The Stained Tower

The same night as the tragedy, I linger in the Mistress’s Chamber, peering at the little violet spark that bumps around inside the Tower’s sprout. In my hands, I fumble with a small vial of blue Elixir that was given to me by Terra after we finished comforting Scarlett. News of the massacre spread through the camp at breakneck speed. In all, thirty-nine people are thought to have been killed, almost all by creatures people have begun calling, ‘Selqet.’

A candlelight vigil is to be held in the Tower’s shadow sometime within the next week.

When everything was said and done, the only thing Terra and I could agree upon before separating is that it’s time to stop Mithridates’s advancement. My gaze drifts toward the sapphire walls of the chambers. There, perched upon the wall, are the vague shapes of hundreds of black copepods. Commanding a dozen copepods to follow, I turn on my heel and step toward my glass table and chair. 

Through the circular window, the thickets of glowing glass trees sit in the unusually silent night, soaking in the solemn moonlight.  ‘A forest of colorful glass trees shall make for a beautiful candlelight vigil, but… ‘ Near the tip of one tree that borders the snowy Terrace, I notice a pigeon has skewered its own belly upon one of the branches and perished. ‘...but their leaves are illogically sharp! I overheard Shriek speaking to Mollie a few days ago. Something about an acquaintance of his receiving stitches above his brow after merely brushing up against a low branch. Ah! I forgot to ask Earl if the trees near the new nodes I planted will be turned to glass like the others were when the Tower sprouted. ’

There’s a rusty squeak, and then the familiar voice of innocence speaks with evident etiquette. ”Answer: Yes, all trees within the node’s area of leeching will be vitrified. It’s of the utmost importance that their leaves are sharper and deadlier than a primordial serpent's tooth.” Before I may even absorb her words, Earl takes a few steps closer and asks, “Query: Is the Mistress going to continue working on the same projects tonight as the Mistress has the past eleven?”

{I am not going to be operating on Fey’s Kiln, but I shall be working with the copepods as usual as well as familiarizing myself with a new haze form. How are our haze reserves? May I vent haze into this chamber tonight?} 

“Confirmation: There is enough for the Mistress’s purposes. Though the fleshies have been siphoning haze for a while now, it has been fairly easy to keep up. The limiting factor appears to be taking care of the sick fleshies rather than the Mistress’s haze.”

{Excellent, then prithee, tonight I ask that my chamber be filled with hoary haze.} I turn and find that despite hearing no other footsteps, Earl is a mere foot away. {I believe hoary may be of great use to me if it’s not too disorienting.} 

“Observation: The Mistress has never seemed interested in the hoary haze. This one always believed that the hoary haze made the Mistress uncomfortable.”

{Aye. It still somewhat does, but... it’s a special occasion, I suppose.} 

“Acknowledgement: Then this one shall have the Tower deliver the requested ‘special occasion’ haze to its Mistress.”

With Earl’s words, the Tower creaks as if it understands. Looking through the sapphire floor at my feet, I watch the haze running through the many roots change direction. {Thou inevitably make everything seem sinister!}

“Query: This one has been told that eating of one’s own kind is sinister.” Opening her mouth, Earl pokes at her razor-sharp teeth. “Is that not true? A lie told out of desperation, maybe?”

{I… I am… Aye, mayhaps, it is. I know naught any longer!} I throw up my arms, step around Earl, and order the twelve sable copepods to one side of the table. While Earl watches, I practice commanding them. I drop my arms and then ask, {Earl, if I assault Mithridates, is there anything I should be aware or wary of?}

“Answer: The Mistress should not attempt to engage the Kiln Mithridates in his Domain.” Pursing her lips, she thinks for a moment and then nods. “Recommendation: Wait for the Kiln Mithridates to stray, and then devour him.”

I tilt my head. {Is it because his Domain is challenging to move in? Terra has the Helping Hands crafting me something to wear around my Kiln. Assuming this item is not too heavy, I have decided to go without the arc suit. Water, muck, or sludge, I shall be floating above it.}

She raises an eyebrow. “Rhetorical Inquiry: Does the Mistress believe this one would stand idle if a Kiln trespassed upon the Mistress’s Domain? The Mistress is aware that this one can now travel the Domain freely unlike before?”

{Thou mean to imply that Mithridates Interface may attack me within his Domain?}

“Answer: This one is confident that the majority of Interfaces would defend their Kiln’s Domain if desperate.” Walking toward one of the copepods, Earl slaps her hand down, smashing it. As a sliver of black haze slips between her fingers, she snickers, “Explanation: Spirits can always exercise their will upon other spiritual things, but they can also do so if in some kind of contract or in areas that are rich in spiritual energy. Of course, that’s assuming the spirit is also protected from the degradation of the material realm.”

{And I presume Mithridates’s Domain is much like my own? His Domain will protect spirits that inhabit the material realm as if it’s Tenebrous, including his Interface.}

“Response: That is correct. An interface’s strength is tied to the Kiln’s power, but the Mistress should still be wary—a dragon is still a dragon, and a mouse is still a mouse.” 

{...}

Noticing my silence, Earl shakes her head, causing her lantern to sway back and forth.  “Explanation: The Mistress doesn’t need to be concerned about fighting a dragon. This one only means to imply that a few Interfaces will still have a strength higher than others even if the Kiln is weak. Prediction: The Kiln Mithridates won’t be expecting the Mistress to attack; the Kiln Mithridates will likely be simple enough to flush out.”

{Good lord, Earl! I was about to cancel the whole thing!}

There’s a click from the center of the room. I glance over to see the glass roots turn gray and one of the bigger roots detaches from the sapphire floor. An opaline gray haze spews outward and drifts toward me with a baleful resolution.

“Warning: The effects of the hoary haze might be… unfamiliar to the Mistress.”

The cattail unravels from around my torso and drifts toward the vial. Its cords attempt to unwind, but I refuse to allow them to do so. Finally, I win our little battle of wills, and the cattail engulfs the vial before then hitting it against the table and shattering the vial. 

Watching the bright blue Elixir bubble and flow down the cattail, I nod. {Aye. I am ready to see what the hoary form has to offer.} The burning heat of the Elixir arises when it hits the shell of my kiln. {And I am curious what a wave of hoary copepods looks like.}

Both a purple and blue wall appear in front of me.

‘In the past, the Elixir wall only said, ‘specially harvested Mana rich decoction,’ so that is certainly an improvement.’ I push away the purple and blue walls. ‘Though the ‘spinal column’ under ‘brine’ is strange… What animal could they be acquiring this ‘caerulus’ from?’ 

Noticing the gray haze gathering around my feet, I take a seat at the glass table. Earl walks to my side, and I return to staring at the colorful copses of glass trees through the window. The two of us speak as the hoary haze creeps up my body and toward my eyes. 

The beautiful trees fade as my vision turns white and then darkens to gray.

---

---

The following day, Terra, Lorcan, two Syndicate guards, and I walk through the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It’s beautiful, there are so many amazing mementos, but after recent events, the heaviness of the air has made it hard to appreciate their charm.

As we walk through the museum, we pass by a multitude of people wearing various bits of military garb. Each of them bears a badge that displays names like “U.S. Army,” “New York Army National Guard,” “New York Guard,” and ''New York Naval Militia” to name a few. 

Trying to not be distracted by all the art and mementos, I watch the milky white floor instead. In my peripheral, I notice something bobbing back and forth in Lorcan’s hand that prompts me to tilt my head. {Terra, why does Lorcan have Proximo’s pickaxe with him?}

{There was an incident when we met the men for the first time; a couple of the senior members got a tad heated. After repeated warnings, Lorcan pushed the flat end of the pickaxe against one man’s cheek and another man’s neck.} Terra glances at the pickaxe and stealthily points at the pickaxe’s head. {The pickaxe branded both men with the pattern in its cracked stone. After that, he revealed that you, the Fairy, gave it to him, which went over better than anticipated. Since then, the pickaxe has become a part of his ‘image’ in the Syndicate, and he’s been carrying it around when he’s on the job as a… silent whisper to the wise.}

{...I gave it to him so that he could heat water.} I shake my head. {But, what I meant is, why and how is he holding it? As thou stated, the pickaxe is burning hot, including the handle he is gripping as if it’s cool.}

{If you’re interested in that, visit the Cosmic Atlas and question them about Elixir and blood aptitudes. But, for now… let's stay focused, okay? A lot has happened, and we need to keep our minds focused on Mithridates and General Riddick.}

{Apologies. I simply could not help but ask.}

{No... I’m sorry. I’m just on edge after what happened. You’ve heard what they’re calling the incident, right?}

{Aye.} Still staring at the floor, I nod. {‘Selqet Massacre’ in the Sheep Meadow camp and ‘Fairy’s Capture Quest Massacre’ in the Cider Hill camp.}

{You know those two politicians you never met like you promised?}

I tilt my head and nod. {Aye. They had made me uncomfortable}

{Well, regardless, they’re demanding answers and want you to explain what happened.}

{Oh. ...I do not like them.}

{You need to learn to talk to crowds. It’s something you’ll have to do quite often.}

{That’s true, but I still do not like them.}

The sound of boots echoes as a man and a woman approach wearing what is the standard U.S. Army garb. Both of them are around the average height of people nowadays. The man has brown eyes, the woman blue; however, the man has dark blue hair and the woman light purple. ‘The news crier had dark blue hair, but I have never seen purple before.’

Their gazes pass over our faces, yet I notice their eyes appear to linger upon me a touch longer than everyone else. “Miss Nightingale, Miss Speaker, I’m Sergeant Kendale Saxe, and this is...” 

He gestures at the woman who smiles at me. “I’m Specialist Emma Brooks, Miss Nightingale.” 

I perform a slight bow and then write on my whiteboard, “It is a pleasure to meet thou.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Specialist Brooks replies.

Sergeant Saxe nods. “Agreed.” 

Clearing her throat, Terra asks, “Our time is limited. Are you two here to escort us, or did you just wish to meet Miss Nightingale?”

“Apologies, Miss Speaker. Specialist Brooks and I are both members of the Luminary Talent Contingent. We have indeed been instructed to escort you to the meeting room.” He raises a hand toward the two Syndicate guards. “But first, we ask that your companions either leave their weapons here or wait outside.”

“Sorry!” Lorcan waves the guards away and rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t even think about the fact we’re basically in a military base.”

Sergeant Saxe nods and then gestures at Lorcan’s hand. “And the pickaxe, sir?”

“Sorry, but I can’t actually set the thing down.” He touches the end of the pickaxe against a bump of snow that clings to his boots. The pickaxe sizzles, sending a sliver of steam rising upward. “If I set it down, it’ll burn whatever it touches.”

“You’re an Elixir awakened then? I guess the bright red hair should have made it obvious you’re an Elixired helius.”

“A helius?” Lorcan says, raising an eyebrow. “You just mean my ability to touch hot things?”

“Sort of,” Sergeant Saxe responds, scrutinizing Lorcan’s pickaxe. “But sorry, sir, inexplicably hot stone pickaxes aren’t allowed either.” He raises his hand toward a metal table. “Please, place it on the table, and both your men and two of my soldiers can guard it while the meeting takes place. That or you can wait here or outside with it.”

Lorcan glances at the pickaxe and then me. “Yeah, that works,” he says, walking over to the table.

With the weapon situation sorted, we follow behind the pair of soldiers through the halls of the museum. Most of the mementos have been covered in white sheets or, judging by the vacant areas on the wall, removed.

“Please excuse the state of things right now. We’ve only been here a few days now, and we’re in the process of packing and relocating the artifacts to a vault out of state.”

Terra raises her hand. “It’s not an issue. I am surprised you’re relocating the artifacts, however.”

“It’s something for the newbies to do in their downtime, ma’am,” Specialist Brooks says with a nod.

“While they’re waiting for their Mana to rejuvenate and physically incapable of doing anything more, you mean?” Terra asks.

Ignoring Terra’s comment, the pair stop and step to either side of a set of double doors that has “The Patrons Lounge and Library” written above the door frame. 

“Here we are,”  Sergeant Saxe says, reaching for the door handle. “The General is waiting.”

Sergeant Saxe and Specialist Brooks pull at the pair of double doors, revealing a quiet library with purple walls. The library is full of chairs, couches, books, and wooden tables spread out to ensure privacy for anyone that may desire it. At the end of this room is General Riddick, tapping away at a lap-top and reading various stacks of papers.

He looks up and smiles. Then, setting his things down, he approaches us with his hand extended. “Miss Nightingale, Miss Speaker…” General Riddick pauses when he notices Lorcan. “You can just call me General Riddick.”

Raising his hand, Lorcan says simply, “Gotcha, I’m Mister Yarborough.”

He nods and shakes Lorcans hand. “Then Miss Nightingale, Miss Speaker, Yarborough, please have a seat.” Gesturing to a set of six chairs that surround a round table, he continues, “I’m fairly certain I know why you’ve chosen today to come to see me, but before we get to that, we’ve got a few belated topics to discuss first.”

“That’s fine, General. I’m, of course, always interested in what you have to say.”

“Yes, this is our third meeting; after all, it’s starting to feel like a weekly event.”

While Terra, General Riddick, and Lorcan exchange a few words, I take a seat and inspect the papers that sit atop the table. Many of them have the same thing written atop, “TOP SECRET // CIDC // OSI // UMBRA // REL USA, FVEY.” 

However, one of them sticks out because it has some familiar information written, “London Parlance: a short-lived vernacular & manner of speaking that peaked during the mid to late 16th Century. Fell out of use by the 17th century, just over a decade after its use was outlawed via royal decree. Sometimes referred to as ‘The Tongue of the Black Witch,’ it saw a small resurgence in some fantasy video and table-top games. It’s oftentimes spoken by hags, witches, harpies, trolls, and other abominable creatures. High probability that London Parlance is a System-Influenced Dialect.”

I stare at the words, stunned. {...Good lord, I am remembered! ‘Black’ was one of my nicknames! I cannot believe it, someone remembers me, I was not utterly forgotten! Though my actual name never became public information it seems. Terra, look, my legacy!} Looking up at Terra, who has started reading over my shoulder at some point. {Oh, and also... They might know more than we assumed they did!}

Taking a seat to my right, Terra joins me in reading the document. While she catches up, I read the following paragraph in hopes of learning more.

“System-Influenced Dialect: anachronistic languages that are known to surface occasionally in the annals of history. [1] We theorize that these languages materialize when someone gains access to some sort of early communication from the Cosmic System or other entities and then adopts aspects of its vernacular. Why these System-influenced dialects share resemblances to modern languages is unknown, but several hypotheses have been put forth: That the Cosmic System managed to predict the details of or acquire pre-knowledge of modern languages prior to their existence, that the Cosmic System steered the direction of all modern languages, or simply that this phenomenon is outside our current understanding and viewpoint of the universe, i.e., magical, supernatural, and/or preternatural.”

{I do not know if I agree with this, though. I did not create London Parlance, nor did I ever receive a communication from the Cosmic System before... passing on.}

Terra pulls the document away from me and feigns reading it. {Constance! You’re basically headbutting that paper! He left those papers out for you to see on purpose!}

{Apologies!} I force my head to turn away from the paper. {But… but how could I endure such painful curiosity? It’s my legacy, Terra!}

{A vernacular can’t be a legacy if you weren’t the one to create or spread it.}

{Is that so? Then as the last and most famous speaker of London Parlance, I declare ownership and responsibility for it, and no one else is alive to say otherwise!}

Ignoring me, Terra raises the document toward General Riddick and says, “Hmmm, these documents contain some very niche and irrelevant information, General. Are they really pertinent to our discussions?”

“Miss Speaker, that’s just our pencil pushers doing their due diligence. So don’t think much of it.” General Riddick chuckles while taking a seat across from us. “Now, I’m sorry I couldn’t prepare you a presentation or anything like that, but well, I’m a busy man. Given the circumstances, I don’t have the patience or time to do the movie cliché with the whole military slideshow crap. I only say that because you’d be surprised how many people believe that actually happens on the regular. Anyway, we’ll all have to share photos and pass them around. Oh, and all documents or photos are not to leave this room, period.”

Taking a seat to my left, Lorcan nods. “Yeah, no problem here.”

General Riddick glances at Lorcan and then turns back toward me. “Alright, well, I’ll start by saying, Miss Nightingale…” General Riddick stares at me with a serious expression. “I don’t know what you are, but I do know that the Tower outside is the work of a species by the name of ‘Kiln.’”

As if she was waiting for him to say such words, Terra asks, “A what, General? Are you positive you haven’t confused your words? I’ve never heard of any ‘species,’ real or fictitious, that goes by a name like that.”

“I’m more than positive because a month ago, we had an old soldier return to duty and tell us all about the Kiln,” General Riddick says.

“Yeah, I don’t know what a ‘Kiln species’ is either, but still, I don’t see why an ‘old soldier’ would know anything about some exotic species,” Lorcan responds with a chuckle. “What? Did he retire, get a hobby, and start drying pottery in an actual kiln or something?” 

General Riddick stares daggers at Lorcan. “No, Yarborough. I can tell that you’re genuinely in the dark about the whole thing.” With a sigh, he leans back in his chair and says, “We had a soldier begging for an audience with his commander, General Joseph Hooker. Poor ‘man,’ he was nearly two hundred years late for General Hooker’s funeral. ...That’s all I’m authorized to say about that soldier, and I won’t discuss him any further. I just want you both to understand that the U.S. Army isn’t ignorant to the habits of Kiln nor what you’re doing here.”

“Hmm, I’m not really sure what you’re trying to get at General, but please, say what it is you’ve prepared.”

General Riddick sighs. “I suppose I better just get to the point… Though we had no idea when it would happen, we’ve known that the Cosmic System would one day return for a long time now.”

“Wait, you’re saying you knew something like this would happen… Then why does it feel like you’re doing such a bad job?” Lorcan raises a hand toward Terra and me. “Why are we only finding out about this now?”

Terra and I glance at one another. We both already knew that many people and organizations were aware of the Cosmic System long before the Beta.

“Let’s imagine for a second that by some miracle, we defied all the odds and managed to convince people that magic and monsters are real and they’re all going to come back… Well, then what, Yarborough? Are we supposed to have people live every day waiting for something that could have happened several millennia from now?”

“I don’t know, but you could have still done something to prepare people!”

“Prepared people? If I say, ‘level up,’ ‘elf,’ or ‘vampire,’ you intrinsically understand what I’m referring to, right? Modern people are more prepared than any other people in all of written human history. That’s simply a fact.”

“I could have learned most of those kinds of things in a couple of days,” Lorcan remarks.

“Listen, Yarborough, there have been times in the past when influential individuals have tried to warn the public of the impending cataclysms, with varying degrees of success. However, in those people’s lifetimes, the cataclysms obviously never came. Hence, people did what people do, and they forgot and went about their lives. It’s all they could do, and it was the same for modern people until recently. We prepared for this scenario in the same way we prepared for nuclear war or an asteroid hitting the earth—to the extent science, politics, and funding permitted us to.” Raising his hands, General Riddick laughs. “Hell, several years ago, there was a legitimate debate about whether they should disband my department or keep donut Tuesdays. We barely fuckin’ made it.”

“...Donut Tuesdays?” Lorcan sighs and then questions, “I don’t see how people could just forget about something like what’s happening? I mean, if there was a department for this, what were you even doing all day?”

“Folklore, mythos, legends, old wives' tales, some of those are what’s left over from those attempts to warn people, some are just stories.” Leaning back, General Riddick raises his hand and starts counting things off. “Which ones are most likely true? What myths should be popularized amongst the public? What kind of damage might we expect? That’s the kind of thing my barely financed, virtually overlooked department was in charge of handling. It was only after the decimation of Anchorage that ‘high command’ even remembered we existed.”

“I believe I understand your point, General; you’re well informed. This is all fascinating; I am glad to have my suspicions confirmed, but please forgive me. After the events of yesterday, we hope you understand we aren’t in the best of spirits, and seeing as we’re being given the walk-around right now, certainly isn’t helping.”

“Please accept my condolences. I merely have questions for you that I’ve been saving for a more opportune time like this. I cannot consider any requests you might make until we’ve come to some sort of understanding.”

“If I’m able, I’ll answer,” Terra replies curtly.

“Then to get us back on track, I’ll make a quick confession.” Raising his hand, he says, “I’m the one who recommended that minimal military resources be put toward the preservation of New York City, especially Manhattan. Of course, that was only after some long discussions with our military strategists.”

“And yet, you’re here setting up shop in a Museum at the heart of Manhattan. Has your opinion changed or...?”

General Riddick shakes his head and leans forward. “The majority of the city’s freshwater is brought in via aqueducts; they’ll eventually fail—obtaining freshwater will be quite the affair. The ground is dense with concrete, layers of asphalt, and pipes full of toxic chemicals that could poison the ground—food might need to be imported. All around are abandoned buildings that could be irreparable in the future, meaning they’re all just waiting to take a tumble—movement will become difficult and dangerous. Finally, there are thousands of miles worth of tunnels under this city, and now, after the spider incident, we know each one is capable of spewing a geyser of monsters, anywhere, at any time.” 

Removing more images he slides them in front of us. The images show hordes of monstrous insects swarming buildings, roads covered in cesspools, and soldiers tossing plastic water bottles into crowds of screaming people. He continues, “This city is indefensible, barely habitable, and lacks many of the most basic of human necessities. In other words, Manhattan is a certified death trap, one of the absolute worst places to weather any catastrophe…”

With a slight nod, Terra responds, “A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed, General Riddick.”

General Riddick frowns and gestures toward Terra. “Considering who you are, you knew all of that already. So, tell me Miss Galtry, why did someone as… ‘renowned’ as you choose to join together with a Kiln and assist in bringing tens of thousands of people to what shall become an inhospitable warzone?”

“Well, first of all, General, I'm not sure why you’d call me by such a controversial name.” Terra uncrosses her legs, swapping to the other. “But, let’s not pretend for a second that nine million people would have evacuated New York City if not for our actions. Those people would have been left for dead, and those outside Manhattan still will be. So, I recommend you take a quick glance in a mirror if you’re simply desperate for someone to blame.”

“Fair enough; none of our hands are clean, and they’ll only get dirtier. Unfortunately, that’s the nature of survival,” General Riddick replies.

Ignoring his words, Terra continues, “But to answer your question, we believe this is the best opportunity for people to grow. So while you wish to do nothing but save them from danger today, we’ll give those who can stomach it the tools to save themselves or whomever they wish by awakening them and allowing them to grow here during the Beta.”

General Riddick turns to me. “Is that how you feel as well?”

“Aye, it is,” I write on my whiteboard.

The room turns hushed as General Riddick stares at a set of documents thinking. Finally, he taps on the table and then asks, “Your glass trees, Miss Nightingale, do you plan to grow more of them?”

Glancing at Terra, I look back and stare at my whiteboard before forcing myself to write. “Aye, I plan to make many more.”

“Good, good. Then, Miss Nightingale, Miss Galtry, I think we can help one another.” Finding a sheet of paper, General Riddick slides it across the table. “Tell me, do you think you can commit to this schedule?”

Both Terra and I stare at the paper for a long time. Erasing my whiteboard, I write, “Thou actually wish for me to make more glass trees?”

General Riddick stares at me as if I have a hundred heads. “Of course, I do? That’s your whole species deal. It’s the whole reason people, beasts, animals, or whatever settle in your territories.”

With a quick glance at me, Terra crosses her legs and says, “Please elaborate, General.”

“Well, as I stated, we understand the Kiln species’ most basic survival mechanisms. Yet, after examining dozens of localities where a Kiln has settled, we couldn’t comprehend how they are a viable species. A small percentage of the Kiln we observed wasn’t very conducive to most forms of life.” General Riddick slides over a portrait of a landscape carpeted in black bubbling sludge. “Now, Miss Galtry, if a species survives by having living creatures live nearby, then why would they turn the land into a tarpit? Wouldn’t it make more sense to make it into something more inhabitable?”

Terra leans back and stares off into space, feigning contemplation. {Any idea what he’s getting at Constance?} 

Studying General Riddick’s face, I narrow my eyes and reply, {Mayhaps they only know that Kiln leech, and not that we supplement it with another method. If I had to conjecture, it’s likely that the Kiln that controls that tarpit Domain actually desires that some things perish in that tar. That’s comparable to my Tower in a way, but aye, his point is nevertheless valid. Nothing would voluntarily live in that place. Still, I suggest not giving them any further information regarding Kiln.}

Nodding, Terra responds to General Riddick, “If they’re always feeling sick or fatigued, it’s logical that both people and animals would ordinarily move somewhere else and then avoid that area in the future. Therefore, it would be more sensible for them to make the area into a veritable paradise. So I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for you.”

General Riddick looks toward Lorcan who simply shrugs, refusing to even humor him. “Then, I’ll just explain.” While watching for my reactions, he declares, “The reason creatures choose to live within a Kiln’s territory is that it offers shelter.” 

“How does something like a tarpit offer shelter?” Lorcan’s brow furrows. “It would be better to just set up a tent in a field or something.”

“Since everyone is wary of sharing information, I’ll just use the Tower outside as an example. The ground around the Tower is stuffed with bundles of nearly impenetrable glass-like roots, all of which are filled with dangerous gases. That means nothing of significant size is coming up from below; therefore, ground ambushes are mitigated. Then on the surface, the trees are composed of the same glass-like substance and filled with the same dangerous gases. On top of that, the tree’s leaves are razor-sharp, slicing into people or animals that just rub up against them.”

Terra appears to realize what the General is trying to say and asks, “So what you’re trying to say is that Kiln incentivizes habitation of their territory, not by making it some kind of paradise, but rather a sanctuary from monsters? Like the spider from yesterday? An animal of that size would avoid areas like the one that exists around the Tower.” 

‘...Wait. Verily! Is that true!?’

“Precisely.” Steepling his fingers, General Riddick smirks. “So even if it’s an utter hell hole, like the abhorrent bog to the south, it’s still a safe haven.”

Lorcan raises his hands. “Okay, so I’m obviously out of the loop compared to everyone else here, but I think I understand how the Tower might keep things away. But how is a rancid bog a safe haven? Is smelling bad really good enough?”

“Police and emergency services that entered the area reported the ground was unstable, stings bare skin, and is easy to sink in. The bog is one of the worse examples, but it would offer sanctuary if you were desperate enough.”

‘I did not even consider any of that! I brought people in with promises of Strength, but without it, I thought the Tower would merely be a landmark at best! But that’s not true, because they would seek the protection of the trees and roots! …Wait, is that also why my Tower is made out of sharp skewers of glass!?’

Doing my best to appear relaxed, I write, “May I ask how common thou art expecting these colossi to be?”

“We have no idea, but we’ve learned that this continent was once referred to as the ‘Colossi Continent,’ so we presume they’re common enough to warrant the name,” General Riddick responds.

{He’s right…} I inform Terra. {I have had walls that have confirmed that this was indeed once known as the ‘Colossi Continent.’}

Terra glances at me and then says, “We’ll be expanding the trees, but before we commit to your schedule, what do we get for fulfilling it within your designated timeline? We’d prefer some kind of periodic incentive.”

“Periodic incentives?” General Riddick sighs. “If you agree, we’ll start with four emergency supply drops of food and water, enough to last fifty thousand people for two weeks. Then if you achieve the first goal on schedule, we’ll give you twelve military logistic vehicles. Those vehicles will permit safer scavenging inside the city; plus, we’ll throw in another four emergency supply drops. We’ll negotiate the remaining incentives depending on your response.”

I erase the whiteboard, shake my head, and then write, “I still do not understand why thee art making us this offer. It’s not what I was anticipating.”

“Why am I making you this offer? Where to start? You aren’t actively hostile, and you have two hundred thousand American citizens trapped in a field. The information that could be gathered watching your efforts is just plain invaluable. My Luminary Contingent needs training, and this is the best place in the world for that. I could keep going, but I think those are enough alone to justify giving you a small number of supplies. Now, I recommend you accept this offer because, at the very least, this lessens the odds that the Army will intrude upon your business.” Raising his hand with a long sigh, General Riddick declares,  “I’m being very generous with this offer, Miss Nightingale. Frankly, the Army doesn’t have to offer you anything. All of this was my personal call, so don’t make me go back with my tail tucked.”

Terra and I speak to one another with telepathy, and with a nod, I write, “We shall make an effort but are unsure if it’s feasible.”

“If you don’t think you can keep that schedule, then just come to me, and we’ll talk. Now!” General Riddick points at me with a stern expression. “That doesn’t mean you should be lax with that schedule. That timeline is for the safety of the people outside, not just mine, so I recommend you prioritize those trees. We are only in Manhattan because of the fungus to the North and you. Still, none of that means the Army isn’t above pulling out of Central Park if your ship starts sinking. There’s too much on the line, and people have already had their chance to evacuate.”

We discuss the topic for a moment longer, shake hands, and then move on to the whole reason we came to see him in the first place.

General Riddick gestures at Terra and me. “So, what is it you wanted to ask me about initially? Is it about the spider and other creatures? I believe it moved east and has taken shelter under the lower deck of Ed Koch Bridge. The other creatures have scattered themselves around the city.”

I wave my hand and then write, “We are not interested in poking a hornet’s nest we have no answer for. What we shall be doing instead is moving against the Kiln that, intentionally or not, caused yesterday’s tragedy.”

Terra nods in agreement. “To add to Miss Nightingale’s claims of criminal negligence, this Kiln is also guilty of assaulting large groups of civilians on multiple occasions, has made attempts at assassination, desecrated human remains, and has likely outright murdered an unknown number of U.S. Citizens. In fact, I think we can safely say he is at least guilty of various counts of manslaughter since he swept away numerous people when he made his dramatic appearance. Many of the bodies were never recovered if you remember.”

“Miss Galtry, I don’t think I need to state how ironic it is that you, of all people, are making criminal allegations right now.”

“Well, General, I am an expert on the subject,” she says, raising her hands.

“Then, seeing as you’re an expert, I’d like to remind you that the status of Kiln in the eyes of the legal system is ambiguous… Yet that doesn’t mean justice shouldn’t be done.” With a frown and a shake of his head, he continues, “But I’ll be frank, it’s in our interest as well that the Kiln to the south be removed, but I’m also not willing to put any of my soldier’s lives on the line. We’ve got enough issues in the northwest, and the Luminary Contingent is not to be deployed on missions like that just yet.”

“Everything else shall be done by our own hand.” A small muffled chuckle echoes from beneath Terra’s helmet. “All that we ask is that you do a few minor things to assist us in flushing them out of their territory.”