Amdirlain’s PoV

  The memory of the conversation with Lilith and Phaedra had lasted for months. With the weight of Lilith’s long years of life looming before her, Phaedra had adjusted the Garden of the ?sir’s internal timeframe. The last thing she wanted was to lose preparation time for her Patér’s realm. During the first battle in Lilith’s winding tale, she paused and twitched when Phaedra’s desire to protect herself spiked.

  “You desire battle?”

  “I’ve lost, and you’ve lost, to others. I desire to protect myself, and I know nothing about fighting. There are so many dangerous weapons within the realms we’ve visited.”

  Lilith glanced at Nicholaus.

  “I’ve no training either; I made items and traps to defend my maze—they were dangerous enough to handle those who decided to fight instead of escape.”

  “Both of you are wrong. There is no such thing as a dangerous weapon.”

  “I’ve heard devices that snuffed out stars,” Phaedra protested.

  Lilith nodded solemnly. “Yet I stand by what I said. There aren’t dangerous weapons, only dangerous beings. The type of person who would use those star killers, for example, those sorts of people are dangerous. They had the weapon, the willingness, the intent, and either malice or a need; yet, others in the same circumstances wouldn't have used it. Stand, let me teach you to fight. It’s best to start with short weapons. Nicholaus, can you make each of us suitable daggers?”

  A blade floated before each of them, tailored to be half the length of their forearms and with a grip that would draw the sweat away.

  “Copy me as we practise. As a general rule, don’t raise the dagger above your head, maintain control, and keep the point and edge towards your foe. First, we’ll learn a controlled thrust useful for delicate places such as the groin and the throat, or the centre body mass for those who don’t have them.”

  Lilith showed a stance to adopt and got them on their feet, correcting their stances before their knives were even raised.

  Even as they practised, Lilith had shared tales of the nine realms that the world tree had joined, and the limits that had governed the inhabitants. Phaedra’s collection of songs provided her and Nicholaus with insights into how the same matters were managed in other realms.

  The memory recall sparked a flurry of insights within Amdirlain, blending Phaedra’s instinctive insight into the Mortal perspectives of her many lives. The rush rippled across the link to Lethe, and the conversation paused. It gave Amdirlain time to contemplate those insights she’d already gained. When she felt the insights stabilise into strength, she half expected Gideon to report her progress.

  “It still feels odd reliving my time as Phaedra,” Amdirlain admitted as the blending of experiences calmed.

  Lethe smiled in understanding. “Oddly, I’m in a similar situation. I hold these memories to care for them, and while I know all the details of them, they are not mine. Indeed, some of them are so alien to my existence that I’m only aware of a summary of the events until I replay them for you.”

  “Does it also feel odd for you to be manifested outside my body this way?”

  “A little. Things I had not experienced before, such as touch or any other sense. Now, instead of memories of what you’d touched, smelled or seen, I’ve had unique sensory experiences. It feels odd to know they’re unique to me. I see the Eldritch flare like a bursting star and know the way we perceive it is different.” Lethe’s smile beamed. “I now understand why you wondered if I’d like to be free like the Enyali?.”

  “Do you want to have a physical form?”

  “Once I would have said no, then things were more certain.” Lethe smiled wistfully. “It seems you’re not the only one who has changed, Amdirlain. I’ll consider your offer, maybe once I’ve helped you with all these memories. The link between us would be dangerous in a realm with other primordials and deities, so we’d have to separate, and then I couldn’t be your librarian.”

  One of Maker’s constructs appeared nearby and swam closer. “You should focus on the Eldritch for a time, as you are letting their incineration flare erratically. You need to look further along the mirrored patterns and alter the intensity of the Primordial flame. Consider that you need to smooth the transformation of energy types.”

  It’s ripping away too much potential from the Eldritch wherever the limbs twist close together.

  Amdirlain winced and eased back on the flames of creation. “Is the capacity of the realm being affected?”

  “The framework that you are currently growing will be the major support structure of the realm. You want it to be as strong as possible, and oddities can cause flaws that may become apparent under stress. That then does what?”

  “It means the realm can’t expand beyond a certain point, and eventually heat death will occur,” Amdirlain replied. “What have you determined about the hole in our realm?”

  “Bahamut struck between the supports. The puncture seems significant because of the speed of the realm’s expansion. Although the absorption approach was extremely reckless, my studies suggest that most of the initial hole had actually healed. I cannot emphasise enough how much this was down to chance rather than sensible action. Also, in taking that approach, the mingling at the healing site made your realm a target for the Eldritch. Not to the extent of the lure we’re currently using to bait them into this seed, but it’s why you’ve had to seal so many Eldritch away.”

  “Can I change the rules enough for the Eldritch we’ve got captive to feed the boundary?”

  “That will depend on you. There is a lot of inertia that you’ll need to overcome, and that change is not one I’ll make for you. I could prepare dozens of new realms to the point of handing them over to others to manage with the effort required.”

  “Haste makes waste.”

  The construct’s legs folded in a complex mesh that broadcast the air of a stern parent. “Yes. Handle the frozen Eldritch for a few centuries, and when your process improves enough that handling them is automatic. Then you can resume memory restoration while I teach you other things.”

  I think the translation of a few centuries is glitched. The last time Maker said ‘in a few centuries’, I got an acceptable rating after four thousand years.

  The sense of Sarah’s presence via the mental link with her Avatar warmed her, and Amdirlain re-focused on the work she’d committed to.

  ? ? ? ? ? ?

  Amdirlain’s Avatar PoV - Yúla

  Though Azadi had gone off intending to teach only Maithor before dawn, others had joined their conversation. Milui’s family joined Amdirlain, Sarah, and Rachel in working on the forge. Lithien and Rachel made a game of forming up bricks, while Amdirlain and N?thang panned for iron sand. The others monitored the kilns and worked on building the forge walls, with clay bricks and an epoxy that Sarah had crafted.

  As their construction of the forge progressed throughout the morning, Amdirlain felt a shift in her core capacity. The change echoing through their link had Sarah mentally reaching out.

  “I must have gone up in level within my various natures, since I’ve now got an additional Essence in my avatars’ cores,” Amdirlain projected. “I’m farming Eldritch energy at present. It’s weird, but I crystallise them and then essentially burn the potential to release the energy into a realm seed. We completely missed that use of them.”

  “How do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’ve received a few ratings of ‘you’re developing well’, and also one acceptable rating.”

  Sarah snorted. “Remember, you volunteered for this. Do you think Maker is even more of a perfectionist?”

  “No, they say perfection is the enemy of growth. Could you or your mother check on Fronuth?”

  “Want to see if they’ve picked up more affinities yet?”

  Amdirlain winked and continued her panning, dumping the latest accumulation into a bucket.

  Lithien peered into the nearby fired-clay bucket. “There is so much water atop the sand, does it shorten how long the bucket lasts?”

  “They’re good enough for our purpose, but they’re certainly a place we can improve,” Sarah replied.

  “There is the white sap from the water lily roots. After it dries, water slides off it, though it chips when it’s flexed; it shouldn’t be a problem on fired clay.”

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  Rachel looked over from where she and Milui had finished stacking clay bricks into the second kiln. “Do you want to gather some up and we’ll smear it on the next batch of pots as a test?”

  The girl hopped up and ran towards where the children had gathered bulbs the other week.

  “I’ll go with her,” Amdirlain offered.

  Gondren motioned for her to stay put and started along the shore. With the top of the kiln in place, Rachel returned to making bricks.

  “You just didn’t want to pan for sand,” Milui called out to her mate.

  He waved over his shoulder and continued to stroll after their daughter.

  “My brick partner is gone, and your mate has wandered off, Milui. What are we to do?” Rachel sniffed mournfully.

  Amdirlain snorted in amusement as she lumped more sand at the top of the clay plate. “Not that I blame him, since this part is very tedious.”

  “No, sharpening the edges by hand is the tedious part,” Sarah corrected, from where she worked on setting rows of bricks.

  Rachel clapped her clay-smeared hands together. “We’ll need to explore and find a suitable grinding stone.”

  “It doesn’t have to be perfect for the purpose. I noticed Azadi is avoiding manual labour this morning. Did you wear him out with private time?” Sarah teased.

  “Not last night,” Rachel laughed.

  “What is he doing this morning?” N?thang asked, unfazed by their exchange.

  “He’s teaching and getting Maithor and Forgam to practise sensing their elements. Though I’m sure Azadi would prefer to be out hunting.” Rachel tossed a clay-ball to Amdirlain, who used it to strip grit from her hands.

  “Can we make grinding wheels from clay with enough grit on the outer layer?”

  “They won’t be tough enough. For the first lot, we’ll use flat stones. For grinding wheels, I can form them with wooden wedges and water once we find the right type of stone. We’ll search for some once we’re closer to that point.”

  Milui glanced off into the forest. “Speaking of searching. We have seen no new animals since that surge. Should we search for signs?”

  “We used some magic last night that hopefully drove them off until the next surge,” Rachel offered with a bright smile. “There are patterns of magic that incite fear.”

  “Really? I guess there was more going on than I realised last night.” Milui’s gaze hardened with concealed suspicion.

  “It’s an ability Amdirlain provided me. She shared a gift with me just as Danu gave you your vision.” Rachel spread her hands. “I can understand that after last night, you don’t want to take claims at face value. Stretch out your hands and show me how big a fish you’d like, and I’ll fetch one to match from the lake. Then you’ll have evidence that I’m not just all talk.”

  N?thang looked anxiously between the three of them. “Are you goddesses?”

  Rachel laughed, and her bright, bubbling notes erased the tension from them. “I’m not a goddess, only someone who tries their best with the gifts our Lady of Creation has provided.”

  “We all have uncommon gifts and knowledge, so travelling between tribes to share and teach will help more than hoarding them,” Sarah added.

  “Forgive me,” Milui started.

  “You’ve done nothing to forgive.” Rachel flicked muddy water in Milui’s direction, splattering her legs. “You barely know us, and you’ve had upsets. Would you share some visions Danu has shown you?”

  “Often they show small things, like Sarah’s barbs on the spears. Visions of someone weaving cut grass for bedding, or crushing the dried bulbs to season the fish. Sometimes she gives me warnings of large storms so we can secure everything.”

  The day followed the same routine as the previous day, with work on the forge, gathering, and teaching, though Amdirlain occasionally snooped on the new leadership. The only difference from the last day was that the new speakers had met with the new Cén?. After a brief discussion about who’d switch to handle the weaving and other roles previously handled by the exiles, they returned to their own work.

  Reassurance can come in many forms. They acted promptly, discussed who could best do what, and then people settled in. No need for a big speech or pep rally, since they know everyone in their small community.

  Later that night, while Rachel and Azadi drifted out from the village to get time alone, Sarah ventured down to the forge. Rather than follow, Amdirlain sat in the canopy to listen to the rustle of leaves and other soft night sounds.

  Restricted as she was, Amdirlain didn’t feel Danu’s attention until the breeze through the trees brought Danu’s voice to Amdirlain’s ears.

  “I can see your Human perspective in what you teach them, but you’re not ignoring the needs of the forest.”

  “I know some things that the elves can make, but not how to get there.”

  “Each world is different, and not all have the same answers. On this one, the raw materials for resins to make swords and arrows as sharp as steel aren’t as pure, so they’ll require proper alchemy with glass utensils.”

  Amdirlain turned to watch Danu take form within a tree’s shadows. “We’re worried about the mana surges, so we’re taking an escalated path. I wanted to hold off on glasswork because it requires a lot of tools and knowledge that go hand in hand. Since they don’t have the magical options to do anything but burn materials to explore that knowledge, it would cause issues.”

  Danu nodded. “I can understand your approach. There are more monsters in different lands this morning. I’ll see if more will accept the burden of Shaman, so they might see things they need to master. You are right that the leylines hold a lot of energy for a world so young.”

  “Do you think I made a mistake with them?”

  “The leylines on every planet are different. Such vibrant energy in a young world is uncommon but not unknown. What are your thoughts on the matter?”

  “I worry I put too much energy into the planet’s songs. Since like attracts like, the extra energy is causing an attunement between points of natural focus and the elemental planes quicker than I expected. That’s led to mana surges and creature changes.”

  “I’ll balance my followers with more strength so that they might stand among them. Will you do the same?”

  “Yes. Some of my new celestials will arrive soon to teach,” Amdirlain replied.

  Danu’s mouth twitched in a half smile. “Celestials mingling with mortals for long periods frequently adds celestial bloodlines to a world’s mix. Those gifts would certainly help offset the early occurrence of monsters.”

  “I don’t intend to breed traits in that way,” Amdirlain protested. “They’re individuals, not livestock.”

  “Intent isn’t important unless you want them to stay chaste. It’s a common enough occurrence that if a Celestial is around mortals long enough, then love takes root, sometimes in unexpected places.” Danu leaned against a branch that ran past their platform. “I can see from your expression that you still have things to re-learn.”

  Amdirlain’s gaze lit with mirth. “More than a few things.”

  “Are you off making worlds while this Avatar teaches?”

  I said I’d make her forest worlds.

  “I’m getting lessons at present.”

  “Lessons from whom?” Danu asked curiously.

  I’m not sure if she’s familiar with Maker; I should have avoided mentioning them altogether.

  “An old ally that didn’t come to this realm. A neutral party, so to speak.”

  “That rules out the being who visited this world recently.”

  “Yes, she came to warn me about rumblings in Hell. How are things going with protecting the forests against the formithians?”

  Danu’s smile resembled a great cat’s bared teeth. “It’s been good to repay the oath-breakers at last. Though they are on so many worlds that I don’t know if we can keep up the momentum.”

  “Have you ended all their incursions?”

  “All the ones where there were still a mix of species, and they’re no longer on millions of worlds they’d stolen. It cost us many lives, but it was good to see forests rise from a landscape that had suffered from their abuse.”

  ? ? ? ? ? ?

  Amdirlain’s PoV - Custodian’s spot

  Light released by Amdirlain stepping into the realm reflected off Custodian’s facets and washed a rainbow across the pillars bearing the Eldritch prison keys. Amdirlain’s Avatar on Yúla was talking with Danu, and that conversation raised a worry, but she set it aside as someone else’s problem. The efforts of her other Avatar in teaching new celestials to unlock psionics were going well, with Aitherlar’s aid.

  “Amdirlain, how are your lessons with Maker going?”

  “They are going nicely, but I think Maker is trying to get me to forget being a perfectionist,” Amdirlain admitted.

  “Oh?”

  “The harder I try to get something exactly right, the more often they say something like ‘You’re developing nicely in that area’.”

  “Your nature is not perfection, is it?”

  Amdirlain started to comment, and her teeth clicked together.

  “Yes? No?” Custodian buzzed.

  “There is a right way to do something, a wrong way to do something, and then there is my way,” Amdirlain drawled.

  “You need to understand your way, rather than do things perfectly.”

  Amdirlain gently patted Custodian. “Are you allowed to give me advice like that?”

  “I’m allowed to protect you from twisting your nature,” Custodian replied. “What can I help you with today?”

  “I just came to take care of a promise I made to the Jade Emperor.”

  Custodian’s voice deepened in concern. “A promise to him should not involve the Eldritch.”

  Hundreds of keys connected to the prison of lesser Eldritch leapt to Amdirlain. “I learnt how to harvest the Eldritch for energy. It’s typically used to strengthen a realm in its early stages before souls have worlds to inhabit. However, it’s a lot of raw energy, so I’ll be able to use it to attune a planet to the Jade Court. I know how much energy it will take to do the alignment, and I’ll then undo the damage that Balnérith’s stooges inflicted with the wound. I’ve got a lot more to learn before I can seal it, but patching it is something else.”

  “Oh!”

  “You’re no longer worried?” Amdirlain smiled at Custodian’s excited bounce.

  “How many can you use up?” Custodian asked excitedly. “It will be so nice to know that I don’t have to worry about protecting people from them. It takes up so much of my energy when other things need to be done.”

  Amdirlain sighed. “Hold up, I can efficiently do this with weaker Eldritch, but anything tier four and up is out of my league for now.”

  “That’s an excellent result for me as the lesser ones make up the greatest volume.”

  “That’s good. One thing you can do for me, tell them I love them, okay?” Amdirlain said. Tears glistened in her eyes. “Tell M?tēr I remember all her songs, and the way she’d dance with me in her arms.”

  Custodian’s spinning stopped. “You’ve recovered memories of her you treasure now.”

  “Memories of me.”

  “All of them?”

  Amdirlain laughed warmly. “No, of course not; it’s only been eighteen thousand years.”

  With a push of will, she reappeared within the second deep plane of the Abyss. Behind her was the first plane’s watery threshold, and before her, an ominous desert brimming with twisted creatures composed of rock, sand, and air. She could hear the entrance to the next plane, only a few million kilometres away, and set off flying.