March 3, 2019, 3:55 pm, Nearly a month after Ivicka's defeat.

…TPWM…

Talkith's fur ruffled in the ever-present wind of the Great Abyss as she waited on a terraced balcony on the north side of the World’s End Palace. The way she stood, with her four arms crossed and the casual turn of her hand as she inspected her claw with a single lower eye, would understandably lead most to believe she was distracted.

Yet they'd be mistaken. And any who attempted to take advantage of her apparent state of rest would meet a quick and violent end. It wouldn't be the first time.

Even in her ease, Talkith was monitoring her surroundings. She could place all six of the ministers arguing with each other in the meeting, though only two of them were familiar to her. Most of the ministers were new, having replaced their predecessors after what was being called the 'Vothborean Incident'. Talkith had been absent, scouring through the copper-rank dungeon of Astra's Tears, searching for a supposed hidden objective. But she understood there'd been discord. Not that she paid the meeting much attention. The ministers were always fighting with each other over something.

Which is why she usually stayed as far from Aethire as possible.

However, her friend, Minister Yelthen, had invited her once it became clear the war with the squids was getting worse. Most of the ministers were alone, with the exception of the invisible Taken standing at the shoulder of Minister Jothin. Other than the ministers inside the room, there was a young rune-tech doing maintenance work two floors down whose ears were twitching. That wasn't unusual. Most who visited the World's End palace felt uneasy while they were inside. It had been designed to instill reverence.

All were pure K'tharn, of course. The Fallen may serve the Aetherium, but none were allowed in these hallowed halls.

As her thoughts did so often of late, she wondered how her daughter was doing. She'd likely completed her training by now. It would be nice to see her more often, but Talkith's position didn't leave much time to check on her.

Perhaps she should get her friend in recruitment to update her on her daughter. Talkith was aware minister Yelthen could find out in minutes. But she'd never dream of asking the minister to intervene on her behalf. It would be dishonourable to use her professional advantages for personal interests. Any concerned parent could inquire with the recruitment division.

Talkith knew her beliefs were unusual, adhering to her clan's historic code of honour despite the changes the System had brought. But they were the same tenets her mother had taught her. She'd tried to pass them on, but her Thiani, Tithan, had insisted on raising their daughter under the new ways. That had only been one of the disagreements she’d had with her partner about their daughter.

However, it had also been the last. Talkith was now forced to observe her daughter through intermediaries or while lurking in the shadows like a thief.

Talkith was drawn out of her musings when a dark object fell from the sky above. Even as she prepared to dodge the incoming strike, it smashed into the neighbouring room, the explosion resounding through the walls of the council chamber. Not waiting, Talkith activated one of her oldest abilities, Star's Path, turning into a beam of light. Using the faceted surface of the lights embedded in the ceiling of the hallway, she reached the chamber while the rumble was still spreading through the palace. The room was mostly intact, only a few clouds of dust drifting from small cracks between the web of rune-work glowing brightly on the ceiling. The occupants hadn't fared as well.

Minister Yelthen was sprawled next to the minister of Essence. Talkith couldn't remember her name. Something that reminded her of tulliberry.

Yelthen had been injured, all but her lower left eye damaged. And of her four arms, only one wasn't bent at an unnatural angle. At least she seemed able to stand. Talkith imagined that if this were pre-integration, minister Yelthen would be doomed. But her current injuries would be an inconvenience at most. The thuds and professional whispers of the emergency response team were already echoing from the nearby stairs.

The team's healers would take care of the injured. Which meant she could focus her attention on discovering what had managed to cause such havoc in one of the most heavily enchanted locations in the entire Aetherium.

As Talkith investigated the room, she realized minister Yelthen had been lucky. Three of the other ministers had perished in the explosion. There'd be some angry howling when their System Restoration completed in thirty-six hours. She didn't envy the attendants who'd be filling them in on their missed time.

It didn't take long for Talkith to find the source of the explosion, a large orb with a pock-marked surface. The orb was resting partially embedded in the remains of the large stone table that once dominated the centre of the room. The surface of the orb was a dark stone that reminded her of obsidian, with essence etchings providing a barely visible golden contrast.

The giant hole in the outer wall was still choked with cloying dust as Talkith kneeled next to the expended Essence construct. There were only the faintest traces of runework remaining, but she could feel the Twilight mana as it faded. Which meant this wasn't made by a regular dissident. Twilight magic wasn't obscure by any means, but few understood how to turn it to offensive ends. It also explained how the projectile made it past the enchantments.

Talkith was inspecting the impact damage where the strange bomb had blasted its way through the wall when she heard the emergency response team arrive. Glancing over, she was mildly surprised to see the dust still obscuring her vision. Assuming the dust in the air was an intentional aftereffect of the bomb, she started directing it out of the room.

Or at least she attempted to direct it out of the room. Even as Talkith attempted to exert control over the cloying dust, it expanded in a wave of force that threw her through the hole in the wall, slamming her about as though she was still a kitten.

She hurtled away for an entire second before she realized what had happened. Exerting her will to provide a lifting gust to carry her back to the palace, she glanced up. The dust wasn't done. Even now, it remained fastened to her fur, preventing her from directing her mana. She wasn't even able to transform.

Talkith felt a genuine spike of panic before she calmed herself, the wind whistling in her ears. It was an almost novel experience, being in freefall without so much as a wind-barrier protecting her. Not novel enough to stop her from picking the dust off using a careful application of Twilight. Still, it was a reminder that she didn't know every magic available within the System.

The air was starting to get uncomfortably warm by the time she'd picked enough of the dust off to halt her fall. Considering the incredible toughness of her Copper-rank existence, that meant the ambient temperature was hot enough to flash-boil a mortal's flesh.

“Best I leave before I get closer to the core,” she mumbled to herself as she flicked another fleck of infused dust from her fur. Despite her partial success, gaining altitude proved to be impossible until she completely eliminated the remaining flecks. As she was removing the last of them, she brought it closer for inspection.

It was a small hexagon, barely discernible to her copper-rank vision. Its structure reminded her of a snowflake, though it was a dusky yellow.

Dropping it into the abyss, Talkith flew back to the gaping hole in the side of the palace. It had expanded since she left.

As she approached, she secured several flakes for study, using drained stone nets to ensure she didn't accidentally bog herself down again. However, it seemed the threat had passed, most of the dust cleared away.

Inside, the remains hadn't yet turned into the blue powder that would precede their Restoration but the injured ministers had been vacated. With one exception.

"Talkith, you're alive," A remarkably improved minister Yelthen greeted her, waving one of her upper arms to indicate Talkith should come closer. Which caused a weary sounding healer to remind the minister she was still recovering.

"So it would appear. We need to talk. In private," Talkith stated, staring at the healer with all four eyes.

The healer's ears drooped and not one of her four eyes dared meet Talkith's, but it was only after Yelthen assured the healer she'd be out shortly, that the healer took her leave. Talkith marked the healer's dark brown fur and grey streaks for later investigation. Perhaps she was related to this incident.

"Well?" the minister asked while shifting in her chair, a hiss of pain escaping her lips.

"This was meant to serve as a reminder. War with the squids will be more than an inconvenience," Talkith stated. They were the only ones with a mastery to rival the Aetherium’s own.

"We knew that. But what can we do? They refuse to believe the attack on their tower was a rogue element."

"Then we prove it. The Outlanders responsible should be apprehended."

Ylethen drummed her fingers on the broken table before responding, "We've tried. But they're like Phlan-gossamer, rarely visible before fading."

"Then send me. There are none who can escape my reach."

"Ah, I would my friend. But there is… an issue."

"One that will prevent us from restoring our honour?"

"No. It's just that…" Ylethen paused as she inspected Talkith, her eyes lingering on the jagged scar that marred Talkith's fur.

"I have reports stating your daughter is with them. Not only that, I believe they were responsible for her half-sister's death. I've commissioned a statue for Ivicka, by the way."

The words caused Talkith to freeze in place as she stared at Ylethen. Surely, she'd misheard. There was no way her daughter could have done something so dishonourable. It was only with some difficulty that Talkith realized Ylethen was still speaking.

"Of course, there's no question of your honour. But I'd never force a friend to apprehend her only daughter."

At this, Talkith knew she had to respond, "No. It is best I do this. Perhaps she has been misled by the Outlanders."

"Perhaps," Ylethen conceded, her eyes playing over the room. "But if the squids demand we hand her over, what then? Should we surrender your daughter to appease them?"

Talkith didn't immediately respond as she stared out through the cracked facade of the palace. Even now, she could see a stone lifting from the floor, the walls repairing themselves as the runes restored the damage.

As Talkith watched the wall reclaim its strength with a fresh infusion of mana, she wished her own dilemma could be fixed so simply.

But then, it could, couldn't it?

"Of course. It is the least owed to their people."

Ylethen's eyes drew together, as she forced herself to her feet, placing a hand on Talkith's shoulder. "You're sure?"

"It is my duty. Tipan will pay the price for peace."

"Well, in that case, you should talk to Jethia, she's been handling the search. And Talkith…" She shuffled sideways until she was looking directly in Talkith's eyes, her hand clasped around Talkith's snow-white paw. "Thank you."

Talkith only nodded before turning to leave, hurrying up the stairs to where Jethia of the Stormguard waited.

Had she lingered outside for but a moment, she'd have noticed the smile that crept onto her oldest friend's face.

Likewise, she'd have heard the gentle words, words spoken so softly they were no more than the barest whisper as Yelthen eyed the still present bodies of the other ministers, "Well, this all worked out better than expected. Excellent."

If she had, perhaps she'd have chosen another course.

But she hadn't, so it was with a heavy heart that Talkith of clan Lithania set out to ensnare the Outlanders who had corrupted her daughter.

And if her daughter did not survive to be turned over to the squids who squirmed and plotted beneath the waves.

Well… better death than dishonour.

That was Talkith's way.