Fallen Ambitions

by Vann, Eric J.

  Congratulations, the Fallen has reached level 2.

  New faction appointment is now available: Foreign Minister.

  As Faction Leader, you may now issue a faction guild charter.

  Congratulations, the Fallen has reached level 3.

  The Fallen has grown powerful enough to choose their own Divinity. Unlike other faction officers, once chosen, the Faction Leader will not have the ability to dismiss a Divinity. Under certain circumstances a Divinity may have a higher authority than the Faction Leader. Choose wisely.

  Aziel stared at the notification, an eyebrow slowly inching upward. He quickly focused on his faction mark and brought up his faction ratings.

  * * *

  The Fallen

  Faction Level: 3

  * * *

  Military: 4

  Civil: 1

  Economy: 32

  * * *

  It was as he thought: the entire Crimson Grove only accounted for an increase of three military ranks, and yet the assets in Soul’s Rest alone had increased his economic rating by thirty-one. Why? And what did this actually mean?

  “Level three in one leap,” Melody murmured, her eyes still distant as she read through the notifications.

  “Do you know what these ratings and faction level represent?” Aziel asked.

  “Each rating is a tier which compares your faction to all the others in Kadora,” a male voice replied, and Aziel turned to see Duren enter the study. Aziel had been so engrossed by the influx of notifications he hadn’t notice the man approach. “At one, you are amongst the weakest, and at fifty, the strongest.”

  Aziel gestured to a nearby chair with his hand. Duren bowed before taking a seat.

  “How do you know this?” Aziel asked.

  “I used to be a part of the Geskian Theocracy, and served as deputy Interior Minister,” Duren replied. “Your faction level can reach a maximum of ten and is based on the ratings, but is not as fluid as they are. Once a faction gains a level, it does not lose it even if its ratings falter—though you may still lose access to certain officer positions and charters if you drop too low.” Duren smiled. “So, level three. Will you be appointing yourself as Divinity?”

  “You were a deputy in the Theocracy?” Melody asked, fascinated, before Aziel could answer.

  Duren nodded. “I was.”

  “Why leave?” she asked.

  “Because I felt the world needed correcting, and I think Lord Aziel is the person best positioned to do so.”

  “Oh?” Aziel said, suddenly interested in this man himself. “What led you to that conclusion?”

  Duren grinned then pulled an old book from his robe. “This did,” he said as he placed it facedown on the table and slid it toward Aziel.

  Aziel picked up the book. The cover was in tatters and the pages browned. He gently opened the cover, feeling Melody inch closer to him as he did. Then he saw the name written at the top of the page: Fabian Da Caelian.

  “That’s the last Caelian Emperor,” Melody said, her eyes wide.

  “This is his diary,” Aziel said as he looked up at Duren.

  “Indeed, it is. Only a small portion of it was made available to others to see. I, however, have read it all. From his writings, I was able to piece together a few things.”

  Aziel closed the book. “Such as?”

  Duren leaned forward. “The Emperor was hearing a voice: a female voice which told him of the world as it is, not as it appears. Although most Faction Leaders and their officers suspect the Seed is more than just a natural force, it is just that: a suspicion. This voice told the Emperor of the true nature of the World Seed and the being of great power who will free us from its grasp. He called this being Sovereign.” Duren’s gaze met Aziel’s.

  Aziel sighed heavily and shook his head. “I hate to disappoint you, Duren, but there is no Sovereign.” But who was the female voice? he wondered.

  The former priest shrugged. “I am no fool, Lord Aziel. I know you are not what you seem. The Emperor wrote of this place, Rolani Palace, but he also called it the Sovereign’s Temple, the place where this Sovereign would one day emerge. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “What the last Caelian Emperor said means nothing to me, Duren,” Aziel said flatly, frustration boiling over as he slid the diary back across the desk.

  Duren caught it before it slid off the edge.

  “Let me be clear,” Aziel continued as he stood abruptly. “I care not for voices of old, from high in the skies, or deep within the ground. I am who I decide to be. If you wish to be a part of this faction, you will accept this now and never bring it up in my presence unless asked for, do you understand?”

  Duren hesitated, then bowed his head. “As you wish, Lord Aziel.”

  “Good,” Aziel said, then swept out of his study.

  * * *

  Aziel found himself alone, staring at the few stars which were showing from behind the thick clouds above. After leaving Soul’s Rest, he had climbed the scaffolding to the highest point of the mountain and settled on a wide outcropping of rock.

  He closed his eyes briefly as a gentle, but cold breeze washed over him. Even now, he could feel the frustration eating away at him. Frustration at the world’s constant reminders of who he was supposed to be, instead of what he wanted to be.

  Raising his open palm, Aziel let a trail of soul mana leak from his fingers and drift into the wind. If only he had not been born with this power which had marked him as Sovereign. And even if he did not take up the mantle, the Sovereign’s enemies would still come after him and those he loved, simply because his existence threatened them.

  Aziel made a fist, mana still leaking out between his fingers. What was he doing? Simply fighting the inevitable? He gazed down at the dark silhouette of his city-to-be and the Conclave at its center. The Nexus had told him to build his strength, but that was so he would have the power to become its Sovereign. Was building this faction simply a means to that end?

  He glanced up as something blocked the moonlight momentarily, but he couldn’t sense any vessels close by.

  His thoughts drifted to Vhal… How much he would appreciate the lich’s wise council at this moment. How easy it had been to take Vhal’s presence for granted and only notice the enormous impact the lich had once he was gone… And worse, to lack even the most basic information about his friend… Was he safe, or had something awful befallen him?

  Letting out a long, drawn-out breath, Aziel’s eyes were drawn again to the view below, this time to the human camp and their bonfires, their tiny figures huddling close to one another. He found watching those poor people struggle to keep warm helped strengthen his resolve. Whatever the future might hold, whether he became Sovereign or not, he would never shrink away from his responsibilities to his faction, to the people he had promised to help.

  He focused on his mark. “I appoint myself as Divinity to the Fallen,” he whispered, and his mark blazed to life as a notification came into being.

  Aziel, Faction Leader of the Fallen has appointed you to the position of Divinity.

  Do you accept? Yes or no.

  Aziel chose yes.

  Faction officer position: Prime Divinity has been assigned.

  You have gained a new trait, Prime Divinity.

  Faction Lord and Prime Divinity have combined into a new trait, Divine Lord.

  Ascended’s Domain and Divine Lord have combined into a new trait, Prime Divinity’s Domain.

  Aziel shivered as a cascade of mana rushed into his vessel. It quivered and shook before expanding to keep up with the deluge.

  Congratulations, you have gained one point of Vessel.

  Congratulations, you have gained one point of Vessel.

  He closed his eyes, feeling the sensation, the power, until his body adjusted. It was intoxicating. But something felt wrong—wrong in a good way.

  The drain was almost completely gone. Focusing on his personal mark, he willed his log to appear and stared in amazement.

&nbs
p; * * *

  Prime Divinity’s Domain

  Class: Rank specific

  Within his domain, the Prime Divinity is unmatched.

  * * *

  Total loss of ability to passively regenerate and absorb mana.

  Mana is drained over time.

  Mana drain is intensified with distance from a high source of mana of a relevant type.

  Divine Lord Affix 1: Mana drain is reduced by 90% when in faction-controlled locations.

  Divine Lord Affix 2: All sworn to the faction will provide a portion of their excess mana regeneration to their Prime Divinity.

  * * *

  Not only was the drain further reduced in faction locations, but every Dryad, every Arachne, everyone who had sworn themselves to the Fallen was suddenly his follower too, without them needing to personally approach him or his as-yet non-existent shrines. A smile spread across his face.

  “I see you are no longer brooding,” a soft female voice said. Aziel turned sharply, and gazed upwards as a large shadow engulfed him.

  “What…” was all he managed say, at the sight of a massive red-and-black bird standing atop a rock overlooking him. It had a long neck and a small head, but its body was enormous. Aziel sprang to his feet, his hand going to his blade before he cursed—he hadn’t worn it!

  The way the bird’s fire-red eyes gleamed made him think it had noticed his dilemma. More importantly, the longer he looked at this creature, the more familiar it appeared.

  Aziel swallowed hard as it all came together in his head. He had seen this creature countless times by now, though never in the flesh.

  It was a phoenix. But not just any phoenix.

  “Adara,” he said, as he braced himself for the worst.

  The phoenix did not reply. Instead, it extended its wings, and its red and black feathers burst into flames, the intense heat forcing Aziel to step back and cover his face with his arms, gasping, before he had the presence of mind to weave a Soul Screen to avoid being incinerated. Even with the screen in place, he could feel the force of the blaze as it expanded and chased away the night.

  Slowly, the blaze diminished, and when it had died away, Aziel stared dumbly at the tall, slightly tanned women who stood on the outcrop before him. A circle of charred and molten rock surrounded her. He could see a pair of black wings extending from her shoulder-blades—each several times the size of her body, flames still crackling along their feathers—whose inky color lightened to a vibrant red toward their tips.

  Adara wore a satisfied smile on her face and her eyes glowed a fiery amber as the mane of thick red curls that cascaded down her shoulders and back lifted in the backdraft from the fire. Covering her lean body was an elegant yet striking set of plate-metal armor strapped over a tight red gambeson. Her armor bore stylized representations of wings and beaks, and red and black feathers hung from her thick metal belt.

  The fire Ascended glared down at him, her eyes burning, and only now did Aziel notice the large lance she held, its tip turning incandescent with heat. He could feel the wind around her churn and rise as it mixed and battled with the normally cold air this high up the mountain.

  Adara was gorgeous, but the threat sizzling in the air around her meant that instead of appreciating her splendor, Aziel instinctively braced himself to fight.

  The fire Ascended took a step closer, a soft hiss escaping the rock where her boots came into contact with it. She extended her wide wings and flapped them once, causing a tiny windstorm to form as the flames that covered her feathers went out.

  She raised her intimidating lance, and before Aziel could react, she had slammed it into the ground, the lance sinking several inches into the raw rock. “You seem guarded, Aziel,” she said, her smile turning into a wide grin.

  “Shouldn’t I be?” he replied, taking several slow, defensive steps to the side.

  Adara didn’t move as he circled her. Instead, she leaned on her lance, which was solidly embedded into the rock. “Well, at least you don’t look like an abandoned chick any longer. I was starting to feel bad for you,” she said, her voice full of confidence, as if Aziel was nothing to concern herself about. “If I wanted to harm you, I had ample opportunity to turn you to ash several times over already. You left yourself open to attack just sitting there.”

  Aziel narrowed his eyes, but it was true that he could see nothing overtly aggressive in her stance. “Why are you here, Adara?” he asked, still wondering how he had not noticed an Ascended passing over him. Even now, he could not sense a trace of her vessel. “Don’t your faction and your followers need your aid?”

  “It is precisely for them that I come all this way, after a short and interesting stop at the Theocracy,” she said as she folded her impressive wings behind her.

  “Why the Theocracy?” Aziel asked. It was the third time in as many days that name had been mentioned—first Grendel, then Duren, now her.

  Adara grinned as she walked forward to the edge of the outcropping to gaze at the city in the making below. “I wished for permission to personally involve myself in the battle raging at Bastion,” she said, before giving Aziel a sideways glance. “But they were otherwise occupied. Vilonia appears to be in flames once more.”

  “I’m surprised you would care. I was told divinities like yourself like to stay in your places of power, where it is comfortable and safe,” Aziel said caustically, keeping a close eye on the Phoenix so she would not catch him off guard. Then he paused. “What do you mean in flames?”

  “What do you think I mean?” Adara replied. “Would you like a demonstration of what a city on fire looks like?” And she lifted a hand over the city below.

  Aziel pushed himself off the boulder he had been leaning against, his gaze harsh, but the fire Ascended only seemed amused.

  Smiling, Adara looked down the mountain once more. “Tell me, Aziel. What are you willing to sacrifice to keep a loved one safe?”

  Aziel blinked, surprised by the sudden question. “Depends on the cost.” He paused, as her question had seemed a genuine one. “I imagine that whatever I think now, it would be more if I were actually in that position.”

  The phoenix’s blazing eyes lifted to the darkening sky before turning to meet his. “My whole life seems to be a series of sacrifices. First my purity, my happiness, and now my position,” she said, her expression calm—but Aziel could hear it, the underlying pain in her voice. She held out her palm, and tiny figures of fire formed there, and began to move. Aziel could not tell who or what was being represented, but from the way Adara’s expression softened, it was important to her. “And yet,” she said, as she let her wing smother the tiny flames, “it has all been worth it in the end, because what I hold dearest is still safe and in my care.”

  “Why are you here, Adara?” he asked once more, but this time his tone was sympathetic. “If you want the princess, then you can take her.”

  Adara shook her head. “I told my Head Priest to send Princess Lucienne here.”

  That surprised Aziel, too.

  “It was safer than anywhere in Maiv,” Adara continued. “Even if you hurt or imprison her, she will at least be alive, which is sadly not something I can say about her father’s chances.”

  “I thought the king was missing.”

  “He is in Majara, the second largest city in the Jannatin Empire. Given how events are progressing, I do not think he will last much longer.”

  “You think he is being tortured,” Aziel said in sudden understanding.

  “I know he is,” she replied simply. “And it’s only a matter of time until they either kill him or he gives up Maiv. But I don’t really need to explain this to you, do I? I believe you are already quite intimate with that sort of tactic,” she said, and her words were sharper than any knife.

  Aziel winced. “If you are so worried about your friend, why not save him? Or is the Vala Pact more important to you?”

  Adara scoffed loudly. “Do not insult me. Adherence to the Pact is protecting me just as mu
ch as it is protecting Maiv. I cannot fight the Jannatin pantheon alone.” Her gaze shifted to the scaffolding below which led to the outcropping they both stood upon. Aziel had already noticed the group of Grauda and Dryads making their way up, no doubt to investigate the bright light that had accompanied Adara’s arrival.

  “Vala, the silver Phoenix,” she murmured as she walked along the edge of the cliff. “I was part of the force that brought him down. He was beset by grief at the fall of the Caelian Empire. He was their Prime, our Prime, the greatest amongst us, and the head of the Caelian pantheon. I was merely one of the last to join before it all fell apart. As Prime, Vala’s word was final, and when I joined, the first thing he did was give me to Nero, another Phoenix much older than me.” Adara fluffed out her wings. “Your duty is to breed. That was what he told me.”

  Aziel remained silent. There was no rage in her words; she was only telling a tale, stating the facts.

  “I kept Nero happy, warmed his bed whenever he desired. Even after Vala fell and the Empire crumbled, I stayed loyal to him—served under him as he established himself as the Prime of the Jannatin pantheon.” Adara turned back to Aziel, her eyes lowered. “But everything changed one day. Against all odds, I was with child. Nero couldn’t have been more overjoyed at first, and so was I. That joy only lasted until it was determined that Dawn was a Phoenix of the flame like myself, not water like her father. That joy turned into a cruel, shimmering anger in Nero.”

  She took a step closer to Aziel, and he had to stop himself from taking a step back to keep her at a distance.

  “Nero saw it as an insult. In his view, it was better that his child was dead if she could not be a water Phoenix. He grew violent, petty. I had to physically fight him several times to prevent him harming Dawn’s egg,” Adara went on, anger seeping into her eyes and tone. “I couldn’t allow it, so when a small rebellious faction emerged at the foot of my place of power, I took my chance. I escaped with Dawn in hand and offered myself to Maiv as their divinity.” She looked to the southeast—in the direction of Bastion, Aziel realized. “Nero has been pushing the Jannatin leadership to take action ever since, to take Dawn and I back, no matter the cost.”