PoV:
1. Sari’aél (Our Glorious Sweet Seraph!)
2. Camellia (Finally, It’s Our Red Spider Girl’s Time To Shine!)
Recap: It’s time for war, and our Empress had decided to risk it all—it’s all or nothing in this gambit. Ke’Thra’Ma’s hidden arsenal is against her, but she has gained some support from the Covenant—something big is in the works that could destroy the continent if it isn’t stopped—and Sar’ollaz sends two of his pets and a bat … Surely, there’s more going on behind the scenes!
Still, Elinor has put all her chips on the line, and our Seraph has been draining her powers by the day … How much more can she do before falling?
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Sari’aél hovered in the blizzard with Jumi’calro and Camellia floated beside her; the Nalvean rune scribe had lost much of his fear with her soothing aura, and the Thélméthra was doing her best to penetrate the veil after joining her—she wanted the girl to be at her best in the upcoming attack.
Noa sat atop her silver golem, seemingly having trouble seeing them in the flurry. The A.I. had given Edmon and her all the information needed, but she was positive the halls beyond the more centralized core of the network would have been altered in the past century by Mila and Row.
Long silver hair billowed behind her as the arctic gale increased, the brilliant angel’s chest felt emotion she’d never experienced before her death—apprehension; the storm was getting worse, and from what she could read past Sha’Guala’s devastated defenses, they had to deal with the pelting snow, as well.
The howling wind wasn’t normal, either—from the snowflakes to the increasing whirlwinds, Sari’aél could feel the building storm radiating out of various sections of the Meridian Divide—there was a purpose and runic power etched onto every crystal.
Sar’ollaz’s technology told him there was a threat worthy of taking action to safeguard his home … There’s more to these A.I. than we know, and he’s crafty enough to tell us enough to accept his aid, but the real reason is still buried. Yes, this continent destroying weapon is a threat, but it isn’t his primary concern.
Her golden irises drifted to the floating island, hidden in the sleet. Sar’ollaz was no doubt paying close attention to them; she’d figured the last son of God’Roska had taken a keen interest in overlooking their actions. He knew the Empress wished to return Noa to her position and would have seen the relationship she’d forged with the runic creature.
Without a doubt, he’s going to use this to further his overall agenda and push us just enough to reach his goals … He knows my current limits very well, and sending the minimum support shows his confidence, but also that he wants the conflict between Orinvia and me to be a close contest.
She centered on Milthren, currently in her ax form, and her grip tightened around the hilt. If we are to exceed Sar’ollaz’s expectations, I need to do something outside of his scope. He knows I’ll be incapacitated at the start of this assault … I haven’t been able to recover from Divinity Release yet, and the Empress…
A light crease came across her brow as she pondered the path ahead, searching for routes she could take—never before had she been forced to project and speculate so much since, in her current state, she couldn’t perceive the ocean of time.
One direction came into focus that provided the best chance of survival; the Empress’s decision to put herself in danger opened it up and showed how naturally insightful the girl could be. She had excellent instincts that had carried her to this point, although the influence came from her twin seeds.
Sari’ael’s throat released a harmonic hum that brought Camellia’s light red irises; she’d shifted to her human state to reduce the cost of keeping the two in the air. It was something the creature chose to do herself that made Sari’ael proud.
“Is something the matter, High Warlord?”
Tilting her neck to the side, her gaze penetrated the ice storm to target her Empress, waiting for results in her tall tower. I seek to draw together phenomena that have concerned me since I came under the Empress’s reign. Importantly for the moment…
Sari’ael’s full lips rose into a serene smile while studying the recovering Thélméthra. Your health has improved considerably since I last saw you, and it pleases me to see the fire return to your breast.
Camellia’s expression strained a little while holding up her burnt and partially wrapped left hand, and a curious inflection wove into her voice. “The human children insisted upon caring for me, even when most feared me—as time went on, they took turns, fighting over who’s turn it was to bring me food, sweets, or change my bandages … He-he, even when these do nothing for me.”
The girl brushed back her flaming locks with her free hand, giggling at the loose cloth that the wind threatened to rip away. “The Empress asked me to learn about the humans, and it has certainly been unusual … illogical … So inefficient, yet in a way, I saw a part of myself in them. I have always felt so inferior to my sisters and mother … trapped as the Eldest, but now I see a different perspective.”
Mmh … A wise decision of the Empress, Sari’ael returned. Your family is strong, but you have your own strength to tap into, and I believe you will find a way to meet your sisters in your own unique style. Be vigilant. The Empress and I know there is greatness untapped within you.
“Thank you, High Warlord!” Camellia bowed before her gaze returned to the golden illumination Sari’aél’s ability generated.
The Seraph took in a short draw of air before letting the mist pass through her lips; over time, this frost would weaken the immune system of the living, and if exposed long enough, would freeze them from the inside out. Could this be an attack in stages? Build up the storm, destroy much of the continent, blanket them in this frost, and then release a disease that all races have become susceptible to?
It was a strange emotion, the uncertainty that filled her two hearts and exhilaration of being put into a compromising position. Vulnerability presented challenges to her Empress yet put the need to struggle within her, which spurred her veins’ liquid energy to hasten.
Deciding to fully send her dedication and risk in this fight, Sari’aél did something that in any ordinary circumstance wouldn’t have so much as touched her mind. Edmon…
The man’s deep voice connected through the Nexus. “Amra’Cora and her soldiers are just finishing up their preparations. If you want to bring Noa and Jumi’calro down now, we can proceed to the location the A.I. gave us and leave you to prepare for the breach.”
“Oh, are you already going?” Tiffany quickly joined in, voice holding moderate agitation as she rushed her work.
“Mmgm … Edmon, give me just a bit longer to hex these torches and effigy … I’m running my ingredients to the bottom of the jar! Ugh, I need to make another substitute … six minutes—and don’t make me run all the way to you! Have some consideration … I’m not fast.”
Sari’aél cleared her throat to draw their attention back to her. No, that’s not why I asked for Edmon’s attention … I’d like you to retrieve and use Milthren when I fall unconscious.
“Who?” Tiffany absently asked. “I don’t know what a Milthren is.”
Edmon sighed, knowing the Grand Ritualist was just in a frantic state, fearing her rushed art would be useless if she made a single mistake. “Focus on your carvings, herbs, and rituals, woman, and quit getting distracted.”
“Fine, but be a good little boy and run down here to get the list and instructions I’ve slaved away making in the basement! Humph…”
She promptly exited, and Edmon’s solemn mood returned. “If I recall correctly, Milthren is the name of your weapon … Why do I get the feeling you’re reluctant to part ways with it?”
Noa’s squinted eyes darted to her ax as Sari’aél lifted her long companion up to stare at the brilliant tool. Milthren is a spiritual weapon of phenomenal power—she does not have a full Intelligence but a consciousness to a degree … She is far beyond any tool this world has to offer; of that, there is no doubt. Milthren focuses and enhances the wielder’s powers, adapting to them however the user desires.
Edmon listened carefully on his way to recover Tiffany’s spelled items, leaving the Elite Hunters, Lexi, Serris, Violet, and Azalea in the Entrance Hall as they made ready for the battle ahead. “A powerful armament. I assume there are conditions if this tool can adapt to both your original and current strength. It’s a focus and enhancing tool, meaning it’s fully dependent upon the user’s aptitude. Correct?”
Yes, Sari’aél puffed out a long breath while stroking the blade; its overwhelming strength tingled against her fingertips in response. Anyone can operate her … She is not like a Spiritbound Weapon, but a companion to the Seraphim. I … do not think I have the current strength to deliver you directly to your target—I’m almost sure of it.
So, while your defenses are magnificent, your offensive capabilities are lacking, from what I have gathered. To compensate and provide a means for you to progress, even when a powerful barrier is before you, I will lend you Milthren to convert your powers into a charged offensive form.
Her lips tightened. However, I will be explicit … It is impossible for you to bend Milthren to your will. She is equivalent to a seventh-dimensional entity—capable of shattering a Universal Core and recreating the sphere, and even at my most powerful, I could not draw out her potential like unto my senior Seraphim.
“I understand,” Edmon replied, voice resolved. “How do I handle her?”
With care, Sari’aél smiled, caressing the wooden shaft of the weapon. Milthren will test you … and you will be annihilated if you fail. She will try to lure you in, but you must hold your ground and resist … You mustn’t take from her … you must give, and only then will she mold and return the gift.
“I’ll see it done.”
Sari’aél cut the connection between them, closing her eyes and holding a hand against her breast to feel her thumping hearts. Was this the feeling I had before my death? No … this is different … very different.
Vision opening, she stared at the nervous A.I., tail curling to press against her silver golem and arms folded under her bust. It was curious how Ke’Thra’Ma programmed this runic creature to behave, or perhaps she developed these mannerisms while in isolation; for being put in charge of the warlord’s most treasured repository, she was shockingly timid. It made her question the character she’d come to hear.
She soothed Milthren as the ax touched her Core, reassuring her of her protective embrace as the spiritual weapon’s arms closed around her from behind and pulled her in. We will not be apart for long … Take care of Edmon and the others in my stead; I have always trusted in your judgment.
In the past, there had been times when the weapon refused to strike down a perceived enemy—select soldiers that marched against them in mass, leaving them spared by Milthren’s grace. Now, for the first time since connecting to the spiritual weapon—since she’d first fallen off her father’s tree—she was letting go.
Edmon sent the news that they were ready to march.
Fingers applying pressure against Milthren’s shaft, Sari’aél’s hair rose into the air as she brought Jumi’calro and Noa to the front of the palace to set them down—Camellia would be by her side until it was time to initiate the assault.
Her six wings folded in slightly while hovering five feet above the black stone floor, scanning each individual and determining their current strength as they filed outside—Edmon was running up the stairs as they exited.
Her gaze wandered between those that were the strongest to the least of the party, and as could be expected, Violet’s composed and elegant demeanor caught her attention first.
The woman had been extending the period she could remain as a human by a significant degree since Sari’aél had first met her. There were certain perks she could use in this form, yet it did have its weaknesses compared to the raw defenses and power of her Thélméthra body.
Since she’d first plucked the girl away from her post at the Maw, she’d been carefully spinning her web in preparation for what was to come and drew Azalea into working on gathering much of the silk she’d layered across the valley.
The second eldest Thélméthra would typically be next in the ranking of finesse and power, but after everything she’d spent against their previous battle, acting as a support to Ramuk, she’d tire quickly if pushed.
To a bit of surprise, it was Amra’Cora that took the number two spot while wearing her armor; the Fire Brawler may not be near the strength of her famed mother, but she was far from defenseless. Inherited from her mother was the Quen’Talrat Ka’s gray fur, which currently was on par with Violet’s resilience, and her weapons increased her physical prowess to be near Camellia’s level.
Serris, the moss-haired mantis, stood ahead of the others, and a match between Amra’Cora and her could have been interesting to watch, but without her mind games, it would be a loss.
It was here that Azalea was placed in her drained state, acting as her younger sister’s support in whatever the web weaver needed.
Lexi’s gelatinous biology provided an interesting set of internal chemicals Sari’aél could sense within the complex matrix of the female creature’s sticky, transparent green body.
Her small size and ability to morph it, mixed with Serris’s mental attacks, made the pair a formidable force, and she could see why they had taken Iris by surprise. Of course, it was only with the broad reach of Serris’ mental impressions that they ever stood a chance, and they couldn’t win.
From here, the Elite Hunters took their place, beginning with Yelro’Kuma, an Elite Warrior that specialized in close and long-ranged weapons, yet his Subclass was Fire Thrower. His three arms wielded the same spears across his broad back, and throwing axes at his hip could be thrown by his thin two tails.
Melia’Ia stood tall in her form-fitted plate armor, hosting half of an octagon shield on either arms that could be combined to make a whole. Her four legs could provide stability within her Heat Wall Subclass as an Elite Defender.
Kumi’Rela was the weakest of Amra’Cora’s unit; in the Hunter Class, he had the Heatfinder Subclass, carrying more ranged weapons, such as an odd projectile-type gun that could shoot fire-infused shells that exploded on impact.
Each was the best they currently had, and it was only Edmon’s presence that assured her that these faces could return—they’d done everything in their power to prepare.
Melia’Ia took hold of Jumi’calro’s basket as Yelro’Kuma helped strap him to her back; it wouldn’t be the most pleasant ride for the Nalvean, but he’d been assured a reward for his efforts.
Edmon exited, garbed in his full black and sapphire-imbued plate armor; his torn cobalt-hued cloak was pulled over his head, tower shield in hand. Mist expelled from his mouthguard, bright wisps of blue energy trailing past his illuminated eye sockets as he stood between his unit to face her.
However, Sari’aél couldn’t help but giggle inside; the man’s menacing look was contrasted by the flowery pink silk purse around his left shoulder that she knew was personally commissioned by the Grand Ritualist for this very situation.
Ready?
“As much as we’ll ever be, given the time constraint,” Edmon replied, unabashed by the unusual human customs Tiffany wanted to play into. “Violet will strap Noa to Amra’Cora’s back to make it to the site by the time you are ready—I will protect them from the backlash.”
Nodding, Sari’aél’s golden eyes drifted to Lexi; the Doom Guard had already been told about the level of priority that was given to the gelatinous creature—Sari’aél was amused to find the girl attempting to mold her body into a way to mirror her angelic figure.
Everyone seems to be infatuated by how I look … Yet, I am not the most lovely of my father’s daughters.
Edmon followed her gaze, causing Lexi to stiffen under the attention, losing a bit of the more sculptured appearance. “It isn’t just your beauty that draws others in; it’s your presence—the awe you strike.”
Hmm … Very well, I’ll take to the sky and begin. It shouldn’t be more than ten minutes beyond the time you arrive that I will be ready … I cannot warn you as my target will fully capture my concentration.
“No need. I will be ready.”
Happy to have the confident Doom Guard on the assault, Sari’aél took one last glance around at the party before lifting Camellia into the air with her. Be sure to be the first to touch Milthren … She is no respecter of sides.
“We will act in haste.”
Taking it as a confirmation that he knew the seriousness of her resolve, Sari’aél increased her speed, golden rays brightening around her frame as she pulled Camellia along. Are you prepared? she asked, vision shifting to her left to examine Iris’s eldest daughter.
“Yes, High Warlord!” Camellia earnestly replied. “I will catch you without fail and return to the city.”
My aura and power will be drained—I will not have the same presence I currently do, but a weak, frail figure that could be killed by landing the wrong way.
“I will be careful.”
A smile brightened Sari’aél’s eyes. I am blessed to have such dependable soldiers. I will be in your care.
She felt Camellia’s trembling hearts at the charge; it was equivalent to her mother putting her life in her hands. “It means a lot … that you trust me, even after my failings, High Warlord.”
Leaving it at a reassuring smile, Sari’aél mentally and spiritually primed herself for the focus she’d soon require.
She flew beyond the veiled mountains to reach the base of the crown jewel of the sierra, placing Camellia at the foot; the icy hail would have made it impossible for a human to travel through, and she had no reservations—she would take damage from the ice while falling. It was up to the Thélméthra to bundle her up and trek back to Nethermore once she’d fainted.
Waving the girl off, Sari’aél rose several hundred feet into the biting heavens, staring through the haze at the place Noa had marked. Edmon and his troops were rushing to the train to shave off a bit of time.
A shiver ran down her wings as she held Milthren ahead of her, gathering her filtered spiritual force through the seed fragment within her Core. The golden rays she produced intensified, multiplying by the second as she poured everything she had into her trusted companion since birth.
Milthren carefully took every drop, molding it like a mother tending to her child, and Sari’aél experienced another new thing today—fatigue—her wings grew heavy, muscles weak, and hearts slowed. Yet she fought to press on, expelling more than she’d ever done while training with her brothers and sisters … to the point the Seraph felt the liquid energy in her veins thicken to white blood—she was falling from the sliver of grace she still held.
Time was meaningless—only the work of draining her Core of all power held sway in her mind, and for the first time, she felt the pain of a burning breast as her armor’s defensive matrix failed, unable to maintain its protection as her skin lost its luster.
Dagger-like ice gnawing at her unprotected skin and wings, Sari’aél opened her dull topaz eyes just before losing flight, tormented wings beating against the gale. Drawing back her arm, she released Milthren with all the strength she had left, vision going dark, and her partner took care of the rest.
Heat she’d never known seared her skin while her body numbed, ears ringing as she was flung away, and Sari’aél fell from the heavens, frailty embracing her.
* * *
Camellia’s gut tightened as she waited, preparing the spongy bed with the utmost care—she wasn’t even in the same universe with Violet when it came to custom webbing, but how she was currently working her silk glands, she was sure her sisters would be astonished—Camellia had just crafted the best, most resilient gossamer of her life.
Once complete, she kept it sealed from the hail, waiting for what the humans called an angel to make her descent; it wasn’t hard to find her as her rays cast light on the ground where Camellia stood.
She felt her sisters reach the entry point, signaling the start of the operation would begin soon, and not ten minutes after, Sari’aél’s light suddenly vanished.
Camellia kept careful track of the winged woman in the complicated winds and atmospheric disturbances, yet at the second the angel fell, chaos erupted. She jumped as a streak of golden fire parted the storm, sending a pulse of intense heat that threw her into a triple barrel roll, steaming her skin and causing the superheated ice to vaporize, swept away in the squall.
Four thunderous sonic booms struck her ears and chest before an eruption of black smoke and earthen tremors transferred up her legs—molten rock exploded from out of the side of the mountain, just far enough and angled to not present her harm, but Camellia’s mind was in a panic—she couldn’t get a grasp on Sari’aél’s location.
Knowing the angel had been thrown back toward the capital, Camellia picked up her bed and ran, sensing everything within her environment as the sky temporarily cleared of frost, and it was then that she saw her—Sari’aél’s partially charred wings left a trail of black.
She couldn’t make it in time on foot, so she attached a cord to the silken bed, whipped it around, and threw it with all her might—it soared through the sky, following her swift mental projections. Just before striking the ground, Camellia delivered a near-instantaneous twitch through the thread, and it opened up to wrap the falling angel in a cocoon to hit the powder.
Camellia chided herself, rushing after her charge as she felt more superheated rocks crashing across the base of the mountain; utterly disregarding her sisters, knowing Edmon would protect them, she made it to the woman as soon as possible.
Opening the dirty cradle, her eyes widened in fear—Sari’aél’s golden and white feathers were singed and tattered. Her tanned, smooth skin was blistered and burned, hair showing patches of black, yet her armor had taken the blast, protecting her lower legs, torso, and much of her arms.
She breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing her rising and falling breasts, and soon after, she confirmed with her silk, she was alive, but much like herself, the angel would need time to heal.
Bundling Sari’aél in the cocoon as the hail returned, Camellia hurried back to the capital—surely Tiffany would know what to do.
Maps:
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