Grand Game 600: Specter

62 Days Left for Brokering Peace in Sector 12,560.
29 Days until Sanctuary becomes a Young Sector.

“So, Sanctuary, huh?” I asked, turning to Safyre while we waited for Ghost to join us.

She smiled. “I thought it had a nice ring to it.”

“It does.” I looked out onto the horizon. “I truly hope that is what it becomes.”

“We won’t fail here,” Safyre reassured me. “We’ve come too far for that.”

I didn’t have her confidence. For all that we’d accomplished, Safyre and I were still weak as Powers went, and Sanctuary was still in its infancy. I shuddered to think of how we’d fare if Tartar, Arinna, or even Loken deployed their armies against us.

It would not be pretty.

“They won’t find us,” Safyre said, seeming to read my mind.

“I hope not,” I muttered. I paused, deliberating going on, then rushed onward. “It’s another reason why I must venture into the Shadow’s den alone, you know.”

Safyre turned to face me, her face somber, as I reopened a topic that I knew she’d had been trying hard not to restart herself. She didn’t say anything though. Instead, her face still, she waited to hear what else I had to say.

“We can’t risk any of our people falling into the hands of Loken or his envoy,” I said quietly. “If the trickster puts them to the question, I’m not sure even Ceruvax will be able to hold out. And I don’t need to tell you what a disaster it’ll be if Loken learns of Sanctuary’s existence.”

“We can’t have that,” she agreed. “But what makes you believe Loken won’t be able to extract the knowledge from you?”

“I don’t believe that.” I laughed blackly. “I’m not so arrogant to imagine I can withstand his power, not yet anyhow. But—” I inhaled deeply— “like I’ve told you and Adriel before, I don’t think Loken is involved in whatever is going on. His envoy has to be acting alone. But even if I’m wrong, and even if Loken is at the center of things, I don’t believe he will torture me for information.”

“Why not?”

“Because he needs me for some or the other scheme he’s running against the Awakened Dead,” I said bluntly. “As yet, the trickster considers me no threat. But Erebus and his cronies? Them, I’m sure, Loken is worried about. Why, I don’t know. Nonetheless, I can’t see Loken risking his plans against the Dark right now by antagonising me.” My lips turned into a grim line. “After I’ve done what he wants, then, sure, Loken will have no compunctions about ridding the Game of me.”

“That’s a thin thread on which to hang your life on,” Safyre said softly.

Not to mention, the rest of the forerunners.

But even though she had to be thinking it, Safyre refrained from voicing those words aloud.

I heard them, nevertheless.

“Don’t I know it,” I said. “But wishing things were otherwise will not change facts. And I have only two choices before me: move ahead or abandon Saya.”

“But Saya is Pack,” Safyre said.

“But Saya is Pack,” I agreed. I could not—would not—abandon her.

Safyre laid her hand on mine. “I understand.” She sighed. “I won’t claim to like it, but I understand. Go and do what you must. And when you come back, you’ll find Sanctuary waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” I murmured gratefully.

“Phew,” Ghost said, her mental sending intruding suddenly into both our minds, “that took you two long enough. I’m glad you worked things out. Can I approach now?”

I laughed and Safyre smiled. “Of course, you may,” she said warmly.

✵ ✵ ✵

Ghost was not alone, physically, yes, mentally… no. Another rode her mind. The moment she stepped up to my side in the ‘real’, our dreamscapes merged, and almost involuntarily, I found myself pulled back in.

“You’re back,” Decal said, still sitting cross-legged in the same position I left him.

“I am,” I agreed, materializing beside him.

“And we have visitors,” he said, staring off into the distance.

“We do,” I said, turning to look in the direction he gazed.

Two wolves were approaching. Jogging across the ground, they were a study in contrast. One was pitch black—Ghost—while the other was ice white. Her simulacrum.

Decal rose to his feet just as both wolves rushed to a stop before us.

“Prime,” Ghost began without preamble, “meet Specter.”

I turned to the second wolf. She was a pyre wolf, too, of course. Her eyes gleamed red, and she was just as large as Ghost. Stepping forward, I held out my hand for her to sniff. “I’m Michael,” I said, introducing myself, “and it’s a pleasure to meet you, Specter.”

“Specter,” Decal mused, “that’s a lovely name.”

Ghost’s gaze found mine.

“That’s Decal, my simulacrum,” I explained.

Ghost bobbed her head, likely having come to the same realization already and greeted my alter ego.

“I like it here,” Specter pronounced after the exchange of pleasantries were done. Her gaze roved over the tall trees and thick layer of leaves underfoot. “It’s much better than the caves we manifested.”

“I like the sun and space,” Ghost agreed.

Specter ducked her head. “I’ll alter our dreamscape to match as soon as we get back.”

Ghost nodded. “Do that, please.”

My familiar’s simulacrum was clearly just as capable as Decal when it came to the dreamscape, but what about her other abilities? Curious, I pulled up her profile.

The target is Specter, a level 282 astral wolf.

Simulacrum Profile: Specter

Level: 282. Rank: 28. Current Health: 100%.

Species: construct. Lives Remaining: 1.

Fabricated Class: astral projection.

True Class: astral aspect of Ghost.

Damage reduction (DR): none.

Resistances (RES): 25% mental resistance.

Accessible Traits: psionic being.

Accessible Skills: telepathy.

Accessible Abilities: guard, project, astral bite, diresight.

My lips turned down. Just like Decal’s had been, Specter’s abilities were modeled after Ghost’s, which unfortunately left her with only two real abilities—astral bite and diresight.

Still, astral bite alone would make the simulacrum a fearful foe. “Well, now that we’re all—”

“M-M-ICHA-E-L-L-L…?”

I broke off as Safyre’s voice intruded, echoing across the horizon.

I turned back to the others. “We’ll pick this up later,” I promised. “It seems I’m needed back in the real world.”

✵ ✵ ✵

“Where did you go?” Safyre asked as I opened my eyes. “You and Ghost have been sitting there, staring off into nothing for the last minute.”

“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head ruefully, “I got pulled into the dreamscape to meet Ghost’s new simulacrum.”

“Ah,” Safyre exhaled. “That explains it.” Her gaze swapped to the pyre wolf, who had similarly returned to the ‘real.’ “Have you told him yet?”

Ghost shook her head. “Not yet.”

I frowned. “Told me what? What’s going on?”

Instead of answering directly, Safyre held out her hand, allowing the yellowish smog to swirl around her fingers. “The mist, you’ve noticed it, of course.”

I nodded. “Of course.”

“It hasn’t dissipated the entire time you’ve been meditating.” She held my gaze, her own filled with concern. “More than a full day has passed and there has been no change.”

My frown deepened. “None?”

“None,” she confirmed. “The toxicity at this spot is still at tier eight.”

I grimaced. “That’s going to be a problem.”

“Definitely,” she agreed.

As long the nether mist pervaded the sector, it meant none of the non-players in our faction could move around without adequate safeguards—be it in the form of protection crystals or mage shields. Even most of our players would be constrained from moving freely.

Then, too, there was the effect the mists would have on morale and the sector itself. Until the yellow smog was banished, Elise and the other druids’ efforts to restore the sector’s vegetation would be badly hampered.

“Getting rid of the mist has to be a priority,” I stated.

“You won’t hear any arguments from me on that point.” Safyre replied. “Unfortunately, our attempts to dispel the mists have failed.”

I stared at her blankly. “What? As in completely?”

She nodded grimly. “Adriel, Ceruvax, the nagians, and I have tried every spell in our arsenal. They all work—up to a point. We can keep a region clear of nether, but only for a time, and only for as long as our spells remain active. Nothing we’ve done has managed to reduce the overall toxicity of the sector.”

“Damn,” I muttered, not liking the sound of that.

Safyre sighed. “Damn indeed. The way I see it we have three choices. One: we erect permanent magic shields around all our settlements.”

I shook my head. “I don’t like it. Not only will maintaining the shields be a significant drain on our resources, but assuming the stygians ever return, we’re effectively seeding the home ground advantage to them. The mists will nourish their forces while it hampers our own people. Not good.”

“Agreed,” Safyre said. “No one else likes option one any more than you do. Moving on, then. Option two: we seek help from the brotherhood.”

I tugged at my lip. “That sounds more promising. Although… I’m not sure how much help they’ll be. The brotherhood has never recaptured a sector like this from the void. Still, it’s worth a try.” My eyes darted back to Safyre. “But what’s option three?”

Her own gaze slid in the pyre wolf’s direction again. “Option three is Ghost.”

I blinked, then realization dawned. “Her nether manipulation skill. You think Ghost will be able to disperse the mists.”

“We do,” Safyre replied. “No one in our faction has nether magic except for Ghost, and Adriel and I are both certain that in time, she will be able to destroy the mist.”

“‘In time’,” I repeated slowly. “Because first, she has to raise the skill and get the requisite abilities.”

The pyre wolf’s nether manipulation skill was currently at rank thirteen. If she was going to do what Safyre wanted, it was a safe bet that Ghost would have to advance her skill to the elite tier, at the very least.

Safyre inclined her head. “Exactly.”

I sighed, finally realizing where this conversation was going. “You want Ghost to stay.”

Safyre nodded solemnly. “We do.”

Because, of course, to train her nether manipulation, Ghost had to be in a nether-infested sector—and meant either Sanctuary or sector 30,199.

I finally turned to the pyre wolf. I’d promised Ghost never to leave her behind again, and yet here was Safyre, asking me to do just that.

My familiar’s mouth dropped open in a lupine smile. “It’s alright, Prime. Adriel, Saf, and I have already spoken. I’ll stay if you can do without me.”

I blinked stupidly. The thought had crossed my mind that all this was a ploy by Saf and the others to keep me in Sanctuary. Ghost’s words were a clear refutation of the notion, and for a moment, I felt ashamed to have misjudged my companions so, however briefly.

“Are you sure?” I asked Ghost, keenly feeling Safyre’s regard but keeping my attention focused on the pyre wolf.

“I am.” She chuckled. “And besides, I don’t think you were going to allow me to manifest much in the valley. Were you?”

“That would be too dangerous,” I agreed. “If the wrong players spotted you…”

“Well, there you go. Better I stay here, then.”

Despite the words and the manner in which they were uttered, there was a wistful undertone to Ghost’s voice. She wanted to come, I realized, but she knew too, that both she, I, and the faction would be better served if she remained in Sanctuary.

I inclined my head. “Thank you, Ghost,” respecting her decision. “You can stay.”