Interlude - The things one does for power

Difference: Minimal

Desir had an appreciation for things. A rather vague statement, yes, but it sounded right to him. Not just objects, nor ‘everything’ in general. Just… whatever was before him. That which his eyes could behold and hands grasp, Desir knew to experience viscerally - lest he forget what it is to be deprived of such without the contrast. He had been accused of low standards because of that a few times, which just made him realized how the experience of the world was so deeply subjective and relative.

For example, Alice. She didn’t think she was particularly pretty. Mostly because she had spent her entire life sheltered in the borderline cult of Steelmire where nigh everyone had a light touch of genetical engineering, making her perceive herself as just average. Thereafter, she had spent months side by side with the almost eerily beautiful heiress of a ducal house, which twisted her perception further. It had simply never registered that it was not just a coincidence that most people she encountered outside of high society just ‘happened to be ugly’.

Desir did appreciate her many facets, though. There was a distinct allure to the sheltered maiden he had first met in Abonisle. There he had not dared step over the line, given how dangerous her father was known to be. But that wasn’t an obstacle anymore. The tragic slaughter of her home - though he would never admit as much out loud - only cumulated with the previous attraction. Chipped enough to take satisfaction in fixing, yet not broken beyond repair. 

The shapeshifter glanced over her prone form one more time with a wide smile. The mid-morning sun was not quite shining directly on her naked skin through the blinders, but still created a pleasant vista. He took satisfaction in the soft and almost rhythmic snores - timed always exactly four seconds apart - or the fact any sheets she went to slumber beneath would always somehow slip fully off long before she woke. Was he growing better at observation over time, or becoming obsessed?

That was the problem with appreciation. Desir understood human emotions incredibly well. Manipulation was almost literally in his blood. The issue was, he was not human. Yes, he had learned to act and even think like one, but that was only logic. Thought processes could be taught and tempered. Inborn instincts might at best be battled. And he had a whole collection that mixed, clashed, and melded together into the equivalent of an absinthe based cocktail. With a similar tendency to deliver a kick.

About a year had passed since their leadership duo had vanished - Alice would know the time down to the minute, but he did not - and Desir was finding himself in a progressively more difficult situation. It had seemed like an incredible opportunity at the time, leveraging a relatively brief friendship into joining the two legends in the making. Better still that he did not even need to pretend to appreciate the group dynamics. There was no universal rule that disallowed genuine friendships to sprout from incentives. It all made him forget why he had rules for himself.

Desir did not know which part of his blended heritage made him imprint onto others so deeply over time, but it was clearly intentional. A way for his creators to enforce loyalty. Had it not been purged during his escape, odds were high of returning of his own volition against his own desires. Desir remembered that the last time he had spent a year in someone else’s constant company it had taken murder to get out. Of course, he was older - more in control - and what he had built in the present was significantly more pleasant than whip and forced labour, but it still made him wary. In short, medium, and long term, he could imagine countless calamitous outcomes that would smite him for the sheer hubris of staying.

But how could he not have stayed? Desir at least knew that it was the faen blood in him that desperately, violently, wanted freedom. He would never return to that dark pit in which he had been handcrafted. That was a searing certainty always swimming across his thoughts. Yet that required power. The knowledge and resources to grow, as well as a windbreaker for when his past inevitably returned again. Contradictory as it sounded, it was this desire that compelled him to accept fetters of his own making. 

“Not gaslighting an object today?” Waylan’s voice sounded right beside his ear, breaking Desir out of his pondering. 

Belatedly, he realized that his back had been massaged. A mix between prank and practice, where the sneak could literally hide the physical sensation he was causing. Which made something where most enjoyment came from the process a rather pointless endeavor. A fact Waylan was gleefully aware of, leaving Desir with just a slightly more relaxed shoulder and disappointment. Always prodding, the rascal - simply not aware of how else to show care.

Fondly, his mind was already figuring out appropriate vengeance. When he caught it doing so, that only served to return to his earlier musings. Would two objects of obsession make everything worse or better? Causality dictated Desir would eventually find out. The clawed hand of his gut grabbed him by the neck and commanded he ignore that inkling.

“I am giving the ring a few days to calm down, since it tried to zap me yesterday,” Desir did not let any of those thoughts show. He did glance towards Alice’s smooth fingers though, where said ring briefly flickered as if in warning.

Desir had been making slow but steady progress with those communions. The few incidents non-withstanding, Alice had forbidden her artifact from killing or seriously harming him, so there would be nothing worse than a jostle. Eventually it would likely even listen to him to some extent. Then he could get on with figuring out if Alice was in danger of ego death from years of accumulated trauma being suddenly returned to her.

His biggest breakthrough had ironically not come from understanding its nature, but rather because he had carved himself a different tool. Seven months prior, Alice had barely beaten him to her first Concept, Time, thanks to the obvious benefits of the Ambrosia. After over half a year of growth, she was just about ready for the second - which was already incredibly fast for anyone even remotely adjacent to mortal standards. Irwyn and Elizabeth were obviously not. And Desir was cheating.

Soul. The idea had come from the Blackburg heiress idly musing, opening a path he had not even imagined before. The Duchy of White had far more powerful Conception mages, because they could use their magic to vastly accelerate the prolonged growth periods needed in between carvings. An obvious fact in hindsight, but easy to miss when planning with limited knowledge. And a huge advantage he otherwise would have missed. Getting the insight needed for that sudden pivot had put him into debt with Bhaak, but the wisdom of that had already shown itself.

Fate had been his second, with the third quickly approaching. Maybe a few more weeks. Likely Life, since being hard to kill was always a positive and he already had almost all of the final shape figured out. The order thereafter was a bit nebulous. Time would likely be the ninth since Alice would be better at wielding it anyhow while sharing most of the utility. Void sooner rather than later since he had decent experience with actually wielding it. But then, perhaps Realm could fill a niche that their group otherwise lacked. Same for Essence - the element Desir barely understood yet would need to somehow carve into a Concept in just a short few years. So many holes to fill, yet so few days to do so.

“The auction is today,” and then there were the distractions.

“Aye,” Waylan nodded. “Still don’t know how it works.”

“Well, by spreading rumors about a ‘legendary weapon’, it will empower…”

“Didn’t say I cared,” Waylan interrupted him with his usual cheek. All in good humor, of course.

“Maybe I will share with Alice your lack of care for her prophesied…” he started playfully.

Then Desir felt death.

His heart stopped, while every adrenaline and similar gland in his body released every drop of chemical it could. His spine buckled, making him collapse from the chair onto Alice - startling her awake. It was hard to process that in the moment, of course. Ten thousand screams converged in his head, and every one to the last was shrieking to either run, or that it was already too late.

“Is something wrong?” Alice asked, still dazed from a sudden awakening.

Waylan in the meanwhile had already vanished. Likely the very same moment Desir had so much as flinched. Like a real professional, the sneak would be hidden in the shadows, just waiting for an opportunity to invert a bad situation with the element of surprise. But priorities before appreciation of that competence. First came restarting the heart, which was thankfully undamaged. Just halted by the body’s sudden overwhelming shock.

Next was calming himself enough to actually think. Fleeing was all good if the circumstances called for it, but Desir had no idea in which direction that would even be reasonable. Soul helped in that regard, allowing him to forcefully drag his mental state into something more productive rather than desperately clawing at the walls of his skull.

Then he finally realized that the feeling was familiar. The same way someone might recognize the specific pain of a broken rib. Though, the relation was a bit distant. Like… the analogy didn’t work further. But the feeling was orders of magnitude worse than he remembered, which was why he had descended into blind panic instead of making the connection. Yet he still knew it quite well. The instinctive cowardice of prey.

“I think the two of them are back,” Desir barely managed to say without his voice breaking. “Or the city is about to be destroyed. Maybe both.”

Because whatever he was feeling both was and wasn’t like Elizabeth. Akin to a mountain brook becoming a rampart and ravenous river downstream. Barely recognizable from the prolonged familiarity, yet so distant in other ways. Fate might have amplified his instinctual fear of the ducal heiress, but not to such a degree. So either Elizabeth had become much more elven in her absence or a genuine article had left the deep Void for this relatively irrelevant mortal settlement. The former was incomparably more likely. Which let the logical part of his mind calm significantly.

It took him a few more seconds to pinpoint which direction his existential dread was coming from. The north gate of the city. The three of them had stayed in that very same trade hub that bordered the Glass desert which had originally been skipped along the way into it. Presumably the closest place to conceivably meet, though actually tracking each other down in a rather sprawling metropolis had been a worry. He need not have held those fears, it seemed. When he glanced toward the gates, he realized two pairs of eyes were already watching him. Through about two dozen kilometers of buildings, picking the singular him out the hundreds of thousands.

Perhaps it shouldn’t be surprising, given that Irwyn had already seen more of him than Desir would have liked. And even the many additional measures he had taken since then seemed to have done very little. Irwyn’s eyes felt like two suns even from so far away, warming the shapeshifter’s skin and making him flinch from the stinging pain as his own made contact.

Meanwhile Elizabeth’s were still wandering and Desir dared not actually look within. Sometimes they grazed him - and thus redoubled the dread - but still moving from side to side. Whatever spell she was using to find him, it was wielded with far less deftness than Irwyn showed. Though it was still only a matter of time. Namely, three more seconds. The instant Elizabeth seemed to locate them, their wayward leaders were already in the room. 

So fast Desir had perceived no time in between them being away and standing next to him. Nor had he felt a trace of Void magic despite the fact that they must have stepped through the vast nothingness. How much more ridiculous could they have possibly gotten? Desir’s though acceleration was terribly inefficient as he knew, but it was still using a Concept at its core. A shiver would have gone up his spine if his skin wasn’t already composed exclusive of goose bumps. Desir looked at them and realized that for once he was at a loss for words.

“So… souvenirs?” and was recused by Waylan being himself.

“A lovely place,” Elizabeth commented after they settled down. And Alice got dressed while seeming greatly embarrassed, as if it was her fault someone else had barged into the bedroom uninvited. Tea was, as ever, hand brewed and being served whether one cared for a cup or not. 

Desir was reading a certain degree of smugness in the tone as the heiress looked at the very large but singular bed. It was a bit hard to focus as he needed to actively prevent his traitorous instincts from clouding his thoughts, but he was getting better with the task. It would become manageable in time… hopefully. For the moment though, it was being rather obstructive.

“Surprisingly cheap if you blackmail the landlord,” so he just nodded along jokingly.

“Funds had not been an issue?” Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully.

“Time is rather valued by merchants,” Alice said smugly, trying to brush past her prior embarrassment. “I have done some lucrative but easy work.”

“And Waylan,” Desir pointed at their relapsed career thief. There had to be some compromise to Alice’s moral objections towards indiscriminate heisting, but there were plenty of crooked merchants to prey on in a city like they found themselves in. 

“How long have we been gone?” Irwyn questioned. 

There was something different about him. About both of them. For one, Desir could tell they were at Conception, but not read exactly how many they had carved. Which should be impossible with Soul, markedly the best element at uncovering such secrets by far. Not that he let that surprise him. Nothing about those two would shock him after witnessing Irwyn carve a Concept in fucking minutes.

“347 days, 17 hours, and almost exactly quarter to the next,” Alice easily answered. “For which you could have given a warning!”

“It has obviously been beyond expectations,” Elizabeth explained. “And longer for us, beyond a doubt. Which is probably a good thing because I cannot even tell by how much.”

“Multiple times, I think,” Irwyn added.

“I feel no sign of such dilation on you,” Alice quickly said, while also still concentrating on that analysis. “Which just means that whatever happened was done far above my level and without obvious side effects. You haven’t exactly told us where you have gone.”

“And if you managed to get whatever it is we have ventured all this way for,” Desir added.

“Oh, certainly,” Elizabeth grinned with perhaps the most self-satisfied smile that the shapeshifter had ever seen. Which was quite something. Thankfully, the demonic part of Desir had nothing to do with Greed, so he felt disinclined to covet whatever could get someone with borderline unlimited wealth to act like so.

“Though that is a bit of a long story. Probably best to save it to fill the hours of flight,” Irwyn interjected again. “Now that we are together again, we should decide where to go in the near future.”

Completing each other’s sentences, definitely much more in sync than before. And the two sat much closer than they would have in the past. Yet there was none of that nervous anticipation that Elizabeth had always held in those moments of even accidental intimacy. From that line of thought, Desir immediately noticed the many small clues. Starting with body language, through biological functions his magic let him feel, down to the supernatural instinct he had for such matters, it made him almost embarrassed to have taken so long to notice. And intensely curious how in the world Elizabeth had managed it.

Then the second calamity of the hour was upon them.

Nine bells, sounded in the distance. At least it seemed like a sound for the briefest moment to Desir. Then he began to actually process the sensation and found it to be anything but. Vaguely, he experienced something akin to a pressure wave - hence mistaking it for a sound at first. The power that struck him was in the simplest terms prismatic. All the nine elements, intertwined yet separate. They were each trying to tell him something, he assumed. Getting screamed at by nine people at once was terrible for actually hearing any of them, though.

What he was going through was also significantly more concussive than screams. It was almost a relief that he could not properly parse most of the overbearing wave, as that might have left him with the Aspect of all headaches. The difference between catching a thick book with his face and being force to understand the totality of the text within during said impact. Leaning into a couch meant he didn’t even have the opportunity to collapse, and thus played everything off as though just flinching. 

It was almost ironic that this too was familiar. And, just like Elizabeth’s presence, far stronger than the last time he had experienced it. Previously it had been more of a slap than a punch, which he partially blamed on his senses greatly improving since then. At least he had the tools to weather that increased strain. Already, over half of his thoughts were occupied by sealing the small but tangible cracks across his Soul. He didn’t want to know what that would have felt like if he hadn’t long disabled most of his capacity to feel physical pain.

“Vex-Abera, the Beacon of Dread,” Elizabeth said the obvious.

“What?” Waylan, as ever, pleaded his ignorance. As the only member in their group who had felt none of that, he was naturally rather confused at everyone suddenly growing tense. 

Which Desir gladly used as a distraction to gather his thoughts. After all, the others would have at most felt two. Only tangible to those with appropriate affinity. It was supposedly quite unpleasant for the average mage with one, actively painful for those with two. The deviants next to him notwithstanding, the beacons were clearly built to be on the edge of harm. And did not account for anyone to have something as impossible as more than three noticeable affinities. Much less all nine. Another secret Desir would need to find the right moment to break if he was staying. Later.

“They are nine great spell structures that scream into the universe about the state of a Lich War. Vex-Abera is what the second out of three is called in the Duchy of Black, projecting our plight into the Void itself. Other duchies would hold different names for theirs. Stops any demon raids and might attract some to actually help.”

“The first at the start of a Lich War,” Alice recited. “Second when one grows out of control, third as a sign of collapse. I thought this one was supposed to be quiet and based on remnants from the last, though. On the easier side rather than the harder.”

“Something has clearly changed,” Elizabeth nodded with a frown. “This also means that our special release from the War is automatically rescinded. We could perhaps feign delays, but that could cause political problems in the future instead. Desertion is not looked upon kindly - especially now that our official leave is voided. Since we have what we came for, we should return to the Federation with all reasonable haste.”

Desir was unsure whether to be annoyed or take it as a compliment that no one even asked whether he would be coming with them. He didn’t say anything though, having already decided to take that calculated risk. House Blackburg had the closest contact with demons, and thus those who might catch a trace of him again. At the same time, they were the best poised to actually protect him from them for the same reasons. He had just hoped to have a few more months or even years before their inevitable return.

Rather obnoxious that a second heaven shattering event happened within the hour of the first. Though… perhaps it was no coincidence that the two events happened so close to each other. If there had been Time dilation wherever Elizabeth and Irwyn had gone… well, there likely happened to be some tampering with Fate included in the package. But exact explanations would have to wait. Suddenly, they were in some hurry.

“Then we have an auction to crash on the way,” he sighed, standing up. Only half of his audience had any idea what he was talking about, of course. “I will explain on the way. We need to be a lot less stealthy now that we are leaving anyhow.”