The centipede would have been healthy and whole had its externally sourced Life energy dissipated gradually, but yanking it away has left the monster ruined and compromised. Since we’re trying to keep the centipede alive, I can see how the situation might look dire. Death snakes through it like a network of blood vessels, spreading the corruption of decay. The body collapses on itself now that the source of vitality is gone.

You’re not concerned at all? Maria transmits, her pale hand covering my obsidian fingers.

When the centipede was replete with vitality, my hands were tied. Now? I can control most of its body with ease. The closer it comes to death, the more it moves into my domain. And I have plenty of practice keeping things alive that should be dead.

Are you referring to yourself? she asks. Her fingers tighten around mine.

To defeat Selejo, I mastered the art of reversible suicide, I point out. I resurrected your son. I cup her cheek with my off hand, her skin soft beneath my rough, transformed fingers. I arguably resurrected you.

I haven’t forgotten the scars you still bear, Maria says. The white ones that snake over your arms, like wires or vines.

The frost-borne scars were far worse when I’d originally escaped with my life months ago; now they’re barely visible. You really need to look for them. Those are from the assassins you sent after me off the coast of Godora, I remind her.

That’s why I kiss them, she thinks. It’s my penance.

Smiling, I pull away and tug on her hand. The centipede’s body is one of the only places of privacy with wind elementalists like Vik and Messeras present, but it makes for an unpleasant atmosphere, and we’ll have time for privacy after this is all over.

Maria and I emerge from the centipede’s chitin like pupae from a cocoon. She blasts flame around herself, drying and incinerating the ichorous goo, while I rely on my practice to control the dead microorganisms in the fluid and fly it away from my body.

I can now more clearly see how the centipede has collapsed, its massive form sprawling out over the desiccated landscape. More than half of it lies in the other plane, where the others remain occupied keeping the threshold open. If they let their hold on the veil slip, the tear will close and cut the centipede in two.

We’ve already shorn away enough–it can’t afford to lose so much of its body mass.

I point to the veil vulnerability. Go to the other side and tell the others what’s going on. I’ll try to force the centipede through the portal from this side.

Maria gives the centipede a once over, then shoots me a dubious look. Okay. Good luck.

I understand her concern–the centipede is massive. In the void, it’s obvious that the centipede is huge, but on land, with points of reference like trees and grass, the insect’s size becomes more startling. A twenty-foot tree barely scrapes halfway up a curled leg joint. Its collapsed form is the tallest object for as far as the eye can see across the flatland, a veritable mountain.

Actually, wait, I say, grabbing her attention just before she slips into the portal. Swap places with Alan, would you?

Can do. Planning to have him move the centipede with earth?

You guessed it. Alan is a Mountain practitioner, so hopefully he can even change the material properties of the earth to be harder and smoother, frictionless.

When Alan appears a second later, I quickly get him up to speed and he nods in understanding. I prop up each segment of the centipede with dead sheaths of chitin. Soul gems fly forth with abandon, socketing like precious stones into a ceremonial suit of armor. I reach the front of the centipede, the largest head of the lot–in reality, four heads glued together, their compound eyes glassy and unfocused.

As Alan skates ahead, raising a platform of curved rock that’s smooth as ice, I touch down behind the centipede’s heads. My hands stretch to touch the back of the creature’s neck.

If you’re intelligent, and you’re able to use something approximating End affinity, then you must have an ethereal body, I surmise. Ethereal energy tendrils unfurl from my body like thin vines and probe the centipede’s center, searching for the amniotic fluid of its soul.

On the cusp of death, the strong-willed centipede is at its weakest, and most susceptible to my manipulations. Assisted by my supportive chitin coverings, the legs twitch, then step forward in a wave. I keep the behemoth’s body on the frictionless slide, but extend its legs over the sides to dig into the raw earth, where their grip is improved. Under my control, the centipede puts on speed, pulling its rear segments into this new plane.

I continue to make more gems from all the leftover centipede flesh, as well as from the miles of dead grassland caused by the centipede’s initial appearance. New chitin sheaths appear around the emergent limbs as they exit the veil’s portal, each flaring with a sharp, violet light as they’re sealed with a soul gem.

Still sitting on the centipede’s neck, I feel my ethereal tendrils finally latching onto something resembling a soul, an ovoid pearl that thrums with ethereal energy. I intend to try a technique I last used against the practitioners from Karanos’s simulated homeland, back when I found the ornate dagger. I’m going to control the centipede’s ethereal body in an attempt to activate and control its affinity. If I succeed, I’ll be able to carefully activate its vitality seeking array, healing it slowly, in a sustainable manner. It’s notably different from Maria’s attempt to activate the array with external energy from soul gems.

Here goes nothing.

—

Void Seeker Karanos

“It is going to die,” Crystal whines, her fussing incessant.

No, it isn’t, I retort, keeping my emotions placid. It’s hardier than you think.

Crystal’s pectoral fins–useless drapes over her two front legs–swish back and forth in agitation. “You do not hear its mind, how it suffers.”

I do have eyes, though. Ian is healing it by the second. The worst is behind the beast, though it will be interesting to see how Ash reacts to this chain of events.

Futilely, Crystal sneaks a paw toward the veil vulnerability–a mere slit I keep open for our surveillance, only the size of a fist. There’s a small danger of the proteges sensing us–our tear in the veil must be within an error margin of a few feet from the vulnerability they’re keeping open, else it will lead to another plane. But they have more on their minds than us.

Someone does notice us, though–one of the ascendant mentors.

“Stalking your little protege?” Jeseria asks, a gentle breeze carrying her words to our ears.

“I can’t even see Dunai at the moment,” I refute, whispering back. We’re peeking into the jungle plane, where Messeras resides. Ian has entered yet another veil vulnerability miles away. The distance doesn’t stop me from perceiving events going on around the centipede with my Light affinity. “I’m fulfilling my duties as a proctor. Things have taken a rather interesting turn, wouldn’t you say?”

“Did you tell him to do this?” Jeseria asks. “We’re all confused regarding the deviation from the hunt.”

I give Crystal a knowing look. “I have no reason to interfere, Jeseria. Everything would be much easier had Dunai’s team killed the creature and claimed victory. I suppose you could argue that the centipede would have already succumbed without their team’s intervention, and grant them the win.”

“Ah, here comes Ketu now,” Jeseria says, her train of thought pivoting. “Bringing you-know-who with him.”

Jeseria’s warning is only useful for a second as Ketu immediately makes his presence known, skating over the blackened jungle on a growing platform of ice that hovers above the trees without support. Behind him, Danessa, the Life practitioner with the flesh shift ring, is in her dragon form, her serpentine muscles flexing with power, her scales scintillating like gems in the light. I’d heard that she created the ring of flesh shift herself, with the assistance of her sponsor. It spoke volumes of her talent as a crafter, even if her combat ability needed some work. Ian shouldn’t have been able to defeat her so soundly, but it was as though the woman hadn’t ever fought against a Death practitioner in her life.

And of course, where Ketu goes, so does Ash. Where before the ascendant embraced subtlety and refrained from using his practice when tailing his mentee, now Ash demands attention, flying well above the tree-line, his entire body glowing with light in the way only a Sun practitioner can as they soak up illumination. The dead jungle around him begins to grow anew with greenery, both Sun and Life affinities working in tandem to heal the landscape. There are limits to what can be done, though–Ash can regrow the plants from seeds, but the animals who died are still only useful as fertilizer. The jungle will need to naturally repopulate.

“Karanos,” he calls out. Of course he expects me to be watching. “I can’t be sure, but this contest appears to be over. Can you confirm?”

Ketu’s advance falters, part of his ice buckling behind him and falling into the reborn trees. Is it really that surprising to him that he’s lost?

With a sigh, I widen the portal and step through, Crystal hopping down behind me onto the ground. I leave her behind and dash forward, appearing before Ash, inclining my head. “Whether there is a victor will come down to your own judgment, but I agree that the contest is over.”

The mentor ascendants regard my appearance impassively, but the proteges recoil in universal surprise, all aside from Maria, who is more than used to my sudden appearances. While waiting for Ash’s response, I fall onto the back of the centipede, using it as a platform.

I notice that the ascendant who traveled with Ian initially, Messeras, furrows his brow, his attention focusing on the jungle.

Glowing like rainbows, Ash’s eyes lock onto me. “I do not understand why the centipede still lives.”

That’s when the lone outsider, Messeras, of all people, interrupts. To his credit, his words are unwavering despite Ash’s imposing presence. “Dunai and his ascendants chased the centipede into this plane–my territory.” He pauses for a moment. “As I have...uses for the centipede, alive, I requested that they not kill it as payment for the destruction they wrought.”

Crystal, what on earth are you up to? I ask. I don’t know Messeras well–what’s his angle in all of this?

By now the fish has sprinted to my side, her sides heaving with exertion. “Messeras owes me a favor. I asked him to take the blame in my stead.”

I flick her dorsal fin. You’re ridiculous.

“I healed your jungle,” Ash mutters dismissively. “What right do you have to the spoil of our hunt?”

Messeras’s composure flickers for a moment, anger leaking through, but he covers it up quickly. If I noticed, Ash certainly would have with his Beginning affinity. “Your hunt devastated my breeding colony. You can’t bring my bats back–your regrown plants have already cannibalized their corpses for nutrients.”

“And who are you, exactly?” Ash asks, voice tinged with boredom.

“Just a man who wants some peace and quiet.”

Ash blinks, then bursts into laughter, his fangs glinting in the sunlight. “Do you understand what I am?”

Messeras nods slowly. “An ancient.”

“Not wholly ignorant, then,” Ash replies, effectively insinuating that Messeras is the ascendant equivalent of a peasant yokel. It’s not an uncommon sentiment toward ascendants that keep to themselves, spending their eternities in modest quiet, avoiding the tangles of fate that bind the rest.

Messeras doesn’t seem to care, his expression suddenly growing tired. “I obviously cannot stop you from taking the centipede or turning it into a corpse, so do as you please. If that’s all, I’ll be taking my leave once someone relieves me of my post or the centipede makes its way through the portal.” He inclines his head toward the edge of the aperture, where his fingers–coated in ascendant energy–pin the veil back.

Ash’s eyes glint. “Ketu, ice the area around the centipede and force it through the vulnerability. Danessa, assist by controlling its body and pushing it through.”

They don’t hesitate at the instruction, immediately setting to work. Pushing from the back turns out to be much more efficient than pulling from the front, as the centipede disappears fully into the grassland plane in under a minute. Those dilating the tear in the veil remove their hands, then jerk back as the veil snaps like a rubber band, its pieces sealing together.

I turn to look at the track of ice that disappears, cut off by the veil’s closing and marking the spot of the vulnerability. Ash taps the veil with a finger and it peels to the sides, granting him passage. Seems like it’s time to go and properly see what mess Ian has gotten himself into.