An Age of Mysterious Memories

Suddenly I’m in a realm devoid of light, of time, not initiated by myself. In this darkened void, beyond the edges of space, I see myriad golden threads, endless amounts of them, all coming to end at a certain point, as if falling off a cliff parallel to one another. Yet within this mass of turmoil, this ending of threads, a single, frail, microscopic line becomes apparent. A tenuous thread extends past the rest, out into the nebulous beyond. Suddenly I’m shunted back into my own body, back into the normal stream of time. I don’t have *time* to figure out what the vision means, or why it showed up when it did, when Teuila claimed to have no limits.

Crying out to my telepathic bond, I shout across our telepathic wavelengths, “Lu, Lucky, Lil, top of Solace now, I need you! Te needs you! Everyone else, barricade the aerie!”

I glance at Pidge, who’s sitting down having a bowl of stew with Trixxie. He’s networked now, but his stare is so vacant, he hardly seems to know anything’s going on, much less that an attack by the Damnations and Evil Claws is happening. What is with him? Do I dare leave him unattended right now? Wait, the Evil Claws. Harrelk is out there. He’s why the Damnations are arriving in full force. It’s either that, or because they lost their ability to track me. One or the other. Or maybe both. The Celestial Emperor is getting desperate, it seems. I bet he’s pissed he lost the spying presence within me.

Alanea casts a saddened gaze my way. She knows I need a break, a rest, mentally and physically. She knows that the Celestial Emperor is Jarrah’s Manxome Foe, that the Enochian Enclave stands against. Littlebit frowns, but grabs something that looks like a remote control, and several automatons come zooming after me. She chases after them, and hops in what’s essentially a kangaroo pouch on the largest one. My lower lip quivers. I know how scared Littlebit is. Her offering herself and her clankers up to even get closer to the combat is heartwarming and heartbreaking simultaneously.

Ahliyui and Ahliyuri are here. There’s plenty of people I trust here. My eyes plead with Yui to keep an eye on Pidge, since his comrades are attacking. I’m sure she could take him, maybe. Couldn’t she? He’s pretty beat up from Lucky’s assault the other day.

I’m suddenly being hoisted by a sprinting Shiz as he mutters, “Hup Schism. So, this is what it’s like on this side of the war. This is what it feels like to take my life back? Tell me where you want me. No matter what it costs me.”

Tears stream forth as my lower jaw quivers, and my lower lip along with it. Shiz being my lift lets me spend my energy focusing on trying to come up with solutions to our Damnations problem. There’s too many for the Shellcrackers alone to—Is Kinzul—. Does being a Shellcracker confer the soul-locking benefit? Or is it being from Can’Z’aas? Or from dying to the books? Fricklefrack. I can’t risk it. One more soul-locked person. One more is all I need. Then I could guarantee keeping the Damnations occupied, while others join the fray to fight off the Evil Claws.

I say one more, because I know Nonnam is damn-near dead, and Ephlomseestiph can’t be doing too great either, so I’m sure I can keep both of their attention. Hell, Nonnam’s being propped up by two Evil Claws to help him glide his way here, his wings are nearly disintegrated. If we blast the dragons propping him up out from under him, he goes tumbling into the Worldstorm, and this time he’s finished for good. We simply cannot let him land on the aerie and get into solace proper.

Gorrammit all I’m tapped out! What the hell do I even have that—my Honoris Causa. It’s all I have left in me today. Every last charge in every magical item, every last ability use, or safe SP, are all spent. Hell, my limbs feel a bit leaden because I was trying to boost and speed up some of the permanency enhancement enchantments. Shiz is a thunderer. He’s offering up his life, and his very soul being at risk. Do I dare? If I lose the big guy, how will Atter feel about me? About Solace? Will she turn her back on our mercy?

Well, no, I don’t think she’d give up the peace and safety of her kinsmen. I do think losing her brother would sour our relations a great deal though. Think Reggie, think. Figure out a way to form a net,even if it lets the Evil Claws through, as long as it stops the Damnations in their tracks. All of the Shellcrackers can fly at this point, even Lucky. We can take five of them head-on for sure to keep them away from Solace. Do I risk leaving the injured two up to our breathers and blasters? Do I order the ancients, Qlaxi’s consorts, who’d been living-it-up at our expense to defend the aerie, to take down the two heavily injured Damnations?

Anyone I ask to fight them, I’m quite likely condemning not just to death, but to the loss of their dragonforce, and their very soul. Think Reggie, think! What all do we know? What are the clues? The Four. Mate. Eldest evil in the lands. Sun shines in a specific way. A frayed knot. All timelines cease to have a future. What does it all mean? Put the pieces together gorrammitall!

So many voices along my psychic networks are pleading with me, begging me to win, Leezah’s not the least amongst them. She’s quite vocal, and fearful. What the Fel can I do!?

A surprising voice cuts through the chatter, Orthral’s, claiming, “Worry not Schism, this is a perfect opportunity. We’ve never had such a chance before. This is what it feels like to finally fight back! You and yours handle the Damnations, We’ll handle the Claws, and sweep them under the rug in a few minutes.”

Minutes? The journey to the top of Solace is a few minutes, and Te’s already almost at a point of contact with dozens of the most powerful, most evil dragons in existence, some of whom have super-powered Latents that we don’t even know the effects of.

Minutes. How many of them? Eight or more? Maybe not, but… Do it! I don’t care what it costs, do it Reggie! I begin reaching out to Can’Z’aas. I picture where I’ll be eight minutes from now, and each second after that fact, as I estimate the maneuvers of the foes that I’ll be facing. I have to maintain my focus on this. I have to keep the idea, the exact placement in my mind, even though it means predicting the future. Urk. Blood splashes forth from my mouth, spattering the wall next to Shiz as he rushes the pair of us up the tunnels of Solace. He glances up at me in concern, but I hardly have time to fill him in.

Chuckling, Shiz queries, “With someone like you, the old adage is really true, isn’t it?” as I glance down at him with a curiously raised brow, Shiz offers up, “What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger. You’re someone, when push comes to shove, when you’re pushed, you push back harder. Sounds like you’re putting yourself near death’s door, I’ll fight for Solace, for Atty, for us, together with you Schism.”

Gulping back my emotions, I nod mutely at the big guy. I really do like Shiz. His name is still unfortunate, since I use it as a curse in place of, well, yeah. Him, his sister Attraxiaz, Ahliyui, and Ahliyuri accepting my mercy and joining us was the luckiest thing that happened that day, perhaps the entire war. Speaking of, Lucky, Lil, and Lu are catching up. Most of the Order is catching up, my Lady included. Now that they’re over the shock of my request, now that they’ve shared what my brain has learned, and what my brain is planning. I’m sorry Kinzul, my love. I’m sorry for what I’m about to do. What it might cost.

Whispering psychically to me, Luni begs, “Please, don’t you give up on me now, My Hero. Promise you won’t take this too far. All I need is you to promise you won’t let yourself die from this.”

Biting my lips, I can’t answer Luni, though my guts twist with guilt at my silence. Veins and channels within my body begin to glow, expelling light and life. How big? What are the multipliers? I need to know the exact values, to keep the picture in my mind. I’ve been sacrificing points of max mana in order to apply the permanency enhancement enchantments, and others, according to Lu.

Math, math, so much math. Have I also been gaining max mana from using my various Can’Z’aasian energy related skills? Electrokinesis? My breath skill? Did my inventory skill go up or down at all, by creating the Backpotter form? Crap. Umbra? Void? If you can hear me, I really want to form our bond. I need a miracle.

What was my maximum mana again? Something like fifty one hundred? Then the exponential multiplier was one point one to the x, x being number of hundreds of mana. That exponential multiplier would be on top of the fifty one times potency that would come just with pumping fifty one times the normal amount of mana into a spell. So, fifty one, times one point one to the fifty first power. Fricklefrack what the hell is it? That math is horrendous. Wait. The phone.

Digging out the phone, I punch the calculations in. Right, so, my multipliers from energy expenditure alone will be sixty-five eighty-five or so. That, times my Duende bonus, times my Space skill, times my Stamina bonus, times, um, were there any other stacking multipliers? Crap! Wait. I got it wrong. I kept some notes in the phone. I had over fifty-six hundred mana. So it’s one point one to the fifty-sixth power, times fifty six, before factoring in the other bonuses. Two oh seven, almost two oh eight for the exponent, times fifty six is eleven thousand six-forty-six. Uh, what else?

Screw it. Can we convince Can’z’aas that this deserves a stealth bonus, because there’s no way that the friggin’ Damnations will see it coming? Also a survival bonus because I’d really like to live through using this? Maybe I set that multiplier on the side as a defensive multiplier against shredding myself inside out. Come on Reggie, think, think. Can we electrically enchant the Space-object-duplicates? Set them aflame as well, perhaps alternating flame and frost? Add in some electrokinesis and thermokinesis multipliers.

Time skill. My time multiplier is, well, it’s utterly ridiculously insanely high. I think I’m going to need to apply it, along with my survival skill multiplier, to be able to survive what I’m trying to do. How do I app—across my timestream. I divide the damage I’m doing to myself across my timestream, effing myself over in the past. That’s a one-off solution Reggie. You can’t send that much damage backwards across your lifetime more than once. What about ahead? Do you want to risk screwing yourself against three more apocalypses yet to come? Huff, no. No I don’t. So we’re agreed. If we do this, it’s a one-off. We can’t survive it again. We could accidentally nuke ourself out of our own timestream, killing ourselves sometime in the past.

I need to, hm, frontload the damage. Back to when I was a soul on Can’Z’aas. When that soul was being cared for by the Fae at the Miracle Oak. Then stretch out infinitesimally small percentages of the damage across the rest of the timestream. Right, right, get back to the math. If I’m calling my Backpotter form into existence for a split second, to launch the attack, I can probably add in my Shapeshifting multiplier. Do I risk destroying that form?

Gnawing on my own lip, I glance down at Shiz, who shrugs unknowingly, not entirely understanding what my brain is rambling about. Can I imagine it as a breath weapon of the Backpotter form? I gave every form my breath weapon organ, right? Can’Z’aas is going to be so pissed off at me cheesing the system so hard. I need every advantage I can get though.

Oh no. Te! She–she’s okay, for the moment. She’s moving so fast. She’s balking every last dragon. I can see the sweat utterly pouring down over her goggles though. It’s taking its toll on her. Come on Reggie, think. Get it together. Finish the math. Focus. Okay, before cheesing in multipliers, wait. Energy itself had a multiplier. Do I get to add that too, for emptying my energy pool for the attack? Or is that only for limit breaks?

Ugh, then there’s the fact that the larger the dragon, the more flat damage reduction they seem to have, in addition to resistance to damage from smaller projectiles and weapons and energy blasts and impacts. I need to focus on increasing the mass behind my attacks, like I did in my Cosmic King form. So I can’t just multiply the number of inventory duplicates ejected as an attack, I also have to divide some of that up amongst all the duplicates to increase their mass. Okay, keep on going with the math.

Reggie, are you sure Can’Z’aas is going to go along with this? This is limit-break levels of multiplication. This is beyond insane. Double-check your math. Almost three-hundred-sixteen-million projectiles, all of over two-hundred-forty-three thousand times mass. It’ll spread two point two four damage per second across my timeline, two-hundred-forty-three-thousand times.

I’m going to die. I’m going to obliterate myself from the timestream. Even if I heavily layer that damage per second into those seconds before I had a physical form, this is beyond insane. What happens to the timeline if I erase myself from it accidentally? If I grandfather’s paradox myself, does the attack go off at all?

Can we convert some more of that numerical quantity multiplier, into survival multiplier? Okay, okay yeah. Alright. If we do that, I’ll be taking, let’s see, um. Less than one-one-hundredth of a damage per second, across my entire past timeline, a little over a thousand times. Ten damage per second, that’s survivable, I think. It’s not fun, but—huh, does this mean I’d always done this? That my regen was always hampered by this much damage per second?—how much can I safely frontload it? How many times can my soul-self absorb a lifetime worth of ten damage per second crammed into whatever short amount of time it existed?

Hm, what about swapping one more of those values, those multipliers, from damage to survival? Let’s say my sh… shapeshifting. Son of a mrgrgr. I’m the cause of my mana corruption residue sickness intensity. Wait, hold on, don’t get pissed at yourself yet. You’re a Changeling Fae. Alanea said they’re all not supposed to mess with mana, without copious amounts of shapeshifting in order to compensate. Okay, sure. But was I even a Changeling Fae to begin with? I didn’t start out with a Shapeshifting skill. The system didn’t recognize my species or race or whatever. I, well, I can’t answer that. Obviously.

But yeah, doing it this way makes it survivable. I’m suddenly down to taking less than a hundredth of a damage per second, less than nineteen times per second, over the course of my entire timestream, meaning even packing in a few of those times into the start, I shouldn’t have to worry, though I probably don’t even need to frontload it, since it’ll be less than a fifth of a damage per second if I just let it ride. It does strike me that it will exacerbate recurring pains.

How often did I have my right lung punctured? Did I mess with and twist fate into taking that injury over and over? That’s a bit hilarious if the pain and damage per second would bundle up and wait for an opportunity to stab me in the right lung. I rattle my skull, not having time to contemplate my own stupid fate.

That’s the math then, right? Math, math math math. Yes, no? Yes. Double check. Yes. Okay. I must sound so friggin’ neurotic across my telepathic wavelengths right now.

Speaking of, calling into my psychic networks, I announce, “Everyone! *Everyone* attention please! In just shy of eight minutes, I’ll be filling the skies over Solace with around one point four million extremely deadly projectiles. No matter what happens, I need you all to evacuate back into, and barricade Solace before that happens. That includes you Te!”

The wave of confusion, surprise, and other emotions that hits me from the combined telepathic wavelengths nearly knocks me for a loop. I struggle to stay maintaining my focus on envisioning the attack that’ll be arriving in about seven minutes. Those who know me well are worried for my own safety, knowing what bearing colossal levels of power does to me. Those who don’t know me are shocked to their cores at the quantities I’m claiming and purporting.

How many of us, which of us are going to die in this attack? Lu? Do you know? Is this why things get sad, and worse, and worse? Crap, I can’t put that on her. Sorry Lu. Even if you knew, I’m sure I’m not supposed to know in advance. Gods. I’m asking her to go up against, and solo a Damnation for six plus minutes. My Lu, My Anchor, my gal who’s terrified of fighting. I’m asking my son Lucky, too, despite him having just gotten the tar and stuffing beat out of himself by a giant robot the other day, despite hardly ever bonding with him. Lil, best pal, I–.

“Say no more Rej. I get it. This is the big-time. It’s us. It has to be us. I love you too pal. If uh, if I don’t make it back. You know what to say, to who, right?”

My heart freezes as terror sinks its icy claws into me, the idea of my best buddy dying. I can’t even see through the waterfall of tears. I know what he means, to tell Lu, his mom, and Ixey, that he loves them, always did, and always will, no matter how many lifetimes away he is, if there’s any sort of afterlife, or reincarnation for him. I fight back my sobs as I draw a ragged breath, my lower jaw trembling, and lower lip quivering.

Whispering to the thunderer giving me a lift, I plead, “Shiz, I have a favor to ask. I want you on the aerie, charging up, til the very last second. If someone, something makes it past us. I want you to do your best to knock them into the storm, and flee. If a Shellcracker starts falling out of the sky, I want you to abandon even that, grab them, and flee. Discharge your breath if you have to, to clear yourself a path to save them. I shouldn’t ask this of you. I’m putting you so close to soul-stealing monsters. I–.”

Interrupting me, Shiz comforts, “It’s an honor Schism. I’ll do it. I only wish Atty weren’t conjugating right now, or I’d ask her up to the aerie. Her voice is stronger than mine, even before ‘ titling. A point of pride for her, and a bit rueful for me. If I get taken out, get revenge on the bastard ‘ does me in, yeah?”

Nodding, I gulp back mucus. Drawing more ragged breaths, I attempt to control my focus. We’re almost to the feasting hall, then it’s only a quick sprint up the new tunnel to the aerie. Is there anything else we can do, anything at all, to help protect everyone in Solace?

How long can an ancient hold the charge on their breath weapon without hurting themselves? How much do they need to expel to let it go if they don’t need to use it? If we have stages of breathers waiting in the feasting hall, and the tunnels leading to it, they can work like archer formations, dropping back, if a Damnation does manage to make its way past us. Could a human-form Damnation withstand the onslaught of our strongest five to ten breath weapons simultaneously, and then next five to ten strongest, several times? It would have to at least slow them down, and give them a little pause, right? Plus, an Evil Claw that made it through would be utterly decimated, totally toast.

That reminds me, I recognize his form as one of the consorts of Qlaxi’s that joined us. I quickly call out to everyone, “Keep an eye on Harrelk, I’m positive he’s the Evil Claw known as Harlequin. If he changes shape to that of one of us, I want to know the instant it happens. I want him out of the fight ay ess ay pee, but he is not a priority target for the Shellcrackers. As much as I want to take him out myself, our focus is on the Damnations. Anyone else who participates in the combat, steer clear of the Damnations, and check your target! Keep abreast of who Harlequin appears to be.”

Privately, to Littlebit, and Nala, who apparently hitched a ride with one of Littlebit’s bots, “Do you think you can rig up an improvised barricade that’s got some real oomph? I’ll empty my dimensional pouches and haversacks on the floor, use whatever you find, even if it seems irreplaceable. It looks like Lu is one step ahead of me, she’s emptying hers out too. You’re both amazing, talented inventors, and incredibly brave for coming to the front like this, but I don’t want you directly exposed to the combat if we can avoid it. Neither of you are quite as durable as a fully fledged dragon. Speaking of–.”

Zooming my way, Miraina leaps onto Shiz’s back and embraces me. The tears in her eyes speak the silent plea she can’t muster. Keep her mom safe. Come home safe. She nods frantically in response to my thoughts. I glance towards the pouch that she keeps the magical chalice in, wondering if she’s used its power today. I can’t remember if she did. I still want it to be a last minute last resort at best though, due to its time-limit, and me not wanting Miraina on the front-lines to begin with.

I lean over to kiss Pawn’s forehead, and nudge her scalp with my nose, pushing her away slightly, hinting for her to clamber down off of Shiz. Our home is attacked in earnest, by forces that are so deadly, that almost none dare face them. If any of the Evil Claws have Latents that can disable any of us Shellcrackers, they could help get the Damnations past us, to wreak havoc and steal souls within Solace. As much as I hate it, I need a full contingent, a flight of dragons at my back, keeping the Evil Claws off my back, off of our backs, the Shellcrackers’ backs, so that we can keep the Damnations away from everybody else.

Somewhat surprisingly, only resolute fury dwells within Iylynila’s eyes. She nods towards me. The Dormir have my back. I don’t even have to ask about Prinrin, she’s already at the aerie. Dammit you devious deviant little old lady. Don’t you dare take off out there ahead of the Shellcrackers. If you get your soul stolen, I’ll never forgive you. Oh Illy. I just realized. My eyes water further as I cast my gaze aside. They took her father from her. They took Kinzul’s spouse from her, and the Platinum must also have been Illy’s father. Nietru asked me to help our Lady get revenge. I think it was Nietru at least. Oh Prinny, he was your lover too. I–.

The teary-eyed fury in Prinrin’s gaze across our telepathic wavelength verifies my train of thought. Revenge, justice for the Platinum, his loves, his lovers, and his descendants, and–oh my gods, Prinrin might have had clutches of metallic children with The Platinum, and they were all destroyed, hunted down and–. I choke on my emotions when I feel the pang of grief, loss, and agony that strikes through Prinrin’s heart as my suspicions bring back painful memories for her. We need to end the Damnations. There’s a minor faction within Terrorzin’s faction that follows them specifically, and their desire to end metallic dragons and Draconiacs, for some reason. We have to ferret them out and destroy them as well for their genocidal bigotry.

Emotions and stakes are too high. I’m not sure anyone that is invested in this should be out there with us tonight. Illy and Prinny. I trust you both with *my* life, but what about yours? Will you promise to back out before my massive attack goes off? I know I don’t have a right to control your actions, your fury, your desire for justice and revenge. I just–I’d die if I killed you. My attack will flood the skies over Solace.

Wind whips at my cloak as we leave the tunnel from the feasting hall, setting foot upon the aerie, the rough stone slick beneath Shiz's boots as he sets me down. This is it. We’re assembled to avenge The Platinum. Coming together like this, despite being battered and bruised, it’s so very deeply inspiring. Even moreso, since there’s every chance that any one of my allies might have their life instantly snuffed out, their very souls stolen. Thankfully, everyone waited until we’re all assembled. Well, other than Teuila, since she’s already out there. We need to get out to her to offer reprieve quickly, but it’s best to do it in formation so that those of us that can’t face the Damnations, don’t.

The Worldstorm yawns beneath us, a roiling maw of acid rain and lightning rivers. Ozone stings my nostrils, its sharp tang ever-present. Atop it, the foul perfume of the storm itself – rotten eggs and bleach in an unholy dance. But stronger than either is the stew of emotions hanging in the air along our psychic networks, foremost of all amongst them, determination. Plenty of fear, but mostly the grim resolve of absolute determination. Oy vey, here we go. One by one, the Onyx Dawn members assembled on the aerie are shifting into their dragon forms, even my wife, Kinzul, Administrator of the entire order.

Gil, Fen, and Orth, our largest metallics on the aerie are a confidence-inspiring, fortifying sight. Of them, Gil looks like he’s swathed in liquid gold, while Fen’s silver scales sparkle, reflecting and refracting the light from the endless rivers of lightning coursing through the Worldstorm below. And Orthral, his brassy bronze scales holding a slight iridescence, forms a V with Fenric, Gilmeshtu in their lead. Unsurprisingly, to me at least, Prinny, Prinrin, our The-Copper flies just beneath Gilmeshtu, at the head of the V. Her burnished copper scales are somehow more matte, and muted than I’m used to seeing them.

Despite being the runt of the group, Prinny isn’t holding anything back. The fury at the Damnations for stealing away the lover she shared with Kinzul, the father of her children, and her children themselves, it's akin to the demon Wrath that resides within me. She’s all fiery spirit in a small package, her eyes glowing like a warm hearth. Only this hearth's blazing, raging, ready to go out of control. A side effect of her rage and ire as she transformed? I know that my Wrath demon can have physically manifested effects that show up on me. Or is it because, as a runt, she’s flying in Gilmeshtu’s shadow, literally overshadowed by him and his far greater mass?

Lil, my best buddy for all my lives, the underdog – or underdragon, I guess. He's about a tenth the size of the ancients, a Blaster amongst Behemoths, but if we can get him a clear shot, for long enough, his breath weapon is no joke. The most feared on the planet for a reason. My buddy's got guts aplenty, taking on dragons of such vastly larger sizes, like the continental landmasses flying towards us, those Damnations that we have to keep away from everyone else. The Shellcrackers, my inner circle, my family, I… My vision blurs and I blink back tears.

The Triple L Squad are just charging ahead. Seeing them like this, all brave and bold, is both heartening and a bit nerve-wracking. They're in over their heads. Everyone, even Lu, is injured heavily, but you wouldn’t know it from their faces. Especially Lil – I mean, come on, the size difference alone is insane, but there he goes, fearless as ever. Lucky, my son, dashing away into the air, flying, utilizing magic items as deftly as anyone, is certainly a sight to behold. He could probably shapeshift himself a pair of wings if he wanted to, but with that helmet-mask-thing that Te gave to him, he doesn’t need to, since it grants him magical flight.

I manifest my Honoris Causa to its fullest caliber, what’s recovered of it anyway. How few hours ago was it dissipated by a meteor? I can’t believe how much has happened today. Harlequin coming to light, our entire Al’pa’ca mission that felt like a week-long adventure, intense conversation and bonding, and psychic-network-building. And now this! The bastards are lucky Teuila and I are even home from our mission. I’m highly suspicious that they want us, possibly just me, for some reason. Or maybe I was just an easy target before, when I had the spy riding around inside my body, before, well, dying and getting a new one.

Come on Reggie, hup, and we have liftoff. Te can’t keep this up forever, so get your arse out there. Holding my breath, my Void Dragon form virtually, well, literally, soars towards my target, Nonnam. There’s some lighthearted argument, about who has whom across our telepathic networks, but it seems like we’re almost okay. Eleven active Evil Claws, against eight flying Onyx Dawn sounds bad, but two of them are stuck propping up Nonnam, so it’s actually nine versus our eight, and one of our eight is Kinzul, the eldest, and one of the top five most powerful beings on the planet. Wait, the arguments are concluded, but–.

Veering from my target, I doff my circlet, and rush it to Kinzul. She’s headed towards an Evil claw with pinkish-purplish hued gemlike scales, amethyst I suppose. If those are indicative of her breath weapon, or powers, she’s a psi-oriented dragon. I’m already panting, the nervousness, the anxiety is exhausting.

Whispering across our psychic network, benefitting from blocking out any possible interception, due to the circlet in my hands, I inform my wife, “Kinzul, the one you’re going after, I’m almost positive her breath weapon, or Latent, or abilities are tied to psionics, psychic attacks. You know that that was one of my weaknesses that was in need of shoring up, and this is the answer to that shoring up. It provides complete immunity to psionics and psychic anything, which unfortunately means temporarily cutting yourself off from our telepathic networks. I wish there was a solution that didn’t have that caveat, but if there is, I don’t have access to it, my love. Please, don this, and don’t take it off until you’re certain your target is slain or driven off.”

Kinzul is wise enough, intelligent enough to understand the value of becoming completely immune to any section of the weapons in your foe’s arsenal. Even if I’m wrong, brain-blasting spells could be in the repertoire of any of these dragons, and out of everyone, Kinzul’s is the most important mind to keep from being blasted. It’s fortunate that she’s got a commingled Shellcracker soul, specifically commingled with mine, or she wouldn’t be able to benefit from the circlet at all. I guess it came to pass after all. The marriage being beneficial for bringing Kinzul partly into the system of Can’Z’aas.

If it were Te, I’d say, “Go get ‘em babe,” or something similar. If I were in a sitcom, I’d tell my wife, “Be careful honey.” As is, I simply whisper, “Stay safe,” before kissing Kinzul’s horn-ridge with my Honoris Causa, and turning back towards my target.

Luni’s headed for the injured target she recognizes from Vorzog’s keep, Laombigla, but I plead with her to keep the healthier one busy, since I know she doesn’t want to fight in the first place, much less try to pull together enough offenses to kill. Plus, it’ll be easier for me to keep the attention of the two that I’ve injured, trading off with Te if needbe. Te’ll be handling two or three Damnations, constantly, despite being as spent as I am from our Stormspire adventure with Lil. At least Lil’s breath weapon, and items that empower it, don’t run out of charges.

Lucky’s lunging straight for Sibil, going for the wings. Good boy Lucky, good boy. If enemies are going to target the smallest amongst us, which they do, and are, you working to take their smallest out of the fight as fast as possible would free you up to–, “Siege is back,” I hear from my goggles.

Are you effing kidding me!? Pleading into our psychic networks, I beg, “Someone get Boetah to come cover the aerie with Shiz, and get Queens Rend and Sunderer down to the siege with anyone who still has daily ability uses left!”

If I can’t rely on having our nearly undefeatable Queens as a last resort backup blocking entry into Solace proper, Boetah is the next best bet. He’s virtually indestructible versus breath weapons and certain Latents. I know he’s been mating with Atter, but I seriously hope he’s gotten some rest recently, and can slip away.

There’s a flash brighter than the lightning beneath us, orangeish in color that quickly becomes blue and then pure white. I’m forced to squint, trying to parse what happened. Rubicante is breathing on Gil, which shouldn’t hurt him, because Gil’s immune to fire, but the Fire is clinging to Gil, and the air around him, becoming an almost solid object, virtually encasing Gil. Gil’s grunts and snarls are punctuated with profanity, and Rubicante taunts back with equal amounts of profanity, gleeful to have trapped one of our strongest. It does seem like he needs to focus on maintaining the solidity of the flames though. Wait, there! A tiny section of flame winked out as he turned his head a bit. Did it slip outside the range of his peripheral vision? Somebody blind him!

Lil raises a scaled brow towards me across our psychic networks, but I shake my head. It’s a good thing we didn’t clump up and go after the Evil Claws. Rubicante might have been able to trap a bunch of us, and that would have let the Damnations through in a heartbeat. Lil returns his attention to his long-building breath charge on Dazomeus, who can’t afford to ignore him, as the intensity and immunity-piercing nature of Lil’s flame just keeps ramping up. Good job Lil. Drag him away a bit, and see if you can catch another damnation with your flame at the same time, by luring him around.

You’re doing good Lu, just keep pestering Ephlomseestiph, and using your abilities whatever way you want. Just, just stay safe. Whatever you do. I see her wielding that thunder scepter that allows for a short range concussive burst endlessly. It’s definitely harrowing enough that her Damnation can’t ignore it.

Mine is barely alive, hell, he might even be an actual floating reanimated corpse, based on the fact that he doesn’t seem to have sensory organs, wings, a tongue, or even an esophagus. Still, he’s a mountain of mass, and each lazy slow swipe would be enough to bat me down into the Worldstorm, or rend me into pieces if his claws connected. I work on peppering him with holy hellfire double-barreled crossbow bolts, just to keep his attention, and his guttural roar seems to communicate to the Evil Claws lifting him, to chase me. That’s good. I position myself such that my fight with Nonnam gets in the way of Laombigla’s advance, and allows me to harry Laombigla by flying into his face, raking at it with my Honoris Causa. What little of it I can manage to manifest while this stressed out for my loved ones.

Lucky has daily abilities left, good boy Lucky! He’s firing off mini meteorites, and his eagle-harpy paladins are casting spells to help refresh Teuila, while harassing Ferciul. If he can get into a decent position to do it, he can drop a pretty decent-sized glacier on one or more of the Damnations. Or maybe those are the only abilities he had left, if he was busy fighting the siege while Lil, Te, and I were away. I can’t afford to keep my focus on him to see everything he uses. I’ve got my own Damnations to deal with.

Speaking of, I barrel roll around an incoming jab from Nonnam, which tags Laombigla in the face, causing me to snicker slightly. Just keep focusing on stuff like that Reggie, don’t think about the one thing, don’t even think about not thinking about it. No need for a panic attack right now buddy. Shush, don’t even talk about what you’re avoiding talking about.

Okay, Teuila has a not-so-hard time keeping the attention of two of them. She makes it look almost easy as she basically has Mjolnir fighting for her, by tossing it out to clobber Ferciul and boomeranging it back while she focuses on laying a beatdown on Grimsranton’s face. I’ve seen her pull out a Gae Buidhe for a few test stabs, but it’s just not big enough that it actually causes any sort of injury, despite the amount of force Te can put behind it, so its special power is essentially useless. Her weapons might be too small to really carve up these mountainous morons, but her bludgeoning impacts are sending thunderous shockwaves and caving in scales. That’s to say nothing of Mjolnir doing essentially the same thing off to one side every few seconds.

Other than Gil being trapped, and me not knowing what the powers of these two Evil Claws are, our plan to divide and conquer seems to be working. We’re too dangerous for our foes to try to ignore us in order to pass off dance partners, their size is working against them. Suddenly, the one that I think is Lovelace, one of the two propping up Nonnam, begins calling out orders in draconic, and our plan falls to pieces in mere moments.

I psychically offer strategy and suggestions to help get the flow back going our way, and the Order utilizes them, but it’s like Lovelace knows what I’m going to suggest before I suggest it, and gets countermeasures into place. It’s like a panoptic Latent, or maybe hyperawareness. It doesn’t seem to be entirely precognition, or we’d already be dead. How the hell do you outmaneuver someone who can guess your every move, knowing the smart strategy to counter it? They’re gaining ground towards Solace by the moment.

Wait. I know how to make our moves harder to guess. Calling out to Lu, I request, “Lu, play us a random riff, and make it loud!” to everyone else, I psychically offer up, “Let your bodies guide you, Groove to Lu’s music.”

I can’t fill Kinzul in on the plan, because of the psi-blocking circlet, but she’s smart enough, hearing Luni, seeing us, she’ll figure it out. Her foe, Butterfly, seems to be growing more enraged by the minute, realizing Kinzul is immune to her powers. I worry that Butterfly might realize the secret behind the immunity, if she recalls my glancing at her, before handing the circlet over to Kinzul.

Oof. Distracted as usual Reggie? Yeah yeah, shut up. Guess what broke again? I know already, shut up. My right ribs punctured my right freakin’ lung. I joked once about maybe just removing the sucker. Maybe I should really go through with it, because this hurts like hell. Laombigla caught me with the edge of his tail, when I was focusing on claws and teeth of him and Nonnam.

Okay, if we treat this as a battle of attrition, we look like we’re fighting a losing battle, but that’s okay, right? We want it to look that way. Only… It doesn’t just look that way, the Dormies and Vivvies are getting the crap kicked out of themselves, minus Gil who’s trapped. Prinny is fighting a… bigger Prinny. Harlequin wasn’t going to give up the size advantage, but is still using the same tired trick, just like I expected. But, between that size advantage, and him being far less injured, with Prinny acting on fury, the fight’s going poorly for her. I, I just have to trust her, that she can hold out. I rattle my skull and blink away tears. I can’t afford to drag Damnations towards her in order to try to help her out.

I hate that Butterfly is so quick, that Kinzul can’t really end that fight. If Kinzul could finish off Butterfly, she could doff the circlet, free Gil, and take on– hold on, who’s on who?

There’ve been some dance partner switches. Curly Beard, a Blue, a lightning dragon, had been harrying Veril, but thankfully Veril’s got some resilience to lightning now, thanks to the artifact that Te split between him and Farzhis. Still, where’d he go? Illy’s over there with Bad Dog, a Sand, and Frostwalker, an Ice. She’s so graceful, it looks like she isn’t even moving. Wait. She isn’t moving. She’s suspended in the air, in a chilly mist that Frostwalker is exhaling. It doesn’t seem like it’s freezing her like a normal ice breath weapon. She’d be plummeting. No, this is something else. Bad Dog isn’t taking advantage of it in the way I’d expect. Bad Dog’s barking off silicate breath attacks over the top of the mist, creating a giant mound of sand suspended in the air above Illy, as if–. No! It’s a time stop effect, and when it ends, Illy’ll be driven down through the Worldstorm by tons of sand!

Crap crap crap. My Honoris Causa just isn’t enough to finish off either of these Damnations, but I’m Reggie Shellcracker. If I were over there, I could probably free Illy from the timestopping mist. If I did that though, I’d be freeing her to resume normal time, right into the waiting claws of two Damnations. Friggin’ hell!

Suddenly, I’m distracted yet again, hearing, "Heh, you're both Blues, pity for you two," Orthral stretches his neck in time with the thundrous crack of the dactyl-leather of his immense wings before continuing, "No point in charging, no point in breathing. I'll be sending you below the Worldstorm the fun way. Well, fun for me anyway."

Apparently during some of the round robin dance partner switching, Orthral lucked out into going up against Curly Beard, and Devilhound, two Blues, lightning dragons, just like him. I can't help glancing his way, despite being embroiled in battle with Nonnam, who's little more than a friggin' sky-zombie at this point, but still lethal to all my beloved family in the Onyx Dawn. My danger-wraps' senses help keep me from being shredded by a lackadaisical claw swipe while I'm distracted, but Orthral has no such luck. He takes several powerful blows to his face, neck, scapula, and wings in a quick skirmish.

Spitting blood and thunder, somewhat literally--well, more like blood and lightning, since he's a Bronze--Orthral begins to claim, "Look here you louts, I'm not gonna--," and my eyes fly wide in shock as an Evil Claws' Latent activates. An upside-down hurricane funnel appears atop Orthral, sucking him down into the Worldstorm. It sends him spinning into the tenebrous depths of the deadly cloudbanks below us.