Mydia's End

by Sean Davies

  “I love you too, Constance Lee. That's why I can't let you go,” Genevieve wept. “What about what Annabelle said? There must be something we’re not thinking of?!”

  “I’ve thought about it, and there just isn’t any other choice that I could live with,” Connie replied, her voice still gentle but resolute, and she kissed the Vampire lovingly. “I have to go, you know I do. Think about what you'd do if the fate of Mydia rested on your shoulders.”

  Genevieve nodded slowly, knowing that her brave girlfriend was correct, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

  Constance turned to Stitches and gave him one last hug. “You've been the best friend anyone could've ever wished for, and you’re a better human than most humans. Try not to be too sad. And make sure you keep a hold of Spensa—she’s a keeper, even if she is a Needle Maiden.”

  “There has to be another way, there just has to be!” Stitches pleaded, as he frantically searched his mind for anything that could save his dearest companion.

  “There isn't. I'm sorry,” Constance replied, trying bravely to stem her tears. “Please let my family know, when you can.”

  The Alternative slowly nodded his fabric head. “I will... I'll let everyone know what a hero you are, Constance Lee.”

  “Thank you, truly,” Connie said with a faint smile, before addressing the rest of the team. “Ricardo, Peter, Charlotte, and Leanne—thank you for bringing me this far. I'm so sorry the rest of the gang couldn't make it too. Just try to keep the Swords of Fortune alive and kicking, for their sakes.”

  The Book Wielder gave each one of the team a hug, and when it was Ricardo’s turn, he gave her ass a cheeky grab.

  “This is criminal, baby doll,” Ricardo sighed as he continued to squeeze her firm backside, trying to lighten the mood but his wavering voice giving him away. “You’re way too hot to die.”

  “Don't I know it,” Connie chuckled, putting on the best sexy pout she could manage.

  “This is crazy,” Genie muttered in disbelief, shaking her head as fresh tears fell from her eyes. “It’s just fucking crazy!”

  “Sometimes crazy can be good.” Constance grimaced, before continuing, “But I guess the rest of the time it’s just… bollocks. I am really so sorry it turned out like this, hun.”

  “You’re too heroic for your own good,” Genevieve told her, breathing deeply and trying to calm herself, before rushing over for one last kiss that she would memorise and savour to the end of her days. “I'll love you forever, and I'll never ever forget you—promise.”

  “You and your promises,” Constance sighed fondly, stroking the Vampire's blue hair. “Good bye, my love,” the Book Wielder said finally, before walking away from the girl she wished she could spend eternity with.

  Constance raised her book before the metal sphere and it levitated in front of her, before a hole that was just big enough for Connie to pass through appeared, blinding the group with the bright light shining from the higher being within. Thanks to her strangely tinted eyes, however, Constance could look upon the sphere of light without any trouble, and she headed inside. She waved as the entrance closed, but she wasn't sure if anyone could see her last gesture or not.

  Outside, Constance's book fell to the floor, and Stitches scooped it up quickly.

  “If her book is still here then it means she's still alive!” the Alternative announced merrily.

  “You’re right!” Genevieve said, feeling hopeful as she stood beside the Alt. “Maybe she’ll figure something out!”

  “Let’s all get comfy,” Peter said kindly, settling down on the floor. “We won’t leave ‘til she’s back.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  On the other side of the planet, airships, Justiciar fighters, and Alt dirigibles roared across the night sky, clashing with the Creator’s clockwork angels as the joint forces of Mydia continued their assault on the energy draining spires, which were surfacing at an alarming rate and continually increasing in size. The structures and armies of the planet’s maker were no match for the Alternatives’ chaotic illogical magic, however, and only the most bigoted humans could deny that the eerie puppet people were the only reason the surface wasn’t one giant null-zone.

  On the Continent of Desem, Lynette, Kavarne, and the Highway One Hellions escorted the Alternatives across the barren monster-littered lands, alongside the Desem Patriots and NDR militia. Closer to the centre of the curved continent, the technical might of the Pollutia Alts was unleashed to the fullest; tracked Spidertanks, bomb crews, long-range fire support from their fleet of unstable ironclads, and even the Foreman himself (who was having a whale of a time launching ear-shattering mortars and window-rattling cannons from the comfort of his colossal superstructure) rained hell down upon the Creator’s forces.

  On Rura, the proud members of the Legion of Imperia marched across the rural landscapes and aided the Alternatives wherever possible, while in Tropica the puppet citizens of Liberty Basin fanned across the picturesque beaches, thick jungles, and rainforests with their fellow Alts from across the nation to assist their beloved Queen's forces.

  Down in the Catacombs, the Trinity of Old gratefully escorted the Gloom-dwellers who had once been their enemies through the portal network to deal with any subterranean breaches (although Cherriesa was still reluctant to let them travel without a heavy guard armed with Sanctium rounds, regardless of how useful they were being).

  On Central Isle, the remaining Book Wielder and Justiciars backed up the Alternatives—most of whom were acting like they were on an action-packed holiday—and Alexander had his hands full with the maniacally merry Mayor and his cute yet creepy fiancée Arria. From the underground Justiciar headquarters, Chloe O'Kelly and General Stein ordered the movements of their forces across Mydia's three continents, as they swiftly reacted to calls for backup and help from provinces and outposts. Although the news of the world's predicament had been spread wisely and carefully, looting and rioting had increased as the Creator's efforts became more apparent and harder for the civilians to ignore, but Chloe and the General had their fingers on the pulse, quick to stamp out the trouble before it could escalate or run rampant.

  Across the world, the ground tremored, the waves were whipped into a violent frenzy, and columns of smoke and steam erupted from the mountain ranges, trickles of lava running down their sides as thick gold and bronze chimneys sprouted from their summits. Everyone collectively held their breath, and desperately hoped that the team investigating the ancient pillar could halt Mydia's end.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Constance Lee walked towards the burning ball of light that was the Creator's form, sensing that it was scared witless and painfully alone without its ability to commune with Fate.

  She opened her arms wide and radiated an essence of calm as she penetrated its mass, feeling no pain as every particle of her physical form was incinerated in an instant.

  The Creator's spirit flinched from her presence, fearing that she was there to destroy, alter, or replace it, but Constance reached out with her heart and soul and allowed the higher being to subsume her entirely.

  The Creator's immense mind was instantly repaired and it reached out into the vast expanse of universe, feeling Fate's divine will and the would-be consequences of its impulsive actions.

  The Creator retracted its surface devices and returned the lifeblood of the planet, the Deep Vein Oil, back to its original state, repairing the damage it had caused to the strange post-merger world and its unintended yet rightful inhabitants.

  Somewhere from deep within its mind, a thought stirred for those within and atop the access shaft, and they were teleported to safety as the pillar retracted below the waves of the endless ocean, back into Mydia's surface.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Winston, Veronica, Alice, Genevieve, and the others who had been at the ancient pillar, suddenly found themselves in the centre of the Conclave Amphitheatre, standing on the white sand alongside their two airships, the Aeria Gloris and the half-completed Mana D
u Vortes.

  Charlotte looked around in confusion. “Is this a good thing?”

  “We'll soon find out,” Peter said, holding his breath and half-expecting the apocalypse to unfold around them.

  Winston looked up at the night sky and saw the twin moons were sliding into their old orbit. “Look! It must be over...”

  “Constance did it!” Ricardo cheered, hugging Leanne and Charlotte whilst kissing and fondling them so much they had to throw the roguish adventurer on the floor to stop him.

  “Constance Lee and the pillar team just saved the world,” Winston ecstatically told the confused Justiciars and Book Wielders that had come to investigate. “Spread the word—Mydia has been saved!”

  “Where is she, though?” Veronica asked, looking around.

  “Are the others lost?” Alice asked softly, noticing that the group was significantly smaller than it should have been.

  Genevieve and Stitches sank to the floor as Constance’s book faded away before their eyes.

  “They're gone,” Stitches sobbed helplessly.

  “And so is Connie,” Genevieve stuttered, before collapsing into inconsolable tears.

  Veronica rushed over to Genie, gathering her up into her arms, but couldn't even begin to think of what to say to the heartbroken Nightclaw. Meanwhile, Winston comforted the grieving Alternative.

  “Whose book is that?” Winston asked, noticing that a large black tome with an elaborate bright green border was on the floor beside Stitches.

  “I- I don't know… sorry, Mr. Winston,” Stitches stammered.

  Winston picked it up off the sand and studied at the poor Alternative, peering past his enchanted glasses to find that Stitches’ shiny, round black eyes had become pure white.

  “It's yours,” Winston said with a bittersweet smile, handing the book over. “Looks like you’re the first Alt Book Wielder—and a white-eyed one, at that.”

  Stitches accepted the book, stroking its cover reverently. “How...?” He opened it up and looked at the first page, reading the burning green words that only he could see. “To the best friend anyone could ever wish for—Fate had big plans for you, Stitches, so I gave things a little nudge and sped up the process. It was the least I could do for you. Make me proud. Lots of love, Constance Lee.”

  “I know it's not much of a consolation, but I'm happy to officially welcome you to the Conclave,” Winston said, gently patting the Alt on his shoulder.

  Genevieve reached over and embraced Stitches, and there they sat, mourning their friend, until Winston and Veronica escorted them inside.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Constance Lee didn't know how long it had been since she'd merged with the Creator, as she found herself drifting in and out of conscious thought. Sometimes she was herself, and other times it felt as though she was the ancient being itself.

  Connie often found herself drifting though the god-like being’s amazing memory and database, walking on planets she'd never seen and conversing with people she’d never known, witnessing the beauty and majesty that the universe had to offer on every scale.

  She watched on in fascination as the true Daedrian Darkheart liberated the oppressed psychics on a planet called Earth, long before it was known as Grand Holy Terra, before growing so powerful (even by the Creator’s standards) that he permanently exiled himself to protect the familiar-looking inhabitants of the fragile green and blue world from his own limitless abilities.

  Constance then turned her attention outwards and decided to sail into the stars, hitching rides on giant clumsy vessels with ridiculously large and unstable engines, alongside excited explorers and colonists, before the spaceships became so advanced that the journeys became instantaneous. Then, the former Book Wielder decided to simply float amongst the cosmos for an age or two. Following her instincts as ever, she found herself slowly but surely drifting towards a solitary planet with two strange moons, orbiting a comfortably warm star. It was home. She inhabited the real-time sensors in the Creator’s hidden brethren, and watched on happily as the world below quickly recovered from the crisis she’d help to avert—and realised with a shock that she hadn’t been gone very long at all.

  Suddenly, Connie stopped looking down at Mydia from the perspective of the twin moons, and fell into one of her own memories; the time that she had wandered into Annabelle’s room. She remembered what Genevieve’s unfortunate ex had said to her, and mused upon her words: ‘remember who and what you are’. A thought sprung to mind, followed by the desire to be with her friends, family, and soul mate.

  Constance felt reconnected with her old life, and she reached out to the planet's surface, wondering if she could make a difference.

  She started small; sensing Fate's interest in her Alternative friend Stitches, she requested that he receive his book ahead of schedule. To her delight, Fate answered the call, and the magical tome appeared beside her sad friend. Constance put a message in the cover, and felt so sorry for her beloved Genevieve who was sitting beside him distraught. She began to wonder what else she could do.

  She thought of the expedition team members who had lost their lives, either through Till's treachery or the dangerous mechanical army of the original Conclave, and wondered if she'd be able to bring them back—minus the deceitful Werewolf murderer—with all the power at her disposal.

  She spread her spirit throughout the Creator and willed for them to be brought to life, envisioning each one: Quoronastra; Monica Valkeria; Az and his two sons, Kieran and Kyle; Sergeant Matthias and the Justiciar troopers, Licinia and Hector; and Joran and Olishia of the Tropican Military Forces. The energy expenditure was astronomical, but their souls were retrieved and given physical substance, and Connie sent them to the Stitches and Britches Bawdy House in Gloomingdale City, knowing that they would all be in dire need of a good drink (and probably an unhealthy dose of drugs) after their fatal experiences and strange revival.

  Constance found herself thinking back to her first ‘date' with Genevieve, which the meddling Veronica Reynolds had arranged on their behalf, and couldn’t help musing on something Genie had drunkenly mentioned.

  She knew she could only bring two more people back from the other side without draining the Creator's reserve energy to a dangerously low level and upsetting the balance of the universe too much, and as her current interference would already take decades for the higher being to recover from, she decided to leave it at that.

  One choice was a no-brainer, but Constance was still unsure about the other, and decided that it was best to ask.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Genevieve had left Central Isle in the morning, and Jonathan Knight and Chloe O’Kelly had taken her through the Catacombs to eastern Rura, consoling her every step of the way.

  Winston had promised to let Constance’s parents know the tragic news before Genie departed, so that she and Stitches could focus on coming to terms with their loss. Veronica had reminded Genevieve that she was only a radio call away, and that her blood magic could ease the pain if need be.

  She had sprinted directly west from the Catacomb entrance in the town of Taynulia all the way to Fort Dominia, obliterating any trees and foliage in her path like she was a force of nature. By the time Genevieve had arrived at the ancient Imperian fort, her clothes were torn and grubby, but her old friends—the slender Vampire Tanesha, and the Tropican Werewolf Varsara—had quickly tended to her as soon as the other members of the Shadow Circle on-site had reported that she was in a distressed state.

  After she was all cleaned up and changed, Genevieve had explained what had happened on her mission and assured the couple that she was thankful but needed to be alone. She’d made her way down to the lowest level of the old castle into the shrine of remembrance, which had once been the Golden Fangs’ vile torture dungeon; the very same place where Annabelle had met her cruel end after she’d been abducted for dealing drugs for the Shadow Circle. Lucius had done Genie a great kindness by renovating the despicable dungeon into a memorial (which featu
red an incredibly lifelike statue of Annabelle) for all those who had met a grizzly end at the hands of the knuckle-brained Seth Goldfang, and his pals Seth, Chaz, and the other elite members of the gang, along with the sadistic and conniving Gaius (who Genevieve was sure, upon reflexion, had assassinated Autocrat Edgar Aurelius I’s wife at the end of the Great War on behalf of the Trinity of Old).

  The twice-heartbroken Vampire Nightclaw had spent hours sobbing at the feet of Annabelle’s amazingly accurate statue, before she’d lit up a Dreamleaf joint and wondered if she could track down the sculptor Lucius had commissioned for Anna’s effigy so that she could get one done of Constance too.

  Eventually, Genevieve had made her way up to the top floor to her master bedroom (which she’d completely renovated, and had extensively cleaned by three different private cleaning companies, after acquiring it from Seth Goldfang), and had lounged around aimlessly on her expensive desk chair until Tanesha and Varsara had come to check on her again.

  “How you holding up, Genie-girl?” Tanesha had asked, sweeping her ridiculously long black hair over her tanned shoulders.

  “If there is anything we can do, let us know,” Varsara had purred gently.

  “Thanks. I could use a drink, or something stronger…” Genie said listlessly, hardly meeting their gazes.

  Tanesha produced a full bottle of Artravenia from behind her back and placed it gently on Genie’s spotless desk. “One step ahead of you, beauty-boss.”

  “Legend,” Genevieve sighed, noticing for the first time that the two women looked dressed up for a night out.

  The dark-skinned Werewolf Swiftpaw, Varsara, was wearing a jaw-dropping white lace dress and a pair of high heels to match, her wild hair painstakingly braided and arranged in a fancy bun, while the lithe-bodied Tanesha was in a tight, strapless black dress that did little to hide her amazing legs, or her small firm breasts and protruding nipples.

  “If you two have plans, don’t let me keep you,” Genevieve assured them, putting on her best fake smile. “The best intoxicant an Alchemist can cook up and I have some catching up to do,” she added, giving the bottle of Artravenia a big kiss.