Second Skin: Unified: A litRPG Adventure (Second Skin Book 3)

by M Damon Baker

  Having delivered its message, the water spirit dissolved slowly before my eyes, vanishing completely into the cold air. Once the spirit was gone, nothing of Tási was left on the ground beside me either; only the blanket that had once covered her body. All that was left of her was the slight depression in the snow where she’d lain, and I curled up inside the outline that her body had left behind and tried in vain to pull the emptiness of it into myself.

  I huddled in the cold and snow, clutching at Tási’s memory until another voice spoke to me. The words soothed me somehow, and then slowly resolved into recognizable speech as I felt myself being lifted from the ground.

  “Come, daughter,” I heard Nentai speaking softly in my ear. “You have suffered greatly. I am sorry that I could not come to you sooner—the limits we placed on ourselves prevented that. But I am here now, and I will do everything I can to ease your pain.”

  “…Mother?” I heard myself utter in confusion.

  “Shhh. Be at ease, daughter,” the Goddess soothed as she carried me away.

  My grief mixed with bewilderment as Nentai laid me down inside my tent and covered me in thick blankets. The Goddess brushed away the hair that had fallen across my face and then slowly traced her fingers across my brow.

  “Sleep now,” she spoke to me gently. “You have been through too much; pushed yourself too far. All will be taken care of for you while you recover your strength. I will have to deal with the repercussions of my claim on you when I return home, but that is not your concern. Only know that it may be a while before I can come to you again—and that you are my daughter, and I love you.”

  The light grew dim and sleep came over me as Nentai finished her magic. I knew nothing of what followed until much later.

  The Goddess emerged from The Empress’ tent in a furious rage.

  “You!” Nentai grabbed Ella by the collar of her mail shirt and jerked her around. “See that my daughter is protected. She. Will. Not. Be. Harmed.”

  Nentai shook the fully armored woman’s body effortlessly with every word before roughly tossing her aside. The Goddess had several more pronouncements to make, but the next target of her ire was already among those gathered around the Empress’ tent, so she didn’t have to go looking.

  “You!” Broda withered under Nentai’s gaze. “Go find some wretched soul to lead this pitiful Realm. And when you do, let them know that I will be coming for those who caused my daughter so much pain.”

  The Goddess then stalked the short distance away to where Venna and Stel were still clutching each other in the snow. The two hadn’t fully recovered from Stel’s death and were not among the crowd that had gathered around the Empress’ tent. No one else heard the words Nentai whispered to them, but the look on the couple’s faces spoke them clearly enough for all to guess at their meaning.

  “My daughter has sacrificed the woman she loved for you,” Nentai’s words came out in a cool tone that belied her heated resentment. “If either of you do anything but repay her with faithful service, you both will answer to me.”

  As Nentai stalked away, it was not lost on either of them that the words they’d heard were spoken to them by the Goddess of Vengeance.

  Lastly, Nentai turned to the lone figure who was just then arriving. It had been a long walk from the rear guard, but Líann had come running as soon as she’d heard what had happened. The Goddess met Líann in the open tundra, far enough from prying ears to allow their words to be exchanged in private.

  “Táriel,” Nentai surprised Líann. “My daughter has suffered a great loss, and I cannot heal the wounds that have been torn open inside her. But you can. It will be up to you to see that she recovers. She will feel the full pain of her loss when she awakens, and I need you to tend to her. You must do for Dreya what I cannot. Care for my daughter and make her whole again—please.”

  Líann was stunned into silence by the Goddess’ emotional plea, almost more so than Nentai’s reference to Dreya as her daughter. All the former Queen could do was nod back in astonishment before Nentai’s form shimmered and then vanished before her eyes. By the time Líann was able to shake off her shock and rush the rest of the way to Dreya, Ella already formed a double ring of guards around the Empress’ tent, and Broda had departed towards Kiva under a flag of parley.

  Ella had seen Nentai speak to Líann in the distance and let her pass through the wall of guards without question. Not many would get past so easily, especially after the Goddess’ admonishment, but Líann was certainly among those select few. Once inside, however, there was precious little the Táriel could do. Dreya slept soundly, and Líann dared not do anything to disturb her rest.

  The Empress’ sleep went on for many long hours. During that time, Broda elevated one of the minor nobles to King, and the new ruler of Laska, having witnessed the destruction that had been wreaked on his predecessor’s army, hastily signed the Imperial Charter within moments of his coronation.

  Unlike in Ansa, there was no one to banish once the new regime was in place—the old King and nearly all of his loyal followers had rushed out with their troops, hoping to partake in the slaughter, only to become the victims of one themselves.

  Once the Empire’s affairs had been tended to, the leaders and remaining troops of the Imperial Army wasted no time leaving the scene of their pyrrhic victory. Thousands had been lost in what was revealed to be an incredibly large magical flame trap, supplemented by vats of oil that had been buried beneath the mound of snow. The deviously simple yet effective deception had wiped out nearly half the Empire’s forces in a single, devastating strike, and the survivors of that tragedy wanted nothing more than to be away from the sight of their near defeat as quickly as possible.

  “You have violated many of my dictates, Nentai,” Uthalan’s authoritative voice admonished the Goddess as she emerged in her own chambers. “There will be a price to pay for your actions.”

  “No,” Nentai countered, answering his tone with her own strident retort. “I am her mother. I will not let your rules come between us any longer.”

  “You would dare to defy me?”

  “For her, I would dare anything,” Nentai stood before her father, challenging him to doubt her resolve.

  None of his children had ever confronted him so brazenly before. Only Veroiá had ever pushed back against his will so strongly, and even then, she’d only done so on behalf of their unborn children. The striking similarity of their maternal fierceness gave the All-Father pause, and he softened his tone just a little.

  “Do you deny the role your brothers and sisters played in her creation?”

  “She may be their child as well,” Nentai conceded. “But Dreya is my daughter.”

  The other Gods had taken interest in the Sintári from time to time, but only Nentai had remained so steadfast in her devotion. Nentai had never faltered or failed to advocate that they do even more to aid the woman, and Uthalan recognized the truth of her claim. Nentai had never known her mother, but Uthalan saw the strength of Veroiá’s devotion clearly in his daughter’s gaze. The memory of his wife stirred something deep inside the ancient God, and he saw no need to deprive Dreya of the mother’s love that his own children had been denied.

  “Very well,” Uthalan relented. “I grant you the title of ‘Mother,’ and you alone may call her your daughter.”

  “That is a good starting point for our discussion, father,” Nentai replied as she motioned for the All-Father to take a seat. “But I will need a great many more concessions from you before we are done.”

  Uthalan found himself in the odd position of feeling somewhat uneasy as he sat down across from his daughter, suddenly turned into a fierce lioness protecting her cub. He wondered just how much he would have to give away to her before Nentai would finally relent.

  I woke up some time later and found myself nestled among the pile of pillows that served as a bed inside my carriage. After stretching my sore muscles, I reached out to wrap my arm around Tási, and the shock of her deat
h came back to me when my grasp found nothing but empty air beside me.

  “I’m here, Dreya,” I heard a voice call to me. “You’re not alone.”

  I turned towards the sound but recognized who had spoken before my eyes focused on her face. It was Ella, sitting across from me in the carriage, and she continued once she saw that she’d gotten my attention.

  “Here,” she said, putting a glass to my lips. “You’ve had nothing for almost two days while you slept.”

  I tried to drink some of the water Ella gave me but had no desire for it. After just a short sip, I pushed the glass away and let myself fall back into the pillows.

  “Several of us have been keeping watch while you slept,” she explained in an almost pleading tone. “We’ve all been very worried about you.”

  I really didn’t care how worried any of them were—all I felt was a deep sense of loss, and nothing else mattered to me. Tási was gone, and even worse, I was the one who’d let her go. All I could do was lay there as my guilt mixed freely with the pain and suffering that coursed through my veins.

  Over time, people came and went. All of them sat by my side trying to engage me in conversation or cajole me into eating or drinking something. I tried, at least sometimes, but their words meant little to me, and no matter what I ate, it all tasted like ashes in my mouth. Líann, Broda, Saibra, Karina, and Rhia, among others, all took turns sitting vigil over me, while I mostly ignored each of them in turn. Venna was the only one who sat beside me quietly, obviously unsure of what, if anything, she should say.

  Then, suddenly, the carriage lurched to a stop, and light streamed in as the door opened wide. I heard hushed voices outside, and Aiva, who’d been with me at the time, scurried away in a hurry. The door shut again as someone else took her place, and I continued to ignore whoever the newcomer was, caring nothing for the odd events that surrounded the shift change by my side.

  “You and I are long overdue for a talk, daughter,” Nentai spoke softly beside me. “Put on your armor; we’re going outside.”

  “Can’t we talk in here?” I pled with her. Nentai’s words were perhaps the only ones that I truly wanted to hear, but I had no desire to venture outside among the living.

  “No,” she replied with some empathy. “What I have to say to you is best told outside, in the place that I have chosen.”

  Reluctantly, I pulled the Armor of Melía on and even donned my cloak, and despite my misgivings, followed the Goddess outside and then through a narrow strip of forest before she led me to sit down with her beside a small, fast-flowing stream. Then, without any preamble, Nentai told me what she’d come to say.

  She told me the full tale of Veroiá, who’d been lost giving birth to Nentai and her siblings, and that the Goddess’ mother had given each of her children a piece of herself, but in doing so, had surrendered too much of her own essence to survive.

  Nentai then explained how she and her siblings had come together themselves to form the Great Barrier, and how each of them had poured a fraction of their own essence into its creation, while Uthalan used his mighty powers to guide its formation. She told me of the dead man’s death in that magic, and how the Barrier itself had given me life by drawing from the power it had been given—the combined essences of Veroiá’s children.

  Nentai admitted to me that each of her siblings had played a role in my creation, but that she’d felt drawn to me since the day I’d first caught her attention. When I’d followed her path of vengeance, Nentai knew that my choice had been no mere coincidence, and it hadn’t taken her long to recognize the more powerful connection between us; far more powerful than the links I shared with any of the other Gods. It was then that she’d first claimed me in her heart as her own, and she’d done everything she could to protect me from that moment on.

  But the Gods had sealed the world against their own powers as well, and her ability to aid me, and even visit me, were strictly hampered by those restrictions. Nentai had been unable to save me from the Laskans’ trap, or even come to my side until after the battle was long over. She claimed to have lifted as many of those restrictions as possible, but still cautioned me that I was largely on my own in this world. Her powers were great, but she was unable to wield their full potential. My battles would be my own to fight, Nentai warned me. Despite her desires, I couldn’t count on the Goddess to fight by my side or even intervene on my behalf.

  “My mother’s spirit has not been reborn in you, Dreya,” she finished. “But your green eyes are also far more than just her namesake. You represent the best hope for peace on our world, something we were unable to achieve ourselves. But that will never happen so long as you wallow in your pain. I cannot heal what has been broken inside you, but perhaps this place can at least serve to begin that process.”

  She said nothing more to me after that, and we sat beside the stream in silence for a time. That was when it first came to me: the sound of Tási’s laughter echoing from amid the rushing waters. It was faint at first, but in the stillness I heard it clearly, and I felt the tears falling from my eyes as I listened to her, calling to me from within the fast-flowing brook.

  I’d taken the words of the water spirit as mere hyperbole, a simple turn of phrase to offer me reassurance, but that was not the case—I hadn’t lost Tási, at least not entirely. She’d be with me forever, if I only took the time to find her and listen.

  Despite the icy coldness, I trailed my hand in the water as it ran by and closed my eyes to listen even more closely as Tási’s joy came to me from the currents. Every hint of her voice seemed to remind me not only of her love for me, but also of her desire for me to go on. To not dwell on the pain I’d felt in her loss, but to remember the happiness we’d shared in her life, and to make the most of my own.

  After a while, Tási’s laughter faded away, and when I could no longer hear it, I opened my eyes to see Nentai staring at me hopefully.

  I could tell that she wanted me say something to her, to let her know that she’d helped me in some way, but I had no words to convey just how deeply hearing Tási’s voice had affected me. Instead, I practically lurched forward, wrapped my arms around the Goddess, and buried my face in her shoulder. But the tears I cried against her were happy ones, and in between them, I spoke the only words I could find.

  “This won’t be easy,” I gripped Nentai tightly as I confessed my doubts. “I’ll need your help, mother.”

  “You’ll have it, daughter,” I heard her whisper back to me, and if I’d looked up at that moment, I was certain that I would have seen tears in her eyes as well.

  EPILOGUE

  Mother left me soon after, and I rejoined the Army on our long march southward. It would be some time before I got over the pain of Tási’s loss, and I’d never stop missing her, but knowing that at least part of her would always be with me washed away a great deal of my grief.

  Instead of retreating back inside my carriage, I walked alongside my companions. The fresh air reinvigorated my tired limbs, and I felt my strength returning with each and every stride I took. They filled me in on all that had happened during my long sleep, and I offered my apologies in return for my poor behavior after I’d woken. After that, our conversation dwindled off, and we marched forward, mostly in silence, until it came time to camp for the night.

  The long, drawn-out stretch of quiet had given me the time I needed to sort out my conflicted feelings on a matter that had been troubling me for a while. Though I’d come to peace with it myself, I’d never figured out how to extend that resolution any further. That night, I decided that it was time for me to take the first step in that direction, so after camp was set up, I called a small meeting in my own tent. A meeting with me and my closest companions—my Tári.

  I’d spoken to each of them individually, telling them almost everything I knew about being a Tári and how important they were to me, but we’d never been together as a group. At least not knowingly or for the express purpose of talking about ourselves in that contex
t, but the time for hiding from each other was over–our relationships may have had their individual components, and those were still entitled to privacy and respect, but we also shared a deeper, common bond, and it was well past the time for us to recognize that fact. I took in a deep breath to bolster my resolve and began that journey.

  “Each of you knows what you mean to me,” I looked them all in the eye one by one as I spoke. “You are Tári, and your gifts are what make everything I do possible, but that is not all you do. By helping me, you also aid each other, and make it possible for me to offer you what you need. We are not truly individuals anymore, we are one. And it’s time for us to recognize that fact.”

  Quick glances were exchanged as the shock of my words ran through the four of them, but I continued without hesitation.

  “If I had my choice, I’d recognize all of you openly. But my needs have never conformed to my desires, and as Empress, that is even truer now than it ever was before. I must have the approval, or at least the acceptance of my subjects, and I don’t think they are ready yet to understand the complexities of the relationship between Sintári and Tári. So, at least for now, this will remain between us, but we will no longer hide from each other.”

  “I have been making the mistake of judging myself by human standards and feeling guilty when I failed to constrain myself to their limits. But I’m not human—I am Sintári, and those boundaries do not apply to me. Nor do they apply to you. You are more than you know. You are no longer humans or elves, you are Tári. Everything I do, everything we do, is perfectly normal for us, and eventually, there will be no need for any of this to be secret, but until then, it will be for only us to share.”

  “I will make just this one exception: Venna, when the time comes for me to reveal the truth openly, you alone may keep your relationship with me secret. I won’t do anything to jeopardize your marriage. You and Stel are too important to me for me to allow that to happen.”