Balnérith’s PoV - Ijmti - Sisterhood Stronghold

Deep beneath the stronghold was a chamber that only one entity still in existence had seen. There was no flat surface anywhere in the room, though its artificial construction was clear. Twisting around every curve and cresting across sharp edges were adamantine runes quenched in primordial blood. Amid their malevolent glow, Balnérith snapped into existence and dropped her prisoner to the ground. Those of her order wouldn’t have recognised her at present, the beauty she apparently prided herself on nowhere to be seen. Instead, her powerful presence magnified her true form’s horrific appearance to a degree that would have shattered powerful minds that gazed upon her.

Here in this place contained by the magics that touched even her, she looked nothing like the Succubus form she customarily maintained. Where a head would normally be was a mass of fine hair-thin filaments that writhed about, tasting the air and twitching happily in time to her prisoner’s groans.

Her body was a further mockery of her once angelic form—beyond what even a Succubus represented. Once-silvery skin was now a blackened patchwork of scars and sores. Flesh undulated continually, churned, bubbled, and oozed—appearing like she might burst apart at any instant—it twisted in ways that would sicken the strongest of stomachs. Wings that had radiated sunlight now dripped a nameless and spiritually cancerous fluid that hissed spitefully through the air.

Her prisoner was far from mortal, but her form at least wouldn’t destroy a mortal’s mind. A blood-soaked pair of pus-coloured wings displayed the jagged ends of broken bones, jutting forth like open maws leaping from the foliage of the feathers. The prisoner’s face appeared almost human: deep brown hair, straight nose, and oval face, but for her eyes and skin tone. Storm clouds churn within the orbs of her eyes, with lightning discharging continually across the eye from the pupil, while her skin tone befitted turned custard. Battered, acid charred, armour and clothing still covered most of her curvaceous form, but gaps showed bloody and slowly healing wounds.

“You won’t get away with this. The cloister will rescue me. Is there any other drivel you’re hoping I’ll say to feed your pride?”

Pressing her down, it only took Balnérith a few precisely cast spells to finish shattering her beaten prisoner’s remaining protections and pull a crystal amulet free from torn flesh. With that in hand, she vanished again, and the walls of the chamber slowly closed in. Rough edges shrank all the way inwards until they held the prisoner in a position that made cleanly healing the wounds impossible.

Hours later Balnérith sat in her office, shifting through a multitude of reports that were provided on a vast variety of materials. From the flayed skin of enemies ripe with decaying blood to pristine nightmare crystals that hummed with tormented Souls’ crystallised screams. While some she stacked carefully to one side, others ended up destroyed or casually tossed in a pile. Not far away, the amulet she’d spent far too long gaining now sat casually atop a box of ashes, glowing with a soft inner light.

The office itself was more practical than gaudy, with a dark-grey stone desk, barely two metres long, and half that wide, set in the centre of the room. A steadily shrinking stack of reports covered one end while on the other two small boxes received a select number of reports, the vast majority were simply tossed aside.

The room itself was almost six metres to a side and lined with bookcases, and low tables made of sturdy stonework that blended into the walls. Here and there, amid gaps between them, stood backless chairs exactly matching the one Balnérith sat upon while studying reports.

Aynaet, unlike many others of the Sisterhood, didn’t hesitate in entering Balnérith’s sanctum and hastened to place a fresh set of reports on the desk’s end. The glowing amulet was impossible to miss, yet she kept any reaction in check. Holding out a hand the reports Balnérith had discarded leapt from the floor, and tucking them away, she waited knowing her continued presence would draw attention.

“Report.”

The order came without preamble, yet Balnérith’s attention didn’t flicker from the reports blurring through her hands.

“A Seer has determined the missing trainees haven’t deserted—someone summoned and destroyed them—traces showed they were all destroyed on Hrz’Styrn.”

Balnérith stopped and regarded her assistant with a look of outrage, and raised a hand before Aynaet could continue, intelligence racing behind her gaze. “Planar Attunement isn’t a commonly known Spell, and only beings with Souls can conduct a summoning. Have everyone whose Use Name the traitors might possess renamed, they could recommence this annoyance. What did the Seer say about finding them?”

“Their finding matched our own. They disappeared from within the grotto’s outer barrier—though she determined the Song had destroyed some. Most of them somehow became tied to a hidden. She wouldn’t elaborate further, but I found a reference that fit,” replied Aynaet.

“All her kind can be enigmatic. What did you believe this ‘hidden’ reference means?”

Aynaet licked her lips and nodded before offering a memory crystal that was taken from her grasp with a blur of motion.

Absorbing the crystal’s information, Balnérith crushed it between her fingers, the coldness of her tone etching the air. “J?”

“Most likely was one, given the common attributes they’ve exhibited. Somehow, she’s shared her protections with the traitors since we can no longer see them, even using their names. We’re tracking down a mercenary she left Ùeqräkas with after visiting the Treasury. Ebusuku’s report following the fight where J died in Àluga also mentioned him.”

“According to these records, the few hidden discovered have possessed unusual capabilities,” said Balnérith, motioning to the powder now dusting her desk. “She might have possessed the ability to rename them.”

Sitting back, she gave Aynaet her complete attention for the first time since she entered the office.

“Impossible,” grumbled Aynaet.

“She shrugged off all our attempts to get into her mind and even burnt away the True Name the spike inflicted. Let’s not assume it’s impossible. Usd’ghi’s power increase after Set’s destruction makes it seem we were but a pawn in one game, and perhaps more,” said Balnérith, waving towards the still glowing amulet. “The ashes resonate with True Song and not Lómë but Anar, according to the crystal my latest guest possessed. Which makes the task I gave you even more important.”

Aynaet nodded, and the merest hint of relaxation that settled about her proclaimed some good news. “I secured the rights you wanted. The city council gave us two votes, and the sections of the pillar we requested for secure operations. There was no sign of any attempt to breach either your seals or their royal barrier. Presently it remains out of phase with the surrounding Plane, and no hints of rumours in recent years.”

“Good. Where there is one Anar, there might be others. Any strange coincidences aren’t to be discounted; I want them fully explored,” insisted Balnérith and picked up a new report. “They were all supposed to have left his realm. Let’s assume that’s just another of his lies and find out if others are in play.”

“That brings me to the next news,” Aynaet said, and offered another crystal.

At her words, Balnérith stopped and tilted her head to regard her curiously before she held out a hand to accept it. “You don’t normally drip-feed reports.”

“Like the information on the hidden, I felt this was too important.”

Absorbing the crystal took but a moment, but Balnérith reviewed the memories repeatedly, shifting through every detail. “Those bone wings are distinctive, but few would have seen them previously.”

“I believe she’s baiting us or wanted to attract attention given their destination. The images were recorded over ninety cycles ago now and the trio were gone the same day.”

“Get a hold of the Alchemist. Find out...” began Balnérith, only to pause when the slightest twitch signalled Aynaet’s restrained wince. “Gone?”

“It’s as if the store never existed. We’ve not wanted to get involved with Hell’s spy, so we’ve no way to track her. We’ve got teams enquiring about anyone that might have her Use Name. And there is something more,” stated Aynaet, pulling a torment lodestone from her pouch and held it for Balnérith’s consideration before setting it on the desk.

“I take it someone has compared the energies to those others recently sold in Iron Spire?” asked Balnérith. Aynaet didn’t bother to answer the rhetorical question, and Balnérith hissed in annoyance. “This turned up in the city?”

“The Alchemist used it to purchase all the equipment and resources from one of the city’s transport yards,” advised Aynaet. “The city council learnt of the purchase only well afterwards, but it took those assigned a while to find the Enchanter who’d purchased it.”

“Any idea which world it’s from?”

“No, but it could be any they’ve decimated over the millennia; items like these are just side benefits for his plans,” replied Aynaet. “I’ll keep making enquires—see if anyone can tell. It would be like them to base themselves outside the Abyss.”

“The Grottos. I read some reports but I’ve not covered everything waiting,” said Balnérith, gesturing at the reports that had been there prior to Aynaet’s entrance. “You’re got teams warding and patrolling the new boundaries, so how are they expanding at all? What help are the traitors providing them?”

Aynaet raised a hand and Balnérith halted her questions. “I don’t think it’s their doing. The Burning Grotto near Zôhma’s mining operation was the first to have its boundaries expand, and it did so before the traitors broke free. Reports show that a short time after J had arrived in Ternòx that she was in that mining operation. The timeframe matches up as only cycles later, one of Lord Qjiadlóv’s patrols noted the expansion.”

“Any word on what she was doing in Zôhma?”

“Raiding a group that had stolen from a Treasury caravan to Judgement,” Aynaet said, pausing at Balnérith’s suddenly bared teeth, but at a quick motion, she continued. “The same BrÍn mercenary she left Ùeqräkas with was still with her, but she killed most of the raiders. Then with the Treasury’s backing, she converted their base into a brothel and moved on with another Succubus left behind as manager; but with Treasury’s hand locked around her throat to extract profits. The Burning Grotto subsequently underwent massive expansion before the Àluga operations. They again saw her in Zôhma, and she left an impression of being far stronger—able to quell an entire bar of hardened miners just by walking into the brothel’s main room.”

Balnérith sat in silent consideration for a time before she finally spoke. “Do you have the name of the manager?”

“It’s also not useful, I’ve already checked; Klipyl. All attempts to open a Gate with it failed,” reported Aynaet regretfully. “She’s disappeared from Zôhma, recently we’ve turned up tales she’d cast a Blessing in Celestial of all things.”

“Sit down,” stated Balnérith, a simple motion to a backless chair slid it into position before Aynaet could turn. “Let’s work on the assumption that J ties these together. The crucial flaw is she died during the Àluga operations, so she’d be planar locked to Hrz’Styrn. Yet something renamed the traitors, the grottos are still expanding, and this Klipyl has a new name.”

“We weren’t monitoring them continually; they might have gone to her,” suggested Aynaet. “It’s possible she might have taught them the mechanism she’s using—if she even died. However unlikely, she might have left Ebusuku with that impression since she’s near impossible to scry, and there were dozens of shattered Succubi in the BrÍn’s lair.”

“If that is our working assumption, and she’s helping the Grottos, where does that take us?” Balnérith asked, her gaze locked on Aynaet appraisingly.

Aynaet winced and took time to shift through the pieces on the board. “The traitors would want to bait us away from her, stirring up trouble elsewhere, so we go looking for them instead. J needs to be found. Too many pieces point to her being the key. If she is this hidden, she could conduct the summoning. That matches with why only our trainees have gone missing. The traitors would have been able to handle stronger members, even if not capable of taking out the most elite.”

“What if the Soul hidden inside her is an Anar?”

“That was part of my assumption, though I can only guess she doesn’t have control of True Song in her current state or Naz’rilca would have faced obliteration capturing her, but she must have some memories. She was sent to Ternòx because it should have been a death-trap for anyone with her reported levels, survived, and is practically on hand when a massive Lómë reversal of fortune occurs.“

Balnérith gave the slightest of nods, and Aynaet’s wings twitched for a moment, before Balnérith issued instructions. “I want priority given to hunting down any information on Viper, J, whatever she wants to call herself.

“Agents report a Viper among new members of Usd’ghi’s staff, but she’s recently disappeared,” stated Aynaet, nodding to the basket of reports. “Also that she has a new trophy, the embalmed heart of Set.”

“Why would an Anar be working with Usd’ghi of all individuals?” asked Balnérith. “See if they can learn more. Naz’rilca?”

“Still among the breeders. I understand the Mistress of Chambers was thorough in expressing disappointment. While she had held out during the campaign against Orcus, it’s clear now these weren’t her doing.”

“Give her spawn to another to wean and put Naz’rilca on information duty.” Balnérith said, “Her only chance to redeem herself is to force Unerring Tracking to evolve. She’s planar locked for now, but if she develops it into its next form, she should be able to see where J is operating from even now.”

“Hidden can’t be scried easily, who’s to say the Power will work on her? The risk to Na-”

“I know the risk and time involved in forcing a Power’s evolution; we should have taken that step earlier. If J’s still on the loose by the time Naz’rilca is free, then she can lead a team to capture her. In the meantime, she has two duties; stretching that Power until it evolves and assisting you with sifting information for anything related to J, the traitors, or this BrÍn. Hopefully, she has it working far sooner than that, but given the report of the injuries she inflicted, the resonance of the connection should be present for centuries. What’s the BrÍn’s name?”

Aynaet grimaced and blurted out the name. “Lêdhins.”

“Isn’t that the weird Battlelord that Usd’ghi played patron with?” Balnérith asked coldly. “You didn’t mention his name earlier.”

“None other,” acknowledged Aynaet. “He has a history with the Sisterhood and I didn’t want it to cloud things.”

Balnérith’s gaze narrowed, and Aynaet straightened on the seat. “A Named Battlelord that has worked against us in the past travelled with her? Has his name changed as well?”

“None among us ever had his full Use Name, he assisted on contracts only through the Treasury,” replied Aynaet carefully.

“Start cutting ties with the Treasury. Their operations are convenient but not essential,” stated Balnérith. “Her Ascension to Demi-God; have we confirmed that occurred after Set’s demise?”

“There are questions regarding that as she ceased actively managing the branch in Ùeqräkas years prior,” admitted Aynaet.

“Have someone let Naz’rilca know the strike against the Sisterhood was the Hag’s doing and it used her as a ritual anchor. It’s a possibility, so let’s place a wedge between them,” ordered Balnérith. Eyeing the lodestone again, she plucked it from the table, turning it over in her fingers with a sigh of pleasure. “Any option we’ve not explored discovering where they charged these?”

“The Seer asked for a higher payment than tracking the traitors’ fate. It could be from many worlds; it’s not like Orcus cares about them once he’s wiped out their civilisations,” Aynaet replied. “He knows what the result will be even without his continued endeavours.”

“Yes, everything dies in the end so he’s in no rush,” murmured Balnérith. “Though I wish he’d be more thorough in bringing worlds to an end sooner.”

“He’s too easily distracted,” observed Aynaet. “The attraction of fresh sapient life to drag into undeath is more appealing than wiping out the animals and bringing a sun to its end.”

“Contact Ebusuku, have her gather a hunting pack of irregulars,” ordered Balnérith, her nails raking the desk’s surface. “There were reports on the-”

“I’ve already tried getting in touch with her,” interrupted Aynaet carefully. “She’s not responding to any of my messages and her kin haven’t heard-”

Her explanation halted at a sharp gesture from Balnérith, and she hissed out instructions. “Then leave the fortress and open a Gate focused on her. Remind her that there are prices extracted from those and their kin that continue such behaviour.”

With a nod that eased the heat in Balnérith’s gaze, Aynaet spoke carefully. “I’ll ensure she takes care of organising them. Did you need anything replaced? You’ve been down on the deeper Abyssal planes a lot lately.”

“Not yet. I found a stronghold with an intact armoury close to the wound. It’s partly blended with reality’s conceptual boundary, and its protections provide a handy base for the teams,” said Balnérith, and held up a finger. “That reminds me, anyone close to being useful in operations there needs to have perfected their self-image. After a few cycles of excavating one sister can barely Shapeshift close to Succubus form now—she looks made of melted wax, uglier than a Lemure. Otherwise, excavations are progressing but going slow; the realm’s scar tissue is resistant to damage.”

“We might need one of the servant’s weapons to get through it,” said Aynaet, motioning to the latest reports.

Balnérith set the lodestone down and rose to pluck the crystal pendant from the shelf. “I’ve already spent centuries looking for signs of them. The ocean around Leviathan’s gravesite doesn’t allow for easy exploration, and touches on territories even I need to tread lightly near.“

Waving Aynaet to silence, Balnérith paced behind her desk before she continued. “It’s important the Lómë stay trapped as even a few of their singers could rapidly undo our progress. Focus on finding J, the traitors, and keeping our control over the tower’s surrounds. Pull back operations on other planes if you need to but let nothing take priority over those three.”

With a respectful bow, Aynaet left, and closed the door carefully, leaving Balnérith to the reports. Blazing through them faster than most could conceive, she left additional instructions on crystals and dispatched messages of her own. Only when the desk was cleared did she rise to collect the crystal pendant again.

Clenching it tightly in her fist, she shifted between planes, displacing the foul water that occupied her arrival point. Thousands of kilometres beneath the ocean’s surface, she endured pressures comparable to a gas giant's atmosphere without damage. Moving to the limits of the region she’d searched previously, she noted landmarks on the oceanic shelf’s edge before plunging into the depths. When the first armoured Megalodon Shark approached, a Spell twisted its kilometre long-form inside out and left naught but thrashing bait to distract others from her descent.

Hundreds of kilometres further down in the pitch darkness that muffled even her visual senses she released the false form. With filaments feeling the currents and energy of the surrounding materials she drifted carefully along the ocean floor, the pendant pulsing softly in her grasp. Each protrusion, regardless of its shape or the pendant’s reaction, she probed for the source of its origin. Shattered bones older than faded stars fossilised by the pressure, simple rocks, and precious metals alike were all left behind as her search went on.

* * *

In the timelessness of the depths, cycles slipped away before a message buzzed for her attention. The filaments floating freely in the currents easily read the energy vibrations. The report from Aynaet was short but had an implication of greater trouble yet.

“Lady Balnérith, I’ve word on Ebusuku, I’ve ordered Naamah to your study.”

Transforming back, Planar Shift took her through the fortress’ wards to her inner chambers and Balnérith cleaned up before making for her study. Aynaet stood before the desk the way she always did, a strange display of un-Demonic discipline. Naamah was almost the spitting image of her granddaughter, with ebony skin and clawless wings, only lacking the row of horns forming a ridge down the middle seam of tightly curled hair. She lounged on a chair she’d pulled forward, now tilted at an angle that had it steeply lodged against the wall, with her bare feet propped up on a nearby bookcase. The only thing she wore were the bands of the Leviathan’s blood around her neck and wrists, barely darker than her skin.

“Report.”

“I tried to open a Gate to Ebusuku, and nothing occurred. When I questioned her relatives, I eventually reached her mother, who informed me she’d confronted Ebusuku in The Exchange in an unusual state. A Goddess transformed her into a Solar by sending her through the Titan’s Trial, and she accepted the transformation after swearing on Naamah’s name.”

“You will tell me everything you know,” snapped Balnérith, her gaze fixed on Naamah.

“I remember the choice was hers, and you can beg at Asmodeus’ feet before I’ll allow you or anyone else to use me against her.”

“You will comply and tell me everything you know at once,” Balnérith snarled, rage threatening her hold on her form.

“No! You bound me to ensure I and all of my bloodline serve you, but she’s no longer of my blood. She’s a Solar, isn’t that wonderful! The oath you forced on me means nothing against this threat. I rejoice over my bloodline producing a dagger to pierce your worthless hide. Oh, my father said to say hi. He’s hoping the Titan allows him to come to play in the Abyss again. I think he said something about crushing every stronghold you control—following whatever order he’s given, all by the rules, of course,” Naamah responded with a smirk.

“You’re lying,” growled Aynaet. “The Necropolis collapsed.”

“He hadn’t been in it for years at that point. You’re both so ignorant. I almost wish I could remember why, but all I left myself with was the knowledge of you both being blind. Let me twist the knife further; I knew what awoke him, but I cut knowledge of that out as well. I know it made me laugh in delight, you parasitic bitch. You should have stayed rotting in your dying reality if you hate this one so much,” sneered Naamah. “You’ll never understand how much I’m enjoying the look on your fake face. Kill me if you dare. Father also told me there are limits to how often death can touch my flesh before you break the Leviathan’s blood from it. Do you know how many times it will endure, bitch?”

“If that was true, why would you tell me?” challenged Balnérith, her gaze not having left Naamah during her icy rant.

Naamah dropped her feet from the shelf and moved forward so fast she flowed to her feet, leaving the chair a shattered remnant in her wake. “Because I want to be here when she comes to crush you. I want to see her smash you so hard your feelers all pop off your body. I’m going to enjoy watching you mewl in pain, and when you’re smeared across the floor, I’ll roll in your ichor. If you kill me, which of my home planes will I appear on next? Decisions, decisions, my oh my!”

“As if your granddaughter would risk the Abyss for you, or ever possess the strength to challenge me,” Balnérith scoffed, waving for Aynaet to remove her. “Get her out of here and have someone torture Ebusuku’s mother into dissolution for not informing us sooner.”

“Wonderful, thank you!” crowed Naamah. “Even if I wanted to kill that cunt myself.”