Beneath the Dragoneye Moons

“I feel like we got minorly blindsided.” I complained to Iona when we got back to the School. We made it to Artemis’s personal little island - we had a standing invitation to crash there, although Artemis knew we’d do it either way - then opened up our portal.

“I agree.” Iona went glassy-eyed, and started to talk with her goddesses. Her lips silently moved as she talked, and the [Paladin] wandered off to our temple to talk more with them. I kicked up my feet and shrugged at Auri and Fenrir.

“Cards anyone?” I asked.

Auri got the snacks, and we whiled away the next day resting, relaxing, and otherwise getting settled in back home. Artemis soon joined us, noting the glum faces.

“Moons are still looking at me a little too close for comfort, I assume the discussions didn’t go well?” She asked.

“You’re going to have to put up with them a little longer.” I agreed, noting that Iona was clearly settling in for a long knightly vigil.

Iona spending from dusk until dawn in a knightly vigil used to impress me in various ways. The sheer dedication displayed, the unwavering faith she had in her goddesses.

Then I realized they were all chatting the entire time, and I realized the ‘badass knightly vigil’ was ‘gossip hour with the girls’, and my level of impressed went down and my desire to get all the juicy details went up. In spite of my devotion to Iona, it never properly translated into faith in the Moon Goddesses, not in the way that would have them bless me. Ciriel had offered, once, but I believed it would’ve made our relationship awkward. No longer healing buddies, and more of a ‘goddess and devotee’ one. From equal to worshipper.

While Iona prayed, Artemis was over for a late night snack.

“How’s the current batch of students?” I asked. Artemis beamed.

“They’re great!” She deflated slightly. Nothing big, nothing obvious. Just a tiny slump of her shoulders, a crow’s eye wrinkle becoming slightly deeper.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her.

“If we’re getting into that, I’m going to need something stronger than beer.” She muttered.

“Ooh! We-”

“Something a professional made.” Artemis teased.

“Like your stuff tastes any better.” I retorted as I grabbed a bottle of the most foul spirits we had. Professionally made, to boot.

Artemis lit up as she saw the label. Of course. Just my luck.

I poured her two shots, and a glass of wine we’d made. Artemis slugged both shots back, poured herself another pair, and got talking.

“I’ve been doing this teaching job for a long time.” She said.

I snorted. That was putting it mildly. Older than we were, but half the level, Artemis had been a dedicated [Professor] at the School throughout the ages.

“They’re always good kids, give or take the occasional generation. Even then, with the benefit of hindsight and skills, it’s usually a few instigators that set a negative tone for the class. But time and time again, it just doesn’t seem to change the world in a meaningful way. Nothing fundamentally changes. People go home, live their lives. They build bridges and libraries. They fund museums and fight off bandits. All that good shit. And, inevitably, no matter how many kids I send out into the world, bright eyed and bushy tailed, full of hope, the world grinds them down into bitter old men and women, then the Immortal cycle destroys everything they ever built.”

Artemis took her two shots, then poured herself another set that chased the first pair. I was getting mildly concerned for her liver.

“Yeah.” I agreed non-committedly. What was I going to say to that rant? I’d seen the same problem, the same cycle. I was content focusing on what I did to the best of my abilities, but Artemis wasn’t quite the same. She was arming people with the tools to live their life, and so often it seemed like it was coming to nothing.

The biggest killer of Immortals was war and violence. Not just the large Immortal wars, but on a smaller, more personal level. Bar brawls killed more Immortals than cancer did. Powerful skills being haphazardly cast were a leading cause of death.

Arguably part of the first category, generally set apart, the second largest cause of death was suicide. Immortals who’d seen too much, gone too far, and were simply done with life. There was no waiting on a porch with a sandwich watching the sunset and knowing their time was coming. Too many took that route. I didn’t want Artemis to leave us, to leave me.

My first mentor, my oldest friend, still had more to say, and the best I could do was to be a listening ear.

“You’re going to ascend soon.” Artemis whiplashed the topic, but it was all linked, it was always linked.

“That’s the hope. No promises.” I said. She snorted.

“Yeah… as unlucky as it is to say, you’re going to make it.” The Lightning mage was full of conviction. “When you get there, do me a favor. Make me one of your angels.”

Unsaid was the vast why, but I knew Artemis well enough to have a pretty good guess.

It all came down to one of the first things Artemis had told me, way back in Aquiliea when I was a dumb kid trying to figure out if I wanted to be a [Mage] or a [Healer].

[Mages] leveled up by killing things. I hadn’t been able to even look as Artemis had swiftly executed - it wasn’t murder when it was legal - a kid on the off chance that he’d come after me and my family, and the more practical lesson of ‘this is what a mage’s life is like’.

Artemis was done killing things. Done killing people. Done killing monsters. She’d slowly and torturously made it to a classing up point and swapped to a more suitable [Professor-Mage] combination, but didn’t want to make the piles and piles of bodies needed to climb to the highest levels.

In some ways bad, but in many ways, the ways I cared about, good. Artemis had found her peace. What more could I ask?

“Chief angel.” I promised. “I’ll just throw all the organizing work your way.”

Artemis started to pale.

“Wait. I thought I’d have one of those lazy retirements. Get fed grapes by cherubs or something.”

I shook my head.

“Oh noooo… I couldn’t possibly trust anyone else with such an important position. Herding students, herding angels, really, what’s the difference?” I grinned at Artemis. “Plus, remember - you’re in that job forever.”

Artemis made farting noises at me before downing another shot, then shrugged with a sly grin of her own.

“Well, if that’s my job, I suppose there’s no helping it when my talents don’t lie in that direction.”

The evening quickly devolved into grandiose threats and petty revenge before we dozed off before a crackling fire.

We were woken up by the entire pocket dimension shaking. I snapped a heal to Artemis, who was summoning a deadly maelstrom of Mountain, Lightning, and Darkness to surround her, before my brain caught up with my body and I saw what was going on.

“Selene and Lunaris are visiting.” I said with no small amount of awe. As good friends as the goddesses were, I could count on two hands the number of times they’d materialized before us over the thousands of years.

They’d come with a sword, one that was nearly as painful to look at as the goddesses themselves.

“Next time, they should knock before starting an earthquake.” Artemis grumbled as she dismissed her defenses, collapsing back into an armchair. My heart rate was up, but I wasn’t going to barge in on things. I was going to gossip like a fishmonger. Well, I guess any gossiping I did was like a fishmonger, since I had been one. Great times - Iona and Fenrir went out fishing every day, I sold the prior day’s catch, and Auri had turned up her nose at ‘all this wet water nonsense’ but ‘coincidentally’ had taken up net-making.

“They’re giving Iona a divine weapon.” I shamelessly reported. “Scimitar. The crossguard’s-”

I let Artemis bonk me on the head.

“Just chill for three minutes, healy-bug, let Iona show off her shiny new toy.”

I grumbled and raided the kitchen with a thought, drizzling some flour on Auri. That was a new depth to how deeply she could sleep. The drizzled flour reacted with her flames in a predictably explosive manner, and Auri was trailing soot as she fluttered over to where we were sitting.

“Brrrpt.”

Revenge was going to be served hot, no matter how long it took Auri to get around to it. I mimed a yawn.

“You already did pure capsaicin in my brownies.” I pointed out to the phoenix, both wildly guessing and knowing exactly what she was thinking.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Brrrpt.”

“And that.” I pointed out.

She stared at me and flipped herself over.

“Iona’s doing something important with the Moon Goddesses.” Artemis interrupted our good-natured bickering. “We’re waiting to see what it is.”

Auri left an afterimage as she streaked around to find Fenrir, and the wyvern joined us a minute before Iona finished and came in, her new sword in her hands. We all crowded around the sword, wanting a better look. We’d encountered our fair share of divine items in our epic lifespans, but it wasn’t like they were lying around like candy.

It was beautiful. A crescent scimitar, it had a blue sheen, and was probably as indestructible as adamantium. As a divine weapon, it was probably far more durable and potent than the already near-indestructible material. The crossguards were wings, an exact match to the pair that adorned Iona’s helmet, and the pommel had a pair of perfectly round gems. One light blue, one yellow, reflecting the true images of the moons high in the sky. The blade glimmered with moonlight, and I was not going to risk the possibility that it was like Woundspear, and left lasting damage that I couldn’t heal.

“In honor of our attempt to negotiate, and with the realization that this is likely to devolve into violence, the Goddesses have gifted me Dragonsbane.” Iona ran a hand along the blade. “Lets the wielder see through dragon-created illusions, fire, smoke, and darkness. It’ll go through dragon scales and slow healing and it’ll empower the wielder under moonlight. The biggest aspect though, it’ll cut through an elemental transformation. Should you carry it, or should I?”

I wanted to laugh off Iona’s suggestion, but spent a moment thinking about it, as I knew she was mulling it over herself. We’d been doing this long enough that we didn’t even need to talk to each other. Who needed mental magic to telepathically talk when we’d been together this long? A shame the System didn’t allow it.

It was reasonable to give the weapon to whoever could use it best. The Goddesses had given it to Iona, as their champion, to complete the quest they’d given her. They assumed she was going to be the one using it.

I was better than Iona at breaking illusions, and the rest of the vision was a little extra. Our senses were already good enough. My ability to briefly be faster than Iona was a good reason for me to wield the weapon. I could possibly land blows on Lun’Kat that Iona couldn’t.

The penetration was excellent, as was hindering healing. Empowering was far more vague.

“Empower how?” I asked.

“You know, they were frustratingly vague about that.” Iona’s eyes unfocused a bit as she sent a message up to the deities, then she made a frustrated noise.

“Go find out.” She said. “Also, they’re voting that I wield it.”

“Honestly, that’s usually good enough for me. Expert says you should use it, you should use it.” I said.

“Let’s go out into the fields.” Iona said.

Artemis had said nothing, her eyes glinting with interest the whole time. The five of us went out of our home, onto the roiling fields.

My pocket dimension had grown by leaps and bounds over the thousands of years I’d been leveling and evolving the skill. It wasn’t just a large manor anymore, no. We had fields, orchards, sky, and a number of other buildings. A few people even tried to settle in every Immortal War and live their whole lives in a safe and protected environment.

We didn’t want to be responsible for an entire town long term, and we politely invited everyone to leave when it was safe. The infrastructure they left behind persisted though, and there was a large village, untouched by the non-existent elements, just waiting for people to come in next time the world went to hell. Perhaps, maybe, we’d be lucky enough to ascend before then… but probably not. The current cycle was threatening to come to a close, and we had just a few too many levels to go.

Iona jogged out into the middle of one of the fields, and rapidly went through a few stretches.

“Give it a few test swings.” Artemis called out, taking charge of the experiment. Iona dutifully blurred her way through a few dozen katas, the wind kicking up a gale that whipped my hair around and knotted it something fierce. Leaves were blown off trees miles away, and a loud crash heralded a tree branch giving up the ghost. A simple [Teleport] fixed the hair problem - along with styling it- as Iona finished in a guard position.

“Light!” Artemis shouted with a point to the ‘sky’. I shifted the sky to nighttime, showing off the half-moons. It was my world, a basic level of control.

“Do we think this will even work?” I asked Artemis.

“Better finding out now, rather than later, yeah?” She asked. “Skills get wonky enough, divine nonsense laughs and asks why people play with rules at all.”

Iona blurred through a few moves and quickly stopped at the gale-force winds she was kicking up, looking at the sword in shock.

“It’s a flat multiplier.” She gasped. “I’m, what… four times as strong and fast as normal right now?” She hefted the blade judgingly.

Artemis whistled.

“That’s something.”

“Brrpt! Brrrpt?” Auri asked.

“Sure, let me try that.” Iona had the blade float behind her, gripped by her skill, and tried moving again. She shook her head a moment later.

“Nope, looks like I need to be holding it.” She said.

“It’s a shame we don’t have anything strong enough to test my Radiance against.” I said. “Be interesting to know if it boosts magic power as well.”

“If you dare suggest handing off a weapon mid fight, Sentinel or not, I will make you run laps until you puke, then make you run two more.” Artemis threatened. “Don’t take this the wrong way, healy-bug, but there’s no way you’re going to take out one of the ancient threats of the world in your initial strike, no matter how boosted you are. Your skills are all wrong for it. You’re going into an endurance fight, give the warrior the endurance weapon.”

We agreed, and Iona’s face brightened up.

“Right! I’d like to talk with the Goddesses some more. I’ve got a few questions for them, completely forgot to ask before.”

I shooed Iona off, and the rest of us settled in for a night of board games. Much harder to cheat when everything was public knowledge. Didn’t stop Artemis from shamelessly trying to swap pieces around now and then.

I let her, mostly because it was more entertaining that way.

Eventually, Iona came back with a sour look on her face.

“What’s the story?” I asked.

“Either the Moon Goddesses are lying to me, or our friend is an exceptionally unreasonable member of her species. They should have told me before now, and as much as I want to say it’s my fault for not asking, that information should’ve been volunteered!” Iona shouted up at the ceiling. “That’s most of what took so long, we were arguing just a bit.” The [Paladin] groused. I gestured for her to carry on.

“Right. Selene and Lunaris, when they were mortal, held different names and lived at the same time as Lun’Kat. Peers to Night, they weren’t born, they were created. The two of them found each other, and skipping over a few hours of story, lived and leveled together. They loved the many moons in the sky, and had a brief interaction with Lun’Kat, who shared that love. It wasn’t like they were close friends or anything. Selene and Lunaris ascended and took on new names, the Gods removed most of the other moons, and she’s pissed that they got a moon domain and she didn’t. She’s been doing odd stuff ever since, according to them. Who might not be the most reliable.”

I rubbed my eyes.

“So she’s mad that what… Selene beat her to a seat? That they didn’t leave a moon for her? She’s carrying a 30,000 year grudge? Ciriel, she should get a domain just for that. Is there a goddess of Unreasonable Grudges?”

“Grudges, yes, and he’s a god. I don’t think she’d settle for a ‘lesser’ domain, instead going for deicide.”

How did Night manage to kill several gods, and Lun’Kat hadn’t managed two yet? Could be that they worked together, could be that they were old and canny, either way I wasn’t going to explore that direction. Not when they were Iona’s patrons.

“Where’s the betrayal?” I asked.

“Well, this is where it gets possibly tricky, possibly unreliable. The best the two goddesses figure, Lun’Kat thought they were all going to get a moon, and the fact that they got two and she didn’t get one was the ‘betrayal’. It’s not like they lied to her and grabbed a domain from under her. At the same time, it was an extremely chaotic era, and domains weren’t well understood.”

Dear gods. I knew dragons could be crabby about their hoards and theft, perceived or real, but that was absurd.

“Brrrpt?” Auri asked. Iona winced.

“Worst reasonable case? The three of them did have an agreement about who got what moon, and Selene and Lunaris did betray her and grab the domain they’d all agreed should be hers.”

I tapped my nails on the table.

“Does it matter either way, and did it matter for the negotiations we just had? She doesn’t seem very open to talking.” I shook my head. “Why not just… grab an existing open domain? The longer she waits, the fewer options she has.”

“Unless someone bumps off the Moon Goddesses.” Iona pointed out. “Then her waiting’s been justified. Plus, she has something of a point. Their grudge has been going on so long, if she ascends now it’s not insane to think Selene and Lunaris might try to bump her off. I know I wouldn’t be feeling merciful in their circumstances.”

“Brrrpt.” Auri agreed. She’d roasted sparrows for less. Then again, Auri roasted sparrows for singing better than she did, so the little pyro’s opinion was… questionable.

“Right.” I agreed. “Do we register a complaint that we went in without enough good information?”

“Oh, I’ve registered it.” Iona said. “Vocally. In many different ways. I suspect they’re getting an apology ready.”

“Good.”

Two years later.

The wind dropped down, and while I could keep my kite up in the air via sheer force of will and the absurdity of stats, I let it fall down, a single tear falling with it. I rolled the kite up, taking my sweet time with it.

I wasn’t a big kite flier, but we’d done it, like we’d done everything else throughout our lives. But this was it. This was the last time I was going to fly a kite, barring extremely unusual circumstances. This was the last time I was going to fly the bright and cheerful rainbow banner through the sky, or any other kite for that matter.

Too often, the last time I’d done something came as a surprise. [Astral Archives] let me pinpoint the exact moment my parents had put me down, and never picked me up again. I hadn’t known it at the time, too eager to play with my friends. A sacred moment, gone with the wind.

Too many other moments were unknown lasts. The last time I’d seen a friend, or a family member. The last time we’d eaten at a favorite spot, gone the next day as some Immortal or another threw a temper tantrum and remodeled the world. The last time I’d heard a fleeting laugh, that I’d sat in a favorite tree.

One way or another, Iona and I were approaching the end of our time on Pallos. We were Immortal, the ravages of time didn’t touch us, but the dictates of the System rumbled in the background.

Ascend or die.

I walked back to our home deep in thought, only sparing a quick glance in Iona’s direction. She had her easel up, and was painting the vista we were overlooking.

Had she sketched her last pencil drawing? Had she done her last oil work?

The end was coming for us, and we were saying our goodbyes.

I stripped off my clothes and sank into a deep, warm bath, the water nearly boiling. I’d seen smaller pools. I let the warmth soak into me as I breathed in the steam, so thick I could get lost in it. I let myself float, my hazel hair spreading out behind me like a crown.

Bliss. Joyful bliss.

Auri was doing far better with our impending ‘leaving the mortal coil behind’ problem. She dealt almost exclusively in consumables in the first place. Flowers were brief and fleeting, no matter if it was her flames or mother nature killing them off. Cookies and pies were made to be eaten, and flames were eternally ephemeral.

That was my theory at least.

Auri’s theory involved me being too highly strung, and it wasn’t worth worrying about.

I hadn’t taken my last bath yet, nor had I hugged Iona for the last time. I hadn’t seen my family for the last time, may the gods make it true. I hadn’t eaten my last mango, nor had I read my last book.

Speaking of…

I summoned a book over, along with the ripest mangos off the tree. Some [Teleports] perfectly sliced them up, and a quick little spell kept the steam from getting the book soggy. I floated on my back, occasionally eating a slice as I read through a political treatise.

Not my favorite reading, but a well written book was a well written book, no matter the subject. I had a whole List planned on when I was on my ‘final book approach’, the last few stories I’d read before ascending myself. System bless the grace period.

The Illiad was the final book on my list, a homage to my humble beginnings, an acknowledgement that my first contributions were arguably as a [Storyteller]. My memoirs were just before that, the beginning at the end.

My peaceful soak was interrupted by Iona sprinting into my sphere of perception. Nooo, my peaceful bath. Armor lifted off her stand and zipped through the manor to her, and she called out.

“Elaine! Auri! Emergency!”

Serious problem. Ciriel told me. Go.

Well, fuck. A goddess telling me Iona’s emergency was a problem?

Rest in peace, beautiful bath. I’ll be back later for you.

I chained [Teleports] around, landing in front of Iona in my full Sentinel armor a moment later. She was just finishing up, strapping Dragonsbane to her waist as her normal three dozen blades snapped into position around her.

My Sentinel armor had gotten upgraded throughout the years, and I wore a light mithril alloy chainmail. It went down my sleeves, all the way to my gauntlets, and flared around my waist. Dragon leather went under it all, and my legs enjoyed platemail protection, down to my greaves. Small gems dotted the inside of my armor, a hundred little utility spells I might not be able to quickly trace out with my spellbook in the heat of battle. My mask was a silver Warden mask, ones I was allowed to still wear.

Like being a Sentinel, like being a [Loremaster], I never truly retired from the calling.

“Where are we going?” I asked Iona.

“Place in Ankhelt. There’s a beacon, you can’t miss it. Blue pillar going to the sky.”

I nodded, then stepped out of the pocket dimension and closed it with everyone else still inside. Then I went [Lightspeed], turning myself into a living being of pure Radiance, a miniature sun elemental. I blasted off to Ankhelt, and spotted the blue beacon a fraction of a tenth of a second later.

I landed on top of one of the pyramids next to the beacon, and Night stepped out of my shadow. Good thing the beacon was so bright, I wouldn’t have one in the dark otherwise. I opened the door to [Through the Looking Glass, to the Sage's Grove, the World Within the Hourglass], and the gods descended.