He felt like a liar. Sick to his stomach at it. There was no sun above, not anymore. For the first time in his entire experience with the astral space – a long night had settled into the sky. A red moon again. Not one, but two of them, hanging baleful overhead. Red moon, with Benny staring up at both with a wistful expression on his face. His fate, or so he thought, but Tyr would not allow it.

Not today, not tomorrow. Not ever. Benny was one of the best people he'd ever met in his life, a good and worthy man. Someone he didn't deserve, but Tyr knew he wouldn't die. There was absolutely no way.

“Pikes!” Tyr cried, serving as a captain of one of the units while others did the same all the way down the line. Then men behind him were as nervous as he was, but they were well drilled. They had been given ample warning and portents. It had been six months since the gate had closed and they were all aware. Living on with the lie come from his own lips that eventually it would open again. It would, but nobody knew how long that might take. The faceless men were faceless no longer, very faced – in fact. With screaming mouths and mad ramblings in a language only Tyr could understand. Throwing themselves violently on the pikes, dragging themselves along the shafts before eventually dying inches from the face of the men. Always screaming. Again and again they came, endless waves of them. Charging up the single route to the the citadel and dying in their thousands.

Always returning.

“They're coming!”

“Kill me! Kill me, please!”

“They're coming! HAHAHAHA! THEY'RE WATCHING ME!”

“Please help us!”

A man dragged himself along the length of a pike again, his guts spilling out onto the dense grass, staring at Tyr with crazed eyes. “Tyr! Tyr! Tyr! They are coming. Please... Please! Before they get me! Kill me! Kill me!”

Xavier beside him felt sick to his stomach. The pikes were arrayed in three blocks, in a squared 'saw-tooth' formation that forced the enemy into kill boxes. Thus far, there had been no injuries, marking Tiber's strategy a sound one. “Neil...” Xavier said, puking his guts out while watching the man slowly die. “That... That was Neil!”

“Looks like him.” But Tyr shook his head, patting Xavier on the back in reassurance. “Not him, just an echo.”

This, too, was a lie. Tyr did a lot of that lately. Lying to these people. That was most assuredly Neil, forced to live through an incalculable amount of agonizing deaths. To the point where he now wished for a true end. Tyr didn't understand the mechanics of it, but it stood to reason that anyone who died here remained here. Wherever 'here' was, considering their came from the fog that marked the innermost edge of the perpetual storm. If you died here, you remained here. Forever, maybe. They didn't blame him, didn't hate him for his obvious lie. All of them were looking at him, wanting to hear a plan. Looking at him with... Faith. Why him?

“The enemy are infinite. They will never stop coming. We've failed to identify the singularity point and have no idea how to end it. We've...” There was no plan. They could turn back this current tide as long as they'd like. These men, with their faces returned, were smarter – faster – and more able. But they were just men. Not one of them could use mana to create the phenomena called magic. The problem was, Tyr felt like he was stuck in a web so vast in its size that he could never hope to get out. This was all just some sort of sick game, by the looks of it. He mumbled to himself, crouched down and scratching magical formula in the dirt. From time to time, Abe would correct them, offering pointers when he understood what was being written. “I've got it!” Tyr laughed.

“You've got what?” Abe squinted at the figures on the ground. It was a formula similar to the human interpretation of bending space. Gate magic, shortened, but different. This wasn't a formula to bend space, it was a formula to punch a hole clean through it. “This is right... Technically. But there's no feedback quotient. What's the allowance threshold?”

“There isn't one.” Tyr replied, straight faced and calm.

“Wait...” Abe felt ready to cough blood. For a minor spell, you didn't need to adjust for any feedback or 'looping', the backwash was insignificant. But even the simplest dimensional magic was advanced magic, there was no 'simple' use of the space element. Only gravity magic could be called that, and it was by no means easy. Tyr was looking at him calmly, clearly aware of the fact that he'd be killing himself in the process. Not so literally as a sacrifice, but rather willfully allowing his mana core to collapse to provide the power necessary to breach the rift. “Where did you even learn this...?” Abe wondered aloud. This was far beyond any human magic, this was like something out of the myths. No, there were no myths like this. This was like magic of the gods. Essentially Tyr would be creating a stable aperture between dimensions, something only one mage was ever known to be capable of, and only for himself – very briefly.

“She told me.” Tyr shrugged. “It should be adequate to allow for a thousand or so to transit before it closes. This is the best that I can do, I know. I'm not strong enough to keep it open longer.”

She?

“That's not the issue!” Abe slapped him across the face. The others stared on, confused, not one of them knew what was going on. Some could use magic, but the minutia of a complex spell like that was beyond them. All of it looked like hieroglyphics, leaving the few magic capable members among them confused as to how Tyr had come so far as this. With respect to him as a fairly adequate mage, it was like watching a monkey suddenly convert the concept of tidal gravity to mathematical formula. “Do you really think I would let you do this?”

“Abe...” Tyr had never seen Abe angry, and never been struck by the old telurian either. “This is the only way.”

“What's the only way?” Jura butted in, staring at them angrily. She'd taken great steps to understand magic, and hated feeling inadequate. In the last three years, she'd learned to read, write, and never stopped studying. Even after all that hard work, it irritated her that she had no inkling as to what purpose this spell had.

“Nothing.” Abe snapped, still angry. A bit too harsh. “Go stand in the back and wait for us to call on you. I've no time for your juvenile questions.”

“Abe.” Tyr frowned. “What is with you?”

“Everyone leave!” Abe roared, shooing away the others. Girshan lingered, and Abe didn't snap at him in particular. A quiet nod was exchanged and that was all.

“Tyr.” Abe sighed, sinking to the ground. They rested atop the observational escarpment, one of two splitting the pike lines. Large structures, the nearest man or woman over twenty meters away. Well out of earshot considering the clamor at the lines. Sometimes one of the men might climb their way up it, but they were easily kicked down. All they did is beg to be killed, not much of a threat to anyone but themselves. “I will not let you kill yourself. This is worse than suicide, this is madness. You have no idea what you'll be doing if you go through with a spell like this, you won't die – but you'll wish you did...”

“But it'll work.” Tyr said.

“Do you know that?” Abe asked. “Beyond absolute certainly? If not, you won't just kill yourself, you'll kill us all.”

“Yes.” Tyr nodded. “I know it will. She showed me.”

“Who is she? One of the mages? Even an archmage couldn't make what you're trying to do a reality. This is like...”

Apotheosis. Abrath frowned, something all competent druids would be aware of. How to become one with the nature spirits, to meld your consciousness into theirs and exist on long after the mortal coil.

But it was no archmage. It was the administrator. Tyr had reached out to the tower only to hear a chorus of mad screams. An endless sea of them. Only one voice among them all was still sane enough to communicate with. Implanting information within Tyr's mind 'against protocol'. He'd die, but the rest would be able to escape, most of them at least – and all of his friends. It was necessary, though she wouldn't explain why. It was called an Einstein-Rosen bridge, and an incredibly dense and artificially compacted source of power was needed to ignite it. Dense. Compacted. Tyr had almost laughed aloud when she'd explained it. It was like his body had been forged from his first day to become such a conduit. Like it was his fate. It was fairly similar to a gate, but it was a tear in space and time, rather than space alone. Tyr had no idea who this Einstein was, but he sounded like a smart guy.

Mana was just another form of cosmic radiation, she explained. It wasn't present in all solar systems, but it was excessively rich in the astral space between worlds. By funneling the latent mana of the astral gate through his mana core, he could shatter the laws of physics and do what no mage was capable of in the history of all mankind. To become an astral gate himself. It wasn't a bad way to die, but there were consequences to doing it this way. She promised that he'd be safe, after death, but he'd feel it. To become like they were, true immortals, bound to the tower and trapped for all eternity. Not peaceful oblivion, or a true death. Doing what Altrimar had done, in a sense, becoming whatever equivalent there was for a 'space' elemental.

“Regardless of the imaginary voices in your head...” Abe sighed. He looked so old, and so tired. “I've known Jura since she was a wee babe. When she was young, she was always angry and lashing out. So much so that the master leveraged her worth in the fighting pits and had her crossing blades with men before she'd even turned nine years of age. It only made her worse, but she was good at it. And it made her miserable, broke her, and not for many years did she even speak to others. I love her, Tyr, more than you understand. Girshan and I both raised her, taught her how to fight and protected her from the lash when we could. I appreciate the fact that you're willing to go this far, but I will not let you ruin her again.”

“And what if I refuse?” Tyr glared at him. As far as he could see, this was the only way. Abe could protest all he wanted, but he was still just an old man. “You'll fight me?”

“Aye, I'll knock you flat and beat this infernal knowledge out of your brain.” Abe replied with absolute confidence. Enough to make Tyr question his own resolve.

“Alright.” He sighed in resignation. “We'll find another way. I know this comes from the part of you that cares, if not for me then for her. And I thank you for it, even if I don't think we should squander this opportunity.”