by Ian Rodgers
Archons are not to be confused with Angels, though. Where Angels are the souls of mortals blessed by the gods to act as defenders of the Heavenly Realms, Archon are creatures forged from pure Light and Order, born from Luminoth and other realms of purity like how demons are birthed from the Abyss itself. Archons also rarely have recognizable forms, preferring to take on bizarre, exotic, and mysterious shapes.
The group that came out to greet Dora and me certainly fit that description. The weaker, D-rank Archons resembled cubes of white light, outwardly. However, each one had tiny details that differentiated them. Some had feathery, fractal patterns blooming within them, others possessed scaly patterns. Some had various geometric shapes in different colors glowing on their sides.
The leader of the Archons was a bright yellow cylinder with green runes all over the surface. However, as it approached, the cylinder ‘unraveled,’ as if it’d been some sort of papery shell. Inside was a vaguely humanoid entity made up of dozens of three-dimensional geometric shapes. The rest of the cylinder unfolded like Qwanese origami into delicate wing-like forms on the Archon’s back.
I swallowed nervously, and Dora tensed up on my back. The power radiating off of this entity was easily S-rank. I could feel the Archon scanning me and my passenger, his magic touching us with a feeling akin to water pouring over our bodies.
“We are honored to be greeted by an Archon of your strength and illumination,” I said politely as I could. “But we’re also confused by it.”
{You are Chosen Ones, are you not? It is only fitting we greet you,} the Archon replied. It was strange, as we didn’t ‘hear’ him speak, nor was it a form of telepathic communication. It was as if we knew what he had said before he was going to say it. Very disconcerting.
“At least it’s better than communicating with dreams and surreal imagery,” I heard Dora mutter. I don’t think she meant for anyone to hear her, though. Unfortunately for her, the Archon and I did manage to pick up on her words.
{It is easier to do our jobs as Protectors if those we protect can understand us,} the lordly Archon replied. Dora immediately turned red in embarrassment and looked down. {Do not be ashamed. It is not the first time we have unsettled guests to Luminoth due to the way of our speech.}
“Do you mind me asking how you’re able to tell the two of us are Chosen Ones? I mean, I only assumed Dora was one because her energy felt similar to mine,” I asked, and at that, Dora perked up.
“Yeah, it seems like all sorts of entities in the Aether can just look at me and instantly know I’m some sort of supposed hero,” the half-orc complained. “Really rude at times. Plus, it makes it hard to go around unnoticed.”
{All Chosen Ones have an aura about them that is simultaneously unique, as well as unmistakable for being that of a Chosen One,} the Archon said. He then gestured towards one of the cuboid Archons, who floated over in front of Dora’s face. {Take a look.}
“Okay, so, I’m supposed to peer through him like a window, or something…” the Healer murmured, leaning forward. She then jerked back, rubbing her eyes. “OW! Son of a sword! That’s really bright! Warn a girl next time or something!”
“Hey, I don’t mean to be a downer, but I can’t exactly look through your friend like she can,” I pointed out, using one of my ‘hooves’ to gesture towards my ‘head,’ which lacked eyes. “I can emulate the process humans use to see things, but it doesn’t translate well to using eyeglasses, spyglasses, or really anything that needs looking through.”
{Simply touch &!^@& and you will be able to see what he sees,} the larger Archon informed me.
“Okay, I’ll do that, but I don’t think I caught his name…”
{It is too complex to be understood or directly translated by the language you utilize. If you must call him something, refer to him as ‘Watcher-Who-Peers-Beyond.}
I bobbed my ‘head’ and generated a tendril that reached out and gently pressed against the cuboid Archon’s side.
‘The surface feels like glass,’ I mused, before I was suddenly seeing things through a different lens. It was similar to how I’d seen things using my echo-location: various shades of grey with alternating levels of black and white depending on the amount of magic in the area.
However, looking at Dora I was able to see three distinct things that hadn’t been there when I’d looked at her through my own senses. First off was a nearly blinding aura of white light. It was her Light magic, I realized after a second!
Second off was a thin layer of energy that was just above the first aura. It was silver, and it twisted about like the roots of a plant within her original aura, before dipping inwards and forming a silvery lily flower in the exact center of her body. The astral bloom added a halo of flower petals around Dora’s head, which then producing rays of cosmic light, generating tiny stars and galaxies that danced around her halo.
The third thing I saw were a number of odd black stains on Dora’s hands, as well as some of this inky blackness clinging to a few of the petals on her inner lily. Lastly, a black chain wrapped around her neck, threatening to drag her away…
Before I could try and get a closer look at the chains, I felt my senses darken, and then a tugging sensation dragged me out of the Archon’s vision.
Without a need to breathe like humans did, I didn’t really need to gasp, but I felt it was thematically appropriate for the situation, so I let out a loud exclamation as I returned to my original senses.
“That was… an experience,” I muttered, still trying to wrap my mind around what I had seen. “Was the, uh, ‘cosmic energy’ the sign that she and I are Chosen Ones?”
{Yes,} the Archon commander replied shortly.
“Alright, then what about the silver flower? Representative of Lady Nia?”
{Again, you are correct in your assumption.}
“Then, what was that black stuff I saw in her?”
“Wait, what?” Dora asked, turning her head to glare at both the Archon and the back of my ‘head.’ “What’s this about black stuff inside of me?”
{Sins are an ever-present aspect of life,} the Archon retorted. {It is a rare mortal that does not carry any.}
“I didn’t see anything like that inside Jellik! I mean, there was this weird flower halo surrounded by celestial stuff but I didn’t see any ‘blackness!’”
“Well, I’m technically only five years old. I haven’t really had much chance to get into much trouble,” I replied. Dora just stared at me, slowly mouthing the word ‘five?’ over and over.
“So, uh, two questions, Mr. Archon. The first is if you know of any way to suppress this, uh, auric signature,” I inquired. The multi-polygonal being made a vague approximation of a shrug.
{Such is not a topic I know much of, I’m afraid,} the Archon apologized. {It might be possible to enlist the aid of an experience mortal, however.}
“Alright, I guess that leads into the second question: Do you know how to get to the Hospice?”
{Ah, that I can help you with, Chosen One,} the Archon commander said, bowing slightly, before pointing one of its appendages out towards the distance. {You are not far. Simply continue onwards. Go past the Tower of Light and the Mirror Field, and you will find what you seek.}
“Thank you, mighty and noble Archon,” I said politely, bobbing my ‘head’ in gratitude. Dora gave a nod as well, though she still had a dazed expression on her face. The cuboid Archon floated back to his entourage of fellow Archons, which returned to their garrison, leaving the two of us alone in the sky.
“So… past the Tower of Light and the Field of Mirrors, huh? That shouldn’t be too hard!” I said, trying to inject a jovial note into the awkward mood. I really wanted to ask Dora about what I’d seen. But even I knew that it was rude to ask someone about what was likely a painful past.
So, I simply continued to fly through the sky in the direction the Archon had pointed, and I held in my desire to ask about the black that had stained her hands, and the chains around her throat.
> ~(o)~
In a plane of reality devoid of light, a seemingly ordinary two-story house sat atop a similarly sized sphere of black marble. It had a wooden porch that had been painted an off-white. The house itself was built out of unpainted red bricks. The front door was painted the same white as the porch, and a simple lantern hung to its right, illuminating the bronze mail slot in the door. The only windows on the building were those on the second floor, and they’d been covered by drapes of varying color and design, the interior effectively hidden from prying eyes.
All in all, the structure looked like mass-produced dwellings a Planeswalker would see as part of a suburban environment on worlds that lacked magic. The sheer normalcy of the building was enough to cause passersby to stop and stare, especially considering it was just floating there in the dark. Most travelers eventually moved on and ignored it after the novelty wore off, due to the stink of the Void clinging to the building.
Today, however, any entities near the area fled as soon as they caught sight of the house, for shrieks of fury could be heard from the upper floor, while pained screaming and pleading emanated from the first floor.
“Please, forgive us, brother!” A hand-shaped monstrosity and a morbidly obese humanoid covered in bone spikes threw themselves at the mercy and feet of a second humanoid figure inside the house.
This entity was different compared to the others. Despite being smaller than the two abased before him, he possessed a domineering attitude. He was thin and frail looking, not an ounce of fat or muscle anywhere, giving him a skeletal appearance. Yet despite that, his pale skin was smooth and flawless, like polished marble, and he radiated an aura of perfection that made his weak looks appear more appealing than they truly were. His shoulder length silky white hair only added to his phantasmal beauty.
And then, there were his eyes: two were elegant and deep pools of bronze. Yet, a third grew on his forehead, and it was purple with a golden pupil. And then, orbiting his head like a halo were dozens of disembodied eyes from numerous species: Goat eyes, cat eyes, eyes of a human, and eyes from a dragon. And all of them looked down with utter disdain at the ones begging for forgiveness.
“Not only did you two fail utterly in capturing a Chosen One, but you caused a great amount of strife and discord in the Abyss. Not even The Vivid was able to calm down the Queen Swathed in Vermillion after what you did!” the perfectly inhuman man snarled. “Then, you go gallivanting across the Aether with no concern for hiding your presence, leading to countless reports of you popping up all over reality! The Archons and Angels were preparing to mobilize! The only reason they didn’t is because of that Reality Scream that nearly destabilized the entire Aether!”
“But, Enom, we…” the hand-shaped entity began, but was silenced by a bolt of purplish lightning that shot from one of the orbiting eyes. It struck him and caused the entity to writhe in pain for a few seconds.
“Silence, Selquist! You and Bolgoros have done enough damage so far,” Enom, Memory and Last Thought of Typhon, hissed furiously. “Quit trying to squirm out of your punishment with weak excuses!”
“What about Philia?” Bolgoros, Flesh and Last Meal of Typhon, demanded petulantly. As he did so, a loud feminine screech, accompanied by the sound of shattering, rang out from upstairs. “Is she also being punished?”
Enom placed a hand over her face, silently cursing his emotional older sister. “Philia is not in trouble, she’s just venting her anger by trashing her room. But that doesn’t matter, because she didn’t screw up a mission as badly as you two!”
“Well, why is she so… upset?” Selquist asked. His digits wiggled unconsciously, and the eye mounted on his index-finger looking up at the ceiling. With his facial and sensory organs attached to his fingers, and his body a vaguely hand shaped lump, they resembled eyestalks on a slug more than anything else.
“Oh, she was on a romantic outing, and her date got snatched away by a random vortex caused by the Reality Scream,” Enom said with a casual, uncaring shrug. “She’ll get over it as soon as she finds a new plaything.”
“That damned trans-dimensional screech really made a mess for us,” Selquist, Hand and Last Action of Typhon, noted. “How did it happen?”
“A Reality Scream is a chorus of countless gods and divine entities crying out in rage and sorrow at the loss of a powerful champion. The distortions caused by the event are still quite severe in some places of the Aether, making it hard to pinpoint who exactly died that made so many powerful entities enraged. We’ll figure it out in time, though,” Enom revealed. The figure with the multitude of eyes then shook his head. “Now, back to the matter of your punishment…”
Before he could dispense the discipline, the door to the house was kicked open, and the fifth and final member of their dysfunctional family of horrors stepped inside.
“The most amazing older brother in existence has returned! No need to applaud,” Rath announced as he stepped inside. He kicked the door closed and strode in, pausing as he observed the kneeling forms of two of his younger siblings. The Last Breath of Typhon looked over to the Last Thought of Typhon, head cocked to one side, silently demanding an explanation.
“They had a Chosen One in their clutches several times, yet ultimately lost her,” Enom explained with a slight growl. “Worse, these two morons alerted every Archon and Void hating entity in half the Aether by chasing the Chosen One across several different planes of existence.”
“Idiots,” Rath grunted in disappointment. Any hope their eldest sibling would step in to help them shriveled and died with that one word, and Selquist and Bolgoros cowered some more.
“What’s up with Philia, then?” the embodiment of their deceased father’s wrath and hatred inquired, glancing at the ceiling where the rants of the sole sister of the family could be heard.
“Her date got eaten by the Reality Scream,” Bolgoros helpfully explained, before a bolt of purple lightning from Enom sent him cowering again.
“Oh, jeez. What’s this, like, the four hundred and fifth failed attempt at romance this millennium alone?” Rath muttered with a shake of his head. “Maybe I should introduce her to someone else. I met this nice guy in the Elemental Plane of Wind earlier who hates birds as much as I do. He might work as a distraction…”
“Don’t bother, she’ll get over it on her own time,” Enom replied. “We have more important matters to attend to: Namely that we now have all three Chosen Ones hiding somewhere in the Aether, according to the Hierophant of the World Rebellion. This is our best shot at catching them!”
“So, they’ve finally left… what was their home world called? Earfort?” Rath asked, scratching his head. Enom shook his head at his eldest brother’s lackadaisical attitude. For an embodiment of primal fury, he was quite laid back.
“Erafore, actually. And yes, they have. We can’t let them escape this time! We likely won’t have a better chance at capturing them! So, no more failures! No more mistakes! We’re doing this as a family, and we’re doing it right.”
Another incoherent scream of feminine fury rattled the building, causing the male siblings to all wince.
“…Just as soon as Philia calms down,” Enom rectified.
Chapter 3: The light that helps
Luminoth! The Elemental Plane of Light! Legends speak of this realm as the site where the concept of ‘light’ was first born. Here, the Archon were originally birthed, tools to ensure the Unity and Order of the nascent Multiverse was maintained. In this place, deities and spirits of Good gathered and held council on matters that affected the Aether in its entirety. From what Tara and Rosa have told me, the entire plane was a bastion against the malevolent forces of the devils and demons, a symbol of righteousness!
And it was boring! So utterly, painfully, bland and boring!
‘Oh look, another golden disc. Whoopie,’ I snarked to myself in my head. ‘And what’s this, more emptiness surrounded by pure white light that goes on and on forever? Wow. I must’ve seen this scenery for hou
rs now. I can barely contain my excitement.’
Flying through a vast and mostly empty expanse was a mind-numbingly dull exercise. The only landmarks we’d seen so far were countless golden discs, and even those became boring quickly. Sure, some had different patterns, and a couple even supported life, but oversized golden coins were just that.
“Any guesses as to what the Tower of Light will be like?” I asked my passenger, desperate for some conversation.
Dora had been silent ever since we’d departed from the Archons. She kept staring at her hands. Well, glaring, actually. And that was it. She didn’t seem to be aware of anything in her surroundings.
“Huh?” she snapped, looking up from her introspection.
“The Tower of Light. Any ideas of what it might look like?” I repeated.
“Given how bland and uninspired the rest of the Plane of Light is, I imagine it’s just a giant lighthouse. For what purpose, I don’t know. But that’s my guess,” she said, glancing about the plane with disinterest.
“I can’t really argue with that,” I said with a sigh. “Yeah, odds are the place will be exactly like you said.”
She hummed, still examining the area. “How long have we been flying?” she asked after a bit.
“According to my internal clock, about seven hours,” I replied.
“You feeling hungry or anything?” she inquired. “I’m not, which is weird, considering we’ve been flying for what feels like an entire day.”
“Not particularly. I feed off of magical energy and ambient mana for the most part. The Aether is so full of both I rarely experience hunger anymore,” I said. She winced sympathetically, and I felt a twang of pity emerge from her.
“I guess that makes sense. Suppose you can’t taste anything, either.”