The Tears of Kas̆dael

He turned around slowly, trying to summon the last dregs of his strength to face whatever monster lurked behind him.

But a wave of relief washed over him when he saw only Aphora. She floated in the air a few feet above the wall, a strange sense of power emanating out from here. The wounds on her body were partially healed, although he could still see crisscrossing scars marring her skin wherever it peaked out from the shining silver gown she wore. Her stately antlers glowed, brighter and brighter, until, with a scream, she threw her hands forward. Hundreds of thin, silver threads peeled off of her dress, leaving her bare. The threads shot through the air, razor-sharp blades that effortlessly sliced through the monsters storming the battlements. A second later, the wall fell silent. The horde below shrunk back, unwilling to clamber up the walls and face the new foe.

Aphora drifted down, coming to land on the wall. Jasper watched in befuddled amazement, his head still throbbing from essence starvation. She walked over to him and placed her hand on his head. He gasped in delight as unexpected pleasure flowed through him. She pumped pure essence into his mana-starved body, and as it flooded his veins, his mental haze lifted, and the pain receded away. He looked at up her, a mixture of anger and thankfulness warring within him. “You came.”

A bitter smile flitted across her lips. “I came.” Aphora peered over the walls, at the horde gathered below, while the silver strands of her dress skewered any brave souls that still dared to climb up. “How could I stand by? I didn't mean for this to happen, but I'll will do what it takes to put an end to it.”

Her voice lowered, and he realized she was speaking to herself, not him. “I have to try. Even if it means killing my mother.”

The elf lifted her hand off his head, and Jasper straightened up. The wounds on his body still remained, but he could feel the essence surging through him like never before. Ihra had joined them, and Aphora turned to restore her essence. Aphora’s eyes fell on the little nubs on Ihra’s head, and she gave her a searching look, but asked no questions. Once the elf had finished restoring the handful of soldiers left on the wall, Aphora floated back up into the air.

“You’re leaving?!” Jasper took a glance back over the wall, where thousands of the monsters still waited, only holding back from fear of her silver tendrils.

“I have to go relieve the other sections along the wall, or our efforts will be in vain. Reinforcements from the northern gate are on their way. You just need to hold out for a few more minutes.” Her eyes fell on Jasper. “Don’t hold back on your magic, okay? Either you can hold the wall for seven or eight minutes, or it will fall.” A spark of humor lit her eyes. “I’ve overcharged your essence, though, so I think you’ll find yourself up to the task.

With her barrier of silver threads lifted, Jasper had no time to watch Aphora fly away as he and Ihra bore the full brunt of the renewed attack against the wall. Jasper had always felt that he had a decent pool of essence, but the difference was palpable. If what he had normally was a pleasant pond, that power that thrummed through his veins now was a goddamned ocean. “Ihra, stay close to me,” he yelled. “I don’t want to risk hitting you with Sacred Star.”

She stepped closer to him, and he unleashed a barrage against the swarming foes. The night turned to day as the wall shook beneath the wave of explosions. Jasper cast Sacred Star in quick succession, flinging the spell at the slightest sign of movement. Power surged through his veins, wiping away the exhaustion from the last few days. As a Sacred Star caught a wraith in the head, exploding it in a shower of gore, he cackled with glee. This is awesome.

For the next few minutes, the handful of soldiers held the line, mostly thanks to the constant flow of magic he cast. The essence Aphora had filled him with seemed an endless stream of power. He laughed in glee as he blasted another monster off the wall, but he knew this wasn't enough. Why should I simply keep the enemy off the wall? I can do more; I can push the army back, into Als̆arratu. The power of the essence overriding his thoughts, Jasper leapt on top of the wall and roared a challenge to the swarming horde. Large spectral wings floated behind him, shadowed leathery wings that were covered in hundreds of razor-sharp black feathers, which sliced through any that came into contact with it. Pure instinct driving him now, he summoned the spell. Devouring Breath.

He breathed in. Streams of essence flowed into him from the hundreds gathered around. Pure ecstasy flooded his veins as their power rushed into him. All caution flung aside, Jasper reached for more, straining to drain the last dregs of life from his foes. I am a god, he reveled.

A moment later, his head rolled across the rampart.

It wandered across the frozen plains aimlessly, unaware of the deep cold that pervaded all around it. The only thing the creature knows was an eternal hunger that gnawed at its stomach, a hunger for something more than mere food. The mindless beast roamed the icy sands of the beach, futilely searching for that something that was missing. Whenever the rare wave lapped against the shores, it nervously skittered far out of its reach, a deep primal fear warning the beast that there was only death in those waters. Time flowed strangely by the banks of the sunless sea, and none could measure how long the wretched creature roamed the dunes in its fruitless search.

Then something changed. One day the creature sensed the barest hint of a flicker, somewhere deep inland, but it recognized it immediately: it was the telltale pulse of the food it craved. The beast left the shores, the only home it could remember, to transverse the frozen bogs in search of the source, until it found it. The fire.

The creature shivered as the fog slowly lifted from its mind. Its body felt like it had been carved from a solid sheet of ice, and try as it might, it could not feel its toes or fingers move. It inched closer to the fire, drinking in its warmth. It fell asleep, curled up just out of reach of the flames.

When Jasper awoke, he saw a campfire merrily burning. The skies above were dark and starless, and sitting on the other side of the fire, he could see a woman illuminated by the flickering flames. Ihra? His mind felt slow and groggy, and when he pushed himself off the ground, his body was weak and unresponsive. What the hell? Where am I? The battle- As he stared up at the sky, bereft of all stars and moon, the realization finally sunk into him. I’m in the void. What happened to me?

He searched his mind but could remember nothing beyond leaping onto the rampart and draining his foes. He remembered his vainglorious last thought and blushed. "I am a god." What was I thinking?

His mortified reflections were interrupted by a voice.

“Why don’t you come sit by me?”

Jasper started as the silence of the void was shattered. He turned to face the woman, his mind refusing to accept the evidence of his ears. Kas̆dael spoke?!

Catching himself before he said something stupid, he bowed. “Lady Kas̆dael.”

She scooched over slightly on her bench, leaving him a place to sit. Still half-dazed, he cautiously approached her, gingerly sitting down.

She cocked her head to look at him, but didn’t immediately speak, apparently content to simply stare at the flames. The silence stretched uncomfortably until he could stand it no longer. “Am I dead?”

She turned to him, the faintest hint of a smile lurking at the corners of her lips. “That depends on how one understands the meaning of death. Your body, back in Corsythia, is dead. But aren't you here with me, sitting beside the fire? Do you feel dead?”

He paused, uncertain. As the fire warmed his body, feeling slowly returned to his limbs, and his mind felt clear and free again. If she hadn’t told him his body was dead, would he have known? He didn’t think so.

“No?”

She smiled. “And so it is.”

She rolled her dice back and forth between her fingers before continuing. “The better answer is that there are two deaths. One is the death you have suffered. Your body received mortal damage, but your soul survived reasonably intact. That is a death you can return from.”

“The other is true death, when your soul sinks beneath the Sea of Oblivion, never to rise again until the universe is renewed. Fortunately, even in your mindless state, you were careful to avoid the waters of death.”

Jasper shuddered as dim memories of wandering a frozen shore flooded his mind. “Wait. Was that-” his words trailed off into almost a whisper “- was that the Sea of Oblivion?”

She nodded. “Indeed. I placed a seal upon you back before the Tower of Ysagil, so that even in your mindless state you'd know to stay clear of the waters."

His mind flashed back to the strange dream he had the night before they ascended the Tower. "Why?"

Kas̆dael shrugged. "I’d prefer not to lose you just yet.”

“So, what now? Can I go back?” His mind raced as the memory of the battle surged to the forefront. “Ihra, the city - did they survive?”

Kas̆dael pursed her lips. “I cannot tell you what happened after you died. It is forbidden. But yes, it is my plan for you to return to Corsythia, so long as you pay my price.”

Worry gripped his heart. He was familiar with the concept of death penalties, but there was a big difference between a game and the real world. He had no idea what to expect from her. “And your price is?”

“Do you know why you’re here, Jasper?”

He paused, surprised by her apparent change of topic. The question had haunted him since he arrived, but he had reached few answers that seemed appropriately tactful to tell a goddess who literally held his life in her hands. Because you kidnapped me and stole my life, you thieving harpy just didn't seem like a wise response. “Uh, a mistake?”

She laughed. “People don’t cross universes by mistake, Jasper, but you misunderstood the question. I wasn’t asking why you’re here in Corsythia - you’d have to ask the ones who brought you here. I’m asking why you’re here with me.”

Her question fell on deaf hears, as he honed in on what she'd said. “What a minute - the ones who brought me here. Didn’t you bring me here?”

She shook her head. “No, but that is a discussion for another time. Focus, Jasper.”

He sighed and pondered her question. What does she want of me? His thoughts turned towards the inquisitor skills that kept being pushed on him. Is that it? Am I being forced down that path?

“To be an inquisitor?”

Kas̆dael winced. “A crude answer, but I suppose it strikes close enough to the truth of the matter. The universe is dying, far faster than it should. The fires of creation have been expended at a truly prodigious rate, and the balance of power has been disturbed. The empire is desperate, pushed to the edge by invaders as the magic they need to defend themselves slips through their fingers. Is it any wonder that the cults are returning?”

“You are here because I need someone to apply pressure to the right places at the right times. Sometimes you’ll hunt cultists, sometimes you’ll aid the war effort, much of the time you'll do whatever you want.”

She turned to him, her blue eyes shining so bright that his eyes, accustomed to the eternal night of the void, ached at the unexpected light. “The price of resurrection is simple. Accept the inquisitor subclass, and help me prevent the universe from spiraling into an early death.”

Jasper’s mind reeled at her offer, at last landing on the least notable thing she said. “Subclass? There are subclasses?”

She nodded. “They are a well-kept secret, but, yes, subclasses exist. Most promising individuals eventually find their way into earning one.”

He frowned as he pondered her offer. He thought of the hordes of undead swarming the city of Gis̆-Izum, the Tanin and Atrometos lurking in the depths of Yar-Khennor, the Whispers. His mind turned to the memory of little Aryah and Kefir hiding behind the skirts of their mother, their parents ready to feast on their flesh. Maybe this world needs Inquisitors after all.

But he still didn’t understand her motives. “Why do you even care? Don’t you get stronger as the world dies?”

Clouds of anger darkened her face. “Do you understand my fate, Jasper of Earth? It is my fate to live as the world dies and die when it is reborn.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

I am tired of the cycle. Most who choose to follow me are the sort of people that wish to end the world and think, that by doing so, they are serving me. That is the last thing I want at this point. The death of the universe only hastens my own death, and I am in no mood to dig my own grave to resurrect the Progenitor from his.” She spat on the ground, fury burning in her eyes.

After a few, long moments of silence, Kas̆dael extended her hand stiffly toward him. “It is time to decide, Jasper. Will you live, and serve me, or will you swim in the Sea of Oblivion?”