another millennium or more. You can push back against his changes, countering his every etch with one of your own. The Pillars will enhance your mind and allow you to match his actions perfectly. You could cancel the Unifier’s machinations entirely, leaving him to spin free of the planet’s orbit only to return again once the Pillars have recovered their strength. The world will be safe, but you and your friends will not. Those who have perished will not be restored. Reality will remain as it is. You could, instead, cancel only most of his changes. Spend the majority of your power etching away his designs, but save a fraction of dream energy to spend on your own desires. The Unifier will have a victory - he will be able to leave an indelible mark on the world - but so will you. What you spend your power on is of no matter to the Pillars. You could restore yourself, your friends, and your cat. You could reshape a small continent. You could change the course of a nation. But no more than that. Only a miniscule fraction of the Pillars’ true power will be available to you. But it’s more than none. Or, you could let him have his victory... while you claim yours. Dedicate none of your power to canceling his, and instead build your own universe housed in an iridescent bubble of dream somewhere far away, in the deep black of the universal void. Somewhere the Unifier will never be able to reach you. Bring your cat, your friends, and yourself. Create planets and galaxies of your own. Shape time and space to your whims. Become God of a new personal utopia. Just try not to remember the shattered world you left behind to build it.

21:18

Alhuia sits primly before the Archway, tail wrapped around her paws and deep orange eyes trained directly on you. The Pillars’ glow mixes with the green sun still burning in the ocean behind you, dappling your cat in a multicolored effect hard to describe. She blinks, slowly. She trusts you. Do you trust yourself?

- Spend all of your power countering the Unifier’s. Save the world, but fade away.

- Spend most of your power countering the Unifier’s. Claim a tiny victory, but at a steep cost.

- Spend none of your power countering the Unifier’s. Who’s to say an endless dream can’t be reality? (Winner:

) (edited)

@Story Notifications Scene 87 When you think about it, there’s really only one option, isn’t there? You’re no hero, but you’re sick of being a villain. You’ll save the world, but you’re damn well going to get something of your own for the effort. “I’m ready,” you whisper under your breath, as if the Pillars can hear you. Maybe they can. You etch your dreams into reality. With the help of your mutual connection to the Pillars, it’s easy to read and counter most of the Unifier’s changes. Physical and mental edits to the many living beings in the world are reversed. Strange tweaks to the background web of magic that permeates reality are undone, though even with your enhanced cognition you aren’t sure what the changes would have meant if you hadn’t put a stop to them. Etch after etch is written and erased as you feel the Pillars’ power of creation ebbing away at an accelerated rate. The Unifier seems to catch on and his changes grow faster; you hardly have time to even tell what he’s doing before you’re forced to reverse it lest something in the world notice an instant of difference. The globe trembles, sending ripples of telltale magic around the planet. Observant mages will perceive the aftermath of spent energy littering the weave. Hopefully that will be the only thing they find. And then, so soon you’re hardly prepared, the end of your power is upon you. The Archway begins to close. This is your last chance to make a change, and you take it. You break away from your pattern, releasing the Unifier to do as he wishes with the last dregs of his power - and in return, you spend your last spark of energy the same way. The Archway closes. Reality reasserts itself. Dreams fade from the forefront back into sleeping, subconscious minds. The Pillars go out, ready to slumber for centuries more. And you are catapulted back into reality. ...

13:00

You slowly drift back into consciousness to a warm lump on your legs and bright sunlight streaming into the room. Opening your eyes reveals you’re back in your cabin on Vyron’s ship, with brilliant midday sunshine glowing through the porthole... and a sleek black cat curled on your shins. Alhuia raises her head, uncurls, and stretches in that long, luxurious way that only cats can do. She pivots to look at you, trotting up your body to sit down by your collarbone. “Yeah, I did,” you tell her. “Everyone I could remember.” A little questioning chirp. “I don’t know. I wasn’t connected to him when I broke off to do my own thing; it all went so fast. But I don’t think he could have done anything too major - it would have had to be about equal in power to resurrecting a handful of people, right? What does that translate to in giant evil star terms?” Alhuia doesn’t know. You don’t either, because your patron is no longer the Unifier’s green star. You changed that, too. There are many ways to gain authority over the web of ambient energy that permeates the universe; an authority that manifests itself as the ability to control it. To produce effects known as “magic.” Witches, in general, gain their authority through a connection (familiar) to a powerful entity or deity. Some people, however, possess a built-in spark somewhere inside them that allows for study and training to bring it out (wizards, rare sorts of golemancers or enchanters, and other academic types). In some cases, nothing at all is needed to ignite the spark, often due to mixed bloodlines or inherited blessings or curses (sorcerers, special kinds of druids and thaumaturges, and the like).

13:00

In your case, you had been a witch. Now, with the added spark in your soul, you are something else. A little selfish, perhaps, but you’ve always been a little selfish. You haven’t gone overboard either, making yourself a sorcerer or some sort of demigod overflowing with power. No, you just restored your previous abilities, but with a different focus. You suppose you’re probably considered a special type of enchanter now, given that your magic relies on charms, but with Alhuia still around - now a familiar spirit unbound to any patron... Well, the two of you together just might be something new. Surprised exclamations echo nearby as the crew discover your resurrected companions. You swing yourself out of bed, Alhuia perched on your shoulders like she used to do when she was a kitten, and stride purposefully to the door. You’ll have some explaining to do, but it seems like - for once - everything could turn out alright. [This is the last choice in the story and will affect only the epilogue.]

- “Ahhh, my daughter has done well...”

- “Sorry to leave like this, but I’ve got to go back.”

- “Eh? Advice? Go away; you’re scaring off the fish.” (Winner: ... a tie between

and

chosen by author discretion.) (edited)

@Story Notifications Epilogue Days after the Pillars’ activation... Tay paused, frowning in thought, pen held poised just above the paper. “Sorry to leave like this, but I have to go back” was written on the first line, followed by a little droplet of ink just below the pen’s tip. They moved the pen off the page, still trying to remember what they were going to write. Have to go back... Back where? It had been getting hard to think lately. Ever since the Pillars, when Tay woke up back on the ship with everyone else, they were starting to... forget things. It was hard to even remember they were forgetting things; that they had once possessed a near-flawless memory. But even the anxiety this should have been causing was also... quickly... forgotten. I came from somewhere else, Tay thought, stubbornly trying to chase down the strand of memory that had so far eluded them. Not from Ailoe. I need to go back. But... where? Why? The train of thought slipped from their mind like soapy water through a sieve. Some tiny fragments or bubbles remained, but the bulk of it was gone. Enough to get distracted by the pen again, which was now leaking onto the desk. Frustrated and confused, Tay just cleaned up and put it away, resolving to return to the note again later. At dinner that same day, Wayland invited them to accompany him and Dave to Kadath to investigate the sleeping titan they had potentially seen on the way north. Tay agreed, not having anything better to do or anywhere better to be. The note, stuffed awkwardly into a pack instead of neatly organized like usual, was misplaced and eventually lost. In a few weeks’ time, even the remnants were gone. ...