Amdirlain’s PoV - Yúla

  While the four of them planned the locals’ education, the tribe was busy with politics. Erechon and some hunters followed those departing from the settlement’s platforms and saw them off on some of the older rafts. Their construction featured a set of trunks lashed together and stacked atop another set, rather than the three canoes and framework arrangement. The female who had tried to sit got dropped at the opposite shore, and the others travelled on without her. Amdirlain asked a new Celestial to guide her, waiting until the female Elf was half a kilometre from shore before the glowing Archon illuminated her surroundings. Amdirlain left the discussion and the terms of agreement to the two of them.

  Though the tribe had speedily concluded the drawing of the lots, the discussion among winning families to nominate the new leadership lasted for hours. The themes within the tribe shifted, interacting with feedback from her Domain and triggering a loop of emotions and fragmented memories to bubble within her; Lethe signalled her for attention.

  Distracted from their smaller group discussions, Amdirlain turned her attention inwards.

  Lethe waited on a mountainside composed of fragmented memories; the landscape cracked along the lines between lifetimes. The pass that had once led to the memory vault had widened into a rift, with the connections between lifetimes pulling it apart. Where she had started with the basic commonalities, now there were thousands of lines forming a mesh between lives. It was the tension of the connections that had changed the surrounding landscape.

  “The pressure raised this mountain higher,” Lethe commented.

  “Is this shift from the sections of Phaedra’s lifetime I’ve reviewed?”

  “It might have played a part. Once you’d experienced the start of Phaedra’s lifetime, the continual influx of information from your faithful formed links between your lifetimes.”

  “The faithful don’t change a Primordial.”

  “It’s not that they’re causing changes, more that the echoes of their lives are helping identify what patterns are already there.”

  Amdirlain touched a line, and images of the Pix’s lifetime echoed with her enslavement as a Dwarf, and other events where a lifetime had been under someone else’s control. Fresh memories of her determination to be free of the sisterhood flared brilliantly across her awareness, empowered by what had come before.

  “I opened the gates,” Amdirlain murmured.

  She focused her attention on the pass and recognised that Orhêthurin’s desire for the past to be hidden had formed the mountain over the memory vault. Memories of places where painful events had occurred had piled on top to create the landscape. The hillside the pass touched on was an echo of the one where Shindraithra had died and Orhêthurin had made her fateful promise to find someone else to love. The reservoirs of pain harboured within caused her to flinch back, and she recognised that reaction was the intended purpose of their presence.

  Lethe laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I think you need to find time to deal with more of Phaedra’s memories. The surrounding mortals are letting you see the effects of grief, but they’re not resonating with grief alone.”

  With a mental exhalation, Amdirlain centred herself and reached out to a connection that had formed between more than a hundred lifetimes. Once again, she re-experienced the thoughts and emotions that had occupied years of the Mortal lifetimes she’d lived. This time, beyond the basic patterns and commonalities leapt out at her, reactions to what she could now tell were deeper, hidden pains. A thick connection wasn’t a single commonality but a braided cord like those woven by the tribe. The driving need for perfection and feelings of guilt merged with self-doubt to drive her along the path of self-destruction. Lifetimes of lessons spun together and insights bloomed, causing some of the minor fractures through the landscape to lose their jagged appearance.

  “You came here to help them out as much as to sort out your grief as Phaedra.” Lethe gave her a little push. “What are you doing?”

  “Am I still pretending?”

  “You’ve been through a lot, and you should know by now there is no instant fix,” Lethe said. “Consider the time you’ve had healing compared to the amount of pain and damage.”

  “I need to do some living of my own to balance things out,” Amdirlain allowed.

  Lethe sat on a stable patch of grass and looked across a cracked shale slope. “Most deities give their angels the duty of educating people on primitive worlds. You’re still taking things on personally.”

  “If I hadn’t needed to settle Phaedra’s grief, I wouldn’t have come here.”

  “Then you’re just sort of vacationing. Why didn’t you smack Lanyaro down?”

  “The problem started before I arrived. If I’d forced a resolution, the tribe wouldn’t have learned anything, and it might have made things worse for future priestesses visiting them,” Amdirlain explained.

  “Does it feel better talking about it?”

  “Technically, I’m not talking aloud.” Amdirlain sat beside Lethe. Her fingers trailing through the grass triggered a recollection of the lifetime from which the landscape had arisen. Like the fractured appearance, it came as patchy as the section of the hillside: a child’s laughter, the cool morning breeze, a sharp retort from distant gunfire.

  Lethe shrugged. “Your mind doesn’t work through neurochemistry anymore. Whenever you shift your focus, it causes changes within. Maybe meditate for a bit and feel more of the formed connections.”

  With her hands resting on her knees, Amdirlain mentally reached out and worked through the cables in descending size. She found connections between past lives, but also Ideas that had slipped away while she’d struggled with the painful ends to others’ lives. When she finally released the essence from her focus, only moments had passed by, and a notification showed in her mind’s eye.

  [Shards refined:

  Transformation: +12

  Creation: +15

  Life: +16

  Creation, Life Levelled Up!

  Soul: +18

  Creation, Soul Levelled Up!

  Note: Nicholaus and Maker spoke. So far, they’ve created observation platforms on most inhabited worlds and opened trillions of temporal windows to examine the realm’s history.]

  Was this part of the debt I agreed to so I could collect their souls?

  “No, you apparently wanted to purchase a review of the realm’s rules, and agreed to an information swap. They’ve not said anything about the other debt.”

  Rachel sat up and caught her gaze. “You tensed up. Is everything alright?”

  “I just caught some insights and needed to focus for a bit to pin them down,” Amdirlain admitted.

  Rachel patted her knee and lay down. “I hope they were good insights.”

  “Yeah, they were. Since we’re going to introduce literacy, we’ll need to teach them how to make paper since this world doesn’t have iron leaves to use for scrolls.”

  “We should get them to experiment with bark and processing it into paper so they learn how,” Azadi proposed.

  “Or clay to keep it simple. It would also give them a reason to learn to farm so they can settle down and not have to move the tablets about,” Sarah countered.

  As dawn lightened the eastern horizon, the group started work at the forge site. They made a show of eating the leftover berries and cooked tubers before they set to work so the closest observers wouldn’t see anything out of place. They piled up the clay bricks from the day before, having checked that the notches still provided a decent fit. The cool breeze across the lake brought the scent of dozens of flowers opening towards the sun.

  “We’re missing mortar,” Rachel noted. “The problem with fire spells instead of wood is that the ash from firing the bricks could make cement.”

  Sarah inhaled. “There is a sap that can make an epoxy when mixed with a few other materials.”

  “My grandma, what big nostrils you have,” Rachel rumbled in Draconic.

  Sarah snorted and replied in the same language. “You’ll keep.”

  “Oh, big shiny Dragon, please tell me I don’t have to worry about you eating other elves,” Rachel winked at Amdirlain.

  Amdirlain suppressed her laughter. “Yes, the snack position is filled.”

  “In more ways than one,” Azadi added drily, drawing snickers from Amdirlain.

  Rachel smiled and squeezed Azadi’s hand. “Those two could go off and make up for lost time, while we teach them magic and other things.”

  “Sensing changes is helping me with insights, and putting pieces of past lives in place,” Amdirlain replied.

  “Even last night’s arguments?”

  “Yeah,” Amdirlain sighed. “While an unpleasant situation, it strengthened people’s determination not to let issues in the tribe fester for so long. If they’d called Lanyaro on the lies earlier, he might not have split so many people off from the tribe.”

  Azadi nodded. “Seven shouldn’t seem like a lot, but it’s a significant loss for a small tribe.”

  “After having lost people they considered close friends, it’s a lesson some will carry in their souls.” Amdirlain closed her eyes and pressed her palm to her face.

  “Don’t beat yourself up, Amdirlain. Others will remember it takes only a couple of people standing up against something wrong to make a difference,” Rachel added. “Milui and Camen called him on it, and others sided with them. That’s all it took to stop his attitude from spreading further.”

  Guilt and the faces of thousands of dead beings she’d experienced throughout her many lifetimes flashed in her mind. Unlike previous times, rising to counter them were memories of people celebrating a variety of victories.

  Even when times are hard, with the proper perspective, there is joy to be found.

  “True. Time to get to work, let’s dig a foundation line.”

  Though they took it slow, before Milui and her family arrived, they had dug the outline for a foundation for the hut and collected another pot of iron sand.

  Rachel took it as an excuse to start on more pots, humming cheerfully as she taught the family how to shape them. The rest worked on making more mud brick kilns and forming lines of clay, as well as enough mud bricks for a second kiln.

  Midway through the morning, Lithien pushed back her shyness to brave a question. “Why do we need an enclosure?”

  “The walls and roof will stop sparks from getting out to the undergrowth and causing a blaze,” Rachel replied. “Have you lived through a forest fire?”

  “We’ve only seen one in the distance,” Milui replied. “Danu’s visions have warned us when to move away.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Rachel described a forest fire, her voice cracking with the timbre of flames as she spoke of its monstrous appetite, and the black destruction it left in its wake.

  The family shivered and resumed working, stopping only to rest at midday. After the break, Sarah started teaching them how to make a spindle fan, a clay furnace and charcoal.

  “Again, this way can take a lot of wood. Understanding it is a fallback in case there is no one with sufficient proficiency with a Fire Affinity within the tribe,” Sarah said.

  “No one has that yet.”

  “They need practice in their techniques. After all, unlike Earth, they can’t be touching the flames while trying to sense Fire,” Sarah explained. “There are other approaches we can teach once we have enough iron.”

  “How much do you have to teach us?” Gondren asked.

  Sarah smiled and continued with the morning’s lessons.

  ? ? ? ? ? ?

  During the afternoon meditation session, Forgam’s Affinity to Earth formed; only his age prevented him from immediately gaining a Class. As Forgam continued to run his awareness through the connection, a nascent Mana pool started to take shape. When Maithor opened his eyes at the end of the session, he caught his brother’s enraptured expression and realised what had happened. He gave Forgam a gentle pat on the back; though his gaze showed his frustration, he controlled his expression before his brother opened his eyes.

  “Congratulations on your success, Forgam,” Maithor said.

  Amdirlain waited while nearby children patted his back, as Maithor had done, and some of the younger ones hugged him as if he were about to disappear.

  “You’ve all been applying yourselves well. The needed insight to connect to an Affinity can come even when things seem hopeless, so don’t give up,” Amdirlain said. “The techniques we’re practising can aid the effectiveness of reverie as well, so it will help regardless.”

  Amdirlain motioned Forgam over before he could head off. “Forgam, while the others are trying to gain an Affinity tomorrow, Azadi will teach you another useful Skill for magic.”

  He went off grinning, with the other children in tow, enduring a rapid fire of questions.

  Maithor lingered as others moved away. “You said not everyone can easily touch some affinities. Can I try a different one?”

  Amdirlain motioned Maithor closer. “Do you feel as if you’ve made no progress in touching Earth?”

  “Not at all,” Maithor muttered. “I really would like to try some different exercises.”

  “I told you that gaining an affinity would take patience. Others are happily continuing even though they’ve made no progress.”

  Maithor lifted his chin. “You asked how I’m different from Forgam, and it’s that Forgam sees things differently from me. While I can accept we’re different, I feel that my difference in approach would apply to affinities as well.”

  “Then what will you do if you try a different Affinity and don’t make progress on that either?” Amdirlain asked.

  “I’d trust you and your goddess to pick the right one for me.” Maithor twitched a hand up. “Will Amdirlain help me if I pray to her?”

  Amdirlain tilted her head. “I was told she’s not followed within this tribe?”

  “According to a Priest of Oberon who passed through, she created the world and stars. Wouldn’t she have created Mana and all its affinities as well?”

  “You don’t need to worship her to get an Affinity. I told you the other night, judging yourself against someone else isn’t good. Stop trying to be your brother and be yourself instead.”

  “Yet you’re not letting me try a different Affinity,” Maithor observed. “All I’ve got Affinity-wise to compare to is his progress with Earth. I want an Affinity to call my own.”

  “That’s part of your problem. You’re focusing on this wrong. An Affinity isn’t a possession to control; it’s an understanding, a connection. What is greater, Forgam or the reserves of Earth around us?”

  Maithor’s shoulders slumped. “The Earth.”

  “That’s not something to be upset over; that’s just the way it is,” Amdirlain patted his shoulder. “Instead of thinking he has something you don’t, why not view it as something you don’t have yet? You’ve not yet gained Earth, so you’re trying to control the situation by working on something else instead. Have you been trying to control the Mana?”

  “You said it required different mindsets. I’ve been trying to pull it to me.”

  “The mindset is different, but the goal is the same when you’re establishing the Affinity. Pulling energy into you is control, whereas an Affinity comes from understanding the feel of the energy. When you cast spells, you are working with the energy and providing it paths to travel through, not forcing it into position,” Amdirlain explained.

  The tight frown she got in response showed he still didn’t get it.

  “I’ll keep trying,” Maithor huffed.

  “With reverie, you relax into your surroundings, with an Affinity focus on relaxing into the element you’re trying to understand.”

  “You’ve said that before.”

  “And I’m sure I’ll repeat it a few hundred more times, between the different sessions I’ll run here,” Amdirlain patted his shoulder. “Don’t give up on yourself or it. There are still years of lessons ahead before Forgam will be old enough to benefit from today’s success. There is time.”

  I’ve been able to guide everyone to any affinity I’ve wanted to teach, so although it might be hard to do alone, I believe it’s possible.

  The next evening gathering was a quiet, sombre affair; despite the necessary, as many had still lost friends. When they withdrew for the night, Rachel and Azadi shared stories of their children. And in doing so, fleshed out the Anar and Lóm? situation, where Sarah had stuck to the highlights.

  Before dawn, Maithor sat on the lakeshore, his feet submerged in the water, as he ran through the meditative exercises she’d taught them for Earth. The familiar sensation of warmth being leeched from his legs had caught his attention, and he went with the flow of the energy. The water around his leg started to bubble gently, and he snatched the limb from the lake.

  “Maithor just accessed the Fire and Water affinities.”

  Azadi groaned. “How did he get Fire?”

  “He accepted the water that cooled his flesh, and in doing so, understood it was drawing heat away.”

  “Amdirlain, accessing opposite affinities at the same time isn’t normal. Are you sure an Aspect wasn’t playing games with the people you’re trying to help?”

  “Maybe.”

  A new arrival in the dense northern forest caught Amdirlain’s attention. Despite the differences from the memory of Naamah’s birth, Lilith’s identity was unmistakable. Twin horns arched upwards from a thick head of long black hair, and a dark pulsar twisted and turned between her horns, bleeding colour from her surroundings and skin. The darkness of her clawed wings and gown, which was embroidered in ebony flowers and thorns, drank in the distorted light.

  Rachel and Sarah both stiffened, detecting her just behind Amdirlain.

  “Since I just had a guest arrive. Would you go talk to Maithor for me, Azadi?”

  Amdirlain appeared within Lilith’s line of sight. “Lilith.”

  “I’ve been told your name is Amdirlain now, but would you mind if I addressed you as my rescuer, Phaedra?”

  “I’ve regained the memory of acting as midwife for Naamah’s birth but little else concerning you,” Amdirlain said.

  “Ahh,” Lilith breathed. “I had hoped you’d know me better, yet it seems disappointment will provide the flavour for today.”

  “That’s yet to be decided. How did you find me here?”

  “Gideon knows the depth of my respect for you.” Lilith sat in midair, the hem of her gown swaying back and forth below her crossed legs. “The Great Mother is scheming to use you. Though I warned her not to, I’m concerned she’ll try regardless of my opinion.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “To break the hierarchy and regain control of Hell.”

  “What do you think of her goal?”

  “I told her she’d had her chance at rulership and forfeited it by ignoring your request as Orhêthurin.”

  A surge of grief and pain swept through Amdirlain, etching a frown as a riptide of vast regret pulled at her. “That doesn’t tell me what you think.”

  “She’s a coward and a hypocrite. I think whatever she is planning will be foolish on the grandest of scales. Unfortunately, she is also right that something needs to change. The current hierarchy maintains control purely for the sake of control, fulfilling the letter but not the spirit of their agreement with you. At some point, that will irritate you, and things will get disorderly. While their reign should end, she isn’t the right one to replace them. I feel that neither of us should have control of Hell.”

  “Why?”

  Lilith froze completely motionless for a long minute; even the spinning of the orb between her horns stopped until she spoke again. “In different ways, we both desire to make others suffer for what we ourselves have suffered, not because they’ve wronged us or others. It’s not out of revenge, since they’ve done nothing to us, nor justice, but spite justified within the boundaries of the law. I have enough self-awareness to know the truth of what I’d do ?whereas she continues to lie to herself.”

  “I appreciate your candour.” Amdirlain warily watched as Lilith resumed the pretext of breathing, and Human-like blinks along with other twitches.

  “My knowledge has allowed me to expose others through the vulnerability of their desires. Occasionally, turning that knife on myself keeps things interesting.”

  “Did you stab the Great Mother with it as well?”

  Lilith’s smile turned feral. “Frequently. Isn’t that a shame?”

  “Indeed.”

  Lilith moved faster than Amdirlain, clasping her face. “You were such a compassionate child. Are you and Shindraithra well, Phaedra?”

  The black serpentine pupils expanded to fill Lilith’s red irises, pushing them wider until they eventually eclipsed the whites of her eyes.

  “We’re happy.”

  “Happy?” Lilith flinched, and she released Amdirlain before returning to where she’d been hovering. “It’s been so long since I’ve known happiness.”

  “It might stem from the emptiness of your own desires. The desire to know everything is unattainable. You can only ever know what has passed, or is passing.”

  “It seems your tidbits of memory have provided extensive knowledge of me,” Lilith laughed dryly.

  “I remember how you once were with Eleftherios, how it ended the moment you knew him enough to conceive. I also remember the way you looked at Naamah at her birth and knew her potential. You saw enough to know the scope of her future strength, and then disinterest set in.” Amdirlain smiled sadly at Lilith. “Your ability to know is a curse greater than that which I endured. Do you ever stop running your calculations and permutations of what the future might hold and live in the now?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “A Diamond Dragon template told me that the way they maintain their perspective of life is by living in the moment, but you devour future moments before they come into being.”

  “Yet I can’t predict the future moments that contain you. Why is that?”

  “Change is constant in many things.”

  “You have a transformative nature, don’t you?”

  “I’m not discussing what I’m refining with anyone.”

  “Will you transform Hell?” Lilith persisted, her tone becoming urgent.

  “I plan to break the hierarchy of Hell after I change the Abyss.”

  A broad smile exposed Lilith’s fanged teeth. Despite the undercurrent of menace, a luscious desire thickened the surrounding air. “How delightful. Might I aid you in achieving that desire?”

  “That’s your choice, not mine. You implied Gideon told you I was here, but you didn’t specify it. How did you find me?”

  “I collect information. It’s my nature, not knowledge as such, but my focus is broad enough that many things brush its periphery.”

  “I remember enough to know your nature isn’t knowledge but desire,” Amdirlain chided. “Do I have to ask a third time?”

  “My powers let me find the newest planets in the realm not made by Nicholaus,” Lilith shrugged. “Normally, there are a few hundred in a few millennia, not thousands. Thus, it was predictable that I’d find you or traces of your passing on one of them. Are you transforming the endless darkness or creating?”

  “Why are you fishing for information?” Amdirlain replied.

  “To lessen the debt I owe you, I need information to work with,” Lilith explained. “I can understand your wariness, since you don’t have your prior knowledge.”

  “How much information have you already gained simply by being this close?”

  Lilith froze. “I’ve kept my senses to myself to avoid being rude. If there is anything you wish to learn, you need to let me know. Many find my information useful beyond their immediate plans.”

  Amdirlain lifted an eyebrow. “I would have thought they’d come to you for reasons other than facts.”

  “Oh, they desire me for other reasons as well,” Lilith laughed. “Existence is so often about what others desire, just like my creator’s expectations. That I, whom he’d made in the same manner as Adam, should merely submit to his lusts after that bearded moron tired of fucking the garden’s animals. Do you remember our discussing them?”

  “No.”

  “To understand an individual’s genuine desires requires knowledge. In exchange for knowledge, I ask for favours to fulfil my own desires,” Lilith’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “Knowledge. That was my desire when I ate from the tree of knowledge, and knowing how soon I’d die, I then consumed the fruit from the tree of life. With the combined powers of those fruits, I made myself like my creator. When he discovered I had left the garden and my new state, he pursued me for aeons. When he finally captured me, he imprisoned me among my slaughtered children until you and your father broke me free.”

  “Were any promises involved?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I’m trying to close off as many binding promises as I can,” Amdirlain replied.

  Lilith’s smile became genuine and lit her expression. “Phaedra, you broke me free, without any expectation of repayment. Your father even said that discussing payment in advance was coercion. If you had tried to bind me with promises afterwards, I would have rebelled and sought loopholes in any agreement. Instead, you offered me a place where I could learn as much as I desired.”

  “I don’t remember that.” Amdirlain didn’t take her attention from Lilith’s dark gaze even as the brilliance of her genuine joy faded away.

  “I hope you do one day. I’d like to know whether your view has changed.” Lilith bowed her head slightly and then vanished.

  With her disappearance, the constructs in Maker’s chamber came to life, and one teleported before her.

  Its voice was a metallic rasp of sound and possibilities. “Phaedra. Maker would speak to you.”

  “The last time took me away from the realm for years.”

  “Your travel took up most of that time. Yet now Maker is nearby, and you no longer require translation to meet them.”

  “What do they wish to speak about? I’ve got obligations here that I can’t be absent from lest it ruin things.”

  “They would speak to you of repaying at least the first part of your debt, and no time will pass in the realm before your return.”

  This isn’t why I came here. Though why should I be surprised that my plans are constantly being changed?

  Amdirlain warned Sarah before she nodded. “Very well.”

  Maker’s alien presence echoed through her bones, and once again Amdirlain vanished from the realm.