To Fly the Soaring Tides

Cira plunged into the sea which no light reached nor escaped from.

It has always churned and swirled in the back of her mind, but pushed down until it was denser than the depths of Archaeum.

She spent a long time in this place, sinking.

As if it were mere darkness, she tried to shield herself from it.

It took a long time before she realized it was nothing like that.

That crushing ocean of hers was a part of herself she’d disconnected from—that’s what it had always been.

After a longer while, A light came from below.

Cira sank further toward it, as if she had a choice.

What… is that? A fragment of my soul, hidden away and unblemished by recent failures?

Why is it… down here?

Was it Dad who placed it there, knowing that I may one day need it?

Soon the pressure lessened, and the sea of darkness gave way to a world blanched in light.

She felt inherently that the fragment was assimilating and felt a certain long-forgotten comfort.

It must have been a piece of her soul from just a few years after Gazen found her.

She felt a nostalgiac, childlike and worry-free happiness. A sense of hope in the bleak world she found herself in. As if there were infinite horizons for her to surpass and nothing would ever go wrong as she traveled the skies next to—

No, he’s gone… Never again will we share a sunset, nor will he praise my progress with a pat on the head. Those days are gone forever.

“I am so proud of you, my daughter.” Surely, I’m just hearing things, “I will always be watching over you.”

The faded world had slowly taken form. Somehow, having turned darker before she even noticed. The inside of small room was lit by a candle’s glow, through the window Cira saw stars far above. She sat comfortably on top of someone’s lap.

“D-dad…” I feel like none of my years have passed—I’m right back where I was so long ago. “I… I miss you. I’m sorry I’ve been a failure of a sorcerer; a failure of a daughter… You must be watching over me with such disappointment…”

“Perish the thought,” The voice timbred through the newly shaped realm of Cira’s memory. “I’ve never been more proud of you. You became everything I ever hoped for and more.”

A dull and distant joy emerged from those words. A desperate gratitude long unfelt. The vibrance of the single flickering flame against the night began to lose its luster. Nostalgic wasn’t quite the word to describe it, as if this memory had been among those buried.

“Do you mean it…?” Cira was staring at her feet and kicked her legs absently as they didn’t touch the ground from her perch. She looked up and saw a woman on the ground. Her knees were bloodied while deep cracks in the skin ran across her body. Blonde hair which must have looked lovely in the sunlight was now matted red. “But… but I failed.”

Tormented sobs came from the deranged human as tears fell and caused ripples in the pool of blood beneath her. Even her voice was distorted as her neck seemed to stretch and bend at a painful angle, “Please… please stop.”

I… I failed again, didn’t I? Isn’t there… something I can do?

It took both hands to hold up the old wood staff, and she propped it against the leg she was sitting on.

“I can… do better than that, can’t I?” Cira’s dispassionate voice lulled as she worked out the flaws in her approach. She couldn’t just stuff someone full of mana. The average person’s body couldn’t take it. Most born to weak corporea would experience rapid mutations and injury through such a simple-minded process. She wasn’t getting anywhere. “How about… this?”

Cira realized there was something else in there, something much more receptive to influxes of aether. A place she did not yet know the name of. Her staff grew cold, and heavy in a way she couldn’t express in physical terms. Thick, gray smoke unfurled from its gnarled top and trailed toward the pallid woman on the ground.

Her cheeks fell as a hopeless, broken expression of torment formed on her face, a single tear fell. Her lip quivered as the smoke formed dark rivers, or insidious streams through the air. “N-no. Not again—”

The bright-haired woman screamed in agony as primordial mana slithered its way into her soul. At first, there was a strong reaction. The decrepit specimen’s limbs were contorted before and when the smoke encompassed her this time, they gradually began to right themselves.

Except they kept going until they bent backwards and instead of returning to their normal shape, the muscles within her legs seemed to readjust to conform for movement in a different manner, using the same joints.

The cracks tearing through her flesh all over her body closed up, and in their place left tissue that seemed similar to chitin. Instead of receding to its original shape, the woman’s neck developed a joint in the middle, and in the frail candlelight, her voice quivered with an unsteady vibrato, “Why… why would you do this… to me? Please… just let it end—”

Her wish was granted entirely outside of Cira’s control. The woman cried desperately as smoke dense enough to block the sun poured from her mouth. Despite her body adapting, it was still too much for her. She wore a complicated look of something between crushing sadness and betrayal for only a brief moment before going still.

Cira watched the dwindling light fade from the tarnished woman’s once bright green eyes. It felt like another part of her slipped away without even knowing what it was. Naturally, the body flopped to the ground, just like so many others had.

“But… but, Dad… I failed again.” Cira held back tears.

“That’s not what I see.” The voice was reassuring, and her trembling world calmed down under its weight, “Some lessons can only be learned through failure, daughter of mine. What is important is that you remember why you failed, and make sure not to repeat your mistake. Just now, you showed me I was right to choose you as my successor—no—you will become far greater one day. That’s what this has all been for.”

“What…” Cira’s voice grew uneasy as her consciousness swirled inside the neglected seed of her soul, “What do you mean?”

The man who was once her father rested his hand on her head, “And I can’t begin to tell you how proud I am.”

The heavy hand covered her like a shaded canopy. A palm in which her head fit easily. It moved, stroking her hair gently. She felt a long-forgotten sense of comfort in it, but something just didn’t feel right. She couldn’t place her finger on it, but under such praise, the joy which dulled her mind fell again like the dark of night.

His heavy hand stroked her head gently, gliding along her golden hair with a tender touch.

Wait… Why isn’t Dad patting me on the head like he always did…

All of a sudden, bile threatened to rise up in her throat. She was disgusted beyond belief to feel satisfaction from the praise she received. A pit grew in her stomach and refused to turn over.

“You…” Cira couldn’t even gather her thoughts; the duality of her two pasts caused an impossible blur in her reality. “You’re proud of me…? For this?”

“Of course.” Each time his hand slid over her hair and replaced itself at the top of her head, Cira felt a shiver run down her spine. She had sat in her father’s lap many times long ago, but she felt awfully far from the ground today. “Like I told you earlier… You have become everything I ever hoped for and more.” A deep, grainy laughter echoed, causing the house to creak, “My greatest work. The one who shall achieve my dream for me. After all these years, you will finally be reborn as my magnum opus who shall bend the sky to my will.”

“Who… who are you?” Cira’s eyes grew wide, but she couldn’t turn around or look up. For some reason, she couldn’t remove her gaze from the woman’s lifeless veridian eyes as her blood spilled without rhythm to the floor.

“My, my… You wound me.” The oppressive voice which in no way resembled Dad echoed. “To think you wouldn’t recognize your own father. How many years has it been since we last exchanged words?”

Something’s wrong. This isn’t my—

“This memory,” The voice that reverberated through her body, mind, and soul was so oppressive that even the necromancer’s omniscient voice paled in comparison. “It’s important to you, isn’t it? Or have you forgotten that too?”

Cira’s eyes were locked onto her latest failed specimen’s. She felt her fists clench as well as her heart, but in the present, the frail hands of a little girl still held that weathered staff of dark wood.

This is a memory I forgot long ago, or perhaps I banished it to the bottom of the sea, or it was stuck in this fragment Dad hid away. I never thought I would relive it so vividly, but there’s just one problem with this memory… I’m not the only one in attendance today.

“You dare…” Cira’s natural response seemed unnaturally frail, and she felt the leg she sat upon as solid as stone. It felt like a shoddy bench if she sat too long. Meanwhile, the sinister resonance of mana that had been beating against the barriers of her mind like a ceaseless tide felt like it had begun to soak through. Somehow Cira felt this person was not only someone she shouldn’t defy, but someone she couldn’t. “…defy the daughter of a sage…?”

Am I the daughter of a sage…? Or the daughter of this vile being?

Cira’s soul felt weak and ill-defined. More like her soul was a memory, and that her mind was bumbling around in the dark. Regardless of her pitiful soul or single digit years-old corporea which couldn’t withstand a modicum of true aether, she called upon everything possible.

Primitive void… Can you swallow him up? No? Okay…

Are you there, Aquon? Prismagora… why won’t you appear?

Nothing in this place wants to move to my will. There isn’t even a glass of water nearby. This person… I’m powerless in their presence.

“Daughter of mine, there is no use resisting. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to praise you—” Cira’s body quaked like the depths of Fount Salt when his hand stroked her hair again. She was literally a defenseless child sitting in his lap. “No one else could ever hope to realize my dream, not even I. No one but you can, my dear Progeny.”

“What… What did you just call me?” The dark night of the cursed island she once called home surged with power. She cast a limitless spectrum of light that appeared as auroras in the sky and brilliant flames of every color that turned the surrounding hills to dust as her temper flared in defiance with her entire being. My body and soul, who cares what it is anymore. My entire essence will resist this person until it is burned away. Cira’s voice grew cold, “I do not grant dreams. You were never my father, and you do not belong here.”

This was Cira’s mind—Cira’s body—Cira’s place of respite. If there was anywhere she could ever be alone, it was deep within the sea of her own consciousness, yet whatever this thing was still found her at the bottom.

Dad… I understand why you helped me forget. I wasn’t ready before, but now—

Cira’s light shimmered as the old city burned away and the world of her past was banished in its radiance. Cira no longer sat on that false father’s lap nor withered under his praise—everything which happened so long ago turned to ash and she was once again adrift.

“You’re wrong…” The voice came from everywhere, “I will always be your father. And I am not here by chance, nor something as droll as predestination, no… I have worked very hard for the privilege to come visit my darling daughter after all this time. Hidden away in a memory that man could only hide for so long, I knew this day would come—the day you realize your potential. And I just had to come. To let you know…. you will always be within my grasp.”

His voice echoed and reverberated through the pressurized waters of the deep sea.

No… Where did the light go? Why aren’t my flames burning?

Cira had already merged with that fragment of her soul, but it didn’t change the fact that she was drowning in something long-neglected. Something overwhelming, and then her alleged father’s will on top of it all.

“How could you ever escape me?” Even her flames which burned fate itself were reduced to a meager bubble of light in the depths before finally extinguishing. She thought she could still feel the heat inside her body, but it dwindled, and her fingers didn’t catch on anything as she tried to grasp onto anything. The darkness Cira refused to accept caved in on her until she was drowning in it. “All I need to do is close my fist.”

Suddenly the flow of fate turned to stone, and Cira’s world became dark again, but it was something far more sinister than shadow. It was the weight of her own actions—her sins. Like the woman earlier, so many others had died. Cira got much more proficient after that night, but for what…? Many more twisted rejects came out of it, but there were others who survived and would live on to do things they wouldn’t and perhaps shouldn’t.

Things they could never have expected, nor could anyone else for that matter, let alone these skies.

How could I forget—how could I ever forget… just how many souls I ruined or extinguished? Those who had the good fortune to die and pass on before I ground them into nothing surely entered the next life in a sorry state. All I wanted… was for him to be proud of me—

But he’s not my dad. I don’t want that anymore. And there’s none left… That thing is just a monster that wishes to use me to its own ends. That’s no fate for a sorcerer.

The ocean swirled, pressing in against Cira with its full weight as she realized she would soon run out of the strength to resist. Her willpower itself felt as paltry as a child’s dream.

I can’t die now… I can’t let myself become this thing’s puppet… How could I possibly give my life to another? I can’t… I can’t do anything.

The black sea of Cira’s consciousness burned away at her like a curse; inescapable and definite.

“You… You can’t.” Cira’s voice came out weakened, a hollow shell of her usually fiery spirit, “I will never, be your Progeny. I refuse to just… to—”

There was a tremble in her voice and the sea of cursed smoke took the opening to force its way into her lungs. Countless times she had seen it happen to others, but she drowned beneath its weight, without even the breath to scream. Always so strong-willed, Cira felt herself collapsing. Crumbling inward. She wouldn’t survive much longer in these conditions, or at least, she would succumb to that monster’s will.

Is there nothing… I can do?

She wasn’t her usual self. She lacked strength, courage, confidence. Everything else that made her a sorcerer, too. There wasn’t anything she could do, and that’s what she believed, because it was the truth. Or was it the other way around? Her frail body and smoldering mind could not withstand the pressure.

This felt more final than her mind fading in the soul forge. As if she would close her eyes and never wake up again. She had to fight it, but… there was nothing to fight it with. Cira was utterly helpless.

As darkness seeped in, the bluffs of her will had weathered a thousand years. Cira’s ability to resist started to dull; her agency was nil. Consciously or not, she started to give in.

Cira felt a strange and familiar light against her back. Just a spark, at first, which slowly grew as the warmth of Cira’s blood seemed to return. Like the sunrise she could never forget, it eventually grew into a golden dawn.

Like the sun was too bright for her eyelids to block, she opened them and blinked away the delirium. Cira coughed up the last of the smoke and realized the crushing pressure had lifted. She could breathe again.

“What… is this?” She couldn’t help but ask, fluttering her eyes in confusion. It was no longer the cursed sea of memories that surrounded her but a true world of light.

“Accursed one,” This time the voice was familiar too. No mistaking it—it belonged to her real father, Gazen. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from my daughter?”

“Dad…?” Cira turned around, but she couldn’t see him no matter where she looked. Still, she felt him close by. The warm mana that surrounded him, his very presence. Cira could never mistake it. “Where are you—”

“Paltry human,” The monster snarled, “I knew you died too fast, but to see the last dregs of the great sage be put to such waste…” His deep laughter cut cold swaths in the warm light. “Today couldn’t have gone any better.

“Now she is truly alone,” the accursed one’s voice started to fade but still echoed in Cira’s mind, “all… alone… She will forge a path of solitude until the day she arrives at my doorstep.” Even in his weakness, the monster’s cursed laughter still pervaded her father’s world of light. The realization was terrifying.

Cira didn’t have a name for that thing, and really didn’t want to call it Dad anymore. That thing let out a last disturbing cackle as its voice and presence seemed to burn away in the radiant light.

Just like last time… The one who brought the sunrise simply burned all that pain, sadness, and regret away. Not just for Cira, but for everyone who saw it. That was at least her memory of it.

It was so miraculous, in fact, that Cira distinctly remembered how disgusted with her the people were, yet they could not help but express their gratitude to Gazen. Her would be father shined so bright she could only hope to copy it in her childish dreams.

Having just experienced it, Cira still had no idea what was happening. Nor how she got here. Never had she had to deal with an intruder in her dreams of all places, but how could her father actually be there too? It wasn’t making any sense. But that thing called his appearance a waste.

For a moment Cira didn’t move or even think more than necessary, just content to bask there like a lizard in the sun.

“Dad…?” She was nervous to call out after last time and spoke quietly, “Are you there?”

“…” There was a tense silence for a moment, “Not truly—this is just a fragment I left behind. I’m sorry, Cira, but this was the only way to protect you against him. I wanted to spend… at least a little more time with you… but that demon planted something in your soul that I knew would outlive me.”

“But… if you never found me—” Cira felt years and tears of anger, guilt welled up in her eyes before Gazen cut her off abruptly.

“No. I don’t want to hear it.” His words were stern, but somehow soft. “He saw me coming before you were even born, and there hasn’t been a day I regretted taking you in. Er—well, that day you crashed my skiff was pretty rough actually. And your birthday was coming up, so I had to build you a new one.”

“Dad—that’s not how it happened!” Was that how it happened…?

His hearty laugh bellowed through the sea of light, “It’s okay, I’m sure you’re taking good care of it.” His voice took on the playful tone it did when he knew the answer already and Cira’s smile spread thin.

“O-of course, Dad!” She laughed nervously, “Anyway…”

“Right.” His laughter died down and his tone grew almost reminiscent, “In any case, it was always meant to go this way for me. I lived plenty, more than most even, and not many men get to say they made it to the right place in the end.” Cira felt a heavy hand on her head, but not too heavy… She leaned in as he gave her a couple pats.

“Remember this.” If she turned around, perhaps he wouldn’t be there anymore. Cira closed her eyes and listened. “A sorcerer does not regret their actions, nor the path they walk. You can’t decide which way the wind blows, and you won’t often be satisfied with where it takes you. This much is common sense, I would hope, and I thought I told you years ago not to be afraid of your own shadow.”

“What?” Cira’s eyes shot open, “But, Dad—”

“I’m still talking, Dear. Time is short.” He was amused, but Cira could feel a faint sadness behind his voice as he pat her head softly, “I truly am proud of you. In just six short years you’ve grown more than I ever could have hoped. I wish I was half the sorcerer you are when I was your age… but then I’d have lived a wholly different life, wouldn’t I?”

That’s rhetorical—

“I never would have found my own sorcerous path, or even found you. Fate’s a fickle thing, believe it or not. It’s not that your life is planned out, it’s that your life can only go so many ways. The sky is ready for you to get burned to a crisp in a dragon’s ruthless flame, as it is ready for you to escape miraculously as the island crumbles away. You see, any given variable can become a constant once the past arrives, but they’re almost always determined by trials, as I call them. There are countless turning points, if you will.

“You have just cleared your most recent trial, rather, any moment now. With my help of course… but you won’t be able to count on me anymore. Now you have seen what you’re really up against. In time, you will have to face him on your own.” Cira choked up. Why do we have to say goodbye all over again…? “You’re strong now, Cira, I know that, but you can’t use that as an excuse to slack off. From the moment you wake up, consider this the new beginning of your sorcerous path.

“The darkness of your past isn’t a deep sea to drown in,” As he spoke, Cira could feel the air in her lungs and sun on her skin. Everything was so bright and warm. All she was missing was a cloud to lay upon. “You should know what to do with such shadows now, right? Face them and become stronger. Put them behind you, where they belong.” His voice had started to grow just a little quieter. Cira knew what was happening without asking.

He said he left a fragment behind… but this is much more than the projection he left in my forbidden archive. This is actually a piece of him… It’s like he’s really here. The last conscious piece of him—it’s the spitting image of Dad before he took ill. Has he been… watching over me this whole time, silently? Just waiting for the day that he could protect me one last time against that so-called demon?

“Dad… Don’t go.” Cira knew she was being unreasonable, but sometimes she got lucky, and he granted her unreasonable requests. He was one who granted dreams, after all. “Not again… Please.”

___

Mac had been in the dark for so long he lost count, spending half the time asleep anyway. Of course, asleep was just being conscious elsewhere, more or less. Since other spiders and bugs produced so many offspring, many of which were just perpetually being shuffled back to the beginning of the cycle, he often snacked on their souls from afar without making any noticeable impact.

He was just in the middle of consuming fourteen ant souls—meager, but with a satisfyingly spicy kick—when something strange happened inside the essence loom.

Cira’s body was basically just congealed corporea—A lumpy mass of flesh suspended in air from the looks of it. The aether of her soul swirled all around it while the mithril helix stitched it into place. Then out of nowhere, the entire room flooded with brilliant golden light. The radiance of holy Vercephus felt pitiful in its grandeur.

“What the hell is this? Gazen?” Mac called out to expected silence. The mana was of the same unmistakable resonance somehow. “What did you do, old man?”

It was very clearly a fragment of his soul, burning as bright as it ever did in life. Mac could only imagine he left a piece behind for something, but the only reason he could posit was if the cursed lord had just come for Cira. He sure didn’t notice anything like that.

Just as quickly, the golden light faded away and darkness encroached on the room again. By the time it reached the essence loom, the sound of shattering crystal echoed through the soul forge and Mac felt a crippling explosion of mana tremble throughout the island, filled with fury, despair, and a torrent of everything else which made a sorcerer.