Skies of Fyir Box Set

by Gabriela Voelske

  Despite all the dire consequences that could occur, for once, Thardosean felt comfortable with everything, because what he thought was impossible had happened. Uriel finally had to admit that his suspicions were wrong, to the King’s surprise, but that was not the most surprising turn in the tale. Sebastian had suggested at a longshot that they ignore past histories for now and work together to deal with the most pressing problems at hand. If they didn’t do something, they would have no one to preside over, or even survive it themselves. A long silence was held between them before Uriel agreed, though he sounded to have many resignations with the decision. Both Sebastian and Thardosean had been shocked to hear him agree, though Uriel had made the point firm that it was only a temporary agreement between them. Once it was all finished, everything would return to how it was once, with Uriel creating nothing but hassle for the Demon King. Sebastian had wished that the angel would see sense, far too many unnecessary deaths happen every year due to tensions between the two. Still, he had agreed, for now. It was better than nothing.

  They had discussed their next course of action, as well as talks of safeguards if the worse happened and one city fell. Sebastian had pulled Uriel to one side, an action that he disliked, to talk about a certain issue now they had been dismissed and were out of earshot of Thardosean. While Sebastian did not implicate the King to be involved, he did suggest that the Magi Council were not as innocent as they were claiming to be, hiding the evidence deep within its sealed halls.

  The claim did not surprise Uriel. He just simply stated that Arariel and his understudies had not managed to find any solid proof, but had looked into the matter. Talk of Arariel and Solomon working together arose, between the two of them they should have enough avenues to sift out an answer one way or the other.

  * * *

  Arariel was stunned by the offer he received later that day, he wondered if it were really Uriel stood in front of him. Perhaps he was playing some trick on him, to test his reaction.

  “Sure I’ll work with Solomon,” Arariel replied, trying to keep his voice level, “…I mean if I have to and all.”

  Truth be told, he was very keen to do so. Solomon was infamous for his talents for one so young. He had inherited his parents’ specific disciplines of magic and could use both to an impressive standard.

  A demon’s inherent dark magic branched into many different groups, while they all focused on the darker side of the natural energies, the element itself is pure and untainted. Light and darkness are essential for one another, and imbalance of either causes severe repercussions. Two such branches were blood magic and necromancy, the two Solomon happened to be well-versed in. Both had innately negative views surrounding them, their raw strength was often abused by their wielders to devastating effect. Solomon, however, had learnt to use them in their native form; blood magic allowed for the potent and complete healing of even mortal injuries while necromancy was the governance of death, allowing him to send on restless spirits and other such things that Arariel had heard. Considering the long history between the two races, he often wondered just how many spirits haunted Eriden, forever resenting those who wronged them.

  Uriel was sceptical of his muffled response but let it slide, for now. He needed Arariel to carry out the required task, any punishment would have to wait for later.

  “They will be waiting for you to phase yourself there,” he remarked before turning and leaving the room, as coldly as he had come. Phasing between two spaces was a feat that required a generous amount of mana, as well as being rather obvious to any mages within the area who could pick up on the individual’s incoming mana. The other problem was that the target location required a runic circle or a properly tagged object, as such the spell was useless for attacking fortified locations. In order to save Arariel the exhaustion, his understudies would be casting it on him. He did really hope they had learnt the spell correctly or it would not end well for him. By now they had already prepared the runic circle for him and had connected to the target circle; he had to admit, they certainly worked fast.

  Arariel took a deep breath and walked into the middle of the circle, closing his eyes as he entered. The angel did not wish to see what happens if the spell went wrong. Chanting from the other mages rose around him in harmony. The process had begun, this he could tell as the strange feeling of magically induced nausea had begun to hit him, churning his stomach. A strong surge of warmth went over him, only to be quickly met with a prevailing chill. It had been pleasantly brief, and Arariel still appeared to be alive, or so he hoped.

  He opened his eyes and was greeted by blurry dark shapes in front of him. The spell had worked but not to the best standard. Arariel tried to take a forward step but rapidly found himself falling, as it had left him rather disorientated. He would not be leaving a good first impression on his hosts. One of the shapes shifted and caught him, hauling him back to his feet, nearly tipping him over in the opposite direction.

  “That didn’t seem to work too well,” Solomon chuckled while supporting the dizzy angel, looping one of Arariel’s arms around his back.

  “Are you going to be alright to drag him back to your chambers?” Iomor enquired; Solomon was taller than the angel but he was not the strongest, and his weight might prove too much to bear.

  “I should be fine, it’s not too far from here anyway.”

  Sebastian was just amused by the whole thing, watching as the angel wobbled while Solomon tried to hold him straight. He was young and fairly scrawny. It was an odd pick for Uriel to have as his own Court Mage but he must have some talent hidden behind his plain exterior. Iomor beckoned for them to return back to the keep, propping the door open with his body. They obliged and entered the welcoming dark halls, drawing dubious looks over their new companion. Sebastian waved them on. Treaty or not, they were still wary of the angel.

  Solomon had begun to drag away Arariel when Iomor shut the door behind them. It closed with a loud bang, the winds forcing the door solidly shut. Conveniently for Solomon, the dizzy angel was able to walk, if he needed a lot of assistance in walking straight. Eventually, he managed to get Arariel to his chamber, pushing the door open and settling him down on the edge of his bed. Individual rooms were a rarity within Shadekeep due to the restrictions of space, Solomon was lucky to have one, even if it was tiny.

  Arariel flopped backwards onto the bed and groaned, due to the after-effects not playing nice with his body. Solomon thought best to let him lie there and rest since he could keep an eye on him to ensure he wasn’t getting any worse.

  * * *

  A few hours passed before Arariel finally woke up again, although this time he could see clearly and he felt far less debilitated and nauseous. He glanced up at Solomon, who was concentrating intently on whatever he was doing sat down at his desk. Arariel watched for a few minutes until leaning up was becoming painful on his neck, but he did not want to disturb the demon from his work. Lightly lifting himself up he remained in a sitting position for a few more minutes, allowing himself to regain his balance.

  “Feeling better?” Solomon asked, not looking up from his desk.

  “Ah yes, thank you,” he replied kindly. Solomon paused for a second on hearing his response before continuing. He had expected to receive someone who was going to be rather foul-mouthed towards him. The genuine kindness in the angel’s voice was a surprise to hear. Arariel shifted off the bed and walked over to the desk, peering over Solomon’s hunched shoulders at what he was doing. It wasn’t entirely obvious, but he could see some unrecognisable runes and the corner of what appeared to be a book.

  Solomon sighed and leant back in his chair, nearly clipping Arariel as he did so. He looked concerned over something, and from the inkwell on his desk he had evidently been writing something down.

  “I’ve had a feel around the aetherial pathways, seeing what I can find,” he said. It was commonly known that mana existed within the aether of the world, but the mana did not stagnate where it resided. Flowing currents
carried the aetherial mana around, replenishing the world as it went. “There’s a strange anomaly, it’s hard to tell from this distance, but it feels as if another plane of existence is directly connected to our own,” Solomon continued, running his hand through his hair. Such a thing would explain all the events that happened, but it would have to have been connected by someone intentionally.

  “At the spires,” Arariel remarked.

  Solomon took a deep breath and sighed again, contemplating how they could investigate it further. “We could visit it personally while remaining here,” the demon commented, obtaining a confused look from the angel.

  “How…?” Arariel questioned, though his query was quickly cut off as Solomon replied.

  “I have my ways; it may be for the best not knowing exactly how it works.”

  He had a silent moment of amusement as the thought went over the angel’s face. Solomon wondered just what had been said about him by the other angels. Standing back up, he walked over to the bed before sitting down, beckoning Arariel to join him. The angel looked doubtful but conceded to his call, settling on the bed beside him. “Tell me, do you have any experience with plane walking?”

  The question took Arariel’s breath away. Plane walking was an incredibly difficult thing to perform, as such only a very few mages ever manage it. It felt like an honour that Solomon would even consider taking him along on a walk. Seeing his sudden perk up Solomon knew he had hit the mark, someone who did not completely object to the idea would be an aid.

  Solomon reached out and grabbed Arariel’s hands firmly. To keep the spell up consistently on both of them he would need to retain contact to Arariel’s skin to allow his mana to flow between the two uninterrupted. “Are you ready?”

  Arariel’s zealous nod told him all he needed.

  The chant began. Arariel grasped his hands tightly, causing the demon some discomfort but he continued on. Soon the angel could feel strange mana racing around his body, leaving a tingling trail as it went. Next, he was hit with an intense pulling sensation, he tried fighting it but to no avail. Arariel let out a cry of pain, but Solomon was not fazed, opting to continue on without so much as looking up. His vision went blank, and he felt the ground pull away from underneath him before everything went still. He felt what he thought to be someone touch him, nothing was obvious at the second.

  “If you can hear me, focus on opening your eyes,” a voice rang out in his head. He did as advised and focused everything on his head, slowly opening his eyes. Solomon was in front of him.

  His body now appeared more like a ghostly apparition than the dark-skinned demon he was. Arariel brought up his own hands to in front of him, they were similarly ghostly in nature. In doing so, he noticed that they were floating a fair distance above Shadekeep.

  “The first time is always the worst.”

  Arariel hoped it was the case, he’d rather not repeat that in a hurry.

  “What plane is this?” he enquired. A quick glance around revealed nothing overly out of the ordinary, aside from their appearances.

  “The one between the living and the dead.”

  Arariel flinched. It was the plane that restless spirits became trapped into and it was a dangerous place if they overstayed their welcome.

  After a while of trial and error on showing Arariel how to move within this plane, they had begun moving towards the spires. Within this plane, they should be safe from detection, but not safe from harm. Eventually, the bulbous crystal towers came into view, growing continuously in size as they approached.

  Up close, the sheer size of the things became notable. The amount of mana trapped within them must be overwhelming. Numerous smaller spires surrounded the central spires, creating a protective ring. At the bottom of the middle spire, something caught their interest. Light was being emitted, catching on dark shapes nearby. It was then they became aware the area was seething with dark bodied creatures, of various shapes and sizes, each as deadly as each other.

  They descended warily, keeping an eye on the creatures suddenly spotting them. A normal creature would never spot them, but one from another plane may be able to pick up on them. For now, it appeared they were oblivious to their ghostly presence at least.

  The source of light soon came into view. It was coming out of a circular entranceway, neatly carved in the crystal structure. Curiosity took the better of them, and they decided to take a peek inside, although it was not what they had been expecting. Long winding staircases extended around the walls of the structure, branching off into different rooms. There were more doors at the base, which they guessed lead into the side crystals, to which they imagined to look similar inside as this one. Above they could hear someone muttering to themselves, not loud enough for them to hear what was being said, however. Arariel broke off and went to investigate the sound. The action was not to Solomon’s liking; whoever they were below evidently had control over the spires and the creatures.

  He rushed after Arariel, but by the fact the voice had stopped he knew he was too late, their presence had been spotted. The angel, however, had not picked up on the fact and came up level to the individual, before jerking back and dropping from the air. Although in this plane his body looked fine, Solomon knew he had been injured badly enough to knock him out.

  He sped over and caught Arariel, sheltering him from any more attacks. Immediately after a pulsing bolt came flying at Solomon, causing him to quickly move back. Repeated barrages came at Solomon. For now, he was managing to dodge them as they came, but he needed to cast the spell to attach them back to their physical bodies. After another bolt, he began chanting, preparing the spell as fast as he could. Just as he finished a bolt clipped the edge of his wing, but it was not enough to cancel his casting. They vanished, leaving the mage angrily throwing bolts below him.

  * * *

  “Do I ask?” a voice questioned, echoing in Solomon’s head. Blearily, he looked up at the demon talking to him, who bore a rather amused expression on his face.

  “What do you mean, Dumon?”

  “Look down,” he replied, and Solomon gazed down, not sure what to expect. Below him lay Arariel. Sometime during the assault, he must have physically wrapped his arms around the angel’s body, covering the rest with his wings. He paused, before casually removing his arms and sitting back up, quietly dusting himself off. Solomon glanced over to Dumon, his vision was becoming more focused now. The demon’s gaze was not on Solomon though. Instead, he was looking at the angel. His eyes followed his line of sight, and he was greeted by a notable bloodstain on Arariel’s clothing, right where the bolt had hit his ghostly form. Without hesitating, he scooped the angel off the bed and looked over at Dumon, who was already beckoning for him to come.

  The two of them progressed down the corridor, with his wing emitting a stinging pain that reminded him of his own wound. They arrived at an expansive, well-lit hall that was lined with beds and various potted plants. It was the main healing room for injured demons of all shapes and sizes, it was even capable of properly treating a demon the size of Kaiser without losing any bed space for others. Dumon was the head of the hall, an old and experienced healer who could treat nearly everything that was laid in front of him. Solomon often helped him out with any more magic related injuries that normal medical practices found difficult to treat.

  “What happened to him?” Dumon asked as he helped Solomon lay the angel out onto one of the beds.

  “We were attacked during a phase walk.”

  To demonstrate his point, he pulled his own wounded wing into view. Dumon glanced at it before taking his attention back to the angel’s wounded shoulder. Solomon’s wound appeared fairly minor, although wing injuries can be a nuisance to heal, Dumon knew. He slipped the angel’s robes off from around his shoulder and looked at the wound hidden below. It appeared severe from his first impression, as the angel’s pale golden tinged skin made it easily visible.

  Solomon was scrambling around to get the tools Dumon would need to sta
bilise the wound. An angel had much softer skin than a demon, so a thicker needle was not needed to allow Dumon to suture the wound closed. Neatly, he placed the equipment onto a small table next to the healer before moving to the other side of the bed, taking a proper look at the wound himself. Much of the skin still remained, if it was damaged and torn in places. The main damage appeared to be below as the spell had exploded out from underneath his skin.

  “Check for any magic residue,” Dumon instructed. Solomon nodded and ran his hands around the outside of the wound, using his necromantic power to check if any part of Arariel’s wound was emitting any energy above the level of just damaged tissue. Anything injured or dying emits a type of energy that those skilled in necromancy can pick up, such energy can be used to fuel the art to a dangerously powerful level. The demon, however, was just checking if anything was unnaturally dying off, opposed to just being naturally damaged like the rest of the wound.

  “I can’t obviously feel any residue,” Solomon replied. It made him confident that Arariel’s wound was clear and safe. Dumon nodded and began suturing the torn muscle back together. The bolt had damaged in several places and was taking some time to correctly reattach it. Arariel would certainly be feeling this wound for months afterwards. Solomon felt ashamed, Arariel had been eager to be taken along with him, and he winded up getting him injured. He sighed as he watched Dumon clean the freshly stitched muscle again, before starting on sealing the wound up with the damaged skin.

  “He’ll be fine,” Dumon commented in reply to his sigh, “though he’ll have a notable scar.”

  Solomon knew a notable scar would go down brilliantly when Arariel returned to Uriel. He did not wish to think of the backlash it would create. Dumon soon finished and wiped the angel’s body clean, before gently moving him underneath the blanket to rest. Turning his attention to Solomon’s wing, he grabbed a thicker salve and covered the wound with it. It was no more than a widespread graze, but it still needed to be kept clean.