Chapter 123 – Brunch
I wake slowly, content, wrapped in warmth—and then jolt awake all at once as the previous night’s activities come back to me. I’m surrounded by familiar, starkly decorated walls and am swaddled in a nest-like bed: Mirzayael’s room. I suppose at some point we should really just make it our room. But Mirzayael is currently nowhere to be seen, and the spelled lights on the walls tell me I’ve slept far too late.
“Relax,” Mirzayael’s voice comes to me. “I let you sleep in. Seemed like you needed it.”
I stumble out of her bed, untangling a blanket from my wings as I snatch up a new set of clothes to throw on. “But what about the Travelers? Their Roles. They need me.”
Mirzayael’s mind radiates amusement. “Kanin’s been taking care of them. He can’t sleep, remember?”
Oh, that’s right. I’m glad someone has been tending to them in my absence. I don’t know what I’d do if one of their Roles activated and no one was there to help. “Right. Thank you. Where are they all now?”
“Why don’t you get something to eat, first?” Mirzayael suggests. “They’ll all still be here whether or not you have a full belly.”
I wrinkle my nose in suspicion as I push the chamber doors open and strike off into the palace. A couple guards standing outside scramble to attention and call quick greetings. “You’re acting very casual for someone who came face to face with Lorata the night before.”
“And won.” She doesn’t even try to hide her smugness. “If that isn’t a cause for celebration, I don’t know what is.”
“We aren’t out of the woods yet,” I remind her. “If anything, the siege on our city is only beginning.”
“One thing at a time,” Mirzayael says. “Fyreneth laid the foundation for our city to be a safe haven from the gods, and we completed her work. After all these centuries, we’ve finally enacted her vision. We don’t have to be subjected to their whims. We’re free now.”
Her mind is radiating such pride and contentment. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her this serene before; the irony that she feels at ease because the gods have attacked us does not escape me.
Then again, it does seem rather fitting, in a Mirzayael kind of way.
Reluctantly, I take Mirzayael’s advice and head to the dining hall instead of going straight to Travelers. It’s an awkward time between breakfast and lunch, but the cooks are always happy to whip something up for anyone who stops by at irregular times. Which, to be fair, is pretty much all of the rulers and councillors. In fact, as I move through the hall, I find Dizzi is already there eating.
“Fyre!” She jumps up from her meal circle and rushes over to me with a gust of wind. “I heard you got back last night!”
“I did,” I say, looking over her previously-injured wing even though Mirzayael told me it was healed. “And you’re doing alright?”
“Alright? I’m doing amazing!” Her feathers ruffle in excitement. “I have so much to tell you about the spell networks. I’ve gotten to test all of its features the past three days! It is really good at keeping people out of the city, let me tell you. Also, have you seen all the new Travelers? Wait, of course you have, you brought them—”
I chuckle at her enthusiasm, steering us toward a seat before she has the chance to stand there talking at me all day. As we get there I find she wasn’t eating alone; a weary-looking Gardi and Salvia are also finishing off some bowls of grilled meat and greens.
“Oh, let me go grab some more food,” Dizzi says, noticing all the communal plates are nearly empty. “Back in a sec!”
Gardi stifles a yawn as I take a seat next to them, and Salvia squints into their bowl with a wince.
“That level of energy should be illegal,” the harpy grumbles.
I smile. “She’s nothing if not enthusiastic.”
Salvia grimaces, but sits up a little straighter when their eyes focus on me. “Lord Fyre. I’m glad you’ve returned unharmed.”
“Glad to be back.” I look between the two. “You both seem tired.”
“Salvia’s shift just ended,” Gardi informs me as Salvia goes back to polishing off their bowl. “The guards have been rotating watch since, well. You know.”
Don’t I. “And what about you?”
The felis shrugs. “Same schedule. I keep them company on the wall.”
“That’s kind of you.” I carefully watch Gardi’s neutral expression. Given their past as a Jorrian, the fact that our city is now under siege by the gods—exactly the thing their people claimed would happen—has got to summon conflicting feelings in them. But they don’t make eye contact with me, and they don’t volunteer their opinion on the circumstances at hand.
Salvia sets their bowl down and stretches, letting out a content sigh, then turns to Gardi with a faint smile. “You know you don’t have to do that. I can take care of myself.”
Gardi snorts. “You don’t need to tell me. But I like spending time with you.”
“Even when we don’t talk and just stare out into the darkness?” Salvia teases.
“Especially when we don’t talk and stare out into the darkness.” Gardi shares a small smile as well.
The two lean in until they’ve bumped shoulders and then heads, as if they’re propping each other up. I feel a bit like I’m intruding on an intimate moment, even though they’re doing nothing but sitting there. Salvia’s eyes flutter closed: they must be exhausted. I’d like to think that things will get easier now that I’m back, but I actually suspect I’ve brought a whole lot more trouble with me.
I’m considering quietly making a departure when Dizzi reappears.
“Tada!” she cries, startling Salvia awake. “I have returned with more sustenance!” Dizzi lays out the new plates of food—probably more than she and I can eat. It strikes me then how our city has quietly grown to having an abundance. Had any of the Fyrethians known such a thing before?
I nod to Gardi and Salvia. “You two should probably go get some sleep. It seems like you need it.”
Salvia lets out a sigh. “That would probably be wise.”
“Oh sure,” Gardi says. “You’ll listen to her but not me?”
“You’re not the queen.”
I wince. “That wasn’t an order, to be clear.”
Salvia looks at me, and their mouth quirks with a smile. “My mistake.”
Oh, they were teasing each other. I’d like to blame tone and cultural differences, but sometimes I feel that subtle social nuances go right over my head. Kids are simple and direct; teenage years are where they start to lose me. At least with Mirzayael I have insight into her underlying emotions, so I’m never left guessing at layered meanings.
Gardi and Salvia push themselves to their feet, stretching and yawning. I’d still like to speak with Gardi later and check in on how they’re processing our situation with the gods, but that can be saved when the two aren’t about to pass out standing upright.
“Gardi,” I say instead, and the felis pauses. “If you’d like to talk about anything, you know I’m always here to listen.”
They nod, and the weariness in their smile seems to take on a different tone. “Thank you, my lord. I’ll keep that in mind.”
The couple wave as they depart and I return the gesture before finally turning my attention to Dizzi. She’s staring at me intently, practically vibrating with excitement. The amount of restraint she’s displaying is impressive, actually.
“Would you like for me to tell you about the Heavens?” I venture.
“Yes!” She slams her hands onto the stone, narrowly avoiding catapulting a bowl of food into the air. “Yes I really would!”
I laugh, doling out a portion of grain and stew into my bowl; if I don’t start eating now, I’ll probably never have a chance to grab a bite.
I indulge all her questions. I’ve already learned most of what happened in my absence from Mirzayael, so I don’t bother grilling her back; she’d probably give me an account through engineer-tinted glasses anyway. Which, to be fair, is a bit tempting.
“That time dilation aspect is fascinating,” Dizzi muses, her meal left untouched and entirely forgotten. “What a headache with the Travelers. You’ll have your hands full, that’s for sure. But about the gods… That means they’re all way younger than we thought, aren’t they?”
I nod. “That’s what I’ve been mulling over, too. Though I suppose it depends on how much time they’ve spent in Lusio as compared to the Heavens. In two thousand years, someone who never left the Heavens would only have aged…” I have Echo do some quick math for me, and I shake my head. “Wow. Thirty-three years.”
“So the gods could be mortal ages?” she asks, eyes wide.
“Theoretically,” I agree. “Though from the legends, it does sound like they’ve spent plenty of time in the mortal realm as well, so I doubt it’s that extreme for anyone. But I did Check Rinviu, and they were only one hundred and sixty five years old. Older than a typical harpy lifespan, to be sure, and they certainly weren’t looking their age, but…”
“...But they’re not nearly as ancient and wise as they pretend,” Dizzi finishes, rubbing her chin. “Wow. Fyre, this is big, you know that, right? They’re supposed to have been around for forever—or at least since the time of the Ruins, since we lost all recorded history before then. And that was two thousand years ago. But this means they’ve been lying to us—lying to the whole world.”
“A lie of omission, if nothing else,” I agree. “They probably have been around since the time of the Ruins, or where else would the legends come from? And we certainly know what was done to the Fyrethians hundreds of years ago. But yes, it makes me wonder why they would keep this detail secret.”
Dizzi shakes her head. “It’s more than that. If Rinviu is only a hundred and sixty five years old, then that means at some point they were created—or born. There’s no stories about gods coming in to existence. They’re hiding that intentionally. Why?”
I mentally examine all the information I’ve collected, trying to fit them together like pieces of a puzzle, turning each one every different way I can imagine.
“Shirasil once said the gods were not immortal,” I say, thinking aloud. “Or at least, ‘not so immortal as they may seem.’ I thought he meant that they could be killed. But now I suspect he actually meant they can be created.” I look up at Dizzi. “He said the remnants are the residue of a larger power that originally created everything—implying both the universe and gods. But the wording was vague. I’m starting to think that these remnants are actually the source of the power that makes gods.”
In fact, I’d directly asked him if that was the case during our impromptu midnight tea session: he’d said Kanin and I weren’t gods; not hardly. Another way of talking around the truth? Damn, I wish I could pin him down to talk about all this.
“He said Lorata didn’t want the world to know about the remnants because it threatened her order, but I don’t think that’s the complete truth, either,” I continue. “She does seem to value the order she’s enforced on the world, that much is true. And remnants can be dangerous, chaotic entities, I’ll give her that. But it’s not just a threat to her authority she’s worried about; I think the root of everything is that anyone can use a remnant to become gods themselves.”
Dizzi leans back with an impressed whistle. “Now that’s something you wouldn’t want getting out.”
“Indeed,” I agree, thinking about Blair. How old is she really? I haven’t had an opportunity to Check her age, and it’s not information Echo will forfeit to me without the god being within my line of sight. The fact that Aquenno is in his forties and clearly a new champion… Blair must have recruited him soon after her ascension. So is she of a mortal age, too?
And how does Lorata approve who is and isn’t worthy of godhood? Who gets let in on the secret?
It also calls into question what divinity even means for these gods. Is it just an illusion? An entirely different tier of upper-class that has so much power and leverage they can control who is let into their ranks? If you control the narrative, then it would be easy to convince the rest of the world that your status is unattainable to mere mortals: discouraging them from even trying to ascend.
Yet, that doesn’t feel entirely right. Blair doesn’t seem like the type to seek power for power’s sake. What is her motive for upholding this stratification? The danger that the remnants pose? There has to be something more.
And Shirasil… I can’t even begin to speculate on his motives. He’s dropped enough tidbits of information to lead me to this answer, but explained nothing outright. He clearly wants to shake up the divine order, but has made no moves himself. What is he waiting for? Or is this all just some form of amusement to him?
I sigh. “What do I even do with this information?”
“Tell people,” Dizzi says bluntly. “What other choice do we have?”
I sit with her words for a minute. She’s right; everyone has a right to the truth. But would doing so invite the full wrath of the gods upon us? I know the extremes Lorata will go to in order to enforce what she believes is right. We can keep the gods out of our city—for now. But if Lorata gets desperate, more provoked than she already is? Trying to spread this information may result in our extinction if we don’t play our cards right.
“I’ll discuss it with Mirzayael,” I reply. “We need to approach this carefully. If we want to kick this hornet’s nest, then we need to have already planned six steps ahead.”
Dizzi wrinkles her nose. “I guess so. Yeah, that’s probably smart. I just don’t like the idea of keeping things secret, you know?”
“I do,” I agree. “But for now, I’d prefer if you kept this information within the ranks of the councillors. We’ll discuss our options as a team.”
“Alright,” she says, sighing dramatically. “But I’m going to write it down anyway. In case, you know, we all get ourselves smited before the truth gets out.”
I grimace. “That’s a lovely thought.” But having a contingency plan is always good. I just hope it doesn’t come to that.
After that the conversation turns lighter, with her grilling me on the types of magic I encountered in the Sanctum, including the containment cubes and time bubbles. She eats it all up like she’ll starve without a daily dose of new information. I manage to get in a few bites to eat during her moments of theorizing aloud, before finally asking her to give me an overview of what I missed while in the Heavens. Not strictly necessary, but it buys me time to finish my (now cold) meal.
Dizzi tells me a lot of what I already know about how the spells operated. “Everyone was able to work them pretty well—even Mirzayael and Torim! Well, Nek could use some more practice, he seemed pretty nervous every time he sat the throne, but Mir and Torim wouldn’t let me take over his shift.” She pouts, before just as abruptly getting over it. “On the bright side, with the extra free time I was able to finish puzzling the spell in Broken Tower back together!”
“Oh?” I ask perking up. “Learn anything interesting? Do you know what it does?”
She waffles her hand. “I mean, it’s still full of holes. Even with all the pieces you found, we’re still missing chunks. And of course, there are parts Fyreneth didn’t even finish in the first place. About as much as I can tell is that it’s another area-based spell, probably intended to encapsulate the whole Fortress like the other Watchtower spells. It also has markings that make it seem like it would have a much steeper magic draw. I don’t think this one would be able to activate at the same time as the others spells. My theory is that this spell was designed to replace the others, if it had been finished.”
“That’s a shame,” I say with a sigh.
“Yeah, but, I learned some new runes!” Dizzi excitedly tells me. “These weren’t in any other texts I’ve studied, so that’s exciting! I don’t know what they mean, but still!”
Leave it to Dizzi to find the silver lining, even (especially) in failure.
After nearly two hours of chatting, I’ve finally finished my bowl and the lunch crowd is well under way. Dizzi finally seems to notice the time and scarfs down the rest of her plate without any discernable chewing.
“Can I come with you to see the Travelers?” she asks as we start cleaning up. “I have so many questions!”
I hesitate. “I’m not sure many of them are in a mental state to be bombarded with questions right now.”
She pouts, looking rather put out.
“But you can come along,” I relent. “Just remember a lot of these people are going through a rough adjustment right now. Try to be delicate with them.”
“Can do!” she cries, her enthusiasm immediately returned. “I’m great at being delicate. You know how careful you have to be with artificing?”
“These are people, not inventions,” I remind her. “Maybe stick to observing for now?”
“Observations,” she says with the same level of enthusiasm. “I’m great with observations!”
As we’re heading out, I mentally check in on Mirzayael and Ollie, trying not to bother either of them. Mir is speaking with some of the guards, while Ollie is on one of the pavilions with Meritis, introducing his friend to Zhiyong and Yuna; Aliz is nowhere to be seen. I can’t really blame her, given the age difference between her and the younger kids. There are plenty of other teens around the Fortress for her to make friends with, but I don’t expect it to be that easy. Of all the kids, it’s her I worry about the most. Being a teen is hard enough as it is without being ripped into another world.
Dizzi and I round a corner as we leave the mess hall, and a figure ahead of me stutters to a nervous stop.
“Oh, Fyre,” Sandro says. His cloak ripples in agitation, but the young man forces a smile onto his face a moment later. “I was just coming to look for you. I was told you might be eating.”
“Sandro,” I greet, holding myself back from offering a hug. The Shroud isn’t quite comfortable with physical contact yet. Or being in general proximity to other living things for that matter. “How are you doing?”
“Good,” he says, waiting for me to come to him. When I’m a couple meters away, he starts walking, keeping us a healthy distance outside of his Shroud’s range. “Just found out about everything this morning. I’m glad you’re back. Been meeting a few of the new Travelers.”
“How’s that going?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “Oh, you know the Shroud. But not too bad, actually. It helps there are no new remnants. It’s kind of nice having other people from Earth around.”
His remark about remnants surprises me. I hadn’t even noticed. When I was in the Sanctum, my connection to the Dungeon Core had been cut off, so I couldn’t “sense” other remnants through the Core’s nerves. And when we got back to the Fortress—well, everything was so hectic it didn’t even cross my mind.
It definitely would have been a whole different level of chaos had someone with a remnant dropped straight into the throne room with the Dungeon Core unprepared. Is the lack of any remnants merely good fortune? A coincidence? I’ll have to look into that later.
“I’m glad you’ve had the opportunity to meet them already,” I tell Sandro. “Where are they now? Can you take me there?”
“That’s actually why I was sent to get you,” he says as we walk. “Kanin’s been working with them since you went to bed, I’m told. He’s helped with a couple Role Requirements. Some of the Travelers are adjusting pretty well—mostly the older folk. I guess getting a second life is more pleasantly surprising than alarming, after you’ve lived a full one. Sora and Nek took the kids to meet some others an hour or two ago. But Kanin wanted your help with a few who are dealing with active Role Requirements.”
“Oh, of course,” I quickly agree. The poor man probably hasn’t had a break since he got back. “Do you know how housing accommodations have been going?”
“Sort of?” He shrugs. “I’m not really involved in that; I think Torim and Nek are coordinating everything. Last night they were all set up in a large communal room complex.”
The Fortress doesn’t really have traditional houses, insofar as independently standing structures. Most are built wall-to-wall, some underground, some circling the rings of the city, some in the palace towers themselves. The Dungeon Core has allowed me to connect and close off different housing networks as needed; between that and Fyrethians with stone affinities, the inner workings of the Fortress are almost a maze to me. But at least it presents options for the Travelers. I can understand how more of the uncertain or anxious individuals would want to continue sharing a communal living space until they feel more settled.
“I’m thinking our schoolroom plans will need to expand,” I muse aloud. Even though the majority of Travelers are elderly adults—or at least, they had been elderly by Earth standards—everyone is going to have a lot to learn. There’s no reason it should only be Traveler and Fyrethian kids taking classes about magic, history, and language.
Language—of course! Probably not all of the Travelers were reincarnated on Dunmora. They might have been snatched up on Valenia and speak that as their primary language. And we have a handful of lamia who only use Common Signs. At least all the Travelers will be able to communicate with each other, given their Echos translating everything for them, but I don’t want them to become overly reliant on her and end up self-isolating.
Mirzayael was right; worrying about the gods right this moment is a waste of energy. We’re as prepared as we can be, and sitting around and waiting for them to appear benefits no one. I have plenty of other problems to solve as it is, and helping the Travelers adjust is something I can actively do something about.
That makes me smile. I do like solving problems. And solving problems that help people are the best sorts of problems to solve.