Chapter 80 - The Descent IV
There was a moment of silence as the pair gazed upon each other, a brief but notable lapse of sound and action. Claire was busy working her brain. Her mind raced as she tried to deduce the goddess’ purpose. She couldn’t tell if she was present to condemn her, or if there was any other way to justify her sudden advent. The divine, on the other hand, was simply waiting for the mortal to calm.
It took a second and a half for the lyrkress to shift her expression to one that didn’t betray her emotions. It was only a brief instant by mortal standards, but to the ageless chronomantic god, it spanned a measurable eternity. A less patient deity would likely have found themselves displeased. But Flux’s amused smirk never left her face. Calmly, silently, the goddess extended a hand, its palm held face up.
Claire didn’t immediately recognize her intent, but after another brief pause, slowly moved to place the glowing sigil within the deity’s grasp.
“I thought you were rejecting it,” said the mortal, as she directed her gaze straight ahead. The two were eye level, largely in part because the goddess was standing atop the altar.
“That would be your insecurity’s fault,” said Flux. After flashing a bit of a smug smirk, the divine relaxed her expression into a gentle smile. “I have been meaning to reclaim you from Builledracht for quite some time. I see no reason not to jump at the first opportunity.”
“Even if it means accepting an oath you don’t approve of?”
“There is a misunderstanding. I do not disapprove of your vow.” Flux chuckled, as if to savour the halfbreed’s confusion. “There are certainly others that may have elicited such a response, but I am neither the goddess of order, nor a member of her faction.”
“Then why are you here?”
“For you.” The goddess stepped forward and pulled Claire’s head into her chest.
Not sure how to react, the lyrkress stiffened up as a hand gently combed its way through her hair. A sense of serenity numbed her mind, quelling the screams in the back of her head, the fears, meows, and worries that had refused to leave her alone.
“Do you feel any better?”
“You’re trying to trick me.” Claire took a breath as she slowly closed and reopened her eyes. “You’ve ignored me my whole life. There’s no other reason for you to be acting like this now.”
Flux finally released her and stepped back to her place on the altar. And in doing so, allowed the voices to return. “If I pamper you excessively, then you will be marred by my divinity and lose the ability to ascend to the seventh stage.”
“The… seventh?” The halfbreed furrowed her brows. “You want me to ascend to godhood?”
“To assume that you will get that far is rather bold, given the extent of your incompetency,” said Flux, “but I would prefer not to limit you in the unlikely event that it does come to occur.”
“What if I don’t want to spend my whole life fighting?”
“That is fine too. Your life is yours. I do not intend to inform its direction.”
“Then what about the curse?” Claire narrowed her eyes into a glare.
“It is a blessing, and you have been benefiting from it,” the goddess huffed and put her hands on her hips.
Claire opened her mouth to complain, but stopped as she realised that she had nothing to argue. As much as she hated to admit it, she had stopped thinking of the blessing as undesired, even if it came hand in hand with blackmail. It’s nothing like Alfred’s curse. Or any of Builledracht’s.
“The blessing that I have given you is minor, but it too is powerful enough to stain you with my essence. I advise visiting temples belonging to the others and currying their favour. The more minor blessings you possess, the less likely you are to be deemed an apostle.”
With a nod, the lyrkress made a mental note of the advice. Currying favour with the gods was never a bad thing. “Why me?”
“You have been mine for as long as the cycle has remained under my domain. Your previous incarnation remains with you only as a vessel, but you are mine all the same. Or perhaps even more now, with the circumstances around this latest iteration.”
“I don’t understand what any of that means.”
“If you manage to ascend far enough, you will.” Flux momentarily glanced to the side, at the door hidden away in the room’s corner. “I was not expecting you to swear to me today. It was a pleasant surprise.”
Claire furrowed her brow. “Didn’t you arrange for all this?”
“It is entirely a coincidence,” said Flux. Her lips curved up into an impish smile.
“I don’t believe you. I couldn’t have just coincidentally walked into a temple that happened to have all the things I needed to swear to the goddess that just so happened to send one of her priests to me the night before.”
“The implements were not meant for you.”
“But you knew I would be here, didn’t you? Aren't you the goddess of time?”
“You are misunderstanding, Claire. The eternal flow encompasses the flow of time, but I am not omniscient, nor is any other god. We are not perfect.”
“But the—”
Claire tried to speak, but was cut off by the goddess raising her hand. “I have stayed as long as I can. Goodbye, Claire. Do not make me wait long for your next ascension.” Her body faded and her voice grew more distant as she spoke. “I am already looking forward to it. If the circumstances continue as they are, you may even come to inherit my blood.”
And with that, she was gone without a trace, the only remnant of her presence a crinkle in the cloth laid atop the altar.
“I’ll try.” Though unsure if the deity could still hear her, the halfbreed replied aloud as she clenched her fists. “But I can’t promise anything.”
Another moment of silence followed as Claire stood at the altar and looked up to the heavens. Her mind was a mess. She didn’t know how she was supposed to feel. To the gods, mortals were meant to be nothing but sources of entertainment and faith. A few notable exceptions aside, the pantheon did not offer emotional support. Likewise, it was not known to encourage the final ascension. The heavens had their own power dynamics, and throwing new elements into the mix would only befuddle them. And yet, Flux had done both. She had comforted her and told her that she wanted her to ascend to godhood.
It just didn’t make sense.
Claire couldn’t tell if she was meant to take the divine’s words at face value, or if she was meant to think the whole thing some sort of elaborate ruse. She wanted to sit down and contemplate all the possibilities, but she wasn’t given the chance. A twitch of the ear reminded her that she wasn’t the building’s sole occupant; the cat’s guest was already heading down the stairs.
After quickly scanning the room, she turned into a lamia and slithered up one of the pillars by the door obscuring the staircase. She would have dashed right out the front entrance if the person in question were any further away, but there wasn’t enough time. They were sure to arrive before she could silently close it behind her.
“So you’ve finally figured out your oath?” asked Beckard, as he walked into the room. She hadn’t been able to detect him, courtesy of his strange silent aura, but his words rang loud and clear.
“Why do you think I was so drunk last night? I knew it would come to me if I just juiced myself into a coma.”
He was followed by a two-foot tall lizardman with massive bulging muscles. His peculiar size aside, the bipedal reptile was the spitting image of the average Tal’ihirian. He was covered in thick, green scales, had spikes running down the length of his spine, and sported a long muscular tail whose base was roughly half the width of one of his legs. On a lamia, such a thin rear appendage would have been a sign of anorexia or starvation, but for the rainforest’s people, it was a symbol of good health.
His equipment was just as stereotypical. His chest was bare, save for the leather belts slung around his shoulders, and his legs were adorned with a pair of cotton pants, covered in pockets of all shapes and sizes.
“I assure you, my dear friend, that the best oaths are not conceived under the influence.”
“You only say that because you’re not allowed to drink,” said the lizard, with an annoyed scoff.
“It’s not that I’m not allowed. It just weakens me and hurts my faith.”
“That’s the same damn thing.”
Log Entry 1819
Sneaking has reached level 15.
Shaking his head, Beckard walked out in front of the altar, only to stop in place as he laid eyes on it. Of the three things he had prepared, only the candle remained. The holy water had been used up, and the sigil was nowhere to be found.
“Something wrong?” asked the lizardman, as he got up onto the tips of his toes and looked over the cat’s shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Velt’us, but I think I may have forgotten to prepare the materials.”
“You did? I could’ve sworn I saw them when I came in.”
Beckard sighed. “I did too, but unfortunately, they’re not here, and I don’t think I have any more in the back.”
“Well, that’s a bummer.” Velt’us scratched the back of his head. “How long will it take for you to get everything ready? Carter wants me to go spar with the new guy after lunch.”
“Go do that first. I’ll drop by the diner tonight and let you know if I have any updates.”
“Thanks, Beck. Sucks that I couldn’t get it done right now, but later’s better than never.”
Beckard nodded. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“I don’t mind. It’s not like it’s a long trip. So what if I have to walk another five minutes?” The Tal’ihirian chuckled as he put his hands in his pockets.
“Thank you, Velt’us.”
With a nonchalant wave of the hand, Velt’us turned towards the front door and casually ambled his way outside. Watching the other man go, the priest walked over to the altar, placed his paws against the wet patches of carpet and almost seemed to sink into thought. He didn’t raise his head until another four-legged critter walked through the still-open entrance.
“Hello. I believe you said your name was Sylvia?”
“Yup! I think Claire was supposed to be here?”
“Yes, she’s right over there.” Beckard turned around and pointed at one of the stone arches.
“You should’ve said something earlier if you knew.” The lyrkress shifted into a humanoid to drop to the ground before returning to her usual form.
“I knew you’d come down if I just waited,” said the priest.
“I guess this means you’re done the thing you said you were gonna do?” asked Sylvia, as she climbed on top of a bench.
“She is, and she used the last of our materials to do it.” Beckard sighed as he turned back to the altar. “I’m not particularly cross with you, but I would appreciate it if you could do me the favour of retrieving the things you used.”
“Temples can run out of oath-swearing materials?”
“Ummm… Claire? You do know that things vanish when you use them up, right?” asked Sylvia.
“I know. But the temples in Valencia never ran out.”
The cat scratched his head. “Magical wood and water are much scarcer in Llystletein, and we don’t have any merchants or suppliers to purchase them from.”
“Will anything do? As long as it’s magic?”
She was familiar with ritual magic, as well as the oath-swearing ritual itself, but Claire had never been tasked with procuring raw materials. That particular assignment had been left to a magic-savvy servant, as the lady would often try to escape her guards whenever she was allowed to step into town.
“So long as it’s natural,” said the clergyman.
“Okay,” said Claire.
“Magical wood might be a bit harder to find, but water should be easy,” said Sylvia.
“We can figure something out later,” said the lyrkress, before turning back to the cat. “Teach me the skills you mentioned.”
Beckard blinked several times before breaking into a chuckle and slowly shaking his head.
“What?” asked Claire, her face kept perfectly neutral.
“I just wasn’t expecting you to be quite so shameless.”
“I know exactly what you mean!” said Sylvia, her tail straight in the air. “Claire’s just kinda weird like that, but not in a bad way. You’ll get used to it.”
“I’m sure I will,” said the cat, with another laugh.
The lyrkress rolled her eyes.
“To answer your question, I’ve been looking to pass on a very peculiar set of skills, but no one’s quite been able to master them,” said Beckard. “It’ll make more sense when you see it. Follow me.” A sharp grin on his face, the cat sith walked out the door and into the building’s yard.
Claire and Sylvia exchanged glances, shrugged, and followed after him. They were led to a fenced-off area with a series of straw dummies spread throughout, seemingly at random. The cat approached the far wall and grabbed one of the bladed gauntlets mounted on top of it. Though it clearly fit like a glove, the weapon almost seemed too large for the tiny feline, courtesy of all its extra parts.
“This is one of my personal inventions. I call it the crested gauntlet,” he said, as he flexed his fingers. “It’s a complicated weapon with enough features to make your head spin.”
There was an audible click as a blade shot out from the metal glove’s knuckles and transformed it into a katar. A second, slightly deeper sound caused a small bow to form just above the wrist, while a third led a set of claws to extend from the individual fingertips.
“Now, I’m sure it already seems impressive, but you’ve only seen three of the seventy two things that it can do. Naturally, having all of those different functions comes at the cost of some minor durability, but it’s hardly a problem when you’re able to pull a dozen blades out of thin air.”
Claire glanced at Sylvia, who was already looking back at her. “Crabby crags?” she whispered.
“Good idea,” said the fox, just as quietly.
“The arrows it needs are quite unique. They have to be stored within the weapon itself, but that actually helps because it makes it easier to infuse them with magic. And that’s not even the most interesting part. It’s even got a catalyst inside it, which lets it serve as a wand in a pinch.”
The priest continued to speak, highlighting all the tool’s features to no one in particular. He was so engrossed in his own invention that it took him a whole five minutes to realise that he had once again been abandoned in the midst of his demonstration.
Chapter 80 - The Descent IV
There was a moment of silence as the pair gazed upon each other, a brief but notable lapse of sound and action. Claire was busy working her brain. Her mind raced as she tried to deduce the goddess’ purpose. She couldn’t tell if she was present to condemn her, or if there was any other way to justify her sudden advent. The divine, on the other hand, was simply waiting for the mortal to calm.
It took a second and a half for the lyrkress to shift her expression to one that didn’t betray her emotions. It was only a brief instant by mortal standards, but to the ageless chronomantic god, it spanned a measurable eternity. A less patient deity would likely have found themselves displeased. But Flux’s amused smirk never left her face. Calmly, silently, the goddess extended a hand, its palm held face up.
Claire didn’t immediately recognize her intent, but after another brief pause, slowly moved to place the glowing sigil within the deity’s grasp.
“I thought you were rejecting it,” said the mortal, as she directed her gaze straight ahead. The two were eye level, largely in part because the goddess was standing atop the altar.
“That would be your insecurity’s fault,” said Flux. After flashing a bit of a smug smirk, the divine relaxed her expression into a gentle smile. “I have been meaning to reclaim you from Builledracht for quite some time. I see no reason not to jump at the first opportunity.”
“Even if it means accepting an oath you don’t approve of?”
“There is a misunderstanding. I do not disapprove of your vow.” Flux chuckled, as if to savour the halfbreed’s confusion. “There are certainly others that may have elicited such a response, but I am neither the goddess of order, nor a member of her faction.”
“Then why are you here?”
“For you.” The goddess stepped forward and pulled Claire’s head into her chest.
Not sure how to react, the lyrkress stiffened up as a hand gently combed its way through her hair. A sense of serenity numbed her mind, quelling the screams in the back of her head, the fears, meows, and worries that had refused to leave her alone.
“Do you feel any better?”
“You’re trying to trick me.” Claire took a breath as she slowly closed and reopened her eyes. “You’ve ignored me my whole life. There’s no other reason for you to be acting like this now.”
Flux finally released her and stepped back to her place on the altar. And in doing so, allowed the voices to return. “If I pamper you excessively, then you will be marred by my divinity and lose the ability to ascend to the seventh stage.”
“The… seventh?” The halfbreed furrowed her brows. “You want me to ascend to godhood?”
“To assume that you will get that far is rather bold, given the extent of your incompetency,” said Flux, “but I would prefer not to limit you in the unlikely event that it does come to occur.”
“What if I don’t want to spend my whole life fighting?”
“That is fine too. Your life is yours. I do not intend to inform its direction.”
“Then what about the curse?” Claire narrowed her eyes into a glare.
“It is a blessing, and you have been benefiting from it,” the goddess huffed and put her hands on her hips.
Claire opened her mouth to complain, but stopped as she realised that she had nothing to argue. As much as she hated to admit it, she had stopped thinking of the blessing as undesired, even if it came hand in hand with blackmail. It’s nothing like Alfred’s curse. Or any of Builledracht’s.
“The blessing that I have given you is minor, but it too is powerful enough to stain you with my essence. I advise visiting temples belonging to the others and currying their favour. The more minor blessings you possess, the less likely you are to be deemed an apostle.”
With a nod, the lyrkress made a mental note of the advice. Currying favour with the gods was never a bad thing. “Why me?”
“You have been mine for as long as the cycle has remained under my domain. Your previous incarnation remains with you only as a vessel, but you are mine all the same. Or perhaps even more now, with the circumstances around this latest iteration.”
“I don’t understand what any of that means.”
“If you manage to ascend far enough, you will.” Flux momentarily glanced to the side, at the door hidden away in the room’s corner. “I was not expecting you to swear to me today. It was a pleasant surprise.”
Claire furrowed her brow. “Didn’t you arrange for all this?”
“It is entirely a coincidence,” said Flux. Her lips curved up into an impish smile.
“I don’t believe you. I couldn’t have just coincidentally walked into a temple that happened to have all the things I needed to swear to the goddess that just so happened to send one of her priests to me the night before.”
“The implements were not meant for you.”
“But you knew I would be here, didn’t you? Aren't you the goddess of time?”
“You are misunderstanding, Claire. The eternal flow encompasses the flow of time, but I am not omniscient, nor is any other god. We are not perfect.”
“But the—”
Claire tried to speak, but was cut off by the goddess raising her hand. “I have stayed as long as I can. Goodbye, Claire. Do not make me wait long for your next ascension.” Her body faded and her voice grew more distant as she spoke. “I am already looking forward to it. If the circumstances continue as they are, you may even come to inherit my blood.”
And with that, she was gone without a trace, the only remnant of her presence a crinkle in the cloth laid atop the altar.
“I’ll try.” Though unsure if the deity could still hear her, the halfbreed replied aloud as she clenched her fists. “But I can’t promise anything.”
Another moment of silence followed as Claire stood at the altar and looked up to the heavens. Her mind was a mess. She didn’t know how she was supposed to feel. To the gods, mortals were meant to be nothing but sources of entertainment and faith. A few notable exceptions aside, the pantheon did not offer emotional support. Likewise, it was not known to encourage the final ascension. The heavens had their own power dynamics, and throwing new elements into the mix would only befuddle them. And yet, Flux had done both. She had comforted her and told her that she wanted her to ascend to godhood.
It just didn’t make sense.
Claire couldn’t tell if she was meant to take the divine’s words at face value, or if she was meant to think the whole thing some sort of elaborate ruse. She wanted to sit down and contemplate all the possibilities, but she wasn’t given the chance. A twitch of the ear reminded her that she wasn’t the building’s sole occupant; the cat’s guest was already heading down the stairs.
After quickly scanning the room, she turned into a lamia and slithered up one of the pillars by the door obscuring the staircase. She would have dashed right out the front entrance if the person in question were any further away, but there wasn’t enough time. They were sure to arrive before she could silently close it behind her.
“So you’ve finally figured out your oath?” asked Beckard, as he walked into the room. She hadn’t been able to detect him, courtesy of his strange silent aura, but his words rang loud and clear.
“Why do you think I was so drunk last night? I knew it would come to me if I just juiced myself into a coma.”
He was followed by a two-foot tall lizardman with massive bulging muscles. His peculiar size aside, the bipedal reptile was the spitting image of the average Tal’ihirian. He was covered in thick, green scales, had spikes running down the length of his spine, and sported a long muscular tail whose base was roughly half the width of one of his legs. On a lamia, such a thin rear appendage would have been a sign of anorexia or starvation, but for the rainforest’s people, it was a symbol of good health.
His equipment was just as stereotypical. His chest was bare, save for the leather belts slung around his shoulders, and his legs were adorned with a pair of cotton pants, covered in pockets of all shapes and sizes.
“I assure you, my dear friend, that the best oaths are not conceived under the influence.”
“You only say that because you’re not allowed to drink,” said the lizard, with an annoyed scoff.
“It’s not that I’m not allowed. It just weakens me and hurts my faith.”
“That’s the same damn thing.”
Log Entry 1819
Sneaking has reached level 15.
Shaking his head, Beckard walked out in front of the altar, only to stop in place as he laid eyes on it. Of the three things he had prepared, only the candle remained. The holy water had been used up, and the sigil was nowhere to be found.
“Something wrong?” asked the lizardman, as he got up onto the tips of his toes and looked over the cat’s shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Velt’us, but I think I may have forgotten to prepare the materials.”
“You did? I could’ve sworn I saw them when I came in.”
Beckard sighed. “I did too, but unfortunately, they’re not here, and I don’t think I have any more in the back.”
“Well, that’s a bummer.” Velt’us scratched the back of his head. “How long will it take for you to get everything ready? Carter wants me to go spar with the new guy after lunch.”
“Go do that first. I’ll drop by the diner tonight and let you know if I have any updates.”
“Thanks, Beck. Sucks that I couldn’t get it done right now, but later’s better than never.”
Beckard nodded. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“I don’t mind. It’s not like it’s a long trip. So what if I have to walk another five minutes?” The Tal’ihirian chuckled as he put his hands in his pockets.
“Thank you, Velt’us.”
With a nonchalant wave of the hand, Velt’us turned towards the front door and casually ambled his way outside. Watching the other man go, the priest walked over to the altar, placed his paws against the wet patches of carpet and almost seemed to sink into thought. He didn’t raise his head until another four-legged critter walked through the still-open entrance.
“Hello. I believe you said your name was Sylvia?”
“Yup! I think Claire was supposed to be here?”
“Yes, she’s right over there.” Beckard turned around and pointed at one of the stone arches.
“You should’ve said something earlier if you knew.” The lyrkress shifted into a humanoid to drop to the ground before returning to her usual form.
“I knew you’d come down if I just waited,” said the priest.
“I guess this means you’re done the thing you said you were gonna do?” asked Sylvia, as she climbed on top of a bench.
“She is, and she used the last of our materials to do it.” Beckard sighed as he turned back to the altar. “I’m not particularly cross with you, but I would appreciate it if you could do me the favour of retrieving the things you used.”
“Temples can run out of oath-swearing materials?”
“Ummm… Claire? You do know that things vanish when you use them up, right?” asked Sylvia.
“I know. But the temples in Valencia never ran out.”
The cat scratched his head. “Magical wood and water are much scarcer in Llystletein, and we don’t have any merchants or suppliers to purchase them from.”
“Will anything do? As long as it’s magic?”
She was familiar with ritual magic, as well as the oath-swearing ritual itself, but Claire had never been tasked with procuring raw materials. That particular assignment had been left to a magic-savvy servant, as the lady would often try to escape her guards whenever she was allowed to step into town.
“So long as it’s natural,” said the clergyman.
“Okay,” said Claire.
“Magical wood might be a bit harder to find, but water should be easy,” said Sylvia.
“We can figure something out later,” said the lyrkress, before turning back to the cat. “Teach me the skills you mentioned.”
Beckard blinked several times before breaking into a chuckle and slowly shaking his head.
“What?” asked Claire, her face kept perfectly neutral.
“I just wasn’t expecting you to be quite so shameless.”
“I know exactly what you mean!” said Sylvia, her tail straight in the air. “Claire’s just kinda weird like that, but not in a bad way. You’ll get used to it.”
“I’m sure I will,” said the cat, with another laugh.
The lyrkress rolled her eyes.
“To answer your question, I’ve been looking to pass on a very peculiar set of skills, but no one’s quite been able to master them,” said Beckard. “It’ll make more sense when you see it. Follow me.” A sharp grin on his face, the cat sith walked out the door and into the building’s yard.
Claire and Sylvia exchanged glances, shrugged, and followed after him. They were led to a fenced-off area with a series of straw dummies spread throughout, seemingly at random. The cat approached the far wall and grabbed one of the bladed gauntlets mounted on top of it. Though it clearly fit like a glove, the weapon almost seemed too large for the tiny feline, courtesy of all its extra parts.
“This is one of my personal inventions. I call it the crested gauntlet,” he said, as he flexed his fingers. “It’s a complicated weapon with enough features to make your head spin.”
There was an audible click as a blade shot out from the metal glove’s knuckles and transformed it into a katar. A second, slightly deeper sound caused a small bow to form just above the wrist, while a third led a set of claws to extend from the individual fingertips.
“Now, I’m sure it already seems impressive, but you’ve only seen three of the seventy two things that it can do. Naturally, having all of those different functions comes at the cost of some minor durability, but it’s hardly a problem when you’re able to pull a dozen blades out of thin air.”
Claire glanced at Sylvia, who was already looking back at her. “Crabby crags?” she whispered.
“Good idea,” said the fox, just as quietly.
“The arrows it needs are quite unique. They have to be stored within the weapon itself, but that actually helps because it makes it easier to infuse them with magic. And that’s not even the most interesting part. It’s even got a catalyst inside it, which lets it serve as a wand in a pinch.”
The priest continued to speak, highlighting all the tool’s features to no one in particular. He was so engrossed in his own invention that it took him a whole five minutes to realise that he had once again been abandoned in the midst of his demonstration.
