Fawn Exsmith, wife of the Head Overseer POV

I don’t need to shrug his hands from my shoulders now. His hands are behind his head while his eyes look up trying to find hope in a polished wooden ceiling. I decide to act for both our sakes and rush to the stout balcony door. Hurrying through I am on the observation deck of the Customs House, my husband’s place of work and by residency, confirmation of the royal authority under which he acts. Sidling into shade while observing the docks below my eyes focus, scanning, sweeping back, waiting for a mouse to scurry from below decks.

“Why are you here when …”

My arm sweeps towards his voice and I slap his chest by accident. I ignore his grunt.

Blue robes flap about upon the deck of an impeccable ship of the line, a craft fit for a Duke. The staff, perhaps magical, in his right hand steadies his quick pace. Yes. I decide this is whom I am after, a faithful servant rushing to tell his master what he has overheard, uncovering the ultimate prize, implied threat, and juicy betrayal. His skills now confirm his worth to his benefactor. After the telling, the rat expects a block of cheese, instead of a mere slice of cheese as a reward.

The timing of my spell casting will be everything. I prepare my first spell. My husband to his credit waits with endless patience as he recognises, solely by the intricate motions of my hands, I am spell casting. He would be unaware of the spell, yet desperately hopeful anything I do now, even if I abandon the limits of decorum, is in our best interests.

As his staff is about to land on the gangway I cast [Push] and his staff misplaces, his leaning body following. An involuntary yelp and he draws the attention of several sailors on deck. The two closest, sway towards him while spreading their arms yet they’re many body lengths away and only end up miming what they would do. I cast [Warp Wood] and the gangway twists catching him during his recovery, spilling him off between dock and ship. His scream is a delight to my ears. I cast [Dispel Magic] to restore the gangway and shortly after one sailor acts on his instinct and rushes to the gangway to peer down.

Sodden blue robes ascend from the water. Curse him, [Fly]? No, he rises in place, [Levitate]. The sailors are waving their arms and yelling at him. Why? What am I missing? They throw him a rope, yet it remains slack … I imagine him smug and overconfident, easily capable of saving himself without the assistance of ordinary folk …

The ship? The hull moves towards the dock … how? There isn’t a strong breeze, and the ship’s sails are struck while in port, and bare masts and lines would catch little wind.

“Can you hurry the ship to the dock?” whispers my husband.

Blue robes you proud idiot, you don’t realise your danger and neither did I, thinking drowning would take you. I cast [Push] at my highest level of magic accomplishment. I don’t need to push the entire boat; the bow will be enough … I add my magical force to the already abundant natural tidal inflow of the ocean waves rolling towards the docks.

I sigh as I finish. His desperate shouting is loud, attracting everyone within earshot and all the nearby sailors rush to throw more rope. Like throwing more bandages on a gaping wound, useless. One rope goes taut and two burly sailors on the gangway pull in earnest, hand over hand. I assume the [Levitate] spell would greatly assist …

I cast [Dispel Magic].

The sudden weight loss of his body overbalances the sailors, and they nosedive towards him. The ship’s gunwale slaps into the side of the dock as they fall forward. One reaches for the gunwale, while the other reaches for the dock. Both sailors succeeding admirably. Echoing from between ship and dock a scream, which ends abruptly. All on the ship and the dock stand still looking about for leadership. They are the lackeys, left behind by their betters to look after things … A callout alerts them. From below, a non-descript sailor strides across the deck and towards the gangplank.

Shouting and finger-pointing begin as I shuffle along the observation deck under shade cover while drawing my husband with me. Once inside his office behind the closed stout door, he pours us a drink each and for a time we sit in silence and sip.

Minor Goddess Fabia POV

A clear blue-sky day overhead greets me. Middle of the day sunlight illuminates the entirety of my Temple, the surrounding forest vibrant with life. I draw in a breath and the fresh scent of the rich soil underneath me fills my nostrils, a layer of strong vibrant green grass dresses the ground I stand upon, the floor of my Temple. My worshippers near past and recent, including my children gather with me and I feel their sincere love and affection beyond what is dictated due to worship for one simple reason, many I have healed, or my servants have healed from near death. To save a life, precious. The insects, the worms, birds, and small forest animals stop and renew and then move on, life attracts life. I am content. As instructed by my former Tiger Kin Master I assume the meditating position in the cross-leg form. I calm my mind. My body accepts my worshippers’ endless nourishment and hope, as I allow my mind to float free of my body. As a Goddess, I did not doubt, yet as a beggar for believers, even my Master did despair at my endless failure.

My mind drifts up, reaching into the sky, above the clouds. I imagine I follow a Spirit returning in Thanaron’s embrace. The destination is unknown to me yet there must be a “somewhere”. Black approaches … I halt my blind ascent and look back upon the world below me, the great landmass of the Beast Kin, the blue beyond, and then another landmass … I struggle against the shock of discovery, and with effort and the support of my worshippers I steady. A moment later and my mind is still once again. I am uncertain of the consequences if I didn’t … I would hope I would return to my body.

A shape is streaming towards me, urgent, hurrying … what do I do? I veer off, downwards. The orange and black apparition course corrects to intercept me … I try again, fail again. I am like a lily in a pond, floating while the thing which tracks me, a nibble bee. One which I hope doesn’t sting. Contact.

“You are lost?”

Thought words enter my mind. Surprise, then realisation. How else would beings communicate while like this?

After several attempts, I am confident of the method and answer, “Yes, although I am exploring.”

I sense humour in his reply, yes definitely a male. “The thought words are tricky but once you realise all that is required is to express your will, they become second nature Minor Goddess?”

“How do you sense my nature?” My thoughts words fill with aggression, which I immediately regret.

I discern his laughter. “Yes, emotions can slip in, I forget my first time and the nostalgia is now pleasantly heart-warming.” A pause. “What are you exploring if I may ask?”

Should I reveal my truth? Who is he to ask? There is no shape or colour to him now, which is odd. How does that work? Actually …

“How did you find me?” I force my thought speak to be respectful and polite.

“By accident. We aren’t present in the real world like you we are in a place we call the Ether. Don’t be disturbed you haven’t heard of it. We name things all the time and this is a simple label so two or more conversing can do so with a common reference.”

What have I missed? “Real world?”

“Introductions?” I must nod during his pause as he continues. “I am Grandmaster Mateus.”

My thoughts fumble and bounce around, a genuine practitioner of mind travel! “I am honoured, Grandmaster. I didn’t study under you, although my Master always spoke in reverence when he quoted your name. I am changed now, since then. I am the Minor Goddess of Life, Fabia.”

Our introductions open a floodgate of conversation, I detail my study under the Tiger Kin Masters searching for enlightenment, he recalls his accompanying Aphrodite, probably an overview, yet informative.

“At the moment your mind is still in the real world, you have detached from your body which is truly a momentous accomplishment although your divinity is probably significant assistance. What you need to do is phase or transition to the Ether. If you feel comfortable join my mind. You will find others there, they who support me to maintain my freedom and presence.”

I edge my mind forward. This isn’t real, as in flesh and blood, yet I need the reference. His presence reaches to accept. In a moment, I join them all. Six Tiger Kin surround him, cross-legged. He is their focus and they either ignore me or haven’t any freedom to acknowledge me. I generate an illusionary body shape and cross-legged our backs touch and I join his circle.

In a moment I understand Ether, the transfer of knowledge this way a wonder. My body shape blinks out and I follow his existence above the clouds. His likeness forms, an aged Tiger Kin, which solidifies before my mind’s eye and at the same time the real-world fades from my present view.

Spirits rush by, upwards? A destination firmly set, yet Thanaron isn’t assisting …

“Strange, you agree,” he thought whispers.

I nod, lost for words.

“See the light?” I follow his thought projection. “Divine light, Aphrodite’s doing I would think. The number of Spirits is too many … Lizard Kin, some others. No battle could release so many, so what could?”

I spy Thanaron and he isn’t carrying these spirits, at best he redirects any straying back onto the path, to follow the light and although harried, he seems content with his lot. I finally notice the Spirit Plane. A dome of swirling blackness “above”. Slightly underwhelming. Maybe because I joined Mateus’ circle I sense his amusement before he thought whispers.

“Our minds imagine a reality which suits ourselves. Your interpretation of the Spirit Plane will be different to mine. Even when I walked the Spirit Plane the imagining came from Aphrodite, yet others could overlay their interpretations if of strong enough will to do so. This event though is why I am here and others of my Kin, we are drawn like moths to a flame trying to understand the cause, locate the source.”

“Are there other places like this?”

The stream of Spirits distracts him, his reply, casual, “None found by my Kin …” He follows beside the stream, descending.

This is the Spirit Plane. Where do souls go or come from? I could follow Thanaron, yet he heads upwards to the Spirit Plane and nowhere else.

I have an immediate single chance. If Thanaron needs to be involved then I am lost, he isn’t paying attention to births … Perhaps that isn’t his job?

My child, my child, I am sorry if this harms you in any way … I will my husband’s seed to unite with an egg within me.

--- Alba, Priestess of Aphrodite POV

“We know his name. If he is a Spirit, we will call him to us. If he has a body, we will track him down. He will not escape our wrath!” I barely keep my voice civil, after all my anger is for him, not my Cardinal.

Meek of voice she replies, “He will be a Spirit, I am certain. I …” She swallows, violently enough, even I, once a Giant Gar notice, one who has trouble reading human body language let alone Snake Kin body language. I place my hand upon her head to prove I am with her. “I doubt I will be much assistance against him … you will be alone?”

“Your magic will be my reservoir. Our Goddess’ Divine magic will be our protection. Our goal will be to capture him and then we can decide what to do with him.”

She drops her head upon my shoulder and in a soft hissing whisper, she says, “We will polish his Spirit, rub him from existence and if we can’t find a way ourselves, I am certain Arsu will delight in devouring him.”

I smile. “Yes. He must disappear with no chance of return and then you will be free of him my sister in worship.”

---

I rest upon my folded legs and beside me, Cardinal Pex squats upon the curl of her snake tail, both of us in prayer before the Shrine of Aphrodite. The smooth finish of its light grey stone gleaming, four concentric circles greater to lesser forming steps to reach the base of the holy spire of stone, a Realm Rune inscribed on each of the four angular faces. We are also inside Arsu. Such was her delight she extended her Dungeon to include Aphrodite’s Shrine. The zone is in conflict of course, but that matters little, so eager is she to strip Allene of his knowledge and skills one by one until nothing, but a husk remains, which she will absorb as mana for her Dungeon.

His summoning is remarkably simple, I am of his body, I live because of his soul, therefore naturally his Spirit wishes to re-unite. I cast [Protect Being (Spirit)] and begin the Summoning Ritual to call him to us.

A deep thundering laugh, full of exquisite delight descends upon me. A Spirit of huge power unleashes upon me overwhelming my Spirit protection, my replies are feeble, the flaying of my Giant Gar shape in this Spirit combat relentless. A sickening thought, this isn’t Allene. I fall to the depths of my arena lake, my Spirit Combat locale. The one who attacks either ignores my arena due to immense power or has access to magic like water breathing. My watery edge is not the advantage I hoped for.

“Foolish Priestess, Allene is me and I am him, we are greater together and you are insignificant! Surrender and I will allow you to join as our thrall.”

I know him. Magus. Allene’s final teacher. Another casting of [Protect Being (Spirit)] washes over me. This doesn’t add to the other, unfortunately, yet Cardinal Pex senses my dire condition. I assume my real body, sweats, perhaps even bleeds … She must have expended all her magic into the common but now vital spell. His attacks continue, while my power to attack him remains impotent. My immediate thought is what do I do when the protection spell expires.

“Good of the Cardinal to come to your aid, yet I have all the time in the world and such a lovely world it is. Good to be back in fact.”

Arsu contacts me, “He is beyond my power to crush, I have done what I can Priestess. How could he grow into such a monster?”

Arsu must have gifted my saviour the Cardinal a huge amount of magic to keep me safe, at least for a time.

I reply, “I can’t even sense Allene, the Magus seems to overshadow him with his presence. Allene is probably only a pet of his now, given his offer of thrall to me.”

The sweetest voice of all interrupts my bewilderment.

“Hail Magus Drexel Marner, I am fortunate indeed to meet you beyond the Spirit Plane, especially since, according to Thanaron the number of Spirits there are decreasing.”

His rage washes against my defences and I thought myself in danger, yet my Spirit protection remains steadfast. Does my Goddess boost my defence further?

“Aphrodite! How can you be here? Begone to your God Plane! Shortly I will meet you there but for now, you can’t interrupt!”

His attack upon me relents and I feel him exercise his will upon Aphrodite!

“Your ambition outstrips your capabilities, Magus. This Shrine, upon consecrated ground, is an extension of my God Plane, these worshippers are mine and when I sensed their concern, I would of course be naturally inclined to investigate. Unfortunately for you, I see you now, how you constructed your power … shame, Magus. How could you betray so blatantly? Perhaps there is at least one within you, if still true to his nature will oppose you and seek revenge.”

“So, you know I have consumed many Spirits and despite that knowledge, you still believe you can stop me!”

I think to correct him, yet I keep my thoughts to myself while my Goddess has his attention. All worshippers know upon death, their Spirits journey to the God Plane to join their God, they no longer need to ascend to the Spirit Plane as unclaimed vagrants.

“Let me free you of some of your burdens…”

I feel my Goddess draw upon her Disorder Realm, as real to me now at this moment as rain upon my skin, wet and cold – I shiver under the weight of her Divinity.

“No!!!! How can you, this harvest is mine, hard earnt and deserved … you can’t!”

I sense defeat within him, perhaps on high once, now dropping low, the descent too steep, yet nothing happens … then a face pushes past the Magus’ – a stretching of the nebulous form which represents him in Spirit Combat. With a pop, a Lizard Kin head, bleeding from the yes grows upon Magus’s shoulders much to my surprise.

“Welcome, Tor. Do you wish to be free or remain with your ally?” asks Aphrodite.

The Lizard Kin head scrunches up, seeking and not finding complete freedom. He strains to reply, “Perhaps …”

“Let me assist you to discover your free will,” adds Aphrodite.

Cardinal Pex and I wait, holding our collective breaths.

Her Disorder Realm, punches low into the representation of the Magus, then high, once behind, then again fronton like puncturing a bucket. A stream of Spirits squeeze out, they sneak a peek and then blast free. Some rise and some scatter in random directions. These are Lizard Kin and others, too numerous to count … Thanaron appears an instant after.

“Aphrodite you must assist …” His call is brief as he races after some truant ones.

“Wait for me Magus, I will be but a moment. Perhaps you can explain to Tor?”

Tor climbs and rips his way out of Magus’ torso, freeing his arms, and shoulders to survey the situation the shock upon his visage halting any further effort. A howling rage from the depths of his spirit spills from his throat as his head turns upon the Magus’ and snaps shut upon the Magus’s neck.

“These are my worshippers, Priests, Adepts and a multitude of Initiates … you consumed them and hid them from me!” The incredibility in his thought voice drowns out all other emotions.

The Magus creates a new appendage, his head, to speak again. This very act dismisses Tor as a threat, reduces him to a puppet calling on harmless theatrics I realise. Magus must be several magnitudes more powerful than the former Godling for him to be discarded so.

“To be fair, there are many Spirits within us from many origins, and they all added to our power, whereas your concern for your worshippers as individuals is unwarranted. They have already proven themselves inadequate due to failing the ultimate test, they died. Don’t you see?” replies Magus.

Tor struggles yet remains within or a part of Magus.

“Free me now!” thought screams Tor.

“No, I think not, my once Godling. Being together and all that you know.”

I launch a Spirit attack, unsuccessful, yet not as hopeless as previously. All those minor Lizard Kin and other Spirits now leaking from Magus, before adding up to be enough to provide him immunity from my attack previously. Also, I suspect Tor in his own way now silently protests, by not contributing or his rage separates his possible contribution from Magus. This leaves Allene. Where though?

A scream echoes through my watery Spirit Arena, interrupting the Magus from sharing any further quips. Our Spirit Combat locks us from reality, yet I know something catastrophic in the real world is loose now.

--- Pex, Cardinal of Aphrodite POV

Ottar in the company of two humans walks towards Aphrodite’s Shrine, me, and Alba’s kneeling body, still at rest due to Spirit Combat. Occasionally I wipe the sweat from her brow but am useless to help directly, unable to intrude. I do wonder why Ottar didn’t lead them away once the Dungeon warning message greeted them.

Ottar greets me and then one of the humans stiffens. His mate reaches out with his hand to pull him back and after trying to reason with him tackles him. The first human drags the second with him. Ottar and I look on, both of us scratching our heads. The second finally tackles the first to the ground and looks up in triumph to Ottar. At that moment his companion kicks away from him making a desperate dive forward. A deliberate action, one which he would not ordinarily know the consequences of. As I rush forward his blood-curdling scream rings out and I feel the sundering of the sanctified ground surrounding Aphrodite’s Shrine. Aphrodite, once close, almost beside me at times is again distant and my heart races. It seems this human, who knows nothing about places of worship miraculously finds a corner stake and now has the marker in his death grip. His friend smashes his fists into the sand and then searches Ottar’s and then my face for an explanation.

Under our gaze he stiffens and first one limb then the other in jolting movements climbs to his feet. His hands begin to glow reaching forward as he stumbles towards the Shrine. Ottar and I exchange glances …

I cast [Soul Sight] revealing another in possession of the human, its menacing Spirit face a male duplicate of Alba’s, gloating. So cruel to turn a friend’s face into a tormentor’s. Blood drains from me. His visage grins at me even more in response and I need to swallow to choke back tears as my worst nightmare comes back to haunt me. I imagine Ottar stares at me, wondering what his Cardinal is going to do with this strange human, waiting for me to act. Waiting like a good subordinate should, an Initiate awaiting a command … On instinct I cast [Magiclink], this is what I do when we prepare.

Allene flashes me a smile of triumph. Within the same moment a warmth surrounds me I sense through our [Magiclink] not only his mind but also his massive body supports me. My protector. The one I trust beyond reason cradles me in his arms, like always. I draw upon the certainty of his strength. I swear to myself Allene can’t win again. Never. I unleash my furious determined will upon him and lock us both in Spirit Combat drawing upon Ottar’s magic to cast [Protect Being (Spirit)]. Within the Spirit Arena, I arise as a huge serpent, fangs dripping with venom, my scales a glorious silver to blind him if lucky. He matches my height yet a human of solid build wielding a sword hurrying to close the distance between us. Unusual for a magic user… I don’t have the luxury of pondering further as we both strike at each other. I weave around his sword thrusts with the agility of a Fox Kin and return strike with the occasional scratch of my fangs. These are all illusions, of course, representing our respective success or failure in bludgeoning our opponent with our wills and magic reserve. I don’t have a natural illusion within my true form like Aphrodite and neither does he, so our strikes, if winners, hit true.

Why am I not the fragile victim I imagined I would be? How is my confrontation with him possible? Ottar depends upon me as I depend upon him now. If I lose, whatever scheme Allene and the Magus are plotting will come true and I am certain they will hurt my big oaf of a giant, my friend. If I could, I would wipe the sweat from his brow as I am certain he cares for my body even now. Then there is Alba. She turned the key inside me, I will always swim with her and as Giant Gar, we will fight as one school. She takes the most challenging opponent, the least I can do is take on Allene after helping her as best I could.

I focus upon my opponent and draw upon my memories to maintain my resolve, as real now as then. Months of fear. The hope of rescue squashed after I realise, he truly holds me alone. The thirst, the hunger and the dark. His appearance would mean light and I could orientate myself, place myself within his prison and assure myself I still live. His arrival was a blessing and a curse. The pain of the manacles upon my wrists as my body hung limp. The mental torture while enduring his lectures and then during the final months, rants, reporting on those I cared about. Every time he said their names, I began wondering again why they didn’t try to find me. Hope rose and then quickly extinguished time and time again. I lament the accumulated suffering of months while lost in his dungeon. I feed this pain and anguish into my deep need for retribution, I dig deep within myself to trample this tormentor of mine. I will live in fear no more. I choose death as the only other option and with that decision made, I attack, attack, attack.

After countless moments, I am ascendent, I pick at him, beating down his will with a minimum amount of effort to ensure a successful strike. I relish picking the wings and legs off this fly, one at a time. His doom is upon him, he knows this and yet in every way possible I extend his demise for as long as possible. We arrive at the final moment, the Spirit Combat ends in his utter defeat, and other actions are available to me.

“He is all yours Arsu.”

She rejoices around me. The sundering of Aphrodite’s Shrine meant the Dungeon could lay claim to this area. I sense she hasn’t because the investment would be wasted, but with no competition, she can enter the zone with ease.

I blink. The smooth grey stone plinth, Aphrodite’s former Shrine is missing. I try to move and can’t. Ottar cradles me within his arms, his face looks upon mine with a silly welcoming smile. With some relief I notice Alba leaning against the lovable buffoon as well, eyes closed, yet her chest rises and falls as it should.