Chapter 221 - The Witch of Twilight III

Arciel took the lead as soon as they sank beneath the waves. She transformed her legs into a series of tentacles and propelled herself through the sea. Shrouded in water, the bloodkraken was a speedster. Each stroke added a violent burst of acceleration with enough power to carry her a hundred meters at a time. The lyrkress soon found that she needed her vectors to keep up, for while she was semiaquatic, her companion was just half a step shy of being a fish in water.

“It occurs to me now that this is the first time that we have been left by ourselves,” said the princess. She slowed as she spoke, matching Clarie’s speed with her tentacles spread wide like a parachute.

“Afraid I’m going to stab you in the back?”

“Not in the slightest.” The squid spun around to reveal a confident smile. “You are deserving of my trust, Claire. That, I understood through our first encounter.”

“You must be insane. I destroyed your headquarters and nearly killed you.”

Arciel laughed. “It is precisely your willingness to shamelessly wear those misdeeds on your sleeve that has earned my trust.” She swam closer to the lyrkress and put a finger against the bridge of her nose. “You will do no such thing again, for I know you recognize me now as one of your own.”

Claire brushed the hand away and rolled her eyes. “I might if you were more useful in a fight.”

“And I will be, if not faced with my one great weakness.”

“Sure.” The seamoose crossed her arms. “Now can we stop trying to open up and get a move on already?”

“Surely you do not have to rebuff every attempt I make?” The princess placed a hand on her cheek and breathed a sigh. “And here I was hoping for an opportunity for us to bond.”

“Do away with the haughty act, and I’ll consider it.”

The princess blinked, producing her fan and raising it to her lips. “You do realise that is as impossible for me as it is for you, yes? It is, in effect, a curse wrought by our standing.”

“Oh, Ciel, you silly goose!” Expression completely deadpan and lips unmoving, Claire allowed a giggle to escape her throat. “Can’t you see how blessed we are? We couldn’t possibly be cursed!”

The squid froze. She went deathly silent, blinking rapidly as her fan slowly drifted out of her hands.

“M’haps that one was too much, aye? We cans tries ahselves an ‘ighlander next, m’be?”

Again, silence. Silence and blinking.

“Or perhaps, Princess, you would prefer a tone such as this, eerily familiar as it may be.” The third sentence was spoken in a voice so similar to that of the squid’s that she was almost tempted to check if they had come out of her own mouth.

“I-I certainly do see your point,” said Arciel. “While I am certain that you will not refrain even in the case that I ask, I would prefer if you were to at least imitate the mannerisms as well, the next time that you engage in such an act.”

“I’d rather not,” said Claire.

“Please do. It is rather… strange to see a change in your pattern of speech when your demeanor remains identical.”

“I’ll think about it.” The moose stuck out her tongue.

Arciel shook her head. “I am truly incapable of understanding how one such as yourself is produced. I would be inclined to think the Cadrian court a bed of political nightmares, and I do not look forward to my interactions with Marquis Pollux.”

“He’s more sly than he lets on. You’d better keep your eyes peeled if you don’t want him to try and take advantage of you.”

“That I shall,” said the vampire. “But from what you have described, his type is the sort with which I have the most experience.”

The horse-adjacent sea creature shrugged. “We can figure that out later. Let’s go.”

The next leg of the trip was traveled at a leisurely pace. Arciel was more talkative, pointing out various landmarks along the way. Of greatest interest were the air pockets lying within the depths, many of which were as large as small islands. They were not contained in bubbles, but rather existed in a separate space much the same way as would a dungeon. Unlike the gods’ trials, however, they were visible from the outside and could be easily explored without risk. Somehow, the underwater atolls appeared to contain the concept of the sky, for there would be one above the treeline, the sun visible and the clouds in a state similar to what Claire recalled above the surface.

In a way, it was like the lost library. The subspaces reminded her of the pocket of air that existed at the very bottom of Sky Lagoon, especially in that they refused to absorb water. According to the kraken, liquids could only be brought inside if transported in sealed containers.

The destination that they ultimately arrived at was a large, underwater city, or at least the ruins thereof. The sands were blackened, and the buildings constructed around them often dilapidated and destroyed. As far as architecture went, it differed only slightly from what Claire had seen in Vel’khagan. There was even more glass, and half the city was built at an angle, lining the side of a small mountain that rose above the sea floor.

The streets were practically swarming with local critters. The light was faint; the sun's rays could not penetrate through to the ocean’s depths, but that did not stop the local flora and fauna from thriving. There were corals of all shapes, colours, and sizes growing out of the ruined buildings, with communities built around them.

Continuing down the main street eventually brought them from a ruined fortress to an equally massive and unfortunate chapel. Like everything else, it was partially destroyed. Its frame, which was made almost entirely of glass, was broken in places, and shattered in others. Undead fishmen swam in and out of the holes. Some were holding weapons, but most were armed with books of prayer instead.

“This city was once Vel’rhast, one of the few bastions whose men remained loyal to the bitter end,” said Arciel, as she cast her eyes on one such skeleton. “And this temple was once one of Griselda’s most famous, calling priests from all the lands. But now, it is nothing. Only a shell of a glory long past.”

“They don’t seem very loyal to me.”

Claire applied a fistfull of vectors to an orcaped’s skeleton before it could rush them down. The violent forces dismantled the creature, tearing its bones from their places and leaving it a shambling mess. It shrieked at her, howling in horror as a second wave of spells applied a different direction to each remaining bone in its body, leaving it collapsed and dismembered. Like all the undead, it did not remain post mortem. Its corpse was claimed by Xekkur, evaporating into a burst of black.

“Perhaps not anymore,” Arciel smiled, wistfully, as she entered the temple and traced her tentacles upon its glass-paved floor, “but it was only in death that they lost their way.” The sand was visible beneath their feet, with bits of it leaking through the large cracks running up and down the glass panels. Not every piece revealed the ocean floor below. Some were stained, marked with works of art, but the missing chunks rendered the illustrations too difficult to interpret. The low light was another contributor, but neither deposed blueblood suffered from a lack of visibility.

They were deep in the sea, at least a few thousand meters down, far beyond the realm that the sun could reach. And yet, faint rays of light streamed in through the windows. Even in the middle of the day, they belonged to the moon. Not her naked opposite.

Like many other holy grounds, Griselda’s church bore a powerful divine aura. But perhaps because it was the goddess that had summoned her, or perhaps because of her half depleted divinity pool, it was not as hostile as the others to which she was accustomed. She felt nothing until she entered its grounds, and even then, there was no pain or prickling, only the faint sensation of something lightly scraping against her skin.

A group of rotten, skeletal priests charged them when they entered, three barehanded, and two still holding holy books or relics. It was not by their will that they carried the items. They were nailed to their fins, embedded into their bodies as a means to ensure that they would be preserved together. Like they knew in life the fates that would await them in death.

“It was here, precisely within this temple, that my sister made her last stand. And it is here that I shall put her people to rest.”

Arciel’s tattoos came alight as she snapped her fan shut and pointed it towards their assailants. The moonlight bent with her orders. It snaked through the air, intensifying with every turn before swallowing the skeletons whole. One by one, they collapsed, taken first by the goddess, and then Xekkur’s dark rot.

Claire watched silently as she considered the source of their undeath. They could not have been members of the true undead races, for those spawned from the meeting of magic and bone earned not the death god’s ire. But even without exposing them to death, one could easily surmise their state by their lack of intelligence. Nearly all skeletal species boasted an outstanding academic ability not limited by their physical bodies, for their control centres, the cores in which their spirits were held, lacked the traditional weaknesses experienced by brains of flesh.

In a way, their behaviour reminded her of the curse that she had been tasked with casting upon the Kryddarian army. But while the church goers had certainly degenerated into mindless creatures that attacked whatever they discovered, there remained a stark difference that ruled out the god-given technique. Those afflicted with the withered rose would retain their bodily functions in death. Their health would regenerate, and so too would their flesh alongside it. The local victims, however, were all bareboned. There was not a speck of meat between the lot of them.

“It is a Vel’khanese relic with which they were slain,” said the squid, with a sideways glance. “It is named Grimswald’s Thirstquencher, a truly outstanding dagger capable of immediately purging the blood of its target upon contact with its blade. It is powerful, but not without repercussions. Every seventh kill is cursed, transformed from a corpse to an uncontrollable member of the undying legion.”

“I don’t see how that counts as a drawback,” said Claire. “You’d gain two times the experience without the trouble of having to find another enemy.”

Arciel smiled awkwardly. “Perhaps, but it is not in this manner that the drawback is often considered.” She slew another corpse as she spoke, eviscerating it with a thousand shadowy spikes.

Resistance grew as they got further into the cathedral. The number of undead doubled when they passed through the reception area, and doubled again when they began walking down the hall leading to the underground atrium, but Arciel handled them all. One by one, the deceased priests, refugees, and devouts were put to rest, imparted sweet release by the imperial bloodkraken’s hand.

Her first kill aside, Claire remained an idle observer, allowing Arciel to carry out the act as per her resolve. A few of them had given the squid pause. Some would lead her to stop, to observe them for a moment with her emotions unmasked. Still, they had been quick to arrive at their destination.

The atrium was guarded with an especially heavy door. Measuring in at over ten meters tall, its glass was stained, marked with the image of a beam of light cast upon a familiar white castle. The relief had nearly escaped the rot that had run through the rest of the temple. There was only a single crack running down its length, nearly wide enough to provide a gaze into the inner sanctum.

Arciel placed a hand against the handle and gave it a tug, but the door refused to budge. She frowned and pulled it with both hands, but it remained fixed in space.

“Move.”

“It is more difficult to open than you may expect.”

“I doubt that.”

Pushing her aside with a light prod of the tail, Claire took her place, planted her feet into the ground, and yanked as hard as she could. The glass panels did not budge an inch. The handle, however, was not as resilient. It came off with a crack, accompanying her on her journey as she nearly fell over.

“I do not believe that to be the result we desired,” said Arciel, through a stifled laugh.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A somewhat annoyed Claire discarded the handle and grabbed the door’s crack with a pair of vectors. The mural shattered and shrieked as it was warped out of shape, ripped into two pieces that slowly opened as would a pair of deformed double doors. “See? Easy.” She turned to the princess with her face perfectly blank, but her aura gloating up a storm.

“That was most certainly not the way I expected it to open.”

The door murderer innocently tilted her head. “What are you talking about? It opened because I pulled on its handle. That’s how doors work.”

“I believe you are omitting a key step in the process,” said the witness.

“Not in the slightest.”

“The confidence you lie with is astonishing.” Arciel sighed. “But no matter. Let us proceed.”

The atrium was of a familiar design. Like the holy places belonging to most gods, it was a large, round room with an altar at its center and candles along its edges. The blessed wax-covered wicks behaved exactly as they would in any other temple, still burning dimly, stopped by neither water nor time. Upon the floor, there was a magic circle, inscribed in a deep, sanguine stain.

If there were any unique traits to note, they would be the moonbeams streaming in through the ceiling, and the skeleton that sat center stage, arms bound in prayer before the altar. Chains upon chains upon chains held the undead in place; the links connected it not only to the floor and ceiling, but the door as well. There were hundreds of them at least, each thick and heavy enough to restrain an ascended turberus.

Even in undeath, the bound humanoid was sharply dressed. She wore a large witch’s hat, inscribed with the mark of the moon, accompanied by a beautiful evening gown in the same shade of black. Had its bottom half not laid on the floor, the silk would have hid the corpse’s lack of legs.

Arciel took a breath as she gazed upon it. Her lips trembling and her heels clacking against the glass, she advanced towards the skeleton whilst preparing a spell. She attacked it not with shadows and moonlight, but blood. She drew the weapon from her own veins, crystallizing the vital fluid into a single jagged nail. She first touched the other bloodkraken’s cheek, smiling softly before pressing her bloodied finger into the side of the undead’s skull. It collapsed almost immediately, its whole body crumpling and fading to bits as the energy holding it together dispersed. When the maiden faded, so too did the chains that filled the atrium. Everything was taken by the god of death at once.

Arciel did not move from where she had performed the purification. Placing her sister’s hat upon the altar, she took her place in prayer, returning to her tentacled form and neatly folding her legs beneath her as she rested her hands atop the boneless limbs.

Claire followed suit after a brief delay and assumed her own true form. She was unsure of how a dracoqilin was meant to pray. She could have easily sat down on her four legs like a centaur, but with no hands to clasp, the pose simply felt wrong. Her wings could be manipulated like arms, but overlaying them was more ridiculous than it was reverent or respectful. Eventually, she settled on straightening her body, closing her wings, and lowering her head. It was far from what she envisioned as an ideal pose for prayer, but with four legs, no hands, and a body ten times longer than it was wide, it was the best that she could do.

“O goddess of guidance and purifying silverlight, great mother above and witch of the twilight skies. I have come to answer your call.”

Her body was struck by a sudden sense of weightlessness. It was like when she neutralised the force pulling her to Mara, albeit with a few minor differences. The force was not suppressed, as it had been when she was in control. She could still feel it faintly tugging on her feet, but it was so frail and weak that she could have easily escaped.

Looking down, she saw a sea of stars, a splotch of black dotted with bits of white. And below that, a large sphere covered in blues, greens, browns, and greys. Parts of it were obscured by a layer of white, large swaths of clouds almost impossible to see beyond.

“Welcome, young one, to the realm above and below.”

A voice echoed through her mind, its source the giant rock floating in the void. It was no perfect sphere, like the planet beneath her feet, but rather a slightly elliptical blob with a triangular chunk torn out of its lower half. Bits of debris floated around the great stone, smaller rocks of the same make. They were not her children, but pieces of her body over which she still held control.

Somehow, the mortal felt as if she could see a face. The missing piece was the mouth, and the dark spots were the eyes. All the details matched perfectly with the angle at which her hat sat, producing the faint visage of a sloppy, tired witch.

“Thank you, Goddess.”

Claire nodded lightly, a motion that was nearly followed by a furrow of the brow. Something was off. She did not have the strange, floaty sensation that had come with every other visit to the divine realm.

“Your body is present, if that is what you were wondering,” said the witch, with a chuckle. “We aren’t in the divine realm. This is the space between the world and the moon.”

“Oh.” Without breaking her neutral expression, she suppressed her excitement and slowly directed her eyes up, towards the caster that had created the bizarre scenario.

“I was hoping for a more exaggerated reaction.”

“This is an exaggerated reaction.”

“You’re more stone faced than me, and I’m a rock,” The moon chuckled like an older lady as she applied a light force to the mortal’s shoulders. It was something akin to a pat on the back, calming and reassuring. “To change the subject, I’m quite happy with how everything’s been turning out. You’ve been making some pretty good headway on that quest of yours.”

“Hardly.” Claire frowned. “I’ve mostly left her to her own devices.”

“That might be how you see it, but me, I think you’ve done plenty.” The goddess paused for a moment to grow brighter. “And that’s why I wanted to see you.” She removed a rock from her ring and flung it towards the draconic mortal. It moved quickly through the space between them, but slowed as it approached, coming to a full stop half an inch in front of her nose. “The road ahead is long and thorny. But perhaps this’ll be of service.”

The perforated mass of stone was half the serpent’s length and twice her width. Its shape was akin to that of an unpolished wedge. There were a thousand deformities covering its frame, but it ultimately ended in a sharpened point.

Her expression returning to neutral, she slowly shifted her eyes between the two rocks. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Touch it. You will understand.”

Though somewhat skeptical, the lyrkress opened a talon and pressed her palm against the wedge’s surface. A strange, comforting chill shot through her spine as soon as contact was made. It almost felt like the rock was extending a set of feelers and latching onto her magic circuits. Even though it did nothing but sit still. She could feel it. Its insides were more complex than they let on, an array of tiny circuits marked not in flesh but stone. Proof that it was once a piece of the goddess’ body.

But while she understood that, she still had no idea why it was being given to her or what she was meant to do with it. At the end of the day, a magical rock was still just a rock, and the only use that Claire could think of would be to transform it into a projectile.

“I’m not really sure what I was supposed to understand.”

There was a faint glint in the moon’s eye, a momentary glimmer of amusement. “Ice is an orderly construct. Its molecular structure is rigid, with every last atom adhering to all the same rules. You’ve used it so much that your body is starting to take on some of its more rigid properties.” She floated a chunk of frozen water in front of the lyrkress’ face, and by filling it with her own divine force, detonated it into a mess of broken reflections. “But your essence is entirely chaotic. And the two are not compatible.”

“That’s… inconvenient,” muttered the scalewarden.

“Very,” agreed the rock. “And that is why I have given you this moonstone, young one. You may not understand it now, but one day, it may aid you in tempering your divinity. And if that doesn’t work, then maybe you can find some other use for it. It’s yours now regardless.”

“I see…” The lyrkress ran her fingers across the rock’s surface. “I do appreciate the gift, Goddess, but I also happen to have a question.”

“And what might that be?”

“Are you expecting me to bring this with me?”

The moon laughed. “Of course not. I will facilitate a link. You may access it through prayer, so long as you are touched by my light.”

Claire nodded. “Thank you, Goddess. I will keep your consideration in mind.”

“You’re very welcome, young one,” said the sentient rock, with another chuckle. “Sadly, I think that’s all the time we have today.” Griselda’s rocky ring began to spin, and with it accelerated the lyrkress. The stars blurred as she was flung round and round, faster and faster with every circle. “My beloved child holds you in high regard, Claire Augustus. I hope that you will treat her well.” The words echoed through her mind as she was released from the moon’s grasp and launched towards the planet. It was not a straight line trajectory, but an angular one. She flew not at Mara, but around it. The pull of gravity grew with each cycle, taking something in the realm of a dozen before it finally tore her from orbit.

She could feel her scales heating up as the air went from nonexistent to pushing against her face. It battered her, slowing her down like a wall of mud, but she paid it little mind. From up high, she could see everything. Pria, Vaughn, the veil, everything. And all of it slowly faded away, vanishing beyond the horizon as the Ryllian grew beneath her. In the blink of an eye, it went from a wet splotch on a dry canvas to all that she could see.

And then, impact.

The dip was accompanied by an explosion of steam as her body boiled the sea around her. Fish floated to the surface, killed by either the heat or the blast. It was hard to say which. Whatever the case, she continued forward, sinking beneath the waves and into the depths, her speed slowly, slowly draining with every bit of distance traveled.

“What the heck do you mean, you don’t know where she went!?”

“I meant precisely what I said. Griselda has spirited her away, and I have not the faintest clue as to her location.”

It wasn’t until she was a thousand feet above the ruined temple that her momentum was fully drained. But even with her speed at zero, her heart was still pounding with excitement. Griselda had shown her the world. The entire planet had been laid bare before her hundred and forty one eyes. Everything. Everything except all the finer details that she wanted so desperately to know. The perfect match to light her desire to explore.

“Then pray! Pray right now, and get that dumb bimbo to give her back!”

But as much as the lyrkress wanted to imagine the days to come, she found herself pulled from her reverie by a set of familiar voices.

“I refuse. You will address my goddess with respect and pray to her yourself.”

“No friggin’ way!”

“Please calm down, both of you. We’re not going to figure anything out if we keep screaming at each other. We need to take a step back and talk this through.”

An impish smile appeared on Claire’s lips as she parsed the screams and located their sources. Reverting to her humanoid form, she crept up on the building and snuck in through its broken roof.

“Shut up, Lia! None of this would’ve happened in the first place if you actually got out of bed when I told you to!”

“S-sorry, I was in the middle of a really nice dream.”

The lyrkress raised a hand to her lips when Arciel, the only one with an angle on her entry point, noticed her flickering shadow. Though somewhat confused, the vampire squid nodded, and said nothing as she snuck her way through the water.

“Liar! You weren’t even having a good dream! You were just really confused by talking tomatoes again!”

“Wait, you were looking again!? Sylvia!”

“Only because you wouldn’t get up! Why the he—eeek!?”

The fox’s shout was cut off by a high pitched scream as a pair of hands suddenly closed in on her bubble. She shot straight up when the fingers made contact, bolting over three dozen meters and crashing into the temple’s broken roof.

“Wait! Claire!? What the heck was that for!?” screamed the victim.

“Good morning. Did you miss me?” The prankster stuck out her tongue, teasingly, before applying a vector to the roof-fox and pulling her into her arms.

Sylvia was a little miffed at first, but spun around and returned the hug with her paws spread wide. “Where the heck did you go!? My tracker stopped working for some odd reason. I was worried sick!”

“Griselda took me up into the sky,” she said, as she scratched the critter’s ear. “We were talking, face to face.”

“Ohhh… whew.” Sylvia heaved a sigh. “I thought she might’ve done something to you ‘cause like, who knows what the gods are thinking.”

“It is rare that the great mother grants the opportunity to speak with her in person,” said Arciel, with a look of envy.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” said Natalya. “I was getting a little worried as well. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Sylvia that flustered before.”

“That’s cause that was the first time I’ve ever lost track of her,” said the fox. “Normally, my mark tells me exactly where she is at all times.”

“Uhmm… at all times? That seems like it’s a bit too much,” said the cat.

“Nuh uh. It’s okay because we’re friends,” said the fox.

“Right…” Lia laughed awkwardly. “Does that mean the rest of us have trackers too?”

“Oh uhmmm… that would be a good idea, wouldn’t it? I should probably do that.”

“Please don’t! I like my privacy!”

“I would also prefer not to be marked.”

“Sorry, too late,” giggled the fox. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure we’re done here, so let’s get back to Melly’s place. Breakfast is gonna get cold if we keep it waiting any longer!”

“While I would certainly enjoy partaking in another suite of bizarre Arvidian dishes, there is another matter we must first address,” objected the vampire. “The first location that Griselda has laid out for us is not far from here. I suggest we visit, so that we may bolster our strength for the battles to come.”

“Booooo! That sounds boring. Eating would be way more fun,” said Sylvia.

“I don’t mind either way,” said Lia. “What do you say, Claire?”

A smile appeared on the lyrkress’ face. “Food can wait.” She lifted her lizard off the glass floor and holstered him to her back. “Monsters can’t.”

“Ughhhhhhhh! Of course you’d say that!”

Ignoring the fox’s complaint, Claire placed the critter on her head and prepared for departure. There was still a long road ahead, one that she would happily leave strewn in bloodied corpses.