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Dressed in good clothes, but wrapped in his white [Conjure Armor], Erick’s booted feet sunk ever so slightly into the sands of the Crystal Forest. To the left and the right were shadows, deep and threatening, but they did not reach him, for the light of the sun and the Dead City stretched out through the Crack, to light the way forward, into danger, into the dragon’s maw. Wind flowed through the red and purple break in the wall, shredding on crystal, whistling a tune of desolation. 

A woman stood in the Crack, waiting for Erick to acknowledge her, or whatever it was she was waiting for.

Wild, white hair. Tanned skin. Shimmering black clothes, that were almost like a tuxedo. Shade Fallopolis held a spike of Kendrithyst in her left hand, as she called out a welcome, her bright white eyes shining even brighter as she Named Erick like he was a phenomenon, instead of a person. A ‘Fire of the Age’. There was surely to be more such Naming as the spectacle of Shadow’s Feast played out over the next ten days, but Erick was reasonably prepared. 

The Feast would be ten days for Erick, but for the rest of the world, it would be 12 hours. He had no idea what would happen during most of it, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. If he truly was ‘Untouchable’ (yet another Name), then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Fallopolis lowered her staff, and said, “There are some rules.”

Erick already knew this. He countered, “I have to be inside the city before the party starts. The sun is about to set, and you are blocking the way.”

She scrunched her face into a delightful, old-woman smile, saying, “All true! And yet, I will continue to block your way until such time as I decide to let you into my home.”

“Please be quick with your rules, then.”

Fallopolis nodded, then said, “First, I demand some chocolate, then some flowers, and only then, will we walk together to the Spire, and to the Palace District.”

“… Are you to be my plus-1?”

“We will have a day to figure that out as the journey is just as important as the destination. But for now: I want to be your Plus-1.” Fallopolis twilled her free hand through the air, adding a bit of whimsy to her voice, as she added, “You may pick another at the party; there is no rule against indulging in a healthy sexual appetite.”

Skipping right over the idea that he would want to bed a murderer like her, Erick said, “Then I have my own rules.” Not bothering to wait for a confirmation of his ability to request his own rules, he demanded, “There will be no anger over the littlest things, no torturing of innocents or people with lesser power than you in my presence or to my knowledge, and none of that cursing nonsense that I heard you committed against Allan, and that I am sure you have committed against many others.” 

Fallopolis had almost said something when Erick demanded his own set of rules, but when he barreled right over her attempt to speak, she merely pursed her lips in surprise. Then came a coy smile. “You’re a man after my own heart. I accept.”

With a series of thoughts, Erick directed three spare Ophiel to blip to three different locations, whereupon he gathered bluebell stalks, purple flarefire flowers, and sweetred rushes. The three flower stalks grew in a few different places in Spur, from the Garden and used as a spice, to the Adventurer’s District, to inside flowerbeds his new noble neighbors had constructed then filled. Erick had taken notice of them all in his various walks through the city, for they were each beautiful, smelled lovely, and all reminded him of snapdragons, with their hundred tiny flowers radiating from thick stalks. They would make a fine bouquet. 

Those cuttings landed in Erick’s quick Handy Aura grasp. While another Ophiel began copying some chocolate bars and cakes out of the tray of desserts for the party, Erick turned the flowers into a proper arrangement. 

Not ten seconds after Fallopolis’s agreement, Erick still stood five meters from the woman, but he was no longer empty-handed. One held a splash of red, violet, and blue flowers, wrapped in a bit of conjured twine, while the other hand held a stone box, full of chocolate items. With a final touch, Erick cast a [Cooling Ward] upon the inside of the box. 

Fallopolis smiled the whole while. She let go of the kendrithyst staff to let it float to her side, as she held her hands forward, making grasping motions with both. She teased, “You have to give them to me, Erick. I won’t take anything from you.”

Erick breathed deep, and saw the final edge of the sun threaten to vanish beyond the curve of the crystal metropolis, beyond the Crack. He stepped forward, crossing into the Crack proper, edging below the overhang of the wall above. Now one meter from Fallopolis, he looked the woman in her white eyes…

… And handed her the chocolate and flowers. 

She took them, squealing a little, as she backed up, then rushed down the sands, playfully racing down the red skyroad that led further into the city, calling out, “Get all the way in, or the Barrier Magic will kill you!”

Erick looked left and right, and saw something in the red-purple Crack. There waited a glittering darkness, deeper than the shadows that were already there, prowling the crystal corridor. 

Fallopolis, now down upon the red skyroad leading further into the city, and all the way out of the Crack, called out, “I’m not joking! Dying to your own foolishness is something we will not prevent.”

Erick stepped forward— 

A bar of void-dark blackness, stretched behind him, and through a suddenly-dispersed Ophiel, covering the outermost shell of the wall of Ar’Kendrithyst. Erick rapidly pulled his clothes and food and bags inward, out of the way, and he, too, raced down the sands, spilling into the city. And then another bar appeared, crossing the first, like someone was weaving threads across the entrance—

Shadow Spiders, moving faster than the eye could see, but Ophiel had a hundred eyes, and some of them were still outside the Crack. They watched as spiders leapt the Crack, and continued on along the wall, spreading dark threads as they passed. 

Erick stepped onto the red skyroad, and kept moving forward. His Ophiel followed, safe, but the ones outside were slashed in half, as they tried to pass through where there were no threads, only to have a spider impact them like they weren’t even there. 

Void-dark threads expanded, soaking together—

Erick rushed into the city, proper, resummoning the few Ophiel he had lost. And then he noticed Fallopolis grinning at him. He was on a collision course with the Shade. With an ungainly shift to the left, Erick avoided the unwanted interaction. His Ophiel flowed forward around him, providing eyes in every direction. 

Centering himself and standing less awkwardly, Erick looked to the Shade. The Shade smirked, as her flowers and box of chocolates hovered to one side, and her crystal staff hovered on the other. She lifted a finger, and as Erick’s heart suddenly pumped hard, she angled her finger further upward. 

With Ophiel, he looked in every direction. He never took his eyes off the Shade. 

In fact, he should not have been on a collision course with her, at all. She had moved into his way. But, whatever. She was playing power games, and Erick would have to let her. Erick focused in every direction, with all of his Ophiels’ eyes. 

Down, were shadows, crawling in the glowing, purple kendrithyst. Behind him was the crystal-side of the wall, heading off into the distance. To the left, was the Crack, which was now completely filled with shadows. From one second to the next, the shadows shifted. The Crack vanished, as red-purple kendrithyst rapidly filled in the break, turning the red skyroad under them into a simple avenue that ended in a T intersection, with one part heading directly into the city, to Forward Base, the northern part heading down on a descending road that may or may not have led to Fallopolis’s ‘home’, and the southern part traveling along the inside of the wall, like a ledge hugging a crystal mountain.

Erick briefly regarded the city on his right as he also looked skyward, following Fallopolis’s finger.

Ar’Kendrithyst was as beautiful as it was deadly. Spires of glowing red-purple crystal reached into the dark sky, while millions of stars lit the night. It was an impossible sight; one that he didn’t see with his own eyes, but Ophiel’s didn’t suffer from mortal problems such as light blindness. 

And then the sky changed. 

What appeared in the sky were not the three moons of Veird. 

They were planets. 

What once was black expanse, gave space over to a bright green and blue orb. Continents of unfamiliar shapes appeared as Darkness retreated. Erick couldn’t see it with his own eyes, but with a few Ophiels turning themselves into little more than an organization of giant eyes and tiny wings, Erick saw a lot.

Cities on coasts. Floating mountain ranges skipping over deserts. Whale pods swimming in oceans. 

And then Erick realized he was not looking at a planet. It was shaped like an orb, yes, but those oceans were too deep to be real, their depths too visible to be anything but an artistic creation, while the continents floated over the waters, and the waters floated over the land. It was a place kept in harmony with itself, and though there was a passing resemblance to a normal planet like the one Erick grew up on, the physics of this illusion in the sky were completely alien. 

Its physics were like Veird, but taken to the next magnitude of crazy. Exposed Underworlds. Oceans floating over surface continents—

The darkness above pulled further back, revealing another ‘planet’ like the first, but with land made of light and oceans made of fire. It was like looking at the sun, up close, but very much not. 

Another orb appeared. Ice and wind. 

Another orb. It was a city. That was all Erick could tell. Buildings and waterways and very few green spaces, but mostly buildings. Spires of metal. The shimmer of glass. Lights everywhere. Those lights set the city aglow, making it appear as an illuminated Jackson Pollock painting. 

More cities appeared, each shaped without regard for the physical universe Erick grew up knowing, and believing to be the only shape that reality could take. None of the later ones to appear were as large as the first to appear, but appear they did, filling in the black space above. 

Erick glanced to Fallopolis, as she snapped a piece of chocolate off of a bar and had a bite. She smirked at Erick, and returned her attention to the sky, seeming to enjoy the spectacle of it all. 

The sky shifted again. 

A flow took hold of the universe above. A liquid drama. A density that moved, but barred no sight, and impeded no light. Erick recognized the sight immediately. He had seen paintings and read stories, but he had never seen a true representation of what the Mana Ocean actually was. And now he had. 

The Mana Ocean appeared in the sky and Erick felt that if he wanted to, he could step into the air, and swim to the city planet, float to the world of light, plunge into the depths of the water and stone world to seek a new existence untouched by mortal hands. But it was an illusion. It had to be. 

Erick blinked, and the grip of an unknown magic broke. He looked up again, and saw the same sights, but he knew them for facsimile. Why would he want to go exploring any of that? He liked living in Spur. He wasn’t an adventurer, like Jane. 

He turned to Fallopolis. Somehow, he had taken his real eyes off of the Shade, and turned his sight toward the illusions above. A flush of adrenaline raced through his chest.  

Fallopolis stared at the sky, too, with a dejected look about her. And then the moment passed. She was a Shade again, with bright white eyes. She turned to regard Erick with a cold countenance. She said, “It’s an illusion to give us a taste of what we’re trying to achieve. Some choose to lose themselves in this one week a year, staring at the sky and what could be, but never coming out into the open, otherwise.”

Erick felt like arguing against the implication that Shades were hermits, and so he did, “And you’re going to tell me that these ‘hidden ones’ are more the style of true Shades? That they’re not the megalomaniac killers who are the front of your whole Kendrithyst city operation, that you do this to better hide your cult’s true intent? That they’re good guys?” He sarcastically asked, “What do they do? Give money to charity?”

Fallopolis smiled wide, and then wider. When Erick was done with his mini-rant, she said, “Completely wrong! They’re all irredeemable killers and altogether awful people. Not a single one of them deserves power, but they all have it anyway. Even those hidden Shades just have hidden operations, inciting horror and pain the world over, all in an attempt to bring down the Script—” She pointed upward. “—And to bring that back.”

“You, too?”

“Of course!” She said, “I usually work to kill other Shades and take their stuff, though. That’s my shtick.” 

“I’ve heard that before. Tell me: how is that supposed to work?”

“Usually, I end up turning someone’s project on their head, and they solidify their weaknesses. Or, I win, and take what they worked to achieve. Outside of the City, this means I kill a hundred people here, end a family line there. Or backstab a colleague just as they’re about to realize some important goal, and then I take their stuff.” She shrugged. “That’s the rare event. Most of us stick to Kendrithyst, consolidating our resources and planting prizes for those with the power to take them. To that end, the most common thing I do is to lead a team of adventurers into a project inside Kendrithyst, and have them either die or do my dirty work for me. Fun times!”

Erick had a hard time keeping his emotions in check. He wanted to rage against Fallopolis’s casual disregard for others. He wanted to harm her for her confessed crimes. But he calmed himself, and asked, “Have you ever considered that people are valuable resources, and working with civilization instead of toppling it is a much more prudent goal?”

With a wide smile, same as before, and highly reminiscent of a teacher instructing a student who understands everything the teacher says, she said, “We already work with civilization, Erick. That is what we do. We make people better than they were before by killing those that don’t deserve to live.” She added, “You would kill the killers, and the corrupt, and the dangerous, but that’s just a variation on the various Shades out there who kills those of every type who fail to live up to their potential, be their crimes those of uselessness, stupidity, or even volatility. If they survive, then they’re not what we thought they were; they’re qualified to live. You and I, and us, we just have different lines in the tunnels between acceptable and non.” 

All anger fled, to be replaced with a coldness, and a certainty. 

Even if Fallopolis’s words were true, which Erick did not believe for a second, Fallopolis was acting up for someone. There were no [Scry] orbs hanging around them, but Erick didn’t believe that meant no one was watching. 

Fallopolis was acting up for someone. 

For him, to convince him of her lies? To convince him of some other thing?

For someone else, to convince them of her own intentions? 

Probably the latter. 

Or maybe both. Or neither. 

Erick had no real base to draw upon when it came to Fallopolis. He had spoken to Killzone for a while, about every Shade there was, and about what to expect going into this Shadow’s Feast. Jane had spoken of her own time inside Ar’Kendrithyst, as well. Everyone knew a little bit about Ar’Kendrithyst, and Erick had heard a lot over the last year. One of the things everyone agreed upon was that the Shades were dangerous truth tellers, who spoke in candied half-truths and believable perspectives, as much as they could. They only lied when they respected the person they were talking to.

Killzone had told Erick that the Shades he would meet might tell the truth in the beginning, but the lies would come out soon enough. Right now, Fallopolis was likely trying to manipulate him with a partial truth.

With a gleam in her glowing white eyes, Fallopolis asked, “You’re not going to refute me?”

“I know perfectly well where my line lies, but I’ve seen people with nothing become better than who they were before. Lost souls high on drugs to get away from their lives, or behind bars and waiting for a judge to sentence them to life in prison. Rape victims too depressed to move on with their lives. They needed help, and I gave them that help, and sometimes I failed, but sometimes I succeeded and the world was a bit better for it.” Erick demanded, “What good is the harm you do when life itself is more than harmful enough to temper or break the people living it?” 

“You overestimate our impact.” 

“Monsters kill people.” He said, “You tempt people to your city to test them, and kill those who fail. Those who succeed gain items you release into the world with the intent to cause damage long after they’ve left your power, like the Sword Staff, or other artifacts.”

“You release artifacts into the world, too.” 

“Don’t even try to equate the two. It is a disingenuous argument.”

“Your Particle Magic killed Odaali, Erick, for you just opened the door, exactly like any good Fire of the Age, or Shade. And then people were people. Your argument is the disingenuous one.” Fallopolis said, “If anyone should be fielding this question, it should be Rozeta, for we Shades have been trying to destroy the inequality of the Script and all the empowerments you seem to detest, for a long, long time.”

Erick almost retorted, but a strange shadow appeared on the glowing red road, not a hundred meters away. He turned a few more Ophiel eyes toward the blot in the red brightness. Fallopolis noticed.

She waved an arm wide, saying, “And here’s the bag boy! You took your sweet time.”

The blot moved forward and stopped ten meters away. It stepped up from the ground, resolving into a thin human man, with a wrinkled face and greying hair. The first noticeable thing about him were his clothes, for Fallopolis wore the same thing, but Fallopolis’ outfit was downright shabby, compared to his. And then Erick noticed his long arms and legs, as though he had been stretched, more than slightly.

The man regarded Erick with eyes that were grey pits of light. “My Queen wishes to welcome you to Kendrithyst.” Two more blots appeared behind the man. They stepped up to reveal younger, shorter butlers, or whatever they were. The first man asked, “If you would be so kind, would you please allow this one to take your bags? They will be ready for you at the Palace.”

“… No thank you.”

The butler looked ready to sigh, but instead, he turned to Fallopolis. 

Erick turned to Fallopolis, too. 

Fallopolis frowned at everyone, then said to Erick, “You’re going to be attacked before you reach the Palace. Best give him most of your things unless you would prefer to arrive at the Palace without dessert. Queen will not like it if you don’t bring her what she asked for.”

Erick had a refusal on the tip of his tongue, but this was not something he was willing to upset someone over. So instead, he asked Fallopolis, “Can I trust you at your overt words?”

Fallopolis stood up a bit straighter, as she blushed. “Ooh?” She put a hand to the side of her face, as if in thought. “Well.” She lowered her hand. Unsure, “I guess? Yes.” With a triumphant nod, she decided, “You can trust everything I say to be true, from here on out.”

Erick asked, “Are these really porters for Queen? They’re wearing your outfit.”

“Ha!” With a sly smile, she said, “Yes. They truly are her porters. Whatever you give them will go right to Queen, while you and I must take the longer, walking route.” She chided, “And apparently I need to take a slightly longer route than you!” She tugged at her outfit, saying, “I’ll have you know that this was my outfit first.” She gestured at the butlers, adding, “They look like that because they are a power play by the Queen, who takes every opportunity she can to shame me.”

Erick acknowledged the powerful monster in human guise, then turned to the others monsters in human guise, and floated his luggage-carrying Ophiel forward. With a few easy set-downs, Erick laid down most of his clothes and his glass-covered dessert tray. He kept one bag back, for it held his essentials; a few miscellaneous items, a jug of water he could [Duplicate], a few food items, and a few chocolate bars, just in case he needed a back-up dessert.

Erick had studied a map of Ar’Kendrithyst before he came. He knew the Palace District laid to the far south of the Dead City, over a hundred and twenty kilometers away. Past the Spire, where the Shades ruled the Dead city, and past Umber Street, where Bulgan rose to power. Past the Garden, which Treant took from Planter when Champion Yetta came and killed him. Past the Armory and three different lakes and a hundred other smaller places Erick had heard of from his daughter, or from Killzone. 

For there would be no blipping to the party. 

Because, though Erick barely noticed the tingling against his skin, it was there. Either Fallopolis or someone else had deployed their Blessing, disallowing all Spatial magic. It hadn’t been active in the beginning, but it was active after the wall closed…

Erick asked Fallopolis, “Is that your Blessing?”

“Nope!” She smirked, saying, “That’s part of the preparations for the Feast.” With her kendrithyst staff, she pointed to the sky. “If you can guess which plane I designed, then I’ll reward you with something special!” She turned shadowy, saying, “Be right back, gotta change!”

Fallopolis vanished from sight. 

Erick turned his full attention to the butlers. They had picked up the luggage he had given them, but they had yet to leave. They were just sort of… waiting. Perhaps for Erick to say something? So he said, “Thank you for taking my things to the Palace. I look forward to meeting Queen.”

The lead one spoke, “Queen welcomes you to Kendrithyst, and to Shadow’s Feast.” 

His words said, the butler and his entourage dropped into the red road, all at the same time. Their three shadowy blots zipped away, faster than Erick could track them, but not too fast for his Ophiel. They passed beyond sight when they got half a kilometer down the road, and turned right into a crystal tower, to vanish down into the depths.

And Erick was alone. 

Maybe.

He took the time to gaze upon the city, again, since it was beautiful, and this was a calm moment.

Glowing red spires of crystal turned purple in the edges and down below, while the crystal skyroad ahead of him was a bit more muted in its brilliance. And now that he looked, he saw that different spires were different shades of red; the road was actually crimson. A real good color for Strength Stat enchantments, actually. There were shadows crawling inside every glowing tower and every crystal structure, but that was par for the course, for Ar’Kendrithyst. Nothing too unusual, there. The gentle undulation of the shadows reminded Erick of crashing ocean waves, or maybe ink swirling in water, or maybe… He wasn’t quite sure. 

Erick stepped a little to the side of the red road underfoot, and looked down. 

A glowing purple abyss stared back. 

Erick turned on [Greater Lightwalk]—

And experienced a slowness he had never known. The spell activated over the course of a second; his skin turning fractionally brighter as he extended a tendril outward. Ah. So Killzone had been right. He had warned Erick of this possibility. Oh well. He could deal with limited spellcasting, due to a time-magic interacting with the global cooldown of the Script. 

Erick experimented with his [Greater Lightwalk] tendril, moving the tendril around perfectly fine. No time-based shenanigans, there. But when he went to cast another spell, a [Force Bolt] this time, targeted onto the road ahead and too low-powered to actually do anything, the spell didn’t activate. It wasn’t an Error, or anything like that. These were the normal limitations of the Script.

The global cooldown prevented the casting of more than one spell every second, and while the 12 hours of Shadow’s Feast passed normally for everyone outside of Ar’Kendrithyst, inside the Dead City, it would take 10 days to pass those 12 hours. Meaning 240 hours inside the city. Meaning 20 seconds per single spell cast.

Luckily Erick had 10 Ophiel, each able to cast their own spell, once every 20 seconds. 

… But they’d spend most of those global cooldowns just keeping themselves afloat with their [Airshape].

Erick glanced to his [Familiar]s. He thought. With a moment’s introspection, he decided that he was going to run [Greater Lightwalk] all the time, just keeping it on the periphery of his understanding, and not actually becoming a lightform being himself. He’d also run his [Handy Aura] the second he was able to cast again, which was coming up… now.

He turned on his [Flight of a Thousand Hands]—

With a dawning realization, and as he was tucking in his Handy Aura and his light tendrils, he understood that those butlers had likely been waiting for their global cooldowns to reset, and not to hear Erick speak, or anything like that. Shadelings still had Script access, after all. Mystery solved? Had Erick accidentally made a fool of himself?

Whatever the case, his next action was to have an Ophiel expend themselves to cast a [Prismatic Ward] on his luggage; casting the movable-option version of the Solid [Ward]. When Erick’s cooldown came back so he could recast that [Familiar]... 

His Ophiel were going to run into problems with the global cooldown, weren’t they? He had never really paid attention to it before, but they used [Airshape] all the time; sometimes more than every 20 seconds. They would each need a different way to fly. 

… Would there be mana problems, too? Was Erick’s regeneration cut in 20, as well?

Checking his Status, which took a few moments to actually manifest, Erick watched his mana regenerate as he expected it to regenerate. He was not that separated from the Script; the only thing he was truly separated from, in this fast-time space, was access to the Script. Mana regeneration and other Stat-derived powers were aspects of the Script, but either the Script was more robust than Erick imagined, or maybe this ‘cooldown limitation’ was just one of the ways to ensure Time Magic never got out of hand. 

Jane had spoken of not being able to reach the Script when she was time-locked by Melemizargo, all those months ago. Perhaps, what she had actually experienced, was not a denial of Script access, but the very same limitation Erick was experiencing right now.

… Whatever the case, Erick opted to solve Ophiel’s flying problems now, while he had time. With a thought, he switched them all over to Handy Aura flight. They naturally regenerated 1 mana every two seconds, but that spell cost 1 mana per second, so they’d have to dip into the Restful, dense air every now and then. This was fine, for [Flight of a Thousand Hands] was good for both aerial movement and fighting off smaller beasties. Erick could have one of them, the one holding up the bag, actually, run [Greater Lightwalk], for that one would always be in the Restful air, and thus able to support the much larger 10 mana per second of [Greater Lightwalk], and also be able to better protect the bag. So he did just that.

Ahhh, planning. 

It’d all go to shit soon enough, but it was best to be prepared if possible.

A spark of darkness drew Erick’s attention, just as the spark resolved into Fallopolis. The Shade wore a black dress with poofy shoulders and a cascade of fabric down the body, almost like a flamenco dancer’s outfit, but softer. It matched the style of her grey hair. 

Erick asked, “Are you limited by the global cooldown, too?”

There was no harm in asking this question, to Erick’s knowledge. Fallopolis likely knew every single nuance to the spell currently locking down Ar’Kendrithyst. She would know that his own casting was somewhat limited.  

She cackled once, then said, “Nope!” She pointed to the left. A bolt of shadow ripped out of her body like a tsunami packed into a football. It soared across the city to impact a red tower and splinter the crystal. Fallopolis waited a beat, then pointed to the right, sending another [Black Bolt] into the side of a different tower. She said, “You’d need to abandon the Script to be able to do the same thing with your [Greater Lightwalk].”

Erick could not stop the slight frown that pulled at his face. 

He pointed at the same distant tower, and flexed his [Greater Lightwalk]. He threw out a tiny, completely normal-sized [Force Bolt]. The tower was too far away to hit, so the spell vanished before it got there, but that was fine. He might not be able to recreate spells beyond Basic Tier, but he could certainly do that much. He wasn’t a complete rube. 

Fallopolis smirked as she gestured down the red road with her crystal staff, saying, “Come! We must journey on foot to the Feast, so we will have lots of time to talk of the inadequacies of the Script, and to dodge or fight the trials and tribulations arrayed against us.”

Erick did not follow close, but he did follow to her side, leaving a good three meters distance between them. He asked, “Is your plan to distract me or protect me from attacks?”

“If anything, you will have distracted me when I am attacked. You are Untouchable. Directly, anyway.” Fallopolis shrugged, as she casually said, “But then again, there’s no predicting crazy, and these insane priests of Melemizargo are as noodle-noggined as brainsnakes.”

“… Okay.”

“You’ll want to prepare for collateral damage.” Fallopolis declared to the Dead City, “Won’t be my fault if he gets hurt!”

Erick stared out at the bright, crystal city, with spires reaching high and towers extending too far deep to see where they ended. Fallopolis was obviously speaking to someone, but the shadows in the glowing stones didn’t respond. No one responded. 

So when was the first problem going to appear?

They silently walked down the road to Forward Base for a little while. The plot of crystal allotted to Spur’s Army loomed in the distance; a darker tower than the rest. It was supposed to be empty right now, and it certainly looked the part. No sentries standing atop the battlements. No soldiers stationed at the end of the road—

Fallopolis turned to the left, to the south, to stand on the edge of the red road, and then she walked off the road. She did not fall. She just kept walking, as though she was standing atop an invisible road. But she wasn’t truly ‘walking’ either. With every step she took, she moved double the distance as normal. It wasn’t three seconds before she pulled at least a dozen meters ahead.

After a moment of introspection, Erick followed, flying along on his Handy Aura, easily catching up.

Fallopolis noticed. She frowned at him, then looked to his dangling feet. “No flying!” She said it without malice, but there was an edge to her voice. “Walk with [Greater Lightwalk].” She gestured to the sky around her, the bright red crystals, and the glowing purple depths. “Is there not enough light to your liking?”

Erick returned her frown, and stepped onto the light. He almost stumbled, trying to match her stretched-out speed, but Erick got the hang of it after a few tries. With radiance splashing under every footfall, his Handy Aura pulled back to his back, and his balance secured, Erick said, “I did not expect you to take the ‘walking’ part seriously.”

“Serious as cancer!” 

“Thank Rozeta for [Cleanse].” 

He said it as a reflex, panicked for a brief moment, then decided it was okay. Because Fallopolis laughed. 

“Ha!” Fallopolis said, “She didn’t make [Cleanse]! [Cleanse] has been around for more than a million years and cast a million different ways, long before the Script came along and locked it down to a press of intent and a brush of mana.”

“… Believable.” Erick asked, “But so what? It’s here, and I’ve used it because of her implementation of the Script, and I’m happy for it.”

Fallopolis questioned, “Happy to suffer the yoke of another?” 

“Freedom is a lie kids and fools tell themselves is possible so they don’t have to labor under the harsh realities all around us. To live in a city, to love and be loved, to peacefully exist with others? These require sacrifices of freedom that I am all too happy to accept.” Erick said, “And besides that, there is always someone more powerful than you, for even if you’re at the top, you are still beholden to the mob, and I am not going to become a hermit.”

Fallopolis went, “Hrm.” 

Fallopolis said no more, and Erick didn’t either. 

They just walked, for a while.

- - - -

This was all too fuckin’ weird. Here he was, strolling through the sky next to a true monster. Though she might walk with a slight smile and a happy look upon the world, and though she might seem like a kindly grandmother, she was a monster. No doubt about that.

Jane had shown him telepathic images of the people Fallopolis had turned into musical instruments, and of the monster ‘cake’ she had set out for Champion Yetta and the rest of her party. Jane showed him pictures of her time rescuing people from the Arena, who Fallopolis had dumped into death games, and when they succeeded, she harassed them all the way through the city, all the way back to the Crack, and outside. It was awful, what she had done to all of those people… 

Those people who had invaded her home? 

No no. That was being too generous to Fallopolis. But...

With that thought, Erick just had to ask. But maybe a more generalized question, rather than a specific one. It might reveal more.

“Why do you harm people who come to Ar’Kendrithyst?” Erick clarified, “Why play the villain, and ply with treasure, if the goal is to make the world stronger?”

Fallopolis lost some of the happy pep to her walk, as she said, “Fair warning: Don’t use that name around other Priests of Melemizargo.”

“Fair enough.”

She looked to him with eyes made of light, then turned her attention back to the empty ‘road’ ahead, saying, “We devoted sons, daughters, and otherwise of the Dark Dragon… We appreciate power. We cultivate cunning. We love losers who turn everything around, and upend the world for their own gain, or for the lives and love of others. But if you think we’re the greatest danger this world faces, you don’t know anything.” She pointed all around at the pristine crystal towers, saying, “If we were the biggest bads on the planet, then they would all come to kill us all, bringing this city low, for even a collection of couatls will band together to strike at strangers. Now, it is true that we have been Big Bad Problems every now and again. We’re only mortal, Erick. But for every time one of us has managed to convince the rest to go to war, and thus made targets of ourselves, there was someone else out there that has done worse.”

“And those people should feel shame for their actions, too.”

She asked, “Want to become a Shade and teach them that they should feel shame?”

“What about the people in Champion Yetta’s incursion into Kendrithyst? Why did you turn those people under your power into musical instruments?”

She nodded, then began, “The Champion was coming to kill Planter; this was unavoidable. By planting those Daydroppers and putting himself on Atunir’s Kill and Exterminate Quest, he had overstepped his bounds as a good Shade. To make a long story short, he had gone insane or succumbed to his monstrous nature, or whatever you want to call it. And thus, he had to die. 

“A Full Meeting determined our collective response to our fallen member. 

“We decided to assist every adventurer who came to kill him.

“There were more than a few attempts to use the new influx of young power to kill off some of our own. I stood firmly in this camp as I often do, and I will make no apology for trying to kill unfit Shades.

“But then you sent Yetta after us, and everything changed. We had another Full Meeting. We could not assist a divinely appointed soldier unless we thoroughly tested them first, and took at least one or two of them for ourselves. 

“Halfway through this meeting, Melemizargo got involved. There were too many of his pieces in play for him not to. You had given Yetta the quest to kill Planter, and Jane was already in the city, killing and culling weakness like a good girl. Champion Tania Webwalker usually remains silent during Full Meetings, but she spoke. My usual desire to see the weak culled from our ranks was met with unusual furor from Tania. 

“This set the tone for Yetta’s incursion. 

“From there, a lot of boring things happened, but I cleared my part of the city of adventurers, and waited.” She looked to Erick, asking, “And you know what I saw when I saw Yetta?” She returned her sight forward, and answered herself, “I saw a scared girl, on the precipice of horror, flying forward for she knew no other way. So when Yetta and them decided to go along with the Army’s suggestion to rescue the people we cleared out of the city in preparation for Yetta’s arrival, I waited. When they came my way, I rapidly mutilated the adventurers and turned my guardwolf into a cake, in order to prepare them for what they would find at Planter’s Garden and elsewhere in Kendrithyst.” She added, “Others had more horrible dungeons planned out because some of them are more horrible people than I, but if Yetta decided to forgo my dungeon then my intention was always to let the poor people go.” 

Erick took a moment to understand what Fallopolis had revealed. 

It sounded like it was all perfectly reasonable, but that only showed how insidious it was. 

He asked, “Why did you have a Daydropper in your dungeon?”

“Because Planter gifted one to each of us. Left the green vine right in some of our own bedrooms, he did. None of us touched them, though. We didn’t want to get caught up in his insane ideas.” Fallopolis said, “Not a single person made it to the Daydropper room in any of those dungeons, because we killed each planting before either Yetta’s team or anyone else got anywhere near the wretched thing.”

Erick almost had another question, but a shadow to the left of their path caught Ophiel’s eyes.

Fallopolis flinched just after Ophiel, and then she reacted.

She caught a ten-meter long spike of red crystal in the space above her upturned hand. The spike had come from the crystal tower to the left, breaking off from the whole to impact the Shade, who just stood there, not three meters from Erick. A second passed. The spike could not reach her. It sparked and cracked and strained to push through her casual show of telekinetic power—

With her other hand, gripping her kendrithyst staff, she caught three more spikes that launched up from below. Another second had passed, by that point. While Erick was rapidly switching between deciding to help, or to let it all play out, the Shade looked almost bored by her attempts to defend herself.

Erick almost launched a few spells at the monster, as it revealed itself.

The upper twenty meters of a nearby crystal tower, the whole bright, red thing, broke, revealing itself as a cross between a spider with a hundred too-long legs, and a crystal elemental. It had been camouflaged as the top of the kendrithyst tower, but now the true top of the tower was visible below the beast, gripped by thirty crystal legs. When the elemental was hidden, there was not a single part of the monster that gave away its true nature. Even now, it still looked mostly like kendrithyst. 

Animated kendrithyst that filled up a lofty space the size of Erick’s wizard tower; a monster that moved too silently to be believable. Not a single one of the crashing, suspending crystals that made up its body, made a single noise.

It certainly made noise when Fallopolis ripped it apart, though. 

With narrowed eyes and a casual disdain for the world, the Shade ripped the legs off of the crystal creature, five, seven, a dozen limbs at a time. Those legs crashed through the abyss below, sparking and breaking and… oozing? What? 

Within a handful of seconds, Fallopolis had de-limbed the ambush predator in a shower of crystal chips, and splashes of glowing red light. In a few moments more, she had torn the monster down to a core; a piece of red kendrithyst with a bright white light inside. She turned her hand, and the red outside of the core broke, splashing more red liquid light into the world like an egg cracking, then falling away to reveal a grand rad as bright as any Erick had ever seen. The jewel floated to the Shade, becoming a drop of light that touched her chest and sunk into her body, carving a tiny hole in her black, ruffled dress, but leaving behind bloodless, unmarred skin.

Erick had either directed an Ophiel to turn on his [Cleanse Aura], or Ophiel had done that himself. Either way, misted red ‘blood’ did not reach Erick; it turned to thick air before that could happen.

Fallopolis turned to Erick, and smiled, saying, “You didn’t react except to back up a step, and activate your [Cleanse Aura]. Why was that?”

“… I am not sure. Didn’t feel right when it was your kill?” Erick frowned at himself. That answer was not honest, but he didn’t feel like explaining any further.

“They’re just monsters, Erick.” Fallopolis said, “You can kill them, you know. You might even get some Participation next time. Get some nice levels!” 

Erick looked to the red splashes dripping down the kendrithyst tower. He asked “That wasn’t a golem?”

“Not at all.” She gestured to the bloody tower behind her. “That was a Kendrithyst Mimic. The true adult form of the Crystal Mimic. They’re rather… rare...” She adopted a frown, and put a finger to her lips as if thinking some deep thought. She turned and viewed the tower. “Why did it attack me, though? They never come out against Shades.” She stood straight, asking herself, “Or maybe they always come out against Shades?” She turned to Erick, saying, “Hard to keep the facts straight, sometimes. Ol’ Melly-mel might be getten better, but some of us were stuck with his lack-of-sane for a long time. Still!” She admonished, “Best not freeze up like that again, Erick. Throw out a spell or two next time! But now... Where we were? I think you were asking me something about Daydroppers or mutilating people or somesuch minutiae.”

And with that curt dismissal of all of Erick’s concerns for morality, and decency, and maybe a little bit because of the power Fallopolis had just displayed, Erick had a thought. Who was he, to think that he could change the Shades? Maybe, if he were the same person he was a year ago, he would give that pursuit a bare modicum of effort, but knowing what he knew now… The Shades did not deserve that chance. So he switched topics. 

“What other monsters do you think we will encounter?”

“I’m sure there’ll be something for you to murder soon enough.” She gestured to the Ophiel that was still running the [Cleanse Aura]. “Bring ‘em in for a landing, will ye? I got red in my hair.”

… She looked clean, but Erick moved the [Cleansing Aura] Ophiel toward Fallopolis. 

The [Cleanse Aura] clipped the Shade, then enveloped her, as a practical explosion of thick air blasted away from Fallopolis, like she was the starting point for a fog bank, or the heat mirage of a fire tornado. Fallopolis luxuriated in the breeze, smiling faintly. Erick just watched, wondering what the fuck was being [Cleanse]d. In three seconds, the purifying storm became a trickle. The Shade looked slightly younger, maybe. She smiled. She giggled. 

She whipped around, and continued south, her footsteps making dark flashes as she walked in the air. 

Erick reluctantly followed, his own footsteps spilling light into the brilliant city. 

He chanced, “So? Monsters?”

“Right!” Fallopolis began, “There’s the Kendrithyst Mimics, course. Can’t never spot them till they move. Luckily, your Ophiels’ got some phenomenal sight training. Clued me in before I got skewered. Then there’s the shadowolves, but they’re negligible. Shadow krakens, shadow beasts? They’re bigger and a little bit of fun, but you probably won’t see a shadow-aligned monster out tonight— You know. ‘Cept for Shades.” She glanced at Erick and smiled wider, then turned forward again and continued, “And then there’s the giants. We should see a few of them now or then. Mostly just some weak ones my compatriots are looking to cull from their flocks… Probably… But Kendrithyst is a lot of empty space, so meeting the monsters you might expect to meet can be rather difficult sometimes. Then there the swordwings! Those are new. Skyhook created those from tiny razorwings, and then loosed them in the city about four months back…”

Fallopolis spoke of monsters known, and unknown, as the two of them walked across crystal chasms, ever south. The Palace District was about 120 kilometers distant; Erick wasn’t quite sure, since they wouldn’t be flying directly there. They were moving double-time, though, so maybe they’d actually make it to the party in under 24 hours. But their direction...

Their direction could be a problem, as the Swamp was thirty kilometers south of the Crack, and directly in their path. The Witch lived in that land of curses, poison, and dark waters. Killzone had shown Erick a map, and given him a dozen pathing options, but all of them went around the Swamp. Erick did not really want to go that way...

But Fallopolis spoke on, not giving him a chance to talk. 

It was probably on purpose. 

She did have a lot to say about monsters, though. Erick could almost believe that she truly did tell people what they needed to know to survive and thrive in Ar’Kendrithyst. Almost. 

- - - -

The sky was full of lands composed of myriads of mixed elements and stars brighter than they had any right to be, while the horizon in every direction was a crimson glow of towers, fading down to violet, shadowed depths. A comfortable wind blew through the quiet city. Not too hot, not too cold. Erick’s white [Conjure Armor] was fine to wear for extended periods of time, especially with his new clothes. 

But a bit of thirst got to him. 

Fallopolis continued to talk, “… And then there’s the weirdwood. It’s an Arbor that grows in the third layer but sends roots everywhere to feed off of dead shadows and adventurers. What usually happens, is that the adventurers think they’ve found a simple duskwood grove, and they’re all like ‘Oh! Duskwood heartwood! That’s good for such-and-such enchantment or so-and-so potions’. And so they try to attack it and if they’ve run into the main tree, they die, but if they run into the side growths, they might live.” She added, “It’s rather similar to your Yggdrasil, but it’s not a true World Tree.” She continued, “And then there’s—

“A World Tree?” Erick asked, interrupting Fallopolis.

It barely phased him that she knew what had only happened two hours ago, but her casual naming of the ‘world tree’ phenomenon sparked Erick’s interest; he couldn’t not interrupt her. 

She didn’t seem to mind. “Of course! People try to make them all the time and they almost always fail, because World Trees are Arbors of a larger sort, but the Script doesn’t like them because they are extreme defensive structures, the lot of them. Back in the Old Cosmology, they truly did protect entire worlds.” She added, “I doubt your Yggdrasil will ever be what it could have been. The Script constricts the top and nurtures the weak. If you’d’ve made this tree in the Old Cosmology, you would have truly created something to behold. A defensive treasure worthy of founding a multi-plane civilization.”

“You’ve spoken like this a few times, now.” Erick said, “No one needs that much power. The Script could do with a lot less power, in my opinion.”

“Ha!” Fallopolis said, “I am glad we have come to this part in our discussion, because every single Shade agrees that most people could do with a lot less power, for the Script is an unfair equalizer. Mages study for decades to make their part of the world a bit better with a bit of magic, but then some unlearned asshole comes along with two points, buys [Strike] and [Invisible], and beheads the mage, turning their part of the world back to anarchy. The same phenomenon happened in the Old Cosmology, too, of course, but back then, a mage could protect themselves, and assassins had to really know their trade to get you. Anyone could overcome old power, in fact. But it wasn’t as simple as ‘spend two points’.”

“I think you misunderstand. Even mages don’t need that much power. No one does.”

“Now that’s insane! Of course people need power, for the truly natural world is a dangerous place, and I’m not talking about this curated experience of Script and monsters. I’m talking real magic; unfettered.” She asked, “Would you get rid of magic itself?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well good. Then you’re not a total lost cause.” She asked, “Where would you set the bar of acceptable spells, then?”

“I’d keep [Cleanse] and [Greater Treat Wounds]. Maybe [Telekinesis], too. I could do without all the rest, if it meant no more monsters, or ancients, or archmages of any kind.”

For the first time, Fallopolis went speechless. “… I was not expecting…” And then she said, “But you love magic? Creating the higher tiers, working Particles? Ophiel. [Exalted Rain]. All the rest.”

“I do.” Erick smiled at the illusion-filled sky, saying, “But I also love talking with neighbors and helping people and having dinner with friends. I do not love fighting for my life because some ancient mage decided to create a monster and loose it upon the world some thousand years ago, or even just last week.”

Fallopolis glanced at him, then looked forward, not breaking her stride. Erick had spied a frown, but not much of one. For a long moment, the only sounds were the sounds of wind, blowing through Ar’Kendrithyst, and the gentle hum of the Ophiel trailing behind Erick. The ones on his shoulders were completely silent. 

Erick broke the silence, offering, “I have a canteen of water. Would you like one, too?”

“… Sure.”

Erick directed the lightform Ophiel, currently holding his bag, to reach in and copy his canteen. Another Ophiel did the same action, effectively letting Erick briefly pass the global cooldown of the Script. With a reach of his own light, he grabbed both bottles out of the dense air around the bag. With a gentle extension of solid light, he handed one of the round canteens to Fallopolis. 

She eyed the canteen, and took it. With a flick, the cap came off and fell into the violet depths below. 

Erick drank from his own bottle—

The attack came suddenly, but Erick had been ready this time, for his vision had not been blocked by the canteen, at all. Even still, it was only his lightform self and his lightform Ophiel that allowed him to see well beyond the normal spectrum, and see the [Invisible] creatures as they detached from the crimson kendrithyst, from the surrounding five crystal towers. 

With no color to describe them and with the barest shift in their surrounding heat, Erick registered the threat, and waited to see if they actually attacked. They had two arms, two legs; maybe more. They were certainly multi-jointed, with skin flaps between every part of their blanket-like bodies. With such a figure, they easily took to the air, like flying squirrels. They flew toward Erick, and the Ophiels trailing behind him.

Erick shot out four [Shooting Star]s from four Ophiel. 

The first monster came toward Erick, like an unfolding blanket, but it met a speedy ball of light that ripped it apart, sending a shower of suddenly-visible gore into the air. The death of their member did not seem to deter any of the other thirty-ish [Invisible] killer blankets. Some attacked Ophiels, but Handy Auras caught those offenders and ripped them apart, sending more gore into the depths below. 

Laughing, playing balls of light, killed most of the tiny pack hunters. Few made it close enough to be ripped to shreds. Every single light orb avoided Fallopolis by a wide margin, but the [Invisible] blankets did not; those that got near the Shade were torn to shreds by telekinetic forces of a different sort.

Erick just watched the destruction, as he sipped from his canteen. Ahhh, that felt good. Nice water. It even tasted better than usual. Since it was duplicated inside a [Prismatic Ward], was it also magically imbued, like the metal in Erick’s wrought-quality metal experiment. 

The encounter took about four seconds. There was a brief pause in the forward march as the monsters completed their suicidal attack, but Fallopolis continued to stride ahead as she saw Erick had it under control, and Erick soon resumed his own quick pace, beside the Shade.

When it was over, he had another Ophiel spread out a [Cleansing Aura], wiping away the little bit of red gore than had managed to spray across all of them. Erick noticed the gore that had gotten on Fallopolis, this time, before it turned to thick air. 

Every [Shooting Star] gave a chuckle and a laugh as they faded out; their killing spree done and over.

Fallopolis shook the canteen, sloshing water, saying, “This is good water.”

Also ignoring what had just happened, Erick asked, “Does it have any special qualities? I just found out the other day that [Prismatic Ward] is more special than I gave it credit for.”

“Yes.” Fallopolis said, “A very minor mana potion effect. Too small to notice, too limited to matter.”

“Interesting.” Erick asked, “Are we really going to walk through the Swamp to get to the Palace?”

Fallopolis shrugged as she walked. “Up to you.” She gestured with her staff, saying, “The Swamp is there. Or, we could go left, and walk along the wall. The Swamp is marginally safer than the wall walk, for the walls of Kendrithyst are home to many areas of no return.” She gestured right. “We could also descend to the central layer and hit the highlights of the city, as well as find fewer monsters. It’s generally safer where Shades routinely move, but all of them will likely be taking the high roads, to see the planes above. In such an odd case as tonight, it might actually be less monster-filled to also travel the high roads, but we might meet other Shades.

“In either case, we might not hit any more monsters at all. Like all battles, kendrithyst is mostly blank space, punctuated by moments of terror and triumph, or defeat.” She looked to Erick, and with a gleam in her white eyes, said, “We could also attempt to sneak into a few choice locations and steal everything that isn’t cemented down. A trip to the Library, perhaps, for some tomes of True Magic? A swing by the Jungle, to net one of Hollowsaur’s level 90 beasts? That’s a lot of levels for you! Oh! Or the Armory! That place is locked up tighter than a virgin’s arsehole, but the rewards are well worth the conquering.”  

“If all those are options, then why are we on a direct line to intercept the center of the Swamp?”

“My greatest hope, is that you will meet the Witch, and when she proves herself incapable of participating in Polite Society, she will try to kill you and then either you kill her, or Melemizargo kills her. Either way works for me.” Fallopolis added, “Your rings will protect you from a great many curses, so you’re the best bet I have for murdering Perri.”

Erick said, “I want to avoid the Swamp and the Witch. Let’s go west and take the Center Lane.”

The Center Lane was not a proper feature of the Dead City, like the Swamp, or Abyssal Lake, or but it was a general north-south aisle that could be drawn on a map from the north, to the Armory in the center of the city. It avoided most of the larger dangers, skirting both the Jungle in the west and the Swamp in the east. 

“The Witch will be at the Feast, and she always aims to kill whoever she fixates on. Kill her now or be her victim later; your choice.” Fallopolis said, “But very well. We will take the Center Lane.” She asked, “Upper, Middle, or Dark?”

“Upper.” 

Fallopolis promptly turned right, crossing in front of Erick, who suddenly stopped to let her pass. 

Erick followed, and resumed a proper walking distance from the Shade.

“What were those flying things, anyway?”

“Skyskins.” Fallopolis asked, “What was that orb spell?”

“[Shooting Star].”

“You know…” She spoke with a joyful edge to her voice, saying, “You could make countless [Shooting Star]s with your [Greater Lightwalk], all in an instant, if you became a Shade and pledged yourself to Melemizargo. As a Wizard in tune with his power, he can break your connection to the Script and reforge your soul to allow you to experience true magical might.”

A question Erick had been wondering about for a while suddenly bubbled up. “What are Wizards, exactly?”

Fallopolis smiled wide, gaining a pep to her shadow-laced steps. “Why you are, of course! But you’ve barely done anything with your own power, so you probably shouldn’t poke around in your soul in an attempt to break yourself from the Script.”

“… That doesn’t explain anything.” But it did cause a lot more questions.

“Wizards defy explanation.”

“Can you try?”

Fallopolis breathed deep. She said, “I will try, but it won’t do you any good.” She added, “Not because I don’t want to explain, but in trying to describe the ineffable, my description would fall short. Language is a problem, in this case, for it fails in the enormity of the truth. Ideas like ‘Creator’ or ‘Destroyer’ or ‘Paradoxical’ fail to describe the wholeness that is a ‘Wizard’. In the Old Cosmology, Wizards birthed whole planes of existence with a snap of their fingers. They destroyed swathes of Reality with a wave of their hands. They recreated souls lost to the destructive efforts of other Wizards.”

“Okay… But where does the power of a Wizard come from? Darkness?”

Fallopolis said, “Darkness is just the visual expression of Wizardry. Creation, Destruction, Paradox, all wrapped in one, and purposefully unknowable to mortal eyes; even a Shade’s. I searched this whole world for an answer to that very same question, along with a dozen others. I eventually sought help from the gods. They were little more helpful than asking the same questions to children, and yet, I continued to put out fires and raise the quality of life everywhere I went, all in the pursuit of asking my questions of the highest beings in the land. For my efforts, they gave me parables and truths I could not use. I have given you those answers, just now, in a slightly condensed version, and without the knowledge that I gained when I came looking for better answers from Melemizargo’s flock.”

Erick looked to Fallopolis with a bit more care. Words tumbled out, “You’re a wizard?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” She had said the words without anger, but there was a measure of steel in her voice. And then she softened. “You can ask Melemizargo about Wizardry if he shows up this year. We think he will, and if he does, he will likely want to speak to you.”

Erick felt he had touched a line in the sand. He asked no more of Wizardry. 

Fallopolis fell into a silence. 

They walked for twenty minutes, before another monster appeared. Both Erick and Fallopolis heard this one coming long before it appeared. Slithering sounds and raspy chitters wrapped up the side of a kendrithyst tower, echoing in the otherwise silent sky. Fallopolis stepped through the air, directly toward the sound, moving thirty meters in five steps.

A dark centipede as large as a subway train appeared, a hundred thousand legs on each side. It wove around three kendrithyst towers like it was the world’s most agile wyrm, but with none of the usual craziness of those dying dragons. Erick could instantly tell that this was an intelligent monster, of some larger brainpower than most. Erick knew this because the centipede saw Fallopolis walking at it, and it tried to run, tried to turn around and rush back into the violet depths below.

Fallopolis snapped a hand forward. A good hundred meters of the centipede’s body stilled, but its legs ripped large furrows in the kendrithyst towers as struggled and failed to get away. Fallopolis flicked her whole hand. The centipede exploded. Gore rained. Erick activated [Cleansing Aura], turning that falling gore into thick air that washed across him and his gathered Ophiel. 

The Shade was outside of the effect, for now. Gore rained on her, but she didn’t care, as a line of white dots —several grand rads— flowed from where the centipede’s upper third had been, into Fallopolis’s chest, like drops of radiant water. She breathed deep. She turned back to Erick. 

“Got any good food in that bag?” She asked.

“I do. Do you want dessert, a beef and cheese sandwich, or a salad?” He asked, “Do you want a [Cleanse], first?”

“Sandwich, salad, [Cleanse]; yes.” She asked, “Hot sandwich?”

“I can make it hot.”

“Hot, then.”

Erick obliged with the [Cleanse], first, casting the spell at Fallopolis, erasing the bits of black shell and red insides that had fallen onto her. With a few other casts and a wait in a [Hot Ward], the Shade got her food. Erick copied a chocolate cupcake for himself.

Fallopolis seemed to approve of the sandwich, if her ravenous consumption of it was any indication of how she truly felt. But she took her time with the salad. She had spotted the creamy dressing upon it, and decided to eat that one second.

She did this, of course, as they were practically racing through the sky, double-stepping it further east.

When she bit into the first bit of salad, using [Telekinesis] to eat, she stopped in her tracks. Erick stopped with her. 

With a quiet voice, she said, “This dressing. What is it?”

“Ranch dressing.” Erick elaborated, “Veird has the sour cream and buttermilk and such, but I recreated the black pepper, garlic, dill, and chives, and made better sour cream than what was available outside of Spur. When I first made Ranch, I thought that sour cream was a personal invention, too, but you guys just used limes, and your sour cream was neither prevalent nor available in Spur. My only actual change was to use lemons, which I did invent.”

Fallopolis began eating and walking again, as Erick spoke. When he finished, she had already finished the salad, and said, “That was pretty good. Both of them.”

“Thanks.” He offered, “Want a cupcake? Sour cream went into these, as well, to lend the cake a moister, tangier flavor. I had thought I had invented this technique, too, but a lady I recently met informed me that I had not.”

“… I want a cupcake.”

“Chocolate or vanilla buttercream? I recreated both of those flavors, too.”

“One of each.”

- - - -

They walked in silence toward the west, their footsteps shining dark and bright.

There were occasional monsters. Birds made of iridescent swords. Bugs too large to be normal. Another Kendrithyst Mimic, which was only level 75, maybe; Erick wasn’t quite sure, but the experience he gained was enough to put an actual, noticeable difference in his Status. 

Fallopolis displayed her power in killing both large and small monsters, as Erick did the same. Erick had no idea what the Shade was truly thinking with this walk, and this civility, and this easy atmosphere of monster eradication, but it was easy to match her visible power against various hungry or territorial foes. Erick and Fallopolis fell into an easy ordering. She killed one monster, or group of monsters, Erick took the next. Back and forth it went, though sometimes the monsters fled before they fully committed to their attack. Those ones survived, and whose ever turn it was, took the next encounter.

It was hard for Erick to gauge how much either of them were truly holding back, for Erick had never truly tested himself in person, where he had to worry about his spells hitting himself, and Fallopolis was a Shade. Erick stuck to [Shooting Star] and the power of several Ophiel each wielding a Handy Aura, but he never used more than four global cooldowns out of his available eleven. 

Fallopolis held vast telekinetic strength, but how much power did she actually have behind those invisible grips, and ripping thoughts? She only seemed to care about the grand rads inside a few of the monsters they met, but otherwise, she showed no signs of fatigue, or worry. 

Erick was doing fine, too. Good thing he was a Scion of Focus.

Which bade him to again break the companionable silence, “Why do people choose Scion of Willpower?”

Without looking back, Fallopolis said, “Kirginatharp’s stranglehold on the proper teaching of magic is a problem with many facets. The predilection for Scion of Willpower is one of them. Kirginatharp is not a gifted mage, so when he made his spells, and since he is the Second of Rozeta, he had to fall in line with the workings of the Script or be ousted as Second.” 

Erick wore a confused expression. “You’re going to have to break that down.”

Fallopolis easily elaborated, “In the beginning of the Script, there was another who could have become Second to Rozeta. Kirginatharp’s brother, Idyrvamikor. It is a tale never told in arcanaeum or most published books, for Kirginatharp controls both of those avenues to power.”

“If you’re trying to convince me that the Headmaster is a great evil, then you would have to try a lot harder than that. It was Melemizargo who cursed Dragon Essence into existence, was it not? Even if this story with Idyrvarmincor —or whatever. Even if true, all of the Headmaster’s cannibalistic tendencies are laid at the Dark Dragon’s claws.”

“The curse of Dragon Essence is a lie propagated by Kirginatharp.” Fallopolis said, “Idyrvamikor created the Dragon Curse, all on his own, for he was as much a Wizard as his grandfather.”

Erick listened, frowning, as the Shade’s voice filled the silence of the Dead City.

“Idyrvamikor was a right evil bastard, so it’s probably just as good that Kirginatharp won and his brother’s life is relegated to the Void.” She said, “But to condense a great history of hope and betrayal down to its core components: As the Script was being laid, and the process of rightful God of Magic succession was being usurped from My Dark God, the presumptive Seconds went to war. Kirginatharp, and his brother, Idyrvamikor. 

“It is unknown who struck first, but it happened. The result was Archipelago Nergal, as half of that continent and most of that Underworld was consigned to the waves. Kirginatharp rose as the victor, but Idyrvamikor used the power of his death to cast the Dragon Curse. 

“But even discarding the Dragon Curse, Kirginatharp’s victory not a clean victory.

“This was over 1400 years ago, at the beginning of the Script, when no one was sure how anything was supposed to work. Idyrvamikor planned for the long run, and thus did not create any spells for that fight. Kirginatharp seized reckless power, tripping several failsafes in the Script meant to keep mages weak, and thus his spell costs ballooned. He won, but at the cost of his future advancement. He became a Scion of Willpower, because it was necessary in order to cast the magics he had created. 

“For, as I already said: He was no great mage.

“He has never been a great mage. He gets by, with his stranglehold on learning, and his Elites succeeding as little as they do, spreading his power and bringing back treasures to him to further enable more power. It is in this way that his poison spreads in the minds and magics of those who attempt to learn from him. 

“Scion of Willpower is purely inferior to Scion of Focus, for all that is necessary for Scion of Focus to truly shine, is that you learn to make your spells better. But they teach harmful techniques in every arcanaeum, which come from Kirginatharp himself, so people must choose Willpower, or else they lack the mana to cast the ‘proper spells’ that they have been taught to cast.” Fallopolis finished with, “And that, is why Scion of Willpower is more popular than Scion of Focus. For the political reasons of a megalomaniac who, if he broke his power and started again, even a little? Well. He would almost instantly be ousted by the hundreds of other dragons waiting to kill him and take his place as Second to Rozeta.”

It was too fantastical to be real. Erick said, “A conspiracy that large is too large to succeed.”

“And now the topic moves on to Draconic Society, the Mind Mage Cabal, and the Forgotten Campaigns of Veird.”

Erick frowned. He didn’t know anything about ‘Draconic Society’, and this was the first time he had heard those words with such emphasis, but he had already heard of ‘Forgotten Campaigns’, way back when he stood in front of gods and they argued over Particle Magic. It was only now, that he combined the idea of a Forgotten Campaign with the fact that the gods could not directly exercise their power upon Veird, and he realized that they would need intermediaries. He said, “I can already guess at all that, so there’s no need to elaborate.”

“Oh?” She smiled at him. “What’s your guess at ‘all that’, then?”

“Large-scale [Mind Wipe]s, or whatever the spell is called. They probably keep the dragons hidden, too, for obviously the Mind Mages would know who the dragons were.” Erick added, “Likely selectively deleting various memories.”

“Ah! Then you do know.” Fallopolis asked, “But did you know about the killings?” 

The realities of Veird and magic were trying, sometimes, and this was no exception. Erick reluctantly said, “No, but I can guess.”

“No need to guess!” Fallopolis said, “Let me tell you of the hidden purges of both memory and physicality, all across the globe, led by the wrought. For while the dragons are a part of it, they stay out of it all for if they meet, then they kill each other. 

“But the wrought! They have no such troubles. When a Forgotten Campaign is called, they spill out from their geodes in the Underworld, filling the world, culling everything that the Relevant Entities mark as a problem. And I’ve lived through one.” She looked forward, and almost spoke again, but she stopped. She paused in thought, and then she said, “I do not want to speak of this, but I will force some of the past to the surface.” With a dismissive hand, she declared, “My memory is spotty because of what they managed to do to me before I got away. All I know is that they attacked, I defended, I found salvation in Darkness, and I am still looking for answers as to why the gods decided to erase my Wizard mother from the world, and then sundered her soul.”

A wind blew. A monster died somewhere out of sight, down below, attacked by something else unable to be seen from where Erick and Fallopolis walked the crimson, purple sky. 

The conversation had turned heavy. 

Too weighty. Erick was too close to seeing Fallopolis as a person. It was much easier to see her as a monster. 

Erick wasn’t naive, though he had certainly been called that now and again. He knew that people could be monsters, and that worse crimes had been committed by sapients, simply because they were in full control of their own actions, and they chose to do evil. He knew some people were better off dead. Unrepentant murderers. Rapists. Slavers. And in his darker moments, others made the list. Certain CEOs, politicians, bankers, pharmaceutical producers that gouged the public with insulin prices, polluters… 

The unrepentant? The purposefully harmful? Those who didn’t want to be better? Those who reveled in their power and loved to harm?

Well they were better off dead. 

And Erick hated himself for that dark, reductive thought. He hated that Fallopolis was likely using this aspect of him to ingratiate herself, to prove that not all Shades were as evil as they appeared to be. That she was one of the ‘good Shades’...

Erick changed the subject, “What are your favorite parts of Kendrithyst?”

She smiled wide, then said, “There’s the Planetarium. That’s where I killed the Astronomer. Then there’s Abyssal Lake. I’ve killed a hundred False-Shades down there. Then there’s the Crack, of course. I keep that place open and active and under my power, to let me try to dissuade untested adventurers from joining the dead of this grand city.” After a moment of thinking, she said, “The Spire is pretty to look at, but not much more than that. I only appreciate it because I’ve prosecuted more than three hundred and seventeen convictions against False-Shades, and then carried out those convictions to the satisfaction of all involved.”

She was definitely ingratiating herself to him.

Erick asked, “Which Shades need to die?”

“All of them.” Fallopolis swung her arm wide, across the lights and shadows of the city, declaring, “Every single Shade needs to die. They’re all monsters. But Melemizargo wouldn’t approve. So until the day that I’m allowed total power and personal appointment of every Shade, when I wouldn’t need all the rest of these self-indulgent Shades to avoid death at the hands of the Geodes and the misguided idiots who call themselves our ‘gods’, then I will have to suffer living with these monsters.” 

Erick had no idea how to respond to that. 

So he didn’t. 

- - - -

Erick heard something in the air besides the breeze rushing through the crystal city, or a monster dying somewhere down below. It was a pounding sort of sound. Distant, but not too distant. Water, perhaps? 

… It might be a lot of smaller monsters.

“Is that the North River?”

Fallopolis said, “Yes. We’re getting close.” 

Erick stopped, then looked left, to the south, saying, “Time to turn south, then.” 

They were too close to the river. Killzone had warned Erick about that. ‘Don’t go to any river’ he had said. They were all occupied by Shades. ‘Soon as you hear water, run the other way.’

Fallopolis smirked, then stopped walking. A brightness filled her darkness, as though she were the figurehead for another, or she had been hiding who she was this entire time. 

… Shit.

Fallopolis fully turned to Erick, and her eyes became radiance incarnate, while her skin turned black as the void. Erick’s heart beat hard. He expected a breakdown in civility sooner or later, but nothing had happened! She just turned on all her power, and faced him! What the fuck? 

Erick immediately activated [Lodestar], and assumed his [Greater Lightwalk] lightform self. 

The air around him became an orb of inviolable light, tainted with ruby-red, violet edges, as his own body turned to insubstantial glows. He was theoretically safe from almost everything inside his [Lodestar], but he wouldn’t know until his power was truly tested. 

Fallopolis laughed like a greedy dragon as she regarded Erick’s light-orb self. She called out, “It’s too late to run, and besides, aren’t you here to make the world a better place? I’m not your enemy, but one of them is coming, fast enough. He was outside, watching the sky, and now he is here.” She adopted a dangerous pose, one leg behind the other and with her staff floating just beyond her open grip. She pronounced, “Prepare to greet Dorofiend, the Shade of Dead Waters, seldom seen and utterly insane. No one has ever managed to kill him. May you fight well and cleanse the North River of his undead taint. Watch out for that second form!”

Her words finished, Fallopolis faded; a ghostly image of a dark Shade, half-shadows, half-mist, disintegrating on the wind. Erick’s relief was tiny; If the attack wasn’t coming from her, then that was fine. Erick steeled himself, and waited for the hammer to drop. His heart no longer beat, for it was gone, turned to light, just like his eyes. But he still lived, and he still saw the world around him. With a thought, Ophiels flitted around, spreading out—

A piercing, human leg kicked through an Ophiel, turning the [Familiar] into broken bits of white glows, leaving behind a human-sized foot that had broken off in the exchange. A second leg, ten meters from the first, attempted to strike Erick’s bag. The bag, and its surrounding [Prismatic Ward], went flying away, clipping through Erick’s lightform body as it flew. That was fine; the Ophiel guarding it remained intact since he was no more than light at that moment, too. Erick had that one turn to a [Lodestar] as well and stay out of the fight. He could likely secure food and water from other sources for the next 10 days if he needed, but he would rather not.

Oh. He had turned on [Hunter’s Instincts]. 20 seconds must have passed. That’s why his thoughts were more fluid, and why he bothered to give a wonder toward his food-bag.

But there was a fight going on. So Erick refocused.

An Ophiel grabbed the next leg with a hundred telekinetic hands as the fleshy body-part attempted to kick through the [Familiar]’s feathered core. Erick got his first real look at the offender, in that moment, before the red-skin-colored limb yanked away, turning [Invisible] again—

How was it turning [Invisible]? This was a good question. Erick’s sight was already adjusted for multiple wavelengths, so it must be a non-standard sort of stealth magics. Erick widened his perceptions, looking for oddities. With his full-view of the sky, he saw it. There was an odd blind-spot covering a good 50 meter space, between two crystal towers. With a quick decision, he had two Ophiel also turn on [Hunter’s Instincts], while another two summoned [Shooting Star]s.

Erick’s giggling balls of light disappeared into the blank space, as three more limbs appeared, whipping out with all the force of a high level warrior, almost too fast to see. But Erick saw. The attacks came from two dragonkin-taloned hands, and one cloven-hoof foot. The limbs beyond those appendages were thirty meters long, perhaps. The hands and feet parts were tiny. The arms and legs were long. 

The [Strike]s, for that’s what they had to be, struck at Erick, but hit the light-saturated edge of his [Lodestar] like icicles jammed into concrete; completely ineffective, and more successful at breaking themselves than the target. Bones broke. Blood sprayed. 

A howl reached Erick’s ears, but cut off, like someone pressing a mute button. 

The northern sky flickered, briefly. But it was enough. In that moment, Erick saw that his [Shooting Star]s were lazing around a floating thing, unsure where to go. The thing in the air, the Shade, was a collection of humanoid body parts. A monster made of meat, with face made of bodies, with hollow eye sockets, lips made of flayed flesh, and teeth made of a hundred hands and feet circling a hole into darkness, where a tongue made of a thousand tongues lapped at the air. Its ears were made of curled arms and legs. Its neck was composed of torsos, leading to a millipede body made of whatever was left from the sculpting of a human-shaped visage, five meters across.

Upon the forehead of that visage was a person. The only one looking out from the ‘face’. Their arms were the eyebrows of the body, and their eyes were brightest white, staring at Erick, with a tiny, normal-sized mouth, open in a temporary scream.

Briefly, a stench filled the air. Rot and sewage. If Erick had been in his body, he might have puked. As he was currently made of light, the scent of that brief moment was little more than confirmation of the horror before him. 

And then a second passed, and the Shade returned to invisibility, taking every sign of its existence with it, save for the body parts already separated from the whole. Those broken hands and otherwise, fell to the depths below. 

Erick flexed his lightform self, aiming a self-made [Force Bolt] at the place where the Shade might have been. His sphere of light snapped, like a crack of lightning shouting to the heavens. A Bolt of brilliance, easily a foot across, raced forward. 

It bounced. The Bolt sailed off into the sky, arcing into the distance.

Three more arms snaked out from invisible space, wreathed in black clouds, [Strike]ing Erick’s defensive sphere of [Lodestar] and [Greater Lightwalk] with few results except for arms breaking off at the elbow, five meters past the hands. The invisible Shade roared in agony again, briefly appearing, as it zipped around Erick, launching from one tower in the north, aiming for a tower to the south, to attack from a different direction. 

An Ophiel cast, fully expending itself. 

Molecular wires shredded through every part of the nearby sky; a frozen hurricane of severance. Arms carved from bodies. Legs flayed from torsos. The screams of a hundred throats wailed into the dark and the light, as the Shade stood revealed, suspended on a turbulence of hardened air. He struggled. He only managed to force himself deeper into the bloody net, every movement carving his grotesque body into more pieces. A wire broke occasionally, but there were over seven thousand of them up there, twisted into a frozen maelstrom of cutting. 

Dorofiend struggled. He turned to shado—

Erick opened an Ophiel up, and inundated the sky and the ground with light, from way down below, to way up above. A [Domain of Light] came into being, a sphere kilometers wide, wrapping the Shade in brilliance, denying all shadow, imposing Erick’s will upon the world, as a lightform Ophiel flexed forward, practically blipping as he moved so fast, yet not cutting himself upon any of the remaining wires. He did set them to appearance, though, like thin christmas lights.

And then the Ophiel turned on another aura. Lightning coalesced, like a halo, around the space where Dorofiend lay dying. 

Erick instantly knew he messed up, for the Shade had already reflected his magic before, but something had changed, and Erick saw he made the right call, if only on accident. The halo of lightning did not reflect. It became something stronger. A splendor. A mandala. A million perfectly flowing beams of light that touched upon the suspended gore for a kilometer around, ripping apart every single piece from the inside out, Chaining from the flesh of one dead and soul-mutilated adventurer, to another, to Dorofiend himself. 

Erick let [Fulmination Aura] run for ten seconds. 

This was longer than necessary. He had received the blue box for Dorofiend’s death after only three seconds of coruscating lightning. 

--

Special Quest Complete!

Dorofiend, True Shade of Melemizargo, has been killed!

100% participation, FULL EXPERIENCE 

+ 67,989,163,763,861,200,000exp

--

Erick took a minute to read the box. He took a good five minutes to attempt to relax.

And then he looked to the box again. It was different than all the rest he had ever gotten. It was different than the one Jane had gotten when she killed her own Shade, all those months ago. Dorofiend must have been something more special, then? Perhaps. 

Whatever the case, Erick was level 85 now, so that was something. He had 29 points. That was too many, but he would need to keep 10 in his pocket, just in case he had to complete the [Gate] quest and get out of Ar’Kendrithyst in a hurry… But maybe that would be blocked, anyway. [Gate] was Spatial Magic, after all. No. Erick couldn’t get out of this Feast with a portal. He would only be allowed to leave if he killed every single Shade in the city, or if they let him leave. It wouldn’t be so bad to kill them all, though. Maybe he should start right now. [Domain of Light] proved to be a good Shade-killer. Erick smiled to himself. Maybe the rest of Anhelia’s spells would work well inside this space, too. And like Fallopolis said, they all deserved to die. So why not tonight? 

This was why he came here, right?

… He was still running [Hunter’s Instincts]. 

Reluctantly, he turned the skill off. 

Time seemed to speed up, or rather, return to the normal. Erick sighed. He put five points into Willpower and five into Focus. And then he had a look around. He would have gasped, if he had lungs.

A divot of light carved out a piece of the planar illusions overhead, but that wasn’t anything special. 

It was the city itself which had changed into something else. The nearby towers were crimson and purple, with no shadows at all. For kilometers in every direction, Erick only had to look, and he saw Ar’Kendrithyst as it might have been, before the shadows came. Towers made of light. Crisscrossing skyroads. Tiny garden areas, where plants could grow, and benches for people to sit upon, and see the world around them. Tiny shopping places. Grocers, perhaps. Mirrors and hairbrushes. Fountains that contained no water, but would have been beautiful if they had.

The shadows of Ar’Kendrithyst, of Dead Kendrithyst, had hidden more than he had thought possible. 

With them gone, there were houses in the stone. Plumbing. Kitchens. Bedrooms and beds that were obviously beds, but they were also like bathtubs; large basins. Wrought were liquid metal after all. He had never seen Silverite or any others sleeping, but he could easily imagine them sleeping in a bathtub-like space. It wasn’t a bathtub, though, because those were by the already-seen plumbing. 

Doors with names carved over the sills. Windows to let in the breezes. Other, stranger rooms, with areas and items unknowable—

Something pressed in from the south. 

Erick had no idea how he had known that something was ‘pressing in’ on his [Domain of Light], but it was. 

The light cracked. A spiderweb of darkness flashed across the southern hemisphere. And then the [Domain of Light] flexed, separating light into pieces, and keeping them separate; an impossible action, according to the Script. How could this inviolable space be breaking! Who could do this! How was this possible!

Like a dream fading, Light broke, and Shadow pushed away the pieces. The open households all around him turned into shadow-filled crystal, once again. Tiny courtyards became dark corners, where even more darkness bred, and spread.

Almost all of the molecular lines of [Hermetic Shredder] cracked; breaking. Only a few remained; a hundred, at most. Erick left them there. Maybe whatever was coming would kill itself on them. It was a foolish hope, but it would be nice to see.

Erick felt a pressure crush against his own, still-active [Lodestar], but otherwise do nothing. The pressure came again, but this time as a tap-tap-tapping, like a child tapping on the glass of a fish tank, testing to see if Erick would respond. He did not, save to mimic a sigh.

“You survived!” Fallopolis appeared in the breaking light, not ten meters away, like a blot of indelible ink that could not help but stain everything it touched. As Erick’s [Domain of Light] broke, completely, she said, “You thrived. I knew you could do it.” With a wave of her hand, molecular wires snapped, a dozen at a time. “Nasty trick you have there.” She switched to using her crystal staff and cleared wires like an old grandma clearing cobwebs, until none were left. “I can barely see them.” She mocked waving her staff through the air three more times, though she clearly knew she had gotten them all. 

Erick frowned. “Nice [Dispel]. I didn’t think it was possible.”

“Besides the fact that the Script doesn’t tell you the whole truth; that weren’t no [Dispel].” Fallopolis smiled wide. “I tried my best [Dispel], and that didn’t work. So it was time to test my Domain against yours; that did work. I do admit I had to draw upon my God to break through your spell, though, and that’s good news all around. Shows just how far you’ve come, but also how far you’ve yet to go if you want to kill every Shade.” She asked, “So! Who do you want to kill next? Did Killzone give you a list? Or would you like some advice from me? I really would like to kill the Witch if at all possible. You’re very capable of doing it. Besides, wouldn’t you like to get revenge for your Teressa woman?”

Erick reorganized his Ophiel, conjuring another to fill in the gaps left by Dorofiend. He’d have to wait twenty seconds to summon another, but if Fallopolis was back to talking, that was fine. He said, “I won’t purposefully go after any Shades tonight, Fallopolis. But I also won’t back down from a fight.”

“Oh! Perfect! Let’s head to the Jungle, next. We’ll have to descend to the Middle Layer, but that’s okay, isn’t it? Or…” She gestured to the west. “There’s the captives at Dorofiend’s Mire. Want to go set them free, or end their suffering?”

“… Let’s loot the Mire.”

She smirked, her eyes crinkling in the corners as her entire self seemed to flush with delight. 

“Also,” Erick asked, “I was informed that casual violence was not permitted.” With the least amount of displeasure that he could manage, he asked, “So what the fuck was that? With Dorofiend?”

“That—” came a voice from the side.

Erick turned. 

An incani man with tiny black horns and deep black leathers stood upon the shadows in the air, leaning against a kendrithyst tower, smirking. Erick knew his blood would have been boiling, if he was still wearing his fleshy self. As it was, he almost reached out with a lightform scythe and reaped Bulgan’s head. 

Bulgan continued, “—was just Dorofiend finally getting what he deserved. Man was too soul-scoured to live. Besides. He attacked you first.”

Erick spoke, “I challenge you to a duel, Bulgan.”

“I decline!” 

Erick blanked.

Bulgan laughed. “What? Did you think to challenge a god just by asking. Did you think it was going to be that easy? Fuck you, piggy.”

Erick almost went apoplectic in anger, but another Shade appeared on a brilliant white spider, directly behind Erick. She had ‘phased-in’, or something. It wasn’t a dark blip of [Greater Shadowalk]’s pseudo-[Teleport] option. It wasn’t [Greater Lightwalk]’s blipping feature, either. At least Fallopolis had the decency to walk to him, but now that he had seen Tania do whatever she had done to just appear, he realized that Bulgan had done the same thing. They had both just appeared, using some unknown magical FUCKERY.

Just like they had done to destroy his undispellable [Domain of Light]!

ARGHH!

He did not need to turn. He could see Tania Webwalker and her ten-meter wide, white shadow spider, just fine. So he did not. He would not give her the satisfaction of seeing his face.

“Stop taunting the Fire of the Age, dear,” Tania said to Bulgan, adding, “But do ensure that he doesn’t break anyone who doesn’t deserve to be broken. He’s our guest of honor.” Her voice turned harder, as she directed her gaze toward Fallopolis. “You’re treading a thin line. Don’t cut yourself on it like Dorofiend managed to.”

Fallopolis bowed to Tania, saying, “Of course, Headpriestess Tania.”

Bulgan vanished first, like the piece of shit he was, running away into invisible power before Erick could nail him to the sky for his transgressions against all the good in the world. 

Erick caught Tania, though, by whipping around to face her, asking, “Why are you blipping around? I thought this was a religious thing? Walking to the Feast.”

Tania smiled, as she said, “We did walk here.” Her voice took on an edge, but Erick did not feel it was wholly directed at him, as she said, “Take care what shadows you tread. Fallopolis would use you until you perish, and feel nothing for the loss, but you are not nearly good enough to take on all what she would have you do. Leave the Witch alone.”

She vanished without another word. 

And Erick centered himself with some deep thoughts.

Shades could die, easy enough. The Script enabled this, and even encouraged it. But Erick wasn’t strong enough to kill them all, and especially not strong enough to challenge the stronger ones. He had been lucky to speak up about their heading toward the Swamp when he had. The Witch was certainly out of his power, and guarded by others, for some reason. Erick didn’t think Shades did that for other Shades. 

Anyway.

Fallopolis was similarly out of his league. Tania and Bulgan, too. 

He had no idea why he chose to challenge Bulgan right then, but thank the gods he was still in his lightform self, and all his normal biological nuances simply weren’t there; he probably would have either pissed himself, or given over to his suicidal rage. It was an even chance for either. Whatever would have happened, he likely would have been crying in rage the whole time, or possibly broken the second he flinched in a way that would have indicated an attack.

As it was, he was still floating there, in his lightform, in his [Lodestar], appearing to be the peak of propriety and composure. 

Fallopolis, however, was grinning like a child with a new toy. 

Erick said, “I wish to get to the Feast, but a few detours is fine. Would you mind leading the way to the people trapped by Dorofiend?”

“Are you going to continue to wearing that spell?”

“Are you going to warn me of every upcoming Shade or deadly trap?”

“I have no idea who will be coming our way. Or how. Especially now that you’ve killed one of us.” She added, “But I successfully warned you this time, didn’t I? And you succeeded! Joy all around!” She teased, “So how about a little bit of trust?”

“I’d love to, but how can I?”

“Simple! You retract your spells. I retract mine.”

After a moment of deliberation, where he considered betrayal and other dark thoughts, Erick chose, perhaps stupidly, to trust. Not in Fallopolis, of course, but in the fact that she had a history of pointing people at Shades, hoping to cause the downfall of her own kind. Personally, Erick thought that she was just strengthening her own position by doing this, for whatever reason. Killzone had his own theories, though he shared none of his personal ones. Perhaps, Fallopolis was a ‘culler of the flock’, or whatever the Priests of Melemizargo called her official position. The Shades certainly seemed like they would have an assassin or diplomat position, purely for killing their own people in an attempt to strengthen the whole.

With Dorofiend’s death, they could put someone saner in charge of the North River Tower. Erick’s murder of the Shade of Dead Waters certainly seemed like the clearing of dead weight…

Possibly.

But anyway…

Erick finally pulled his [Lodestar] aura to skin-tight, since that was something he could easily do, then he turned his [Greater Lightwalk] into something smaller, returning to his flesh and bone body. He stood upon the crimson light all around him, feeling a bit more secure since he was wearing his [Lodestar] like a skinsuit. He said, “I obviously can’t trust you, but I can work with you, since that seems to be what you desire.”

Fallopolis smiled. “It is.”

Then she, too retracted her own shadows. 

Erick hadn’t noticed her shadows until she pulled them back. As hovering imprints of half-darkness faded inward, her body seemed to flicker, as she, too, resumed her mortal coil; skin turning from grey, to pink; reflecting the actual light of the crimson towers all around, instead of being a shadow. 

And then Erick’s skin rippled. Every hair that could possibly stand up, stood.

Fallopolis’s voice took on a cadence, “Wrapped in Domains, gathered in tight, the two of us might make quite a sight—"

“Your pressure is gone, a working undone. Wouldn’t you like to see another sun?”

“I quite would my dear, my darling lil fire; But I’d settle for turning this city to pyre.”

“Not on this night. I will not entrust, my life or my plight, because you disgust.”

“We’ve got—"

“We’ve not.”

Words built. Domains flickered. Shadows reached for Light, and Light denied their entry. Erick countered her words with his own; half-thought out, but full of intent. Conviction, utter and pure, closed out the altercation. 

Fallopolis gasped for breath, once, twice, almost sinking in the air, but she gathered herself fast enough. She settled. Erick had no such problems. He just watched her play out her drama, what ever it was she was doing, after she failed to do whatever it was she tried to do.

Like. Obviously it was a curse and Erick managed a counter-curse. Or at least that’s what it felt like. But Erick no idea where that came from. He spoke with his own voice, but also something deeper.

With a small, serious voice, Erick asked, “What did you try to do to me?”

She smirked. Blood trickled from her lips. “A Blessing, actually.”

“Don’t try that again.”

Fallopolis stood up straighter. “I will not.” She added, “Not without your permission.”

Moments passed.

Erick offered a metaphorical olive branch. “Would you care for a [Cleanse]?”

“I would.”

Erick obliged. 

A breeze of thick air flowed away from Fallopolis.