Tread Lightly

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Earl 'Miraclemaker' Garner

Gazing out at the trembling horizon, I wrap my hands around the railing of Primary's tallest building. The sky shudders and quakes, each violent ripple a sign that two Gods are locked in combat. The sun rises, casting a golden hue across the scene, but its beauty is marred by the chaos unfolding beyond. Somewhere in the distance, The Morning Star and Desolation are battling, the latter determined to end the former's existence.

No one really knows why Vincent went after Apisirahts, but I have a few theories. The most prominent, and that holds the most ground after all that Vincent has been known to do, is that he is going to kill the Morning Star to devour his strength.

Endless Devours All, right?

Beside me, my favorite gunslinger relaxes, his boots propped up on the stone railing as he leans back in his simple chair. He pulls out a cigar, a firm line on his lips as he flips the tip through the air fast enough to ignite it with his Ether. Smoke curls into the air, mingling with the ash and debris carried by the wind.

"You were supposed to quit."

I shoot him a disapproving look as I mutter under my breath, my voice laced with concern. It's not just the smoke; it's everything that the smoke represents—abandoning hope and giving in to old habits when the end seems near. Furthermore... it hints to others that Johnny is stressed and that... he is not confident in our coming battle.

For our most well-known figure to be seen as such... it is not suitable for morale.

The gunslinger chuckles a low, raspy sound that echoes against the trembling walls.

"Quit?"

Johnny sighs, puffing on the cigar as if it's the most natural thing in the world. He then exhales a plume of smoke, watching it drift across the skyline. I join him, noticing it tremble as the colors of the horizon shift from reddish-yellow to darker tones.

"With everything going to hell? Now's not the time to be a saint. Besides, can't expect me to quit when the world's about to collapse again, can you? Truth is, Earl, everyone has a vice. Without this, I'll be a wreck of stress."

I run my tongue over my teeth, feeling my canines while my gaze returns to the horizon, where the sky splits and rumbles with the force of the Godly battle. He's right, of course. Everyone's practically armed to the nines, wound up like none other, constantly waiting for war to finally break out from Barrage.

We've been lucky so far, given more time than the others to prepare, but... It's getting cold.

Scouts and Augurs report that the Goddess of Winter is fighting Wyatt and Bonfire across the north of the continent. They have already made it to Green Hallows, or what remains of it.

Tightening my jacket as snow begins to fall above, a flake drops onto Johnny's cigar and douses the flame. Seeing the exasperation and coldness, I feel a shiver run through me. Snow in May. This isn't good.

"You think they're alright? The scouts can't get close enough to confirm anything."

Johnny shrugs, his shoulder shifting slightly as he reignites the flame on his cigar. The atmosphere is quickly covered with a sheen of white that screens our sight from the horizon, but I can still see the flickering lights of the Godly war.

"They have to be. Just as Lennon and the other two have to kill Kaisen. If they don't... we're dead. We can't handle threats like that from the outside and inside at once. Only a matter of time before we're breached from the bottom. Isaac Erno is one hell of a man, but in the end... that is all he is. One man."

I nod with him as I think back to the refugees we recently took in—thousands of Nahullo, including the majority of the Council. Even Ytern showed up, drug here by Abraham after he was gravely wounded.

Dawn is working on the Warmaster, but it is unknown if he will live.

Things just look so bleak, don't they? Maybe there will be some good news, though.

"How long until the Stele is settled within Onyx Gate?"

The Gate of Death cannot be moved, at least not that I know of, so the only way to get Johnny to fight at his full power is to move the Stele, where he receives much of it. Unfortunately, it takes time before the Stele settles in, increasing the growth of plants and tethering itself again to his soul.

"Two more days or so. I've been spending nearly every waking moment pouring Ether into it and bits of my soul to help it acclimate to the new climate."

My hands scrape the rough stone on the railing as I lean over a bit more, staring downward at the ten stories that this building raises up to. Two more days? Do we have that much time? Will Wyatt make it back quick enough to help a bunch of people advance?

That was the original plan, but who would have thought such a powerful Goddess could already breach the surface? Plus, we have no one else who can do what he does other than Lennon, who is busy with his own foe.

Speaking of... that report should be any minute now.

My internal clock strikes eight in the morning just as pounding footsteps break open the door behind us. One of Rich's lieutenants rushes onto the roof of the building behind me as he delivers what we have been expecting.

"Sirs, Calypso managed to contact Tonuyn despite the obstructions in the atmosphere. The... West has fallen, and Behemoth is dead. However, Lennon and Tonuyn repelled the God of War for the time being."

I glance at Johnny, and the marksman closes his eyes with pain before reopening them. Turning back to Geoff, I probe for a bit more. Behemoth's death is... not good. Not good at all. The Binary Lords are a thing of the past. Now, there is just the singular Lord, Leviathan.

"What did Elizabeth have to say about this?"

Geoff rubs his throat before answering me, obviously terrified to speak in front of Johnny. These newer recruits and people not from Bent don't know Johnny like the rest of us, and as such, hate coming close to the man with two guns capable of damaging Demigods.

"She said that Tonuyn is to bring all the remaining forces he can, including his people, from his land to Onyx Gate. Past hatred has to be erased if we are to survive. We'll want to send someone to intercept and aid them in case Kaisen attacks again on their way here."

Johnny asks the follow-up question as the horizon flashes ominously, the lights growing brighter and brighter compared to their previous dimming. I almost have to raise my hand to see the east.

"Any ideas then? I'm stuck here for a little while longer."

The 5th Sigiled bobs his head up and down, having to swallow before answering.

"Yes. We are sending the Flickering Wraith."

I can't help but tsk aloud, and Geoff seems put off by my deliberate emotion. Right. I forgot everyone is so scared of Virgil. Makes sense why. The only time they ever see or hear of him is when he is doing something beyond lethal.

You don't see the wraith until he's already struck.

It is not often those with Virgil's affinities reach such a high level. In fact... he might just be the first on the surface.

"Virgil, huh? I suppose that's not a bad choice. He and Lennon work well together. Better to send him to focus on one target than defend Primary, too. I just hope he can keep up with a God of War. Anything else of note we should be aware of?"

The messenger shakes his head before quickly leaving. Johnny grins at me before nodding at the position where the soldier just was.

"Scared of him, aren't they? And us. Isn't the whole goal the opposite? What have we done even to garner their fear?"

I can only shrug. I do not know. We've protected them, fought off dozens of powerful Motherbound already, and evacuated people to a place where one would have to take Onyx Gate first to attack them.

"Dunno. But... take a look."

Pointing to the eastward horizon, where the Endless and its waves spread out beyond where the eyes can see, where the dotted islands off the coast of the continent lie, the sun reaches a definite zenith.

Johnny opens his mouth with awe as rays of light reach our city with awful warmth, instantly melting all the snow it comes into contact with. I dive for the floor as the gunslinger's cigar is scorched.

He's not as worried for himself, and I watch him stand up abruptly before the rays of light stop, only managing to sear the building and leave melted ice all over.

I get back up and look out, breathing a sigh of relief as I notice that only we were struck by the light. It must be an elevation thing. It's a good thing we moved Gravecross and its people. We'll take them back there after the war, but we need everyone to be near each other to defend them properly.

Still, the advancement of Vincent's battle with the Morning Star leaves risks for us. If the rays of light are burning stone right now, I can only imagine how bad it will get in the coming hours or days. Furthermore... what will happen when the old God dies?

No one knows, but I can imagine it won't be anything good. Apisirahts has been so profoundly embroiled in the inner workings of our planet that loss will have dire ramifications. There is some hope that Vincent will prevent the worst of it from befalling us, but I don't know how much I believe in all that.

Instead, I face Johnny as he gradually calms down, tossing his ruined cigar to the ground with a groan. I don't laugh at his plight, knowing the stress he must be under, how much we're all under. At least... at least Primrose came back. A little nicer, too.

Plus, I have my workshop to help calm me down.

So, I shove Ether through my fingers as I twist it into the delicate pattern for all the elements within a cigar. It's not easy, but I've practiced extensively for this exact thing—seeing something, researching it, and then replicating it.

Creation births a cigar in my hand as I open my palm to Johnny for him to take it. The cigar is missing a wrapper and probably roughly half of what makes them so addicting, but the man scoffs and takes it nonetheless.

"These still taste like shit. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought this was a plot to make me quit... Thanks."

The smile at the end of his words tells me the truth of the matter. He's grateful no matter what he might allude to. I nod to him before heading toward the stairs.

"Of course. I'll see you here again tomorrow. It's always good to talk with a friend. I have an arm to make."

Johnny shakes his head as if thinking my efforts are a waste. His words indicate the same.

"Why bother? He regrew his arm, did he not?"

"Yes. He did. But how else am I to get him to carry a Godsinker? Plus, I have a few ideas to make it better than even his own arm."

The grizzled veteran wishes me good luck as I enter the stairs, saying something about wishing he had a Coltsmith for him when he was younger. I don't respond to him; instead, I focus on my thoughts about Wyatt's next prosthetic.

***********************

Back in my shop, I lay my palms down on the desk, staring at the laid-out plans for the next prosthetic. However, it's not really just a prosthetic anymore, is it?

After all, Wyatt doesn't need it anymore. He has his right arm back. But... from what I've heard from Virgil regarding his fight with Maxemista, the God of Forests, my prosthetic was pivotal in saving his life. It withstood strikes from a God.

A chill runs through my body as excitement takes hold. Other Craftsman in the building are toiling tirelessly to create more Godsinkers, but I want to focus on this. A stronger Graves is a stronger humanity.

So, what can I really do to help him?

The answer is complex yet simple.

Just as the man himself is. A brute at first glance, prone to violence and mayhem, but utterly unlike all the others that are described the same way. He is caring and selfless despite his physical power.

So, what can I do for him?

I precisely need to make an arm as unbreakingly strong as his soul. How will I do that? I'm not quite sure yet. But I'll figure it out.

With that unchosen end in mind, I start creating elements with Creation. I start off with the toughest materials I know, things like Skysbane, but they aren't as strong as they should be. After all, much of the effects from such rare metals come from their time awash in Ether or a variety of situations. I know!

I have to figure out a way to copy their unique aspects with Creation, too! It's something obvious, but that doesn't mean it's easy. Improving a Power is nigh-impossible without advancing in Sigil. I've only known two to do it. Johnny Caldwell and Lennon Hull. Not even Wyatt managed to do it. Hmm... Both of those two did it through utterly different strategies.

Lennon's was pure force and will, while Johnny's was careful precision and manipulation of Ether. The latter is the way for me to proceed. Johnny created Glitch by breaking his Power down into extensively brief instances, allowing it to stretch far more than it should. And thanks to Wyatt helping him advance, those Golden Eyes have grown further. Regardless, all this means is that I need to work on my Ether control.

Fuck. I gotta make a trip to Aniwye's hut. I need the Codex, and I need it now.

Without even touching a single tool, I twist away from my desk and stride right out of the building. My guard leans her back against the hallway before sighing and following right after me.

"Knew you'd be leaving shortly. Too flighty."

"Uh-huh."

I don't give Primrose the attention she seeks for now as I mark out the path to Aniwye's place in my mind. It's not far, just outside the bounds of Primary. Before we even manage to leave the place entirely, I ask Primrose to take me there. After all... I'm quite slow.

The woman grumbles something under her breath before agreeing, wrapping a slender arm around my shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah. Hold yer' breath."

A second later, green fog is all I see before we are soaring across the sky. Gaseous is an incredible use of Ether, especially for being such an early Sigil skill. Though, I know it is partly from Primrose's Sigil and partly from her own creation, similar to Wyatt's Rapturous, where the Sigil does a great deal of the work for guiding the Ether. Regardless, in just a minute or so, my shaky knees stand before Aniwye's lone hut amongst a forest outside Primary.

Wyatt's mother is hidden inside. I take a deep breath, preparing to knock to be courteous, but before I even get close, a rowdy and annoyed voice comes from the inside.

"Come in, smart boy. A friend of Wyatt's is a friend of mine."