(69) The Eyes
Nephthys strode through the halls of Nemesis, her steps confident, assured. She had dropped Bernard off at his manor once things had settled down in Gloamview with a promise to keep him apprised of new developments. Their goals had largely been achieved: the baron managed to protect the inn, and the citizens witnessed him doing so.
Nephthys had calmed some of the more violent rioting by ‘convincing’ the rioters to go home. Some of this convincing was…quite forceful, but ultimately, even the most aggressive calmed down once they realized they could not move unless she allowed it.
Jace’s forces were successful and working to reestablish order in Gloamview. They wisely got a jumpstart on this process by announcing that the low-level food ration was lifted, blaming the count for enacting it unnecessarily. With the populace’s greatest, most immediate grievance settled, normal life began to reassert itself, though it took a couple of days.
Nephthys, however, did not think for a second that the affair was over. It was not just the count’s men trying to point enmity toward the marquis, and she suspected that this current lull was merely the trough between two colossal waves.
“Ramose,” Nephthys greeted as he fell in line behind her.
“My lady,” he returned, bowing his head in acknowledgment.
This rebellion had highlighted a terrible mistake Nephthys had made, and she did not intend to keep making it.
“Hannibal,” she nodded as he also fell in line.
The great doors to the audience hall opened, and Nephthys was pleased to find all of Nemesis’ members present, lining the path.
She was surprised to see both the former slaves and the farmers and Daniel present, too, though they were positioned back and away from the carpeted approach to the dais, mere spectators. Even Tara was present, Nephthys having picked her up from Myra’s yesterday.
She supposed it was not inappropriate, though she was hesitant about Nemesis’ inner machinations having observers, herself an audience. It would be uncouth to dismiss them now, however, so she merely approached and ascended the dais, taking her seat upon the throne.
Nephthys briefly stopped to ponder her situation. Just over a month ago, she had sat in this very chair and been deeply discomforted by her guild members’ fealty, as well as all the pomp and circumstance. Yet now she sat without hesitation, focused only on the task before her.
Perhaps this change was worth further examination, but it did not change what she must do.
“Thank you all for gathering. Please, be at ease,” she bade, her guild members, lined up formally before her, loosening to varying states of relaxation.
“A problem has come to my attention recently, which is that we severely lack information-gathering abilities. We have been using Hannibal’s forces to scout around us, but as all of you are undoubtedly aware, Hannibal is the general of our military.
“His people, while diverse and capable, are not specialized for espionage. This is a blind spot in our organization, and I will correct it today.
“I aim to summon and welcome a new member to Nemesis,” Nephthys declared.
Eyes widened around the room, including in the peanut gallery, and she allowed the silence to linger so that everyone might digest her words.
She surveyed her people, making mental notes of each individual’s reaction before continuing.
“That said, Nemesis does not belong to me alone. It is us—all of us—that make this guild. As such, I would like to place the issue before you and hear your input.
“Does anyone have any objections about what I have said? Does anyone think this is a bad idea? Is anyone against summoning a new member to handle our spycraft?” she asked.
Her guild members exchanged glances, their expressions difficult to read.
“If it is my lady’s wish, it shall be,” Ramose said, and Nephthys almost sighed.
The man really knew how to undermine her. How was anyone supposed to voice dissent after a statement like that?
“My lady, I must apologize for—” Hannibal started, but Nephthys held up her hand to cut him off.
“Hannibal, this is not a failure of yours or any under you,” she assured, gesturing to the other demons. “As I said, you are all important to the organization and possess diverse skillsets. I am simply aiming to recruit a specialist.
“This is also to free your own hands, Hannibal. There are many more things I would like you to focus on while our new specialist handles the information. They will also work closely with you and Ramose,” Nephthys explained.
Hannibal bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment, and she hoped that he took her words to heart. She truly did admire his work up to this point. She was not dissatisfied with any of them.
She simply wanted to free them from their current tasks and build a more robust information network that could operate independently.
Indeed, it was not even a failure of his or his people’s that put the thought in her head. She had been naive in thinking that she could simply show up in Gloamview and find exactly what she needed to build a trade route.
Things had destabilized beyond her expectations or predictions, and this was before the world was largely aware of her and Nemesis.
Who knew how things could escalate and spiral once the world had her guild in its sights? No, she needed someone to stay on top of this before it became an issue.
She needed a specialist.
“If there are no objections…” Nephthys started, glancing around. When no one raised their voice, she continued. “Very well.”
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Ramose watched in barely restrained anticipation as Nephthys placed her two hands close together, palms facing each other. She held her right hand with her palm down, around the height of her clavicle, while her left hand was just beneath her rib cage, its palm facing the other.
It had been long since Ramose had seen his lady perform a summoning, and longer still since she had summoned something truly interesting—something akin to his own strength and standing. She summoned minor creatures for various purposes frequently enough, but this…this should be something worth witnessing.
A purple light spawned between her hands, spinning and growing until she seemed to hold a glowing ball of solid light between her palms. It was mana painted in her color, so thick and concentrated that it almost hurt his eyes to gaze upon.
Yes, this was going to be an especially powerful summon. He wondered who she was seeking, bundling so much power together before activating the spell—
The atmosphere changed rapidly. A titanic presence came crawling from Nephthys’ center like a dragon emerging from a tiny doorway. It nearly bent Ramose over, and indeed, he saw many guild members forced to their knees.
He spared a glance for the observers, but they were unaffected, thankfully. The phenomenon was localized to Nephthys’ immediate vicinity.
Her eyes were closed, her face serene. Her act of summoning such power instantly and, seemingly, without effort would have set his pulse racing, but his two hearts had been beating quickly since the weight first settled on him. His breathing was heavy and labored, but he dared not drop to his knees, even if it would help him catch his breath.
He might miss something in the second it took to do so, and he would not miss this. This was no ordinary summoning. This was no ordinary magic.
So much mana was now lingering around her that Nephthys began to shimmer and glow, a purple haze surrounding her, lighting the edges of her body as if the sun were shining behind her.
Rather than the mana vanishing, translocating to a different plane—the expected path for a summons—it all went rushing into the purple ball still held between her hands. The mana concentrated beyond what Ramose thought possible, and the ball seemed to invert into what was unmistakably a hole in space.
Ramose gasped, unable to stop himself. His knees shook, despite his best effort to maintain his composure. He looked at her face, and yet his lady’s expression was as serene and unbothered as ever, her eyes closed, her hands now lying on her lap, one on each leg, the palms up.
A quick scan around showed him that the rest of the room felt similarly, though perhaps not as frightened as he. There were many mouths hanging open, some even held arms before them, as if afraid to gaze at the tear in reality.
Likely, most had at least an instinctive understanding that something terribly wrong had taken place, but Ramose knew exactly what it was. It was why he was afraid.
Nephthys had punctured the Veil.
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Nephthys’ consciousness was a strange combination of whisked away and still present. She could still perceive the audience hall and her guild gathered before her, but a portion of her mind, or maybe of her soul, floated in a lightless expanse, the deep black before her somehow alive and moving.
She did not know how she knew it was moving, but she could almost feel it.
The summoning had proceeded as planned. Her modifications to the spell had worked, so she was unafraid, but it was not exactly what she expected to happen.
She needed a summon specialized for information gathering, and there was a particular race of summons from Prelude that had immediately come to mind. However, the weavers, while late-game summons, would not be enough on their own. She would have to summon an army of them to achieve her goal.
That, or she could try to contact a matriarch.
When the spell was executed, rather than the mana racing off across dimensional boundaries to contact a summon, she had traced the path it was aimed toward and punched through herself. She aimed to project herself into their dimension to negotiate, a sort of reverse summoning.
She, however, was not in the weavers’ dimension. This appeared to be…some interstitial space, or something? It was strange, the darkness—
Oh, she thought. The darkness isn’t moving. I am.
Yes, she was on her way to the weavers’ dimension, which must mean that she was navigating the Veil right now, if Ramose’s explanation of the planes was accurate.
That was…discomforting. Ramose was inarguably one of her most powerful summons, and he was terrified of the Veil. He said something about things that lurk in—
Eyes.
Two eyes.
One red, the color of blood.
One bright blue like the sky.
They are watching her.
She moves so fast, yet the eyes never move.
Where are they?
They occupy no space.
What is she moving through?
Nothing.
They are everywhere.
They are watching.
They are smiling.
They are amused.
Nephthys felt as though her consciousness had been violently slammed back into her body. Her pulse hammered in her ears. She sucked in a sharp breath.
She found herself floating above a white floor, though it did not appear to be marble or stone. It looked vaguely like fabric of some kind, so a canvas floor, maybe?
She worked to calm herself, slowing her breathing with breathing exercises and reflecting on what she had just been through. Strangely, the memories of…that place were already beginning to vanish, as if it were a dream she had awoken from.
Let’s not…do that again. Not for a while, at least, she thought. Her memories of the Veil fled like startled insects, and before she realized it, her fear and discomfort had nearly vanished, the memory of the eyes fleeing with them.
A breeze blew her hair, and the fetid stench it carried immediately anchored her firmly back to reality—or this reality, at least. Wherever she was. Frankly, if she were in some poor destitute’s camp in a sewer, she would not be surprised. The stench was abhorrent.
She glanced around, noting she was in an underground cavern of some sort, and the floor, walls, and ceiling were covered with the white fabric—no, the web.
Ah, of course.
She was in the realm of the weavers.