To Fly the Soaring Tides

“Second of all,” Cira looked especially grumpy. Exactly how I would picture her to answer my banging on her bedroom door in the morning. “Endless bounty, my ass. This island’s made of a great deal of semi-common metal, sure, but the realm is otherwise incredibly resource deficient. Maybe you get a pass because you died, but don’t lie to my face.”

“WHY—YOU CUR. GOLD IS THE HIGHEST STANDARD CURRENCY—”

“SHHHHHH!” Cira’s shushing almost gave me a heart attack, it was so loud. “I am one who does not like repeating myself. Being loud does not make you seem grand nor powerful, but only rude and inconsiderate. I don’t care how many thousands of years ago you equipped your big boy britches, it’s far too early for such ruckus.”

“YOU—ARE YOU QUITE SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!” Somehow the creator of this realm was yelling at us—no, at Cira—but I felt each word out of her mouth further endangered us both. No matter how great her dad was, she was not compared to this guy.

“I am indeed serious, and if you don’t cut it out, I’ll melt your shiny island into the sea then go outside to evaporate your stupid lake.”

“Cira!” I was petrified as a monumental gaze suddenly fell on me from everywhere at once—worse than Undina—but I had to say something. “Calm down! Stop being such a bitch, this guy could crush us!”

Impressive as Cira’s aura was, there’s no way she stacked up against a mage who created an entire world.

“I would love to,” She cast a pointed glare toward the island’s center, “Could it be this great mage hasn’t spoken in over a thousand years and he has too much pride to admit he can’t control the volume of his own voice?”

“…so, your name is Cira.” The mage spoke quieter now. He didn’t sound like an old man, but definitely had the timbre of one who had lived a great many years. It almost reminded me of my father if it were a couple tones deeper. “Your sorcery is not negligible for your age, despite the atrocious golden rags on your back. I must say, I’ve been looking at your soul for days now, and I can’t seem to figure out what you are. What are you?”

“What kind of a stupid question is that? You practically said it yourself.” A vein popped in my forehead as I was powerless to stop Cira from berating this ancient mage. “I am the Sorcerer Cira.”

The world trembled for a moment until I felt that weird shifting thing that happened when Cira did big spatial sorcery. The quake was cut short but I still, I watched dust gather along our field while the island around us shook. Cira’s expression quickly soured and she shot out of her chair as a pristine staff appeared from a wisp of light.

“YOU DARE STRATIFY MY SUBSTRATE?!” Cira’s mana flooded the area and despite pangs of gold boulders rolling around over the hill, all was still around us to at least the end of the field. Dust settled in the blink of an eye and mana within the dirt condensed.

With a wave of pressure not blocked by her own barrier, rings of light and unfamiliar shapes appeared burnt into the surrounding golden landscape. Similar to the day she faced the Third Order, a single pillar of light rose to the sky as the tremors dulled across all of Paradise.

“You know exactly how hard I’ve worked on that, you bastard.” The soil began to churn again to a violent degree, “So, what is it, then? Why would such an abrasive old man create an island of gold? What do you need from a sorcerer so poor as to drool over such petty materials?”

“Little girl, you would be wise to watch the way you speak to one such as I. It is a wonder you haven’t offended someone else with that shameful tongue.” He said, as if there were people stronger than Cira all over the place with short tempers, “I already told you I have been waiting for a sorcerer to bear my will, and you are the only people who have made it past my guardians in all this time. Granted, one of you seems to have really done all the work… A strange number of pirates appeared in droves a just over five hundred years ago, so let me ask… are you from Leviathan Isle?”

”Hah!” Cira grasped her face to prevent herself from bursting into laughter, “I may be Cirina Dreadheart of Leviathan Isle, but no… never been. I am only the eternal pirate empress by pure happenchance.”

“You… the what?” It seemed Cira expected his confusion, so she continued with an irritated glare.

“I have yet to hear what you want from me.” She looked over the fields and became a little more relaxed as the soil gently mixed. “To ‘bear your will’ is too vague. Speak plainly, Fragment, and know that I do not grant wishes.”

“You sure are haughty for your age…” A deep sigh echoed across the land, “It is too troublesome to explain from afar. Come to the center of the island which you have been avoiding, and I will explain everything.”

I cast a curious look to Cira to see what she thought of it, and she shook her head, “It was on the list. As soon as I’m done fixing this soil you so rudely disrupted, we’ll head right over. How’s that sound?”

The creator didn’t continue, but exasperation was palpable on the wind.

“What a jerk…” Cira crossed her arms, pacing back and forth before the field. “He completely ruined the mood… Can’t a girl just terraform in peace? He had to know I was almost finished.” She sighed deeply, “Let’s just be done with it.” The soil calmed down and Cira tossed a few handfuls of seeds out to find their own place to grow before climbing over the golden ship’s railing. “Come on now. Load up.”

Underworm sizzled on the grills as we sailed across the land and Cira scooped more ale from a river that appeared beside us. She wouldn’t stop subtly groaning. Like she was refusing not to stew on something.

“What is it?” I asked bluntly, “You’re stressing me out. That guy was bad enough.”

Wait… he can probably hear me, can’t he?

“I was having a good nap, and I don’t like feeling rushed. By a dead man, no less.” I couldn’t tell if she was serious or just that grumpy.

“He didn’t sound that dead to me.” His words brought me to my knees and nearly made my ears bleed, after all.

“It was just a fragment he left behind,” Cira’s tone was bitter, “A shell of his former glory at best. Merely a ghost of a ghost that will wither away beyond the cycle. The man himself died long ago. I admit, I am curious to know who betrayed one such as him and why. That long ago, whoever it was is surely dead—”

“No.” The creator spoke, “My soul is only bound to this world until theirs are extinguished.”

“Ooooohh. ‘theirs’, huh? Who are these people who could get the upper hand against such a prolific mage?”

“I am a sorcerer, damn you!” the ancient mage shouted.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Cira turned the other cheek and continued her drink. “As I was saying—”

“We will speak more once you arrive.” He cut her off curtly.

“Whatever then…” Cira muttered as we sailed across the land. Gold broke like waves and the river of ale we followed was one she pulled from somewhere else. The island wasn’t exactly massive, though. It only took a few minutes to make good distance before Cira slowed down. “We are about to pass through a barrier, and I am as of yet unsure of its nature. Get ready for anyth—”

___

It was unclear how long ago Cira’s words cut out, but I regained consciousness sitting upright in a chair looking down on some sort of indoor forest the size of a lake. Flowers formed the base while trees grew almost to the height of the balcony on which I found myself sitting alone.

The room was full of people—we sat almost in a ring with a large open space in the center, and each person or party seemed to have their own balcony with a door behind them. This was a meeting place of some kind, and I had never seen one so grand.

Only one balcony perched higher than the rest and it seemed carved from bone. Let alone how large of a bone it must have been, just looking at it made me feel like staring down a mage far stronger than I.

“…in just ten short years I expect the Ritomi Province to return to its former splendor so long as Ventra does not fall short on reparations.” The man above spoke with a commanding voice that beckoned attention and gave me the impression I was listening to someone knowledgeable on the subject. “But we cannot dismiss the fact that Skyborne Syndicate has been too bold as of late.”

Wait… Where the hell am I? Who is that guy? Who is… Anyone around me? I felt my heart skip and a wave of fear wash over me. Where is Cira…?

“Do not panic.”

“Cira?!” My accidental outburst drew more than a few eyes as I looked around. The pressure of their collective gazes forced me to stare at my hands and shut up.

“Shut up, idiot.” Cira spoke into my mind.

“Miss Belliyon,” The woman next to me brushed pale green hair from her face and stared at me with piercing eyes the color of rich amber. I pretty much froze. “I trust nothing is the matter? We’re about to start.”

“Shhh. Don’t say anything.”

“Is… is that you?” I whispered with widening eyes.

“Goddam—shut your mouth! Relax. Listen to the man and I’ll fill you in. Call me Madam Grendola.”

I noticed everyone around us had a plaque with their name engraved on it. I couldn’t look at the woman’s next to me without making it obvious, but that had to be Cira… right?

Why is someone that isn’t Cira talking to me as Cira right now? How did I even get here?

“Madams Belliyon and Grendola, do you have something you wish to share with the Assembly?” The man in charge stared us down and I felt my soul leave my body.

“I certainly do.” My blood ran cold as Cira Grendola spoke up. Multiple people around me gasped in shock. “I noticed our roster today is short, yet I was told this meeting would be of at least moderate import. Please explain.”

I desperately noticed two empty seats that Cira was urging towards. Did she appear here earlier than me, or is that just how fast a sorcerer needs to think…? I feel like I’ve utterly failed today’s challenge.

“Look alive.” Cira mentally spoke.

“Indeed,” the man grumbled, casting me a side eye before moving on. He was the only one without a nameplate. I suppose we were just expected to know who he was. “Duke Yuri has taken ill while the young mistress of Cloven Lake must tend to her bedridden father in lieu of succession. Is this going to be an issue?”

I must have looked pale as a winter island, but Cira’s quick rebuttal took his attention away.

“Certainly not. I only wish to ask if we shall begin in their absence.” She sat back in her seat and knit her hands together.

“We shall.” His brusque voice brought any surrounding chatter to an absolute halt, and I felt myself shudder. There was a woman in the seat directly next to him with a plaque that read ‘Queen Heritos’—the same height as the others’ balconies but a hair closer to the mysterious ruler. She wore an unreadable grin as the man continued, “The most pressing issue by far is Skyborne Syndicate’s expansion… I have reason to believe they are planning a widescale invasion.”

Clamor rose up and he diligently let them panic for a brief moment to get it out of their systems.

“That is enough,” His calm, yet stern words wrangled most everyone back in rather easily, “Duke Cristobal—”

This riled everyone up again and they all pointed their scandalous gazes toward one man, just a few seats to my left.

The sudden pounding of a hammer silenced everyone, and they turned back to their leader.

“Cristobal, I understand your territory still trades with Ventra. I ask, have you noticed any changes lately? Either in traffic or perhaps common inventory, as well as outgoing materials.”

The singled out man replied that most everything was consistent of the last few years, but apparently domestic canola production was on the rise. They debated about this for a solid ten minutes for some reason, and ultimately came to the conclusion that Cristobal’s territory was slated to be a leader in agriculture within the next few years…? It felt like they went a little off track, and Madam Cira in the balcony to my side wore a look of disgusted bafflement, brushing the weirdly green hair out of her face to make it more apparent.

“Is this a farce?” What is she doing?! I would have pulled my hair out if I didn’t have to pretend to be a totally composed member of some shady council. “Tell me of your territory’s canola demand. Do your people require increasing amounts of cooking oil? This is clearly a ploy by Ventra to acquire explosive materials from our own pockets.”

“W-what?!” the man cried, echoing my thoughts.

Another near us was also shocked, “That’s absurd! We’re talking about a plant!”

Others were also outraged, and it seemed Cira incited quite the commotion until the leader banged on his desk.

“I will have order!” He was pretty good at silencing them before turning cold eyes to Cira. “I urge you not to make baseless claims, Madam Grendola.”

“Pfft.” Her face contorted and I could see her trying not to laugh, “Do your people know nothing of basic alchemy—”

She was cut short by a percussive blast in the distance that rattled the floor and ceiling alike. The others present turned their heads in shock or fell into a straight panic, standing up and trying to run away. The leader went to bang his little hammer and paused. I followed his line of sight to see Cira standing up with a serious look in her eyes.

“I knew it.” She gestured for me to get up, “Let’s go.”

“What—what is this place?!” My own panic had to get out sooner or later, and no one else seemed to be listening.

“Shhhh.” But Cira still shushed me. “We are within a memory of a moment that occurred over a thousand years ago. See that man at that top? I believe he is the one who created Paradise.”

The leader certainly looked the type. Just being near his aura was enough to crush me. Although his expression appeared more shocked than anyone at the moment. He stood up to wave a staff around around while runes disappeared as soon as they manifested until his face grew pale as the misty sky.

“Everyone, please remain seated! We are safe here—” Anyone looking watched the doors behind him burst open with a bang. Again, nobody looked more surprised than the man himself, but it seemed everyone’s eyes were stuck on what appeared through the threshold.

It didn’t help that they let out a murderous cry that could not be spoken over. Their very voice made my bones tremble. Like something that was human long ago, or something that could never be human if it tried, two uncanny abominations slid through the doorway with an overwhelming wave of dread.

The supposed creator tried to swing his hand out and conjure something to disintegrate these monsters, but his body slammed into the desk while his mana fizzled out.

Even Cira felt these monsters’ presence, as her smile vanished. She turned to me with a stern tone, “My aura is not my own in this memory. Prepare to fight.”

Mana built up next to me, but it was downright pathetic compared to her typical glory. Not even a far cry. She was weak. I could tell how anxious it made her.

There was a tormented scream, and our eyes snapped to a few seats down where a woman had her chest gouged out by one of the horrific monsters’ gaping maws that seemed to grow at will. It was such brutal, visceral violence that I instinctively stumbled back, eyes locked onto the creature, but another blood-curdling cry came from behind me.