An Age of Mysterious Memories

Well, the answer to my question of if we can do this is, “Sort of.” Orientation's out the window as Lil and I tumble from my portable hole—sideways. Thanks, Te, for the topsy-turvy entrance. It’s definitely an odd thing to have gravity suddenly be at ninety degrees. I can see why Te placed the portable hole on a wall instead of the floor though. We’re in a throng of bodies that are all swinging wildly.

I quickly telekinetically ravel up my portable hole, sticking it in a scroll-case on my belt, and snag my hyperdimensional pouch from Te simultaneously. The moment Lil and I staggered out of the portable hole, it was like stepping onto a stage mid-play, where the scene is a cacophony of zaps and smacks and cracks and whacks. If we’re in a play though, the scene's a crackling mess, obsidian bricks and lightning veins, all sharp edges and electric shocks. Argh, the air's alive, buzzing, ready to singe the hairs off of pretty much anyone that isn’t the three of us. Not the kind of buzz I enjoy.

Lil and I—we're scrambling now, trying to find our footing in this electric dance. The foes? It's like they've all taken a dip in a lightning beach. Oh, hey, that’s right. I turned an entire beach to glass with lightning onc—, twice. Heh, focus Reggie. Right. Anyway, a yellow sandy beach along a lake of blue lightning would account for the types of breath weapons, and colors of scales that I see as Draconiacs, buzzing with static, all humanoid-shaped but dragon-hearted unleash upon us. And then there’s our charming hosts, the actual dragons in human guises, their scales traded for skin, their eyes crackling with the same electricity that's passing through conduits along the walls, draconic fury packed into human frames. Then the kobolds’re zipping around like they've got shocks to spare. The storm myrmidons, though, they're something else—a swirling mess of fury, like living hurricanes in armor.

I'd laugh at the guard drakes' discipline as they wait their turns to attack us, if I wasn't so busy trying not to become a crispy critter. And through it all, combat's a mess. If I had to rely on sight, all I’d see would be a canvas splashed with blues and yellows, constantly whited out by streaks of lightning aimed for my face. Hell, this hallway battlefield’s a storm itself, a wild dance of elemental rage, and here come Lil and me, just two gusts in this gale while Teuila rocks their socks off like a hurricane with each blow of her fists and hammer, throwing punches and swings that could turn a storm's head.

As for me? I've got to get my head in the game. This isn't a time to be an onlooker, it’s time to participate. And participate I shall—because if I don't grab the reins of this chaos, I’m just a leaf on the wind, and I've never been one to let nature dictate my path. Not without arguing, at least.

Welllll, unless you count those early days—the ones where the main river of Can'Z'aas practically seemed to have a personal vendetta against me. I swear, every time I so much as met a new creature, I'd end up in a white-knuckled waltz with rapids, each time narrowly avoiding a less-than-graceful ballet with the boulders. I had more waterlogged moments than a sunken log. But hey, look at me now—not even a tempest, or death apparently, can keep me down.

Hah. Okay, okay Reggie, reign it in. Don't get cocky. I know, it’s just using humor to cope with the chaos of the situation pal, but don’t let yourself actually believe the joke. Anyway, this hallway's like being inside the belly of a thundercloud, if that cloud had a bad temper, and a taste for Gothic architecture. A feeling with which I am very familiar. Well, except that last bit about the architecture. Heh. Speaking of—. I perform a QCR number four, drawing all the lightning in our little battlefield to me, and press outward with my weakened electrokinetic EM-field organ.

Ow, ow, ow. My newly reincarnated body’s organ definitely isn’t strong enough yet to hold up to this kind of punishment. But the curse of the greaves is doing what I need it to do, keeping the lightning in the area directed at me, freeing up Lil from shocks, to give him a chance to orient. Lil’s already catching his balance, but taking a bit to reorient and grasp the situation as he takes a few test swings, smashing and thrashing and slashing foes that come to call.

Despite wanting to lash out, and hurt those that are attacking Teuila, or hurting Lil, I need to focus and carry through on our plan, quickly. Drawing Claíomh Solais, I bypass the wall of the dead end in which we find ourselves, and curse our bad luck. The hallway to which we now have a path, is full of doorways, some as close to us as our immediate right and left. Worse, there’s nearly as many bodies filtering out of these rooms, as there were attacking Teuila to begin with, and now they’re converging on us from two sides.

Grunting as I’m smashed across the chin, I hoarse-whisper, “Lil, empty the new hallway pal!”

Thankfully, Lil’s got the good sense to grab a deep lungful of air and begin doing just that. Now, most creatures don’t react well to even the briefest burst of a blaze. To say that most creatures attempt to remove themselves from continuous rivers of flames would be putting it mildly. Of course, we’re up against archmages, specialized elite knights, and who-knows what else, so some might actually live through the initial minutes of Lil’s blasting breath as he ramps up in power. Sighing, I build up pockets of explosive gas within my organ, momentarily glad no one’s able to hear my inner monologue. Bracing Lil and myself, I begin causing a rapid-fire series of explosions, using my TK grips to angle as much of the force forwards into our new hallway as possible.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see Teuila rapidly switching back and forth from Shellcracker’s Iceflame Spark’s banded plate armor to that gorgeously tailored seasonal gi with her own Quick-Change Ring, based on whether she needs the defense, the resistance, or other passive benefits more in any given moment. Te needs to make it two more steps this way for me to be able to drop the bypassed-wall. The spell might refuse to reset the wall though with people in it, so we need to buy at least a split second where there’s no one bearing down on us from that side either. I can’t ask Lil to turn his back on this hallway, for fear of him being slain as he casts his attention in reverse, and we need this hallway to remain mostly clear as well for our gambit to pay off.

Loathe to be using resources so early, I’m about to lean into my own more precious, more powerful tools and abilities. We preferably need all these people, the ones who’ve seen me use a bypassed-wall spell, to be dead. We’ve got to get to that state, so they can’t share knowledge that we can open up walls with the rest of Al’pa’ca’s forces. My gambit and ploy would be useless if they could just surmise to immediately bust through the floor or ceiling after us.

Teuila begins hurling Mjolnir in a rapid pace as it returns to her hand over and over again. It’s sometimes boomeranging back, other times simply being summoned to instantly reappear in her hand due to her dimensional sheath’s enchantment, so that she can quickly smash an encroaching kobold or Draconiac. That is one extreme benefit of battling deep inside the fortress, we don’t have to fight fully sized near-ancient dragons in their draconic forms while dealing with everything else. They lose a bit of durability, just a bit, in their human forms.

Sadly, Teuila has had to advance back into the far side of the removed wall, returning the way she came once again. She’s fighting to drive back the foes on that side, so I still can’t drop the spell, at least not without trapping Teuila apart from us with a huge horde of forces between us.

Glancing at Lil, I want to ask if he’s been able to devise any new tricks, or powers, on Rayileklia, especially since the start of the war. I’m afraid the answer might be no, and that he might feel dejected having to confirm that to me. Okay, breathe Reggie, think. Two directions, two massively tightly packed hallways full of enemies that both need to die, and then need to have their vision blocked off. Lil’s managing to keep one hallway fairly clear, though I have to step in to blast some of the braver, stronger foes who are able to walk through his flames towards him, either with thunder shouts, or pockets of poison gas explosions.

Motioning to Teuila, I suggest that she deploy her slowing fields, and cones of cold, since they will be less useful against Al’pa’ca. He’s big enough and powerful enough to ignore or walk through the slowing fields, and her cold cones aren’t boosted by any of her special abilities. Thankfully, we’re on such a tight wavelength, that Teuila can guess my poor charades easily enough, and she looses several of the powers I’d granted her when we worked to save Prinrin.

Now, new bodies attempting to clamber into that hallway are going to be disoriented and slowed, and have to fight through the frozen, cracking bodies of their comrades. Phew. Jerking my head this way, thankfully Teuila obliges. Turning her way, I loose all the crossbow bolts I can, of each of the strange elements from this miniature quiver. It’s got the desired effect of putting a bunch of semi-lethal, tiny area effects at the corner of the hallway we’d been fighting in, keeping anyone alive from peering this direction.

I plead for a massive block of Titanwood, without the featherlight component, from the Cosmic Roundsheath as I drop the bypassed-wall spell. Now, the people fighting their way into that hallway are going to have to fight through slowing fields, frozen corpses of their own allies, a few minor lingering area-effects from the crossbow bolts, and then dig through a giant block of wood as strong as titanium, to realize we’re no longer in that dead end. Whew. As the dead end reappears behind us, sealing us off from that side of it, Teuila wipes sweat from her brow before tossing me a cheeky grin, and flashing me an equally cheeky thumbs up.

Are Lil’s flames hot enough yet to do it? Testing out their temperature with my own body, yes, they’re damaging enough to melt, evaporate, and explode cold vapor that comes into existence, and to do it instantly. Teuila doesn’t even need to be told to use her other cold blast, and her other slowing field of the day, rocking the hallway with massive steam explosions that seem to happen in, well, slow-motion. I guess they do. Thankfully, this buys Lil the reprieve we need, and I conjure a second block of Titanwood, to keep the explosion’s blowback from pummeling us, as well as to block sight of our upcoming escape.

My beloved Wings and Heart are both panting already, a bad sign when we’ve got thousands of enemies left to face. We’re deep within the main keep, a labyrinthine structure that has exits on all sides to the majority of the rest of the citadel. The rest of the citadel, within the walls of Mount Thunderpeak proper, was a vast expanse that rivaled small cities. The sheer volume of foes we can end up facing throughout this offensive is staggering. I can hardly imagine how many troops that I *didn’t* see, in all of those external buildings with minor courtyards and open spaces that intertwine with natural contours of the mountain to form paths like roads to this, the main keep. Some were basic cubical dwellings, while others were towering stalagmites carved hollow.

Checking in on my friends, both seem uninjured, at least, no more injured than when we started the offensive. Making certain we’ve taken enough of a breather for them, I listen for the clang I should hear from the other side of the Titanwood cube, and thankfully, it arrives. Now I need to cast out my senses, in order to feel the thermal fluctuative flow, and take that into a moment between moments to let retrocognition do its thing. Taking a deep breath, I nod at Lil and Te. To them, no time will pass at all, but this might take a while.

Diving into the non, the space between spaces, the moment between moments, the absence of the flow of time, I revel in absence, and allow the pause in the flow to virtually wash over me. I feel more connected than ever to absence, to missing bits, to emptiness, void, space. It’s so strange that as my Honoris Causa develops, more of me evolves and changes overall, not just my Void Dragon form. Hm, another thing harkening back to that hint from the Sisters Hidden in the Mist. I won’t know what I am, or will become, by the time I’ve found my cure. I’m certainly changing, rapidly, in ways I’d never have anticipated. My connection to the Fel has—. Sonnova!

Panting with exertion, I don’t know whether to giggle maniacally, or to, to, to, I don’t even know! The Celestial Emperor knew where I was, once we’d started open engagements. That’s why the Damnations keep showing up to our offensives! Or, why they did anyway. He’s known where I was at all times ever since the Cathedral of Blood with the Cult of the Bright Lord. When I stepped into that radiant cascade of disintegrating energy, I felt a presence lock onto me, take root in me as an observer. Of course it was our damn manxome foe. I’m pretty certain I was fairly certain of it even back then. Curse me for forgetting that, and not taking care of it before putting my beloved new family at risk. That part’s on me. The Damnations showing up repeatedly is on me.

The bastard’s been letting me mature in ways, for some reason, before truly trying to take me out. That’s why the Damnations keep fleeing. He wants something from me. He’s been sculpting my progress in secret, like some shadowy puppeteer. No. No. Shadows are mine. Fv(4 him. He doesn’t get that analogy. He doesn’t get any sort of darkness, absence, calm or cool. He’s fire and fury, brightness and scorn. I’m the dark, the absence. I’ll be the one to snuff out *his* candle.

Gritting my teeth, my resolve doubles, and doubles again, and again, thinking about how I’ve been played. He may have been orchestrating my ascension to new heights on some levels, but my SAP and the Onyx Dawn are the ones who’ve overcome the adversities to make the progress and growth we have. Whatever ways he’s been sculpting and tempering me will be nothing compared to the growth I’ve achieved, and will achieve, with the aid of those beloved to me, outside of his influence.

A chill runs down the metaphorical spine of my mental avatar. It's like there's a second, quieter Reggie, one that's watching all this unfold with the weight of centuries on their shoulders. This Reggie isn't chuckling or plotting the next move. They're just... feeling the enormity of it all, the endless tug-of-war with fate. A part of me, a part I shove down to keep fighting, to keep loving, to keep being the Reggie everyone needs.

I won’t let the CE change me. I’ll have surprises in store for the arsehole. I’m pretty certain that with my new connection to the Fel, and having had my previous body disintegrated, he no longer has that spy, that presence, that observing energy within me. How much does he know about Mount Solace? Was he only aware of my location, or could he have divined more? Could he listen in? Hm, I doubt it.

It does explain Harlequin having had a plan to make me succumb to my past traumas though. Harlequin is part of the Evil Claws, the Evil Claws report to the Damnations, and the CE has had the Damnations under sway since the ancient times of The Platinum, bare minimum. In one way or another, the CE has had fragments out gathering information about me, either here, or on Can’Z’aas, for all of my lifetimes. I think there’s still a fragment trapped on Can’Z’aas, but I don’t know if he has gained all the knowledge that it’s gained.

What is it with this guy and his obsession with me? What did the one Damnation, Ephlomseestiph I think, say? Priming something? Could that have referred to me? Wait. Are they trying to get me to become some sort of bomb? Crap. Do I have to actively *not* grow and strengthen myself if I want to counter their plans? Crap crap crap. Come on genre senses, give me the odds. Please?

Okay, twenty five percent odds that I’m becoming some sort of bomb secretly guided to that destination by their hands. Three percent odds that the Sisters were in on such a plan, helping it along. Not impossible, but highly unlikely. That’s not the worst thing I’ve ever concluded. Alright, what else can we figure out about this? What are the odds that my new Fel body has had its ties to the Emperor severed?

Oh good. Ninety nine point seven percent chance that whatever energy allowed him to know where I was, has gone away with my old body. I like those odds. I bet the bag of dicks never thought killing me would backfire. Wait, or was he trying to get this outcome? Oof, fifty fifty odds based on currently available data points. That sucks. Ugh, now I’m going to be second guessing myself on if I’m playing into his hands or not. Hm. Then again—.

Casting my mind back into myself, into my memories of my Rayileklian journey, taking care to avoid the thoughts that destroy my mindscape, I seek out a certain series of events. Teuila’s growth. Teuila’s joy. Every bit of her is every bit of me. Our hearts, souls, joy, sorrow, strength, past and future are intertwined cosmically. I think—. I think I know how all of this is going to end. I wear a sad smile, shaking my head at myself with this half-cracked grin. Of course it would. Of course it would. That’s fine. Proph—. Let’s just leave it where it lies, so that we don’t risk destroying our brain. Let’s focus on the moment, in the moment, for the moment, shall we?

Right, right right righty-oh. So, let’s take those thermal scans, and try to account for Lil’s flames. Teuila’s fairly sure we’re above another hallway, or she wouldn’t have set us loose here. This gives us a few data points. Two dead ends on opposite sides of a wall, their hallways and nearest splits, as well as being above another hallway. The map is coming into view fairly nicely. Hm, to be able to perform a simultaneous fighting-retreat, and infiltration slaughter, towards the seat of power—. How is that going to go?

I’ve got a few more casts worth of creation in the Cosmic Roundsheath. I can also use starlight or crash, or whisper, or raven-porting, to get past some seemingly insurmountable odds to reunite with Te or Lil in case we get separated. Am I wearing or holding anyth—? Wait. Am I blue again? Okay, this is getting out of hand. Wait. Wait wait. What if—. Am I some sort of frozen-Fel? Genre senses say something like seventy percent odds with so few data points. Think back to that tabletop roleplaying game. Player-character species had subspecies. The ones with horns and tails had ties to—. Certain archdevils. One of which is about cold fury, literally.

Am I on the side of the Fel in the cosmic-scale of things? Have I just been the great evil, all along, growing into my position unwittingly? Thankfully genre senses say something like zero point zero one percent. Then again, I’d probably have crafted a genre sense that would tell me that too, if I didn’t want to clue me in to me having been the big bad all along. The Sisters did say I wouldn’t know what I’d be.

Hm. Okay, okay, I can laugh at that one. I’ve got Lil, Lu, and Te, to keep me in check, and always will. There’s no way that any of them would ever “go darkside.” With all of them being as wonderful, compassionate, and heroic as they are, it’s highly unlikely that any gambit to get me to “go darkside,” would pay off.

What are some scenarios in which it would? Hm. I dunno, ultimate fate of the universe sort of stuff? Like whole planets worth of life threatened or something, where I had to sit on the throne of the Fel in order to stop it or something. Even then, I mean, the path to Hell and all that. I’d be doing it with good intentions, as I have with most everything in my life.

I’ll always struggle with the morality of things, even in just simplified schools of thought. This whole line of thought needs my whole inner circle to get feedback from anyway. Hopefully I remember to bring it up when we get home. Maybe Kinzul could weigh in too, or Tiktik or Jarrah Bettergrove if I head back to the Heart.

Right, back to things, we—. We might have our, erm, I might have my SIPs back. My Subzero Ice Punches. We keep becoming a shade of blue that is more and more frosty, every time the blue returns. I can’t help the stupid grin that sneaks along and creeps its way up the left side of my face. I was trying to avoid baking too many powers into RS2 as a base form, to be able to allow it to have access to the other forms as easy Rayileklian shapechanging sidegrades. With an entirely new body, one with a weaker EM-field organ, I didn’t even think to examine myself to find out if I might have other, new assets.

Let’s play around with that idea back in real time. For now, let’s try our best to consolidate this map, to correct any omissions or mistakes, and commit it to memory. Three Cs of retrocognition eh? Sure, whatever helps you visualize it pal. Actualize everything you can, always. Ever since Can’Z’aas, whenever ideas could pay off, and did pay off, it always seemed sparked by some revelation, some actualization. Still, let’s stop getting distracted by random things like being blue despite attempts to be any other pigment.

Poor Farzhis. I’m going to keep sending mixed signals since I can’t stop being blue. Hopefully she won’t be quite so, erm, turned on? Mrgrgr. Bluh. So awkward. I love the hell out of her for how much strength of character she has. I don’t want there to be any lusty stuff between us. She’s been benefiting from having a friend that isn’t seeking that from her, and I want to keep providing that. It doesn’t matter how crazily gorgeous she is, or even how much I actually have grown to like her. I’m proud of her, and happy with the path she’s chosen to walk, and I want to support her and cheer her on, every step of the way, without inserting myself deeply into that process. I—. Yes I heard it after I thought it. I’m glad no one else is in my head right now. Yeesh.

What was I do—? Oh, right. Stop getting distracted thinking about the heroic, brave, kind, stoic, beautiful buxom lass whose life is on a hard, grieving journey Reggie. Snirk. Snort. Yes, I know, I heard myself. Okay, Reggie, snap out of the daze and ditch the ditzy detour—focus. This chilly new veneer? Not exactly demon, but devil's in the details, right? Heh, Lil’s and Te's expressions’re gonna be priceless when I break it to ‘em that my inner demon's gone and become an outer one. Just another day in the life of, eh Reggie?