by Kal Aaron
“Do you ever miss this place?” Jofi asked. “It’s been some time since you last visited. Ten years.”
“I don’t like it. Never have. I think I have too American a mindset to genuinely appreciate it.”
“What does being American have to do with it?”
“All these masked servants and the extreme class-system stuff.” Lyssa waved her hand. “I get it. Being able to use sorcery does make us fundamentally different, but it still doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Is that so important?”
Lyssa shook her head. “It’s also not my home. I grew up in California. Last Remnant is strange to me, foreign. Far more foreign than Mexico or Canada.”
“But it’s an ancient society, older than any country,” Jofi replied.
“I guess, but if the Society cared about keeping us together, they’d force us all to live here when we’re growing up. I have my loyalty to our people and understand we wouldn’t be safe without someone watching out for this, but I don’t have any loyalty to this specific place. If they wanted us to care more, they shouldn’t have made it a place to aspire to be versus a place to call home. You shouldn’t have to get special permission to return home.”
Lyssa wandered from the window back over to the bed and sat on the edge. Samuel’s people might have blown up her house, and she wouldn’t know for days.
“Interesting,” Jofi said. “Do you think the Elders and the Tribunal are aware of the implications of what you’ve said?”
Lyssa snorted. “Being aware of something and caring are two different things. A lot of people think there’s no point to ambition if you don’t have something you can lord over other people.” She shrugged. “Being Sorcerers and Sorceresses isn’t good enough for a lot of us. We’re already special people among millions, but that’s not enough.”
“You harbor no greater ambition than being a Torch?” Jofi asked. “Is it avarice to want more?”
“You’ve asked me that before, but the answer’s the same. I don’t. Not really. I like what I do, and I don’t want to hide in a place like the Traveling Club, thinking of new ways to boss people around. Taking down scum is a good way to make the world a better place.”
“But you often complain about your leadership being backward and ignorant. Wouldn’t it be better if someone like you were a leader? You could bring them fresher ideas.”
Lyssa laughed. “They need fresher ideas, sure, but someone like me? That’s a disaster waiting to happen.” She pointed to the side of her head. “Recognizing a problem doesn’t mean having the solution. I might have a mouth, but I do get that I don’t know it all. We’ll see where I’m at in three or four decades.”
She kicked off her boots and removed her jacket, draping it over a chair near the glass table. Spreading her arms, she dropped onto the bed and took more long breaths, still trying to get used to the intensity of the sorcery surrounding her.
“I still get our version of jet lag. I think I’ll order some dinner soon and make it an early night. Tomorrow, I’ll be in a better position to check things out.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
A woman spoke in the darkness. There was a familiar quality to the voice, but Lyssa couldn’t quite place it.
“The seal is weak,” the woman said.
Lyssa shot up, but she wasn’t in bed. She was in an endless void, only the dimmest light in the far distance distinguishing it from nothing. Her body floated in space, her hair a strange nest without the aid of gravity.
“Wait.” Lyssa lifted her hands. She wasn’t in her regalia. The shirt was familiar, if out of date, as was the skirt. “I haven’t worn anything like this since I was a teenager.”
“The seal is weak,” the woman repeated. “You know this.”
“What is this place?” Lyssa asked. “Who are you?”
She brought up her hand and concentrated. Nothing happened. She added a Phrygian chant—still nothing. A strange environment with odd sensory cues and a complete inability to do sorcery usually pointed to one thing.
“This is a dream.” Lyssa rolled her eyes. “Just what I need, my subconscious messing with me.” She raised her middle finger. “I’m self-hating enough without this. And before you try to convince me this is someone with a dream or mind essence playing tricks, I don’t think you’d be wasting time mentioning Jofi’s seal.”
The shadowy outline of a person floated past her before fading into nothingness. Lyssa stuck her hands behind her head.
“You don’t understand, Lyssa,” the woman said. “The ritual bound him tightly to both the Night Goddess and your soul.”
“I do understand that part because they explained it to me. Hence the whole not being eager to have him wake up or have a bunch of Elders messing around with anything that might wake him up.” Lyssa sighed. “I only wish I didn’t need to lie to him.”
“There’s only so much the seal can do. His true nature is rapacious and unforgiving. He’s nothing but endless entropy.”
“Okay, I get it.” Lyssa waved her hand. She could barely perceive its outline. She couldn’t even feel the motion. “Lee gave me many versions of this speech throughout the years. I’m glad to know it’s filtered into the deepest parts of my psyche so it can harass me when I’m trying to get a good night’s sleep.”
“When the time comes and the seal breaks, are you willing to sacrifice yourself?” the woman asked. Her shadowy form drifted in front of Lyssa before dissipating again.
“I’m not going to let Jofi kill a bunch of people.” Lyssa shrugged. “But that’s another reason I’m here. If he’s going to go nuts, this is the one place that has a decent chance of containing him. I understand, though, the first line of defense is me. I’ll do my best.”
“I’ll be watching and waiting. There might be another option, if only because of the specialness of what you’ve achieved and you being in this place of power.”
“I’ll be eaten one way or another if he wakes up, but if this is a clever mental attack, I don’t buy it.” Lyssa snapped her fingers, but no sound came out. “Dream essences are fun for playing around in the Shadows’ minds, but an Illuminated? I’d wake right up the minute you touched my dream.”
Lyssa jerked upright and rubbed her temples after realizing she was in her bed in the guest room. She yanked a gun from where it hung over the headboard and swept the room, taking a deep breath.
The pressure she’d felt yesterday was still there, but she didn’t sense anything else. Anyone with a mind or dream essence would have had to be close to her to pull it off, if not in the same room.
“Is there a problem?” Jofi asked. “You seem unusually alarmed, even by your standards.”
Lyssa lowered her gun. “Just a nightmare. Not even that. A weird dream built from all my stress lately. I don’t think it means anything other than I should find whoever is after me and finish them off.”
“What happened in this dream?”
“Just someone was saying that coming here was a bad idea,” Lyssa muttered.
Jofi paused for a moment before offering, “Then your dream was wise, which in turn makes you wise.”
“Just to be careful,” Lyssa replied, “you didn’t sense any spirits in my room? I don’t know how easy it is to screw with someone with a spirit, but there’s got to be all sorts of dream spirits.”
“There were no spirits in this room besides me,” Jofi said. “No one entered the entire time you slept.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Lyssa stared down at the gun in her hand, swallowing. She realized why the voice sounded so familiar. It was a voice she hadn’t heard in years: her mother’s. Her subconscious could be a real bitch.
A couple of hours later, Sumira bowed her head as Lyssa stepped onto a lift platform. A clear door shot up from a slot in front, sealing Lyssa inside Last Remnant’s version of an elevator. The crystalline azure platform was bounded by walls of clear glass on all sides, but it was open above. A light shimmer marked the protectiv
e spell that saved the passengers from stray rain or rude birds.
With a light hum, the lift rose into the air at a pace far too leisurely for Lyssa’s liking. She climbed along with the towers of the city, her view expanding around her. She was glad she wasn’t afraid of heights.
Lyssa hated the lifts. She had no great insight into the spells involved and didn’t like that there was no way to control them from inside. They were raised and lowered by controls in the Heart of Remnant. Dropping a lift from hundreds of feet in the air sounded like a good way of assassinating her.
She had no choice. There was no other way to get to her destination. The Heart was far too high for her to take Dark Steps, and the guards took a dim view of people arriving in unauthorized ways. She wanted to keep the number of people trying to kill her countable on one hand.
The lift approached an open shaft in the rocky bottom of the floating palace. Lyssa held her breath. Once she made it into the Heart, she had a chance of surviving.
Her view disappeared, replaced by a dull red glow from the chamber. Bright light grew from the top until she arrived at a nondescript stone room. The front door slid back into the platform.
Another masked servant waited for her. He bowed his head. “Welcome to the Heart of Remnant, Miss Corti.”
Judging by his voice, he was a lot older than Sumira. The younger servant had arrived at Lyssa’s room shortly after she woke up to inform her she had an appointment at the Vault of Dreams.
Things were moving along far quicker than Lyssa had anticipated. That wasn’t a bad thing. She didn’t mind the Elders and potentially the Tribunal trying to push her along.
“You have survived arrival,” Jofi noted, reminding Lyssa he was there.
Despite her strange dream, she was happy to have the spirit on her side, along with extra magazines. Not being able to trust anyone made the idea of wandering around without her primary weapons unappealing.
Sumira hadn’t mentioned anything about Lyssa coming unarmed. The concept was bizarre when applied to Illuminated anyway. Even without weapons, she was incredibly dangerous, and no one would tolerate being told to leave their regalia behind. The only scenario she could imagine was them requesting her pistols be left behind because they wanted to discuss Jofi without him present.
Lyssa followed the servant out of the stone room, and they eventually arrived in a circular chamber with hallways leading off in several directions. The servant bowed his head and disappeared back down the hall toward the lift.
A Sorcerer in the center of the room advanced toward Lyssa. He wore a full white face mask split down the center by a red line. One side was frowning, and the other was smiling. His robe was also separated, one side black and one side white.
She recognized the regalia and knew the man. Claiming they were friends was a step too far, but she doubted he was planning to kill her anytime soon.
Lyssa bowed her head. “I, Lyssa Corti, bearer of the Night Goddess, greet you, Takeo Takeshi, bearer of the Unbalanced Twins, and request entry to the Vault of Dreams to inspect the Northern Trickster. I have been granted permission by the Tribunal in this matter.”
“Your request is granted.” He set off down another hallway and motioned for her to follow. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, Lyssa. I only wish you had returned under more pleasant circumstances.”
Lyssa jogged until she was beside Takeo. He was far older than her but not formally an Elder. More importantly, he wasn’t overly concerned about protocol. That would make her little inspection a lot less painful.
“It’s not like most people visit the Vault of Dreams all that often,” she said.
“That’s true,” he replied. “If it weren’t for the other vault tenders, I might go entire days without speaking to anyone.” He let out a quiet laugh. “I must admit I find that not unappealing. It’s peaceful here.”
“Yeah, my job involves a lot more talking and loud noises,” Lyssa replied. “And a lot more cursing.”
“You don’t have to be a Torch for the rest of your days.”
“No, but I like it. It’ll be a long time before I decide to hang up my guns. I guess we all end up where we need to be.”
Takeo nodded. “That’s a good attitude to have.”
They continued in silence for a few minutes before he stopped in front of a blue wall and pulled a crystalline key out of his pocket. After some whispered Lemurian, the key began to glow.
The wall pulled apart with a rumble to reveal another hallway, and they continued walking. They’d entered the Vault proper.
Masked Shadows in gray and black uniforms stood in the new corridor, swords or halberds in hand. Their uniforms and their weapons radiated sorcery. They stood rigidly, not looking at or acknowledging the advance of the two Illuminated in their midst.
With their extensive training and shard weapons, they might have a chance if they surprised an invader, but everyone accepted they were there more to alert the vault tenders than to stop anyone who dared violate the closest thing the Illuminated Society had to a holy site.
Takeo opened another hidden passage. The number of guards decreased in the new section. Highly stylized glowing Lemurian words were spaced evenly near the tops of the walls.
Lyssa took note of the words. Terrible Flower, Unstoppable Gladiator, Sky Queen, Protector of Children, Angry Wolf. Different regalia.
She passed more names as they continued into another passage. There were dozens of regalia in each.
From what Lyssa knew, the vault tenders memorized the layout of the Vault of Dreams, a tedious and lengthy process considering there were over ten thousand regalia inside. Never before had a situation cried out so loudly for a good spreadsheet, even if the vault tenders used special shards to help. One long-time tender had a memory essence, but it could only do so much to help the others.
What had it been like in the past? Rumors and legends stated there used to be hundreds of thousands of regalia, most perishing with the fall of Lemuria. All the power and potential in the Vault of Dreams represented a fraction of their lost glory.
The secrets of regalia manufacture had also been lost with Lemuria. Thousands of years of research had produced nothing useful other than confirming that the regalia were the result of a complex tapestry of different types of sorcery.
Regalia lay at the heart of the Illuminated Society. Without their amplifying power, sorcery would be a gimmick, not a powerful tool wielded by a chosen few.
The hard limit on available regalia raised another concern. The current Illuminated population was roughly one-fifth of the available number of regalia, which meant there was a guarantee of at least one regalia for every Sorcerer or Sorceress who came of age.
What would happen in the future when their supply ran out? They hadn’t figured out how to make new regalia in ten thousand years, and although most survived the deaths of their bearers, that wasn’t always the case. Given recent trends, continued Illuminated population growth could run up against the limit in decades or centuries rather than millennia.
That might be pessimistic. Lyssa suspected her people would do what the Shadows had done: wait until necessity forced them to learn how to do something they should have done a long time ago. She wasn’t going to worry about it. It wasn’t something she could help with.
“May I ask you a question, Takeo?” she asked.
“You may, and I’ll do my best to answer it,” he replied.
“Are you sure the Northern Trickster is real?” Lyssa asked. “Were you there when it came back? Someone could have planted it.”
Takeo replied, “I don’t need to see it appear there with my own eyes. It was detected in the inspection of all currently bound regalia, and it’s extremely unlikely someone could plant a fake regalia in the Vault of Dreams, given our protections and defenses.”
“Extremely unlikely isn’t the same thing as impossible.”
“A meteor could come out of the sky and strike the Heart of Remnant.” Take
o turned her way. “It’s extremely unlikely to the point that we have no defenses against it.”
Lyssa sighed. She understood where he was coming from, but she’d traveled a long way. Even before the attack on Lee, she’d wanted to make the trip. She needed to make sure it was worth it, even if she discomforted people along the way.
“And you don’t think it’s strange that it took so long?” she asked. All she needed was one small irregularity to keep hope alive. Takeo was her best bet.
“Of course, it’s strange,” he replied. “But I don’t think it’s impossible. Although there haven’t been any documented cases in recent centuries—”
“I know.” Lyssa waved a hand. “There are rumors about it taking that long in special cases.”
“We’re Illuminated, Lyssa,” Takeo replied. “We live in a world steeped in sorcery that goes beyond the bounds of the physical and even spiritual worlds. The Shadows might balk at the impossible, but we know there are more possibilities out there. Be careful not to convince yourself that something is true simply because it confirms your preexisting beliefs.”
Lyssa took a couple of deep breaths. She didn’t want to jump down his throat. “You’re saying you think he’s been dead all along, or you think he died recently?”
“Now, that I can’t say.” Takeo shrugged. “A regalia, in the end, is nothing more than shard clothing we’ve long since lost the secret to producing. As such, it’s the product of sorcery. We know this. We can feel it from our own and others. Despite the difficulty of destroying them, it’s not impossible that someone developed a spell to block the return of regalia to the Vault of Dreams and delayed its return that way. They might have perverted the rituals we use during the bonding process. It’s not a useful long-term strategy, but rogues might have come up with something like that.”
“But if you had to bet, what would you say?” Lyssa asked. “You’re the expert. I’m good at killing people and breaking things, but I’m… Adrien Allard’s City Guard. It’s already back, right?”