Orphan At The Edge Of The World 121 Crawling Chaos 19

She shuffled her deck and had Ignatius cut the cards while asking Orison for privacy. Whatever ended up being spoken between them left the ifrit looking irritatingly pleased with himself as the young mage was called back in. The Eastern European woman looked like she had eaten a bug. As soon as Ignatius had left the room in a swirl of desert wind, her bitter expression turned into a playfully mischievous one.

Orison said, "I'm almost curious enough to ask a question I won't get an answer to."

Zora smiled mysteriously and said, "Some get what they want only to find that is gone before they can enjoy... Cut the cards... Three times you face climbing broken tower. Each time this fixed before it can hurt you. First by grandfather? No, like grandfather with green hands or heart. Not sure... Second time by two lovers with green face, green head? Unclear... Third time by green father, silver mother and blue key? Even more unclear.

"Around you there are fairy gifts and devil lucks. No, dragon... This is dragon fortune but don't forget. Your first gift came from loss and something beyond the stars. This is important because your power isn't twofold it is three.

"You believe yourself two but you are not. You are one. The older, kinder one gave everything to you and stays at your side, becoming something else, one who learns without end... No, that one is you as well but you are still only one...argh! Forget it. I will hurt myself trying to see more of that.

"Three broken towers will become one that is not broken but you will lose much to gain. You will not have fairy gifts or dragon fortunes. Nor will you have a gift from beyond the stars but you will be something that is more than one alone. You will be something new but also old... A revival? You will be something that once was... The time when you will become this is not near and not promised. You can fail. You can die... There is no more."

Getting up slowly, Zora stated that she was tired and needed more rest. Before laying down, she a.s.sured she'd be ready to lead Orison to go find Neil that evening. The young mage needed a little time to run all the garbled intuition through his sub-mind to make sense of it and figure it out anyway. After checking in with Ignatius to find that the ifrit had some planar business to take care of, Orison sat back down in the deserted office and meditated.

He thought, "It was confusing and parts weren't exactly accurate but the core meaning was true enough. Morrel did save us from Amoril's wrath. Vivian and Ivan were siblings, not lovers but being outlets for the excess I couldn't handle and a whole bunch of unknown dangers could have been avoided due to my a.s.sociation with them. It's hard to tell... Who knows what the Danann Key saw that made her think it was necessary to remake my physical form with Rithus' spiritual blood and some dead ancestor of the original Orison.

"It's kind of a surprise that the sub-mind's core came from Al's soul and not the original Orison but it doesn't really matter. As far as I'm concerned, all that survived of both Orison and Al's lives are in me. Greater reality may see me as just the original Orison with some extra memories but everything that essentially made Al who he was, I have."

Orison's sub-mind informed him that after all they knew about souls, he should be aware that it wasn't that simple. The core of someone's soul was their truest self. Memories and genetic disposition might make people who they are in one life but a core represented the whole journey. Orison was forced to recognize that he had been more truly the boy this whole time. Memory may have given him many advantages but he had struggled no less with the growing pains of maturity.

The young mage was suddenly overwhelmed by guilt and sadness. In his bid for survival, he had became a parasite that had slowly overtaken its host. No sooner had he completed that thought, he realized that wasn't true. Al had chosen what he had with spiritual purpose. He had insured their survival in many other ways and wasn't regretful at all. Sure, he wasn't a 'free' soul and very little of what he once was remained but there was a simple enjoyment in what he had become and that was 'perfect' for the person he had been.

Looking back, the young mage realized that the very first time that he had spoken to the sub-mind, it had hinted at the truth when it showed a subtle surprise and interest that it appeared to look like the original Orison. Regardless of what one considered the most important aspect of maturity, Orison was truly a man grown now, in every way. Ruefully, he reflected that he wouldn't mind getting that last couple of years back to have a more polished masculinity that men didn't get until they were in their early twenties but he could live with that.

As for the future that Zora spoke of, nothing about it was that much news to Orison. There was obviously a problem with his spiritual bloodlines and his original miasma granted gift of his s.p.a.ce. One wrong move and his s.p.a.ce's capabilities could warp or end him. Anymore strengthening of dragon or fey heritage would see his remaining human heritage fade to make room for it. Either of his dragon or fey heritages growing stronger than the other by a certain margin and the balance between them would be broken, resulting in a tug of war that could end him. When wasn't his future in danger of ending?

Once finished contemplating Zora's reading, he evaluated his decisions since he entered this world. After coming here, despite his bold declaration of proactiveness, he still had been going with the flow and taking the path of least resistance. He was still primarily reacting instead of acting. It gave him a lingering feeling of being lead around by the nose and he hated it.

He didn't want to wait for the next bad thing to happen and then react to it. He didn't want to let some lingering tie to a half baked friendship lead him on another ill prepared adventure as he cluelessly stumbled around trying to survive and make the best out of it. There was some recklessness in rushing forward but if done with deliberation, momentum and first action would belong to the one who did.

Standing up, Orison bound out to his car. It took an hour and a half but he found a place that was deserted with no signs of spiritual fluctuations whatsoever. It was an old quarry mill that had been reduced to a gravel storage pit. There was privacy but little else of note.

With a mix of threats and promises, Orison bound the ring conduit to his service more tightly and then stored everything within his s.p.a.ce into it, even his miniature plane. The only thing left inside was the motes and his crystal formation. As an added precaution, Orison asked the mustard seed bracelet to keep an eye out on the ring and do what it could to help in any way it could with promises of aid in return. The bracelet projected hazy confusion but sent a feeling of acceptance and willingness.

Casting a large magic circle with dirt from his plane, a few motes of precious spirit blood from both heritages and a generous sprinkle of condensed crystal motes, the young mage bound it. As it sprang to life, the s.p.a.ce of the circle felt no different to him than his own inner s.p.a.ce. Aside from being a territory in its own right, it only served two purposes. The first was to keep everything outside, out. The second was to make all the separate parts of himself into a seamless whole truly, not just in theory.

It was important to keep things simple since the work itself would be complex and filled with uncertainty. With one last overview of what he was trying to accomplish, Orison checked in with his sub-mind to insure that certain possibilities weren't against the whatever original intents and personal will remained of Al inside of it. He didn't get an answer so much as a brief intensification of curious antic.i.p.ation.

As with the circle, the will work was also simple. Orison leaned against the understanding that a world will could rewrite things to suit itself for a price before it moved to the mid dimensions. As above, so below. If a world will could do it then a person within the lower dimensions could do it too as long as they had enough power to draw on. Refusing to call out to a higher power he didn't put any personal faith in, he reached for the Danann Key instead. Although he couldn't reach it directly or call it to himself, they were still connected and he would draw on its power sympathetically. Instead of other divinities or forces of nature, he called out to those who he had once or still did share a spiritual or emotional connection to.

Laying TSSRR suit and over robe with pin aside, Orison stood as the day he was born underneath a muted sun just shy of midday on a day that was just shy of longest day. With only his summons as innocent witnesses, the young mage released his hold on the magic within the circle. In that moment, he ceased to exist.

***

With one last use of the Danann Key to lock her memories for seven years, Keita's soul nestled deep into the new life growing inside the woman she had chosen to be her mother and severed ties with the device that was about to be sacrificed.

***

Droya tucked her son into bed. It was rare for a child to be born favoring the father instead of the mother but it did happen from time to time. She didn't mind. His life would be a lot easier and he'd have a much better chance of being able to keep the legacy Droya's first son had left to him.

Not knowing why she did it, she sent a well wishing to Orison along with a willingness to sacrifice some of the essence granted to her from his workings on her behalf. Surprisingly, it vanished. Nearly half of her gains over the years just disappeared but she wasn't upset. Instead, she felt relieved. It was as if some ent.i.ty had taken her up on her offer and would see it done.

With two kisses to the moon in the night sky, Droya made her way to her husband's bed. For some reason, she felt a sudden strong urge to give her son some siblings. Claudius was more than happy to oblige.

***

Duran looked down lovingly at the woman hogging the bed sheets by his side for a moment before waking her up. "Wick says it's time."

The woman ran fingers through frizzy red curls and said, "So after I revive Gan and you send some kind of sacrifice through Wick to your dumb c*nt of an ex-boss, we don't owe anybody and we can go right?... I f***ing hate the lower dimensions. It was bad enough waiting for you to be ready."

Looking somewhat vulnerable, Duran replied, "Do you regret waiting for me?"

The rough, almost gangster look faded from her face and she said tenderly, "Of course not. You and Wick mean all the worlds to me. I just miss my sister."

***

Stag suddenly went stiff in the VIP room lounge chair. "Aaron, you're on club babysitting duty. I don't care if the sky is falling or the gates of h.e.l.l itself are opening on the dance floor. Make do until I come back. No interruptions...None!"

Getting a slightly startled agreement from the club's manager, Stag made his way down to his sub-bas.e.m.e.nt room. Opening a hidden stairwell, he made his way even deeper until he was in his underground greenhouse. The repurposed portion of a long forgotten part of the city lost in an earthquake had been turned into a lush paradise with artificial sun lighting.

Walking to the center and past a powerful ward, Stag quickly combed through the best items of his collection. Without hesitation, he offered them up to his great ancestor, Cernunnos, along with the hearts of his fallen enemies so far collected. Taking hold of the additional granted power of life and death, Stag hurled it through the connection between himself and Orison with a directive to aid him and murder that which threatened him.

Sighing to himself, Stag muttered, "The past year or so has been fun but hurry up and get your a** here."

***

Venito looked up at the heavy clouds gathering above him. Amoril hadn't been able to erase him and every trial and tribulation it sent his way had been flattened, serving only to hone him and make him stronger. Even the Sigil Order had given up on trying to repress or recruit him. After all that, he found it amusing that it was his own growth in power that would cause his downfall.

The gathering tribulation clouds should have been a fair challenge given to any cultivator waiting to raise from core forming to natal soul but it only spelled his doom in a world that wanted him dead and lacking in anything he could use to resist it. Sure, he'd had alchemy and there had been plenty of material for him to do so in the small world he possessed but there was no way for him to use formations or make talismans. He couldn't even forge any tools.

The only thing he had to face what was coming came down to his own body and all the courage he had. It was undoubtedly not going to be enough. The raise of reality had enriched every inhabitant of the world but had pushed Venito past the point of no return unless he wanted to waste his cultivation. What would wait for him beyond that was only a slow, painful death by the hands of one of his many enemies. Fortunately, all of his children were made 'anonymously' and resided in the care of Droya or Portia. In spite of all his wildness, he only had three and loved each of them more than life itself but after all that he had done, the safest place for them was far away from himself.

At slightly less than an hour left til he'd be electrocuted into powder, A rift opened and an ethereal green deer stepped out. Venito looked at it in confusion and it did the same. After looking around and then back at Venito, it shook its antlered head as if shedding water and stepped back through. Having nothing to lose, Venito jumped through the closing rift.

Stepping out, Venito was awed by the sense of oppressive lifelessness in the air. He chuckled at the ghost deer that looked at him like 'why the h.e.l.l did you follow me!?' In the surroundings was a building power that had attracted a large, ugly thing that floated in the air above like a teddy bear shaped blimp made of maggots. All that stood between it and its goal was a collection of elementals, a horse and a handful of fireflys. Even Venito, as perplexed as he was, could tell it would be a slaughter.

To make matters worse, being in a new world did not mean Venito had escaped his tribulation lightning. If anything, it looked more terrifying as it churned with lifeless black streaks between the gold ones. As he tried to figure out what his next move would be, the ghostly deer approached him.

In a spiritual communication, Venito found out that the deer in front of him was named Ivan. It had hijacked a cousin's power in an effort to bring itself back from the dead. Being bound by the directives of the power, it used what gifts it had to find what was necessary to give aid and bring murder to the enemy of a mutual friend that this creature and its cousin both had named Orison.

Their friend was going through a very delicate metamorphosis and had been on the verge of failing multiple times but help had come from many sources to get him thorough. Ivan feared it wouldn't be enough. Even though Venito could tell that Ivan cared about Orison's fate, it was more worried about its own to resurrect. It was an event that couldn't happen until Orison succeeded or else all the power invested in Ivan's current form would have to be spent in trying to make it succeed.

Venito chuckled. "So my baby brother has himself in a real mess this time. Well, what's a big brother for? If the lightning's going to get me anyway, might as well go down swinging against whatever eye sore that is."

Venito walked over to the circle where a small, cat's eye shaped rent in the fabric of reality lay. On the ground lay a ruby ring that he could care less about but there was a mustard seed bracelet that practically screamed good fortune to him. Picking it up, he immediately could tell that it had exhausted itself. Venito bit his thumb and smeared blood on it. He could feel a good portion of his free qi get gobbled up by the bracelet before it joyfully fit itself onto his wrist and opened its treasures to him. There were a lot.

Grinning from ear to ear, Venito looked at the strange spatial phenomenon in the circle and said, "You always were my little lucky clover, baby brother. Guess this time I'll have to earn it, though."

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