by Will Wight
First, the soulfire transformation left him looking healthier than ever. His skin was clearer, his chin more defined, and he seemed to stand straighter. He looked like he had aged five years, but in the best possible way. He looked less like a sect leader’s evil son, and more like…well, a sect leader.
He and Mercy took in her situation, looking from Yerin to Meira, and only then did Yerin realize there was no Remnant. The shining green tree was still there.
Beneath the sheet of blood, Meira was healing.
Lindon approached Yerin slowly, keeping an eye on Meira, but his expression was concerned. “How do you feel?”
Yerin’s vision doubled again, and she sagged in place, the aura slicing into her.
Lindon couldn’t open his Copper sight in here, but his spiritual perception should have been honed as a Lord. He grasped the problem quickly.
An instant later, a colorless light passed from him as he called on his remaining soulfire. The pressure of the sword aura around Yerin retreated, and she drooped forward, almost stumbling.
He caught her.
She didn’t have the strength to stand, melting into him, but she tried to make a joke. “Usually it’s you collapsing and me picking you up.”
Her spirit shivered as he scanned her, and he stiffened. “Mercy, get me some treasures. Right now. Yerin, are you…ready?”
His voice trembled with fear, and Yerin forced herself to stand up straight. “I’ll show you what ready looks like.”
Mercy was already darting from display to display, pulling random objects from each. Yerin was having trouble focusing on her, and everything had started to turn gray around her.
Lindon gently lowered her to the ground, eyes concerned. Underlord really did suit him; now he didn’t look so much like he was trying to glare a hole through her.
Dross appeared over his shoulder, one big eye taking up most of his purple body. His voice slid into her mind, guiding her through the unity of aura, but she had already drifted off.
She didn’t need any more instruction. She could feel it.
Her spiritual sense spread out as easily as spilled water, and her connection to the world solidified.
“I train in the sacred arts,” she whispered, “because…”
She hesitated, the reality of the situation slapping her in the face. Why had she said this out loud? You were supposed to, but there wasn’t supposed to be anyone around to hear. But now stopping would be more embarrassing.
And besides, she was dying.
She blurted the rest out in a jumbled rush. “…because I don’t like people around me dying, and it hurts, and I’m afraid I’ll have to feel that again, so I try to get stronger so I won’t have to. And that’s all.”
Yerin squeezed her eyes shut harder, hoping that it would work and she wouldn’t have to repeat herself.
The aura froze, as though unsure, and after a long second, her soulfire responded.
With a surge of relief, she felt the advancement take over.
~~~
Yerin rose to her feet, washed in soulfire, and Lindon stared at her. Just stared.
She had been remade.
Her Goldsigns now looked absolutely real, as though actual steel blades grew on metal arms from her shoulders. Her green armor was pitted and cracked, but her scars had been wiped away, leaving her skin clean.
It was in the little touches that she had really changed. That, or the loss of her scars had changed her appearance more than he'd thought. Her eyes seemed deeper, looking from within the veil of her hair, and she looked more mature. She hadn't grown any—her head still only reached up to about his shoulders—but that made him feel too tall.
More than anything, she was alive. Her lifeline, which only a moment ago had been a breath away from fading out, now shone as healthy as a young sapling.
The relief was so strong it shook him physically. His fingers trembled, and he leaned back against the wall. How many seconds had he been from losing her?
Mercy danced up to Yerin, glancing her up and down. Then Mercy threw her arms around Yerin’s neck and wept into her shoulder.
“I’m glad…” Mercy sobbed. “I’m really glad…”
The stress and exhaustion must have gotten to Lindon, because the world started looking misty all of a sudden. Even Yerin’s eyes watered, and she wrapped her own arms around Mercy in return.
A moment later, Yerin had evidently had enough, dabbing at her eyes as she pushed Mercy away. She had to brush strands of her hair aside. Yerin’s hair had grown some, as his and Mercy's had. Now it hung down into her eyes, extending past her shoulders.
She saw him looking and blew the hair out of her eyes. “Yeah, it's longer than I like to work with.” A brief whisper of power, and the hair in her face was sliced away. Her attention moved to the back.
“I think it looks nice,” Mercy said cheerily.
“So do I,” Lindon added.
The movement of Yerin's spirit stopped. “Nothing like trying out a change,” she said. “Might like it how it is.”
Dross spun out onto Lindon's shoulder, squinting his eye at Mercy. [Who are you? I’m warning you: I have a large sacred artist attached to me. He fights.]
Mercy looked startled. “Are you okay, Dross? It’s me.”
Lindon had assumed all along that Mercy's advancement had been temporary. She could make herself a Truegold for a while, why not an Underlady? But as he scanned her spirit, he found that the transformation was stable.
“You really advanced,” he said, astonished. “How?”
She shifted in place, rolling Suu between her hands, looking at the tips of her shoes. “I was, uh...always a Truegold. I left home because I didn't want to be a Lady.”
Yerin's eyes narrowed. “If that was a veil, I'm a leaping fish. You took an Underlady's fire to the face.”
Mercy's hand shot to her cheek before she pushed it down. It looked like an involuntary reaction. “Not my veil. My mother's.”
Together, Lindon and Yerin nodded as though that explained everything.
It almost did. She had left home, but her mother had sealed her power in exchange.
“I would like to hear the full story later, if you're willing,” Lindon said. “But first...”
He looked down to the regenerating Underlady at his feet. She was unconscious, but her technique was still going, leaving her healed. And naked. And caked in blood from a thousand cuts, so there wasn't much to see, but he still looked away.
Mercy had raised her gaze to the ceiling, where she pointed to the silver-and-purple owl. “Aunt Charity,” she said, “we've won.”
The owl didn't move, but Akura Charity stepped around a corner as though she'd been waiting for that exact moment to appear.
Though it was Lindon’s first time seeing her, something about her face struck him as familiar. As though he’d glanced her before. Maybe that was just her resemblance to Mercy.
She appeared much younger than he had expected—roughly his age—but she carried an intangible sense of wisdom along with her. Her silken black robes were adorned with softly glowing lines of violet that looked like script, and while he didn’t know the significance of the clothes, they must be expensive.
“They have won,” the Sage said. “You've lost.”
Lindon looked to the squirming black cocoon that his spiritual sense told him contained Seishen Daji. He couldn't imagine that counted as a loss, but Mercy didn't disagree.
She also didn't look happy.
“You promised me a favor, Aunt Charity,” she said. She sounded hurt.
“I will add a gift of my own to the Blackflame Empire in compensation,” the Sage said serenely. “I will also allow each of you to take all that you can carry from this place.”
Lindon's void key zipped open.
Everyone looked at him.
“Apologies,” he said, cutting off the flow of madra. “Forgiveness, please.”
He wondered if 'from this place' included looting the
Seishen Underlords. What about Kiro's Remnant? That was morbid, and for a moment his thoughts sobered.
[Yes, terrible thought, but what did happen to that Remnant?] Dross asked.
“You warned the Seishen Kingdom,” Mercy accused her, and Yerin's gaze sharpened. “You put us all in danger.” Lindon had assumed as much, but what was he going to say to a Sage?
“Everything was under my control,” Charity said, but that didn't comfort Lindon. He would bet his own Remnant that she would have watched him die as easily as she had watched Kiro. Mercy might have been safe, but he doubted that protection extended outside her family.
Seeing that Mercy didn't seem appeased, the Sage added, “And everything worked out perfectly well for you, in the end. I don't see any reason for you to be upset.”
Mercy glared, but her aunt swept a hand over the vault. “Ten minutes,” she said. “Then we leave. I must announce the results.”
[Go to the dream one!] Dross said. [The dream one, the dream one!]
Lindon did, but he had to trust Dross to protect his mind from illusions.
Ten minutes later, Lindon had filled his void key, and all his pockets, and every line and fold in his clothes. His robes bulged like a chipmunk's cheeks. The fire treasure he had stuffed in his sock was starting to smolder.
He had picked up the broken pieces of armor from what remained of Kiro's body, stuffing them into the bottom of his void key. He had even managed to take the helmet, greaves, and one gauntlet from a struggling Daji, who promised bloody revenge.
The armor of the Seishen Kingdom was far more advanced than his Skysworn armor. He could learn something.
Yerin filled her pockets and carried an armful of treasures out, but she still stared resentfully at the copper key around his neck and muttered about how it wasn't fair. Even though he told her he would share.
Mercy didn't take anything. She chatted as Yerin and Lindon bustled around, stealing everything they could. Lindon guessed this didn’t matter to her; it was one vault of the many her family owned.
Outside, a black carriage waited on the ground, pulled by six Remnant horses whose hooves flashed with violet fire.
The doors swung open, and Charity gestured for them to wait as they approached. Lindon stopped too abruptly, and a silver bell fell from a pouch strapped to his armor. Each chime, as it tumbled, sent wind aura rippling.
A pair of silver-and-purple owls flew out of the ruins, each carrying a body. Daji was still wrapped in black strings, and thankfully now Meira was too. They each bobbed along peacefully in the grip of an owl, their eyes blank. The Sage had calmed them with a touch and a pulse of shadow and dreams.
[Now, I'm not suggesting this is a good idea,] Dross began, [but do you think you could take a little sip of her madra for me? I promise I won't be mad if you cycle it to me.]
You want us both to die?
[I want to be able to do that to their minds! Look at that! They're completely senseless! Imagine if I could do that to someone, bam, just knock them out like that.]
Lindon gave it more thought than he should have.
The Seishen Underlords were bundled into the carriage with them, which made for an uncomfortable hour-long ride. Lindon, Yerin, and Mercy sat on one side, staring into the empty eyes of Daji and Meira. Which left Lindon with the knowledge of what he'd done to Daji's brother.
He didn't quite regret it. He hadn't had much choice, and he had tried to stop the battle before it started.
But he was...sad for the necessity.
Finally, the carriage descended, coming to a rough landing before it slid to a halt. Lindon pushed the door open to see the massive pillar of shadow that was the portal. Hopefully, the one back to the Blackflame Empire.
The Emperor's cloudship was frozen almost touching the darkness, trapped in a purple haze. The Seishen King stood on his tiny cloudship, sword and shield hanging limply at his side.
Behind him, among the forest—and some in the air, either under their own power or on Thousand-Mile Clouds of their own—were his remaining twenty-five Underlords.
Charity had ridden outside the carriage in the driver's seat, and now she dismounted, flicking her wrist. The purple haze dissolved, and Lindon sensed the subtle power binding all of those Lords and Ladies dissipate.
Most of them sagged in relief, and none continued the battle.
Charity spoke, and this time her voice rang in all their minds like Dross'. “This battle has concluded, and entry to the Night Wheel Valley will soon be closed to you. I have chosen the three young Underlords who will represent the western vassals of the Akura family. They are all three from the Blackflame Empire.”
A sudden cheer rose up from the Emperor's ship, and an equally loud exclamation from the Seishen Kingdom. Especially from King Dakata, who looked ready to explode.
But none of that could drown out the Sage's voice in their minds.
“I therefore award the Blackflame Empire three hundred million high-grade scales,” she said. “In addition, to ease reparations caused by this competition, I will gift the Emperor with an Archlord defensive construct from my own collection.”
Even the cheers went deathly silent as everyone processed this news.
“As for the Seishen Kingdom...it seems you have trained your Truegolds well in this short time, to have raised so many new Underlords. I hope that the benefits you have reaped from the Night Wheel Valley will serve you well.”
Nothing. They would get nothing.
Only Lindon's confidence in Charity's power made him feel safe against the glare of the Overlord King.
King Dakata's spiritual sense swept roughly over the carriage, and his eyes went wild. “My son! What have you done with my son?”
“Of course,” Charity said. Owls swooped into the carriage and then emerged, carrying Daji and Meira. “I have subdued them for their own safety. They will wake unharmed in the morning.”
“What about—” the King began, but a void key the size of a barn opened next to him.
Inside it was complete darkness. Lindon wondered if that was a characteristic of Akura void keys or if it was a protective measure to keep people seeing what you had inside.
Slowly, an ornate table slid out of the darkness, floating on a purple Thousand-Mile Cloud. The table bore an ornate, lacquered jar, with a few characters painted on. It was too far away for Lindon to read, but he suspected it read “Seishen Kiro.”
Not a jar, then. An urn.
“I made the urn by hand and painted it myself,” Charity said. “That is the little solace I can offer you. That, and the knowledge that he died fighting honorably.”
Trembling hands reached out for the urn.
“Who?” he asked. “Who did this?”
Charity faced him calmly, hands folded. “He walked onto the battlefield as a Lord, and he was prepared to die a Lord.”
“WHO DID THIS?” he screamed, red in the face. Lindon thought he would crush the urn, but he contained his strength.
Lindon concentrated on not taking a step back.
Charity's voice was cool as water. “Your grief is understandable, Your Highness, but your disrespect is unwise. You will have your answer in the morning, when your remaining son and your...servant...awaken.”
King Dakata did not respond, but he didn't keep screaming, either. His gaze moved between Lindon and Yerin. He didn't seem to include Mercy.
Whenever those eyes landed on Lindon, his spirit boiled up in preparation for a fight.
[That is not a fight we want,] Dross assured him. [Although, maybe with some of that Sage's madra...how about a little taste, hm? Just a taste.]
After having stared at them for too long, while the owls deposited Daji and Meira onto the Seishen cloudship, the King finally turned his ship around and began flying away. Individually and in small groups, his Lords and Ladies followed him.
“Like a pack of whipped dogs,” Yerin muttered.
[Well,] Dross said, [they did lose. So it's only appropriate the
y look like losers.]
Charity's voice slipped into their minds again. “People of the Blackflame Empire, congratulations. I will deliver your winnings and announce my selections for the team in person, and I look forward to your team doing my family proud in the Uncrowned King tournament.”
The people aboard the cloudship let out another loud cheer. Yerin and Lindon looked to each other, and then to Charity. Were they supposed to leave? It seemed so; the Sage hadn't stopped them.
They began to walk toward the cloudship, which slowly lowered to pick them up.
“Do you think we're on the team?” Lindon asked.
“Can't see what else might have changed her mind,” Yerin said. “She decided on the team tonight, so that leaves the three of us. Probably won't be all...”
She stopped as she realized at the same time Lindon did.
Mercy wasn't following them.
They turned back to see Mercy. She had removed her Skysworn armor, wearing only simple black-and-white robes. She leaned with one hand on Suu, waving the other. They walked over to her, but she hurried to meet them.
“This is what comes with getting my power back,” she said wistfully. “I'm working for the family again. I have to go home.”
Yerin grabbed her by the shoulders, but she didn't seem to know what to say.
Mercy gave a sad smile. “I'll see you at the tournament,” she said. “Even if we will be on different teams.”
Yerin threw her arms around Mercy, and Mercy's eyes welled up with tears. She patted Yerin on the back, avoiding the sword-arms, and met Lindon's eyes.
Lindon wasn't sure what to do. He wasn't even sure what he was feeling, other than tired—too much had changed in too little time.
But he pressed his fists together, one white and one of flesh and blood, and bowed deeply to her.
She nodded back to him. Then a second later her face started turning purple.
She tapped Yerin with one black-gloved hand. Then again, with increasing urgency. “Yerin,” she wheezed. “Yerin, I need...”
Yerin released her, and Mercy doubled over, heaving a breath.
Wiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand, Yerin walked stiffly back to Lindon. “See you at the tournament,” Yerin called back.