Vol. 3, Ch. 138: Mouseological Survey
Neska smiled as her long-bedridden professor walked in, favoring his left side over his right. Kalloway rushed over to him, offering him a seat.
“Professor, I see you managed to evade Selkies' care? You know she’s going to be furious with you. How'd you even get up the stairs?”
Serkin wore a weary smile. “A certain professor told me you needed a witch to share in the effort to find a certain individual.”
“I think I have to agree with Professor Kalloway.” Neska slinked over to him and gave him a firm hug. “It’s still good to see you up and mobile. How do you feel?”
“Well, I’ve been better. I do think there will be some lasting damage that will require therapy. My mind gets a little foggy, and I suffer from lapses in time of a few seconds, and the nerves in my right leg aren’t working so well. Selkie assures me long-term care can mitigate most of that." He tapped the cane for emphasis before Kalloway offered him one of the rolling lab chairs. “Kalloway, I think I can render assistance on this ritual. Have you worked out your method?”
“Yes. Sort of. We’re trying something new. Essentially we’re using our mouse’s elevation detection to find where our slippery snake has hidden, using his dagger to pinpoint a vector. We need a reading from past and present to get a proper calibration, so hopefully we’ll be able to pinpoint it using a dial-back of ten years to survey the blade’s surroundings.”
Serkin frowned. “You’re talking about the theory that we can read extrasensory abilities from past events, because of the shock front of ambient mana?”
“Yes.”
“Alright. Let me catch my breath after those stairs, then we’ll proceed. Hello everyone,” he said, waving to Juni and the others.
Kasfew gave a half-hearted wave. “Not that I should speak out of turn, but are you sure there aren’t any other witches to channel a ritual?”
“It’s a five-point ritual, and we need an even number of volunteers. Neska and Juni are required participants, at a minimum. Brent could be helpful with his extrasensory abilities too.”
Kasfew scoffed. “This is a bunch of hocus pocus, for the record. How can you be sure that what you view is a recording and not wish fulfillment to see what you want to see?”
Kalloway pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something unflattering. “Perhaps we should have those who aren't part of the ritual vacate the premises? I always get anxious about other people's auras mixing in, even if not directly casting.”
Brent grunted. “I can smell and hear things no one else can. It’s definitely in supernatural territory.” Syra, currently freezing water sculptures using Nori’s ice powers. “I guess those two could head out. Birdman, artists at work, why don’t you guys go take a break?”
“Your stomach is a bottomless pit bigger than the snake’s. And I say that knowing she has a dimensional inventory,” Syra said, surging forward and leaving the floor wet as they headed back down the tower stairs. “Meet us back at the dorm when you're done?”
Juni nodded. “If I'm here, the chance of mishap drops by fifty percent. Give or take.” Neska raised a brow at the mouse's statement, but chose to let it go. Juni was likely correct; she didn't take risks where she didn't have to, if her friends were involved.
Serkin scoffed as the others departed. “You worry too much. Alright, so we plan to see when exactly?”
Kalloway showed him the written outline of their plan. “Ten years ago. When we dive that far back, we may get events before or after the timeframe, so the temporal accuracy of a divination ritual decreases. If we dive too far back, strange stuff happens.
“Define strange stuff for me?” Neska inquired.
Kalloway grunted and gave a dismissive wave towards Professor Serkin. “Don't bring up remote possibilities. Let's get this underway. Juni, based on the tests we did, we should be able to get a draw on this man.”
“Good. He has a lot to answer for. But will he sense this scrying attempt?”
“Unlikely.” Kalloway took a position on one corner of the diamond shape, with several inscribed instructions slowly lighting up. “Neska, hold the athame in the center rune circle. It'll be your power that guides this.”
She'd practiced with the athame a few times. It still unsettled her on its inherent enchantments.
Athame of the Aspiring SerpentThat last part unsettled her. No wonder Risha had chosen to abandon the weapon. It was designed for a witch, yes…but it rewarded assassins, and ritual work had a perverse incentive.+2 Agility, +2 Perception, +2 Soul
All channeled magical projectile spells increase in potency by 30% (I believe this includes your Venom Bolt too, Neska).
All attacks against helpless, terrified, or ritual targets will bypass all resistances and immunities and deal enhanced damage.
Maybe Markus had held the weapon and done what she couldn't. Even as much as she thought she knew Risha, the witch carried a dark and terrible burden, in ways she was only now realizing.
She gripped the weapon with both hands, holding it close to her chest, and let out a slow exhale with her eyes closed. A weapon or a tool was neither inherently evil nor good. Only actions mattered. She didn't see herself killing others explicitly for power. That seemed to be reserved for the likes of the Radiant King, and those who enjoyed the bloodshed.
She cleared her thoughts and extended her hands, channeling mana into the blade. It absorbed the energy and pressed against her palms. It drew her magic through her, but in a controlled, consistent manner. It was like a canal, designed and constructed with intent, rather than the wild river of energy she normally dealt with.
Kalloway, Brent, Juni, and Serkin all affirmed they were ready as she opened her eyes. “Let's see what happened ten years ago.”
Serkin gasped as he pointed at her athame. “Sweet Norinamu, is that Markus’s dagger?”
“The same,” Kalloway confirmed grimly. “Take a gander. We're using that to find that not-so-dead serpent of interest.”
“And if we find him?”
“No, there's no ‘if’ in that statement. It's when we find him. Do you need any time to steady yourself? If we dive in, we might see something unpleasant, especially with Markus.”
Serkin shook his head. “I'm ready.”
Neska focused on the athame, using the runes she'd shaped in the mana salt, hardened into a glaze lit up with a soft blue glow. The black tallow candles the others wrapped their hands around flickered softly in the faintest current of air.
Neska activated her [Spectral vision] to observe the ritual in closer detail. To her surprise, she saw gradients of mana connect and flow through her professors and Juni, and swept through her body. Juni’s were strange–they formed flat and geometric patterns, unlike the dense pathways of Serkin and Kalloway. It confirmed there was a rough correlation between Tier and the density of the mana pathway. Or perhaps the aetheric density itself. Juni’s burned brighter than the others. Fractals formed from her core and spread through more of her body, though less prominent than the core pathways.
Did this mean Juni was close to evolving? She knew there was a few levels difference between the two of them, and Juni had done some of her own fighting in the hive. She should ask later, as this change would be monumental.
She needed to focus on the timestamp she’d written on her template underneath her fingers in real space, and outside the vision. She’d specifically left raised lettering so she could feel it, in case she lost focus. “Professor,” she called out, “When was the date of Markus’ death? Please confirm it for me.”
“Argusto the Second, in the tenth year of the age of the serpent,” he answered. She dared a peek outside of her thermal sense. “You don’t remember?”
“Not the reason for the new age. People sure were quick to blame Arivol on a snake, huh?”
“Unfortunately. Let’s get back to it.”
She mapped out the date and confirmed it before triggering the activation rune. “Everyone, keep your senses sharp. I know this one might be hard, depending on what memory we land on.”
Seeing Risha alive…maybe she picked this date on a selfish whim to see her one last time. Maybe she needed to confirm what she’d thought in private–that Markus was well aware of her, a long time ago. And how he found out about her.
Or maybe this was a terrible idea, and she was too obsessed with finding the truth as a matter of principle, no matter what harm it caused her. Or others.
A cold wind blew in around her, even though the candles around them didn’t so much as flicker, and chilly mists emanated from the ritual circle. The dagger in her hand grew cold, radiating a burning frost that she told herself was only there in her mind. The world became a boiling cloud of mists, and all sound melted into it, with nothing but the rush of air across her ears.
Then static. That crackling, unsettling sound she’d heard before, when the Interface glitched in the presence of the Radiant King or his vessels. It was a sound she knew; if she ever fell into it, it would only seep into her mind, dragging her into an abyss without end.
She forced her eyes shut in concentration. No. Go to ten years, one week, in the hands of your former wielder. Show me that day, show the passage of your presence.
The mists boiled off, and it was daytime. She found herself standing in a room with bright wood wall paneling and a checkered, glossy wooden floor. The smells of saffron and cinnamon and other spices filled the air.
They were scents she always associated with the coziness of Risha’s cottage and shop. The room looked very similar to Professor Serkin’s office, but the trees outside the window were different; the decor was filled with reliefs of old witch tools, carved wooden tables and chairs, and a desk stacked with papers, scrolls, and small gems in a loose pile
Her wonder turned to disgust when she saw the presumptive Markus. Little had changed between this moment and when she’d seen him–venom green eyes, the digitigrade body, and the short tail she hadn’t noticed before, sitting at the professor’s desk, leaning back in the chair and tipping back on two legs. He flicked the all-too-familiar athame in his hand, spinning it and catching it between his fingers.
He did this several times, varying how he caught it. His dexterity was flawless, his movements precise and fluid. No motion or momentum was wasted while he leaned back, humming an unfamiliar tune.
There he was. Sitting in his witch’s presumptive chair, invading her private sanctum, flicking that weapon lazily as if bored.
The door unlatched at the far end, and Markus showed no interest as Risha walked in. Neska’s heart clenched tight at the sight of the woman she knew, minus ten years of wear and tear. Her hair was a more vibrant strawberry color, and the greys far fewer. She stood taller, wearing her signature hat, the one currently resting on Neska’s own head.
“I see you let yourself in, Markus. We’ve talked about this.” She’d heard that tone before, when Neska had tried, and failed repeatedly, to eat the chickens in the yard. Risha continued, standing over the desk, gaze narrowed on the naga in her chair. “You can’t just come in here whenever you like.”
“The door was unlocked.” Even now, that smug, arrogant tone drove Neska’s claws into her palms as she focused the ritual, the vantage point centered around Markus and the athame. He finally flipped the dagger upward, moved his thigh, and the dagger landed smoothly in the holster strapped to his leg. “I mean, I think it was. Doors are more of a suggestion.”
“Markus. What do you want?” All the warmth in Risha’s voice had faded, and she folded her arms.
“Neska, this location is…odd.” Juni’s voice whispered through the space, though Neska couldn’t see her. Usually, only the person conducting the diagnostic ritual was visible in the projection, unable to interact with it in any way other than passive observation. “My ability is reading it as underground.”
“How deep?”
“At least below ground level. Hard to tell; it’s at the edge of my ability’s sensing depth.” Neska focused on Markus and how he ran his scaled fingers over papers on Risha’s desk. That outdoor space must be an illusion of some kind. Maybe a reminder of home?
“I see you submitted your warnings to the military.” Markus tapped a clawed finger on an indecipherable scrawl on one page. “You have never shown restraint before. Why start now?”
Risha sighed. "Like we haven't already had this discussion before? You know where I stand, Markus. You’ve ignored the most basic of safety precautions for this so-called ‘test’ you want to run.”
Neska tried to lean in and read the papers, but it was gibberish. It was a simulation, and the dagger it was tied to couldn’t ‘read’. Yet, the geometry of the room and the outside sun seemed to run contrary to that notion. There was much she was learning about what a diagnostic ritual could, and could not, do.
“Kalloway explained it, and I will explain it again. This is too dangerous. You will get yourself, and everyone around you, killed, Markus.” Risha stood stiffly, scowling. “I’ve expressed my disdain for this weaponized venom. It is indiscriminate. It will kill almost anyone. Or worse, not affect the Varadur in a lethal capacity. Some can and do carry venom resistance to a wide variety of sources. Even alchemical sources, such as yours, are treated as such when evaluating effectiveness.”
He scoffed, and his expression never changed. He looked almost amused. “Oh, look at who is claiming the moral high ground. As if there's going to be any ground left to stand on if we don't take drastic measures against the Varadur.” Markus rose from the chair, the two tipped legs coming down onto the floor with a dull clank of wood. He rounded the desk, drawing close to Risha.
Far, far too close, though the witch was as unflappable as ever. Markus stood mere inches from her, saurian teeth visible as if smiling politely were impossible for him. “What do you call your past actions, Risha?”
“Necessary.” The word was barely a whisper from her lips.
“Necessary.” Markus turned slowly, laughing as he spread his arms for drama, and paced toward the wall. “You call it necessary; I call it…living up to your nature, Risha. You are a destroyer. Not a creator. Who was it, I wonder, that gave Lachmir the knowledge he needed to throw this world into a dark age, huh? Who was it that brought the monsters forth, or determined these very creatures were our salvation?”
She didn't interrupt, and stared right through him as she barely moved, barely even breathed. “Serkin, Kalloway, where was Risha’s office?”
“Below ground, same building as mine. This isn't the same place. The office layout is identical, but the paneling isn't right. Is this tampered with?”
No one commented on the terrible vibe she got between Markus and Risha. He stood at the window, hands clasped behind his back, inhaling deeply. “What is the original sin, Risha?”
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. It was the first thing Markus had said that warranted such a reaction. “The pursuit of forbidden knowledge. Humanity was meant to always be below and under the stewardship of the Divines. Never as equals. Our Interface is both a shackle and a key for our liberation from the constraints of the material.”
“Rogrun. Nice. The very man who pushed humanity from Tier three to Tier four. Then we pushed from four to five a hundred years ago. Then Lachmir tried, ten years ago, to push one last time upwards. He found the divines waiting to put a boot in his face as he ascended that last flight of stairs. The ones you helped him build, in a metaphorical way.”
Risha clenched her fist tightly. “I didn't–”
Then Markus was there. Right there next to her, his ability's shadowy particles drifting through the air. He whispered in her ear, behind her, cupping her shoulder gently. A visible ripple ran along Risha's arm. “You didn't…what? You didn't want to find out your dear old mum predicted your role in the coming disaster? That you wanted to divert your fate as a destructor, and be loved for saving the world?”
Her gaze remained fixed forward, but her clenched jaw and deep lines at her eyes betrayed the anger simmering beneath. She still said nothing. Neska wanted to scream; why was she saying nothing back? If he weren't just a phantom of the past, she'd tear his arm off with her twisting vines, and that would be just the start of what she'd do to him.
“Neska. Remain focused. Keep the ritual going.” Kalloway's firm voice punctured the rage bubbling through her mind, threatening to boil over.
She gripped the athame's handle tightly, still tuned into the physical sensation, and watched Markus circle Risha like a predator. Claws clicked across the hardwood floor, disproportionately loud in the suddenly still office. “After all you've done so far to be a savior, you'd let a little thing like chaos and unfortunate collateral make you hesitate now?”
Markus stood behind her, reaching around and running one hand over the witch’s navel. “Oh, but I don't think anything's stopped you from pursuing what you always wanted.” Risha shuddered from the grazing touch.
Neska knew now what Kalloway had been hinting at, what he might have been trying to dissuade her from. This aether wake…these visions tended to propagate and be most visible as important events. This was crucial; if not to her, then to the others.
She felt her fangs extending as she watched that fiend dare to put his hands on her witch. He was there, running his fingers over Risha like a…a flesh possession. And Risha was letting him? Why?!
Markus let out a hum of contentment. “You know…I always wondered what that must have been like? Did he ask?" Dead silence filled the air as Risha remained still, unanswering. "No. He didn’t strike me as the kind to ask. Oh, but we all know what happened to him, don't we?"