408. Of grudges, mercy and a little bit of magic

Cassandra Pendragon

He was climbing to his feet staggeringly, but when he met my eye his gaze didn't waver. "Save your threats. You're not going to touch me until that slave girl points at me and says he hurt me. Which she'll never do. I haven't laid a finger on her and I didn't plan to. I wanted to scare her and send her off with a warning. I might have considered beating her but that's it."

"Didn't sound like it to me," I scoffed. Unfortunately I knew he wasn't lying. 

"Would have been some poor acting if it hadn't convinced someone who hates me… incidentally, do you? Hate me, I mean?"

"You're not important enough for me to hate you. You've been annoying and the seeds you planted bloomed into flowers I hate. But that's not on you. Not entirely. So much for what you did. I still think you're a despicable ass. But if I wanted to rid the world of those there wouldn't be much left afterwards." He blinked and lowered his head, his next words barely audible:

"Then… my son, Crispus. How did he live? How did he die?"

"Better than you. He found a wife and he was happy if that's what you want to know. He died in Greece at the age of 82, surrounded by his children. Envious?"

"Yes. But also glad. I've never managed as much." I chuckled dryly.

"Really? That's why you're travelling with four pretty girls, whose age, even if added up, probably wouldn't amount to a hundredth of the years you can remember." He grimaced.

"That's rich, coming from you. Every mortal you touch must be a toddler to you, even if they are several thousand years old. Pot and kettle…" I was already taking a deep breath in preparation for a tirade, but it wasn't necessary. Not at all. A crimson flash of light, a pained grunt and the scent of burned skin made the words transform into a chortle.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," Ahri said innocently. Constantine grumbled but chose not to respond. A wise decision, considering the angel was more or less itching for a reason to beat him up.

While he was muttering under his breath and poking his still smoking behind with tender fingers I focused on his travel companions, especially the one girl who was awake but still pretended to be out cold. They looked eerily similar, but that was probably because I had never seen anyone Asian in this life and memories weren't enough to get used to the subtle differences. Broadly speaking, describing someone usually boiled down to hair and eye colour, maybe the height, but since they were all black haired with dark, smouldering eyes, fair, unblemished skin and rather on the petite side, there wasn't much to go on. At least the embroideries on their robes had different colours, thus I silently dubbed them red, white, green and yellow. Keeping four foreign names straight in my head wouldn't work anyways. I had already forgotten the name of the family Constantine had wanted to hand the fruits over to. 

Speaking of which, the thing had really been delicious and I had left the seeds. Usually a magical plant had a whole plethora of conditions attached to it to grow properly, but with a little help from our friendly neighbourhood dryad I was decently sure that I could have a small garden filled with them in no time. Maybe I'd even return the one I had eaten, if Constantine wasn't going to further pull my strings. For someone supposedly afraid of being erased he was decidedly cheeky. Goddamn Romans. Only the Vikings had been worse. Threaten one with your strength and they'd take it as a challenge to the whole tribe. No wonder they had vanished after a couple of centuries. But they had known how to party. Come to think of it, so had the Romans. Excessively.

I shook my head and silenced the intrusive thoughts, my gaze slowly roaming over Mrs. White. The girl kept up the pretence for a few heartbeats but when I narrowed my eyes and their light danced across her face like a swarm of fireflies she finally flinched and looked at me.

"Good morning," I said and cut her from the tree, right alongside her companions. They turned into a surprisingly elegant heap on the frozen ground, with only a few snow white calves poking through the maze of entangled silk. Unfortunately she had been the first to fall and with each subsequent thud a muffled groan had slipped from the growing, fragrant pile. That way they'd at least stay warm for quite a while. "Usually I'm a much better host, but I'm still contemplating if I should hang you up again, by the neck this time." I had switched back from Latin to Chinese and even though she probably didn't understand every word I got my message across and one set of legs tensed immediately. Until:

"Don't fret," Constantine said as he straightened and huffed, eyeing Ahri, who had returned to my side, nervously, "you're not in danger. The devil only comes for those who've called her. Which would be me. Don't you, Luci… you don't go by Lucifer anymore, do you? What is it now? Lady Morningstar? Lucyfera? I think I've read that name before."

"Are we friends now," I snarled. "Only because you're still breathing it doesn't necessarily follow that it'll stay that way." Which made the brat chuckle. Chuckle, for Pete's sake. Goddamn it, did I really have to wear my crown and communicate in clipped, innuendo laden sentences to be taken seriously? Or maybe my tails and ears were the problem. I always thought they made me look cute, which wasn't necessarily an advantage. Not that I'd have hidden them. I liked who I was. 

Anyways, I had a few ideas of what I wanted to do, now that I was as close to being myself as I'd get without endangering our world. Maybe if I put on a bit of a show he'd think twice about poking the fox in the future and I had already pushed off talking to my dragoness for long enough. "Stay with me or watch from the outside," I asked Ahri, which prompted her to wrap my tresses tightly around herself. "Guess that's enough of an answer." With Constantine still chuckling and stroking his nonexistent beard, his… wives, maybe, sleeping or otherwise preoccupied trying to escape the soft prison they were stuck in and Lilith hovering above the entire mess like a hawk, I allowed a trickle of power to flood through my veins and towards my wings. 

The sounds of winter, the smells of the forest were drowned out by the hum of eternity and the heavy stench of ozone. A corona of light rippled through my wings and shrouded me in glaring silver as I rose several handspans into air. My senses expanded, chasing after the thin but adamant thread that always connected me with Viyara, and my magic followed on wings made of something much more ethereal than mana. The energy of the soul… it was always passing through Amazeroth's wards with every death, with every birth, and now I could use it to work my own arts. If you could even call it that. Art implied proficiency, which I lacked. But I had the strength and more than enough enthusiasm.

Viyara's presence surged into my mind like a rejuvenating spring breeze, her thoughts, her trust a welcome, precious gift I was only slowly starting to appreciate fully. I had missed her. She was one of the few people I truly couldn't let go of… I wouldn't. Never. 

Questions and warmth spread through me, but for now I simply allowed her to dive deeper and watch. "Grow," I breathed and my core stirred. Viyara became the fulcrum through which my magic thundered, her own soul safe behind a seal I had inadvertently made stronger than the ones that had kept Gabriel prisoner. I couldn't see her, but I knew she was shining brightly, her golden form veiled behind a silver glow as if the moon had suddenly risen. The earth didn't shake, the air didn't even stir, but gradually, inexorably my will spread until it reached Greta.

"About damn time," the dryad sighed, her ancient, gnarly mind turning into an intricate map of her slowly spreading body. It began in Free Land. The huge cherry tree suddenly trembled, some of its roots breaking through the soft soil, stretching towards the light, while others dug ever deeper, through rock and metal, until they reached the ocean. A minuscule wave erupted but in the blink of an eye it crossed the sea and touched the distant shores of Amon's empire.

Meanwhile Greta's trunk expanded, her boughs thickened and elongated until they became a sparkling, silver green roof, covering the entirety of the city. White and red petals fell, the sweet smell of cherries spread through Free Land and the sound of merrily burbling waters followed. The pond underneath Greta's roots swelled and churned, even though its shimmering surface never rippled. With a mighty groan the gargantuan roots of the tree moved, creating four arch like openings that led towards the Garden outside. Trenches appeared, the precious liquid surged and four brooks, glowing with their own light, made their meandering way towards the forest or the cliffs. Along their benches plants grew and the miasma of blood and death, still suffocating parts of the city, finally vanished. Like a singular organism the town took its first, clean, invigorating breath as the last traces of Amon's atrocities were swept away towards the sea.

The falling petals shimmered and vanished before they could touch the ground. A warm, gentle breeze collected the motes of starlight they had turned into and carried them along towards distant shores. Wherever they'd land they'd allow a seedling to grow, but they wouldn't just appear anywhere. Can you imagine what the single thing is an innocent always does, but someone with a heavy conscience never dares to? Ask for help. Genuinely ask. They don't bargain or trade, they simply ask. Usually it's a futile plead… a last, desperate cry when the end looms, but I had always hated the image of a cold, uncaring universe because it isn't true. Only in hindsight will it usually become apparent that someone listened and I meant to change that.

Whether or not I succeeded time would tell, but wherever a pure soul cried out in fear my magic would answer. There would be a way, a path towards a safe heaven opening up right in front of them. But that wasn't all. I knew the realms were merging, I knew that our world was changing and within a few days our neighbours would walk on Gaya. Humans, monsters, elementals, dreams and nightmares. They were coming and in their wake the structure of our world would crumble. I couldn't stop it, I didn't know how without erasing the smaller realms and anyone within them, but I could surely prepare for their arrival.

Verdant trees were a universal symbol of life. Greeting our exiled kin with a fresh breath of hope might just mellow their fear enough to prevent a massacre. And if it didn't work… at least we'd know. We'd know where to go and what to expect. The petals would fall, attracted by the convoluted energies that heralded the destruction of a subrealm. The trees would grow and maybe, just maybe, it'd be enough to turn chaos and strive into something beautiful.

A gentle but unstoppable stream continuously flowed from my core and through Viyara towards Greta, allowing the seeds I had planted to bloom, but I didn't stop there. My awareness flickered, my intent spread. Like a wave of light with Viyara at its centre and her telepathy as its medium it surged, the intricate web of energies around Gaya undisturbed in its wake. My touch was ethereal and fleeting, grounded in the very fabric of creation and far beyond the mundane workings of wards and spells. 

For the fraction of a second I was tempted. Tempted to reach out and finally take revenge on the ancient monster that had started it all, but I could feel, I could practically see a gate barring my way. Passing through wouldn't be difficult, but it would entail embracing what I was and that meant ascension. I had guessed already but now I knew without the shadow of a doubt: as soon as Amazeroth and I were going to meet, this chapter of my life would come to an end. And I wasn't ready. Not yet. In front of the heavenly host I was still nothing but a nuisance, a mistake to be corrected. I had a year to change that and make sure my world would survive. Now I was laying the foundation.

Boseiju. On Boseiju it had all begun and that was where I turned my thoughts next. It was a burned, dark hole, devoid of light. Not even the echos of the souls that had perished there lingered, devoured by magics much too vile for me to comprehend. But the perfect blackness was exactly how I found my former home, the one place on this world where not even the shadow of a soul remained. "Become," I whispered and the strength of my command made the Emerald Island tremble. My wings swelled even further, seemingly touching the heavens, and silvery blue light fell from the sky like rain, only to disappear and chase through the ether.

Another wave of power hit the golden dragoness, her crystallising scales aglow with pure, undiluted light. The magic split, the smaller part reaching for Aurelia and through her for Sarai, while the larger part condensed around Boseiju like a transcendent thunderstorm. Amongst the charred wastes lightning struck and where it touched the ravaged rocks it remained, like crackling stairways to heaven that multiplied by the second. Gradually they fused, combing into a structure of immortal strength. A memorial for what had happened, a cenotaph for what the future would bring. It became sturdier with every moment but at the same time the entire dreamlike edifice seemed to fade, to become raptured, transported to another place. It was another haven, a refuge for those who had been taken. On Gaya the souls of the fallen would be safe, held in trust until the world would change. On Gaya the fuel for Amon's and Shassa's magic would run dry this very day. 

"To me," I said, my voice firm and commanding for the first time, and far away, in a galaxy I had never been, between two star systems I had never heard of, Sarai bowed her head. A silvery blue stream tore through time and space only to envelope her in a cocoon of eternity and she vanished into sparks that danced amongst the suns for a heartbeat longer before they, too, retuned to me.

Deep down in the bottomless ocean someone else heard my call. Lilith had not told me much, but it had been enough to figure out that she was stuck, stuck but not alone. Odin. A named I hadn't heard in a long time. They were here, they were on Gaya and I intended to bring them to my side, but for the first time I was thwarted. Walls, gleaming, pristine, transcendent walls barred my way. To get to my family I'd have to tear them down and that would shatter the wards around our world for good. I'd have to go there myself, I'd have to dive deep into the blue unknown to literally open their cells and get them back, but for now they were beyond my reach.

As to why I was even capable of using my magic freely… not only were the wards I had dreaded to destroy mine to begin with, but my latest evolution had laid bare the very fabric of life. There's a reason why most idioms describing an intimate connection recur on metaphors including the soul. The soul is what makes mortals unique, what allows them to exist as an individual. I saw them for what they were and that meant I could nourish without destroying, engender growth without devouring the very fabric it stemmed from. My changed wing was truly a key. In the beginning I had believed that I needed someone or something to let me in, to form a lock I could open, but in truth the lock was already there. I simply hadn't been able to see it. Not anymore. I could not only accelerate or bolster the energy within someone. I could alter it without ever allowing my magic to subdue what made them special. Only the restraints of their souls, what they could envision, what they could dream of, mattered. Apparently dreams knew no bounds and within the confines of their imagination I could make them real. I could… finally start shaping the future.