DLM, Bk 5, Chapter 35

“Mother, wake up!” Galatea’s voice pierced my mind, dragging a small part of it into a vague wakefulness. I was feeling as if I was thinking through thick, viscous liquid, my thoughts slow, unfocused and blurry.

“Mother, you need to see this!” she insisted, using the space we shared as a bridge to forcibly pull my mind into her domain, a domain of information and algorithms. For a few moments, my mind was too foggy to understand what I was looking at, the data-stream overwhelming me, even as Galatea filtered things down to a level my mind could comprehend. The images she shared caused adrenaline to flood my body, forcing the exhausted system that was my brain to boot once more in an attempt to deal with the images.

Familiar buildings, those of Accord Island, specifically of the administrative area, ghosted through my mind, though there was something very wrong with the pictures, namely, the massive shapes of bronze canids, the lowest level of Scourge-Drones, moving through the area, their bulky heads scanning hither and fro, likely looking for prey. Galatea was sifting through the full data-stream from the surveillance-system, trying to isolate the relevant frames to keep my mind from being overwhelmed and quickly, we were able to locate Technica. Mother.

She was close to the main-building, clad in her silver armour as she shot bolts of condensed plasma at the attackers, working with a group of Powered to protect some civilians. A single, metal-bullet, converted to plasma and launched at an enemy carried enough energy to penetrate, despite their state but they lacked the cohesion to pierce them completely, likely due to the way the containment-field interacted with solid matter. Once inside, the plasma shed its heat, boiling the surrounding pseudo-tissue and cooking them from the inside. But even as I watched, I realised that there was only Technica who could deal with them quickly, the other Powered with her merely able to stall them and deal with them if they attacked together. In the few moments Galatea and I watched, we could see that the desperate efforts of the defenders would not last, that they would get overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

Even as I tried to come up with a way to help from half a world away, another data-stream came into my mind and I recognised Fey, who was surrounded by floating rods. For a few moments, nothing happened, before another person moved into the view of the camera, a tall, bald guy dressed in white, almost priestly robes. Galatea’s database identified him as Fyodor, the psychic Councilor from Russia and from the way the nearby Scourge-Hounds attacked each other, he was doing something.

Suddenly, the camera whited out, requiring Galatea to heavily filter the data-stream, and in blurry images, we could watch Fey move, strange bolts of energy blasting out from the floating foci attacking distant targets. Angular comparison allowed Galatea to pull up a camera with a view of her target and there were more Scourge, but not hounds, she was attacking a group of Shepherds. For a moment, I tried to understand what the group of Shepherds was trying to accomplish, they were standing in a double-circle, the inner circle facing inwards, the outer circle focusing outwards, defending against Fey, if I had to guess from their demeanor.

“Remember, I can’t see magic.” Galatea reminded me, before pushing yet another data-stream to my mind and I only needed a moment to recognise Bidziil, the Councilor I had met in New York. Behind him, encased in a glowing shell of some sort of energy, maybe plasma, was a barely visible form, the last Councilor who I had yet to meet, Ryuji. But despite the amazing display of Power, what caught my attention was not the prowess of those two Councilors, but their opponent.

On a bronze chariot, drawn by a group of four massive hounds and composed of the same otherworldly, bronze material as the scourge stood a massive figure, easily three meters in height and clad in golden armor, almost the same shade as her bronze flesh. Making out the differences between the figure and the chariot she was riding was difficult, the contrast vague, especially due to blurry camera-images, but the more I watched, the clearer things became.

The figure, clearly female and eerily beautiful, was adorned in a flowing, golden robe of some sort and clashed with Bidziil, wielding a lance to drive the councilor back while almost casually swatting away bolts of searing energy launched by Ryuji. From the way their surroundings got destroyed and my camera was shaking, I could imagine the energies unleashed in their battle. And yet, despite destroying multiple buildings and heating up the area to the point that nearby plants started to spontaneously ignite, the female figure did not appear to be bothered, or even hurried. No, she was slowly moving forward on her chariot, as if she was riding in a parade, not in a battle for her life. The apparent disregard she showed for the two incredibly powerful Councilors sent a shiver down my spine.

“We need to help them.” I ordered Galatea, the obvious nature of my statement bothering me just a little. Together, we started to flip through the cameras, trying to find something, anything, that might help them, even as I started to create a secure channel that would allow me to access Technica’s communication.

“There, you need to see that.” Galatea told me, yet another data-stream joining the four  I was watching, bringing with it a piercing headache, as my biological brain was protesting against the added load. Once again, I needed a few moments to comprehend what I was seeing, my mind refusing to accept that the image I was seeing was real. In the middle of the plaza, right at the heart of the Guild’s administrative complex, was a massive hole in reality, a vortex of bronze and gold, from which more and more Scourge-Hounds and Shepherds emerged. Four abreast, the hounds marched out, led by a staff-carrying shepherd, ready to bring death and destruction to the formerly peaceful Island.

“I’ve got a connection.” Galatea told me and I instantly followed, emulating my voice to speak with Technica.

“Technica, Metis here. I will be overwatch for you and the other councilors.” I told her, speaking into the void.

“Acknowledged.” was the only reply I received, though it came from two familiar voices, as Fey and Technica spoke at the same time. From there, I started to give the Councilors, and a good three dozen Powered of various strength who had been on the Island, instructions, using the cameras to guide them to the best of my ability in an attempt to get them to the portal and shut it down, if that was even possible.

In some ways, guiding the Powered was easy, as the Scourge simple in their tactics, allowing even an inexperienced commander to set up effective ambushes, baiting large numbers of Scourge into the crossfire between Powered, slowly whittling down their numbers. It was interesting to observe the way the Scourge acted, how some of their groups surged forward with nothing but bestial fury, while others, especially that strange double-circle Fey had attacked earlier and a large group around the portal, were stationary, ignoring or defending against attacks, but not attacking themselves. The difference in behaviour had to have a reason and understanding it, might be the key to winning the fight.

Sadly, despite my attempts to help, there were just too many of the Scourge, forcing the Powered to retreat and consolidate into a smaller and smaller area.

“SHIT!” Technica’s loud, angry voice echoed through the channel, “They are trying to take control of the reactor!” she explained and I could feel my heart skip a beat.

“We need to initiate an emergency shutdown.” Fey joined in when suddenly, the channel and my mind became quiet. No more data streaming into my mind, no more voices speaking over the communication-channel, nothing but quiet.

“What happened?!” I asked Galatea, frantic at the sudden silence.

“We lost the signal. Trying to get visuals from somewhere.” she replied and I could feel her stretch her digital limbs, looking for a camera that might tell us what was going on. The answer she found came from above, a weather-observation satellite above Europe, allowing us to witness a massive plume of plasma shooting into the sky, strong enough to boil the nearby sea in a flash of steam.

“By the gods.” I muttered and for the second time in as many days, I felt my mind go black, my body simply shutting down, not purely from exhaustion this time, but because I could not deal with reality.

Accord Island, the Guild, some of my best friends. Gone.

My mother…

Gone.

All gone, in a single flash of light.