76. Whisperer
"What in the spirits are you up to, Ori?" Freya called.
Ori shushed her with a mock-serious whisper, "Be quiet, or you'll scare them away."
"Ori, your quarry is so far away that any attempt at stealth is meaningless."
Ori scowled, shooting Freya a look for so casually dashing his vibes.
Meanwhile, the pink-haired fairy stood beside his crouched form, seemingly oblivious to his attempts at stealth in this most sacred of acts.
Somewhere ahead, a herd of reindeer grazed cautiously in the snow. This was his second attempt at hunting—his first had ended with a charred, ruined corpse after he had wildly underestimated just how much damage even a basic Call Lightning spell could inflict on a mortal creature.
The memory was still vivid—the stench of charred flesh, the exploded entrails from the sudden and uneven heat, and the way gore had painted the snow-covered forest floor red. That alone had been enough to keep him from closely inspecting his handiwork.
At first, even finding anything to hunt had been nearly impossible. It wasn't a lack of prey—Ori's sheer Presence had been the issue. With a value likely approaching Immortal or Divine rank, he was unknowingly terrifying creatures from hundreds of yards away. He had tried using his Domain, though his lack of Intelligence compared to his Presence, made its control unwieldy, and even Lysara's senses hadn't helped much. Every time he thought he had tracked something, it was already long gone.
It wasn't until Freya pointed this out that he finally understood the problem.
Ruenne'del had been attempting to teach him how to suppress and eventually invert his Presence. But as it was a technique rather than an ability, he couldn't just transfer it using his Bondweaver trait. Worse still, because the technique came naturally to Ruenne'del—and because the fae, were in general, terrible teachers, Freya excluded—Ori had been struggling to grasp the concept.
Now, after their two-day march through the snow and ash since Ghigrerchiax's collapse, Ori was feeling the effects of severe hunger. Even with his High Human constitution, he estimated he had consumed no more than a thousand calories since leaving the Crucible. Between fights, magic and pushing himself beyond his limits, his body was starting to rebel.
Idly, he daydreamed about food, wondering how difficult it would have been to sneak into a McDonald's during the evacuation—just to scarf down a handful of fries before the portal had closed.
And now, a quick check of his Library of Fates page confirmed he was suffering from a starvation affliction.
Ori crept silently through the snow, carefully minding not only his footsteps but also the intangible, subconscious force of his Presence.
Ruenne'del had described suppression as reshaping the inner self—remoulding it to seem smaller than you were, than you felt. In theory, it made sense. In practice, the advice was almost useless. It wasn't until he began manipulating his emotions—still raw and tangled from their escape from Ghigrerchiax—that he and his bonds, finally noticed a change in his Presence.
At first, he had tried to make himself feel small, but every attempt failed miserably. From his experiences so far, Ori suspected that the way individuals projected or manipulated aspects such as Grace or Presence was one of the many fundamental differences between the races across Fate. Instead, he discovered a different approach—a kind of camouflage, born from careful observation and a genuine appreciation for his surroundings. Rather than shrinking himself, he focused on blending in, on being one with the land.
If he moved slowly, his Presence now flowed over the land like a calm tide, rather than crashing like a wave against rocks.
Without Split Mind, maintaining this level of emotional control—while keeping the necessary focus and precision to affect his Presence—would have been nearly impossible, especially given his exhaustion and hunger. To attempt it while casting magic and processing Lysara's senses would have been outright unthinkable.
Last time, he had managed to get within two thousand yards—barely close enough to register at the edge of Lysara's senses.
This time, he was within a hundred yards.
The trees blocked his line of sight, but he knew his quarry was well within his Domain—and the reach of his Aethermancy.
Ori let his Flux Domain unfold, engulfing the world around him. For five seconds, every floating electron, every ion, every charge-bearing particle—even the very concept of electrical potential within three thousand yards—became his to command.
The reindeer froze mid-motion, their instinct to flee overridden—their nerves and impulses trapped in the grip of a Greater Stun.
A single phantasmal hand, wielding one blade of Ori's Prototype Array, flashed through the darkened tree line. His focus and sensory reach were just enough to guide a crude slash. A single, clean cut. An antlered head fell.
Ori collapsed to his knees, his Domain unravelling, his Presence slipping free, magic bleeding out of him in the aftermath. And yet, he laughed, in relief, in victory, in the sheer exhilaration of being free.
"Want some?" Ori mumbled, offering a greasy shank to Ruenne'del.
She accepted it with no small measure of suspicion, delicately nibbling at the parts that seemed the most cooked.
Between his superhuman strength and his impossibly sharp knife, whose edge could split flesh an inch away from touching, dressing the carcass had been relatively simple.
Getting a fire going in the snow, however, had been a far greater ordeal.
After hours of work, it was all Ori could do not to choke as he tore into rotisserie deer meat for the first time in his life. Unseasoned and underdone, it was still one of the best meals he had ever eaten.
"Do you still plan to visit Ike?" Freya asked as they sat around the campfire in the twilight.
"Yeah, to get our bearings. It'd be nice to have a proper bed to sleep in, and while my spells can keep us clean, a good bath would still feel great. Besides, I'm curious—I think this would be the first village I've seen on this realm."
Or ever, Ori added silently to himself.
As a Londoner, born and bred, with almost no opportunities to travel beyond the city, Ori realised that he had never visited a village or settlement with fewer than a hundred people. If he weren't so confident in his strength, he might have hesitated. Hostile interactions with locals who didn't take kindly to strangers seemed likely. But it was an experience he felt he needed—something to build his confidence and understanding of this realm and its people.
Especially if he was to become a Guild Summons or fulfil Thraxis's quest to end the war between humans and dragonkind.
"Also, I reckon we could get some information there," Ori continued, rubbing greasy hands on his jeans before thinking better of it and using Purifying Light instead. "We have a rough idea of where these Aether Rifts are, but the locals probably have a better impression—or at least clues on where to go to find more information. Do you think it's a bad idea?"
"You have good reasons for going," Freya admitted. "I just worry about attracting too much attention. Until you reach Sovereign rank, you're still vulnerable to the greater powers of this realm—let alone Fate itself. And as you are, a High Human posing as one of the Fae-touched, while walking with a Fairy… that will draw a lot of attention."
Ori glanced towards Ruenne'del. She smiled, her emotions radiating confidence and excitement—a stark contrast to Freya's concern.
"You are the… High Human," she said. "To fly above, walk atop, or dive beneath the ice—the choice is yours."
"You do have a say in this too, Rue. You've probably seen more of Fate than either of us. I could use your advice."
"I want to see what happens. I'm… excited by what you might do." Ruenne'del smirked.
Ori chuckled, her encouragement clear through their bond.
"Alright, well, hopefully, the spare coins I found will be accepted as currency. If not, maybe I could offer healing services or enchantments?" Ori suggested.
"Normally, these outposts survive on barter—trade goods like food, clothing, and other essentials," Freya said. "Healing and enchantments might be considered too exotic, making them difficult to value in trade."
Ori shrugged. "It's not really a problem if we don't get our money's worth. Just having somewhere safe to crash would be enough."
Between his Nascent rank stats, his hunger, his High Human constitution, and the unusual day-night cycle of this realm, Ori was still adjusting to its circadian rhythm. The vibrant aurorae that illuminated the nights and the twilight horizon band that brightened the sky without a visible sun during the daylight hours made it hard to judge when to sleep. But with a full stomach and the novelty wearing off, Ori drifted off by the fire, Freya keeping watch as he slept.
In the dreamscape, his Split Mind separated his dream avatar into three, each with their own objectives for this session of dream-walking.
One of his avatars stood by the crater overlooking the Ethereal Realm, casting its net in search of fragments of Seraphine's soul. The already discovered shards, now numbering in the dozens, glimmered—their worth, at least to Ori, appearing as specks of molten gold.
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It was a cathartic process, allowing him to sort through thoughts and emotions that he had scarcely had time to process since his abduction. It also gave him the clarity to plan and prioritise—from his desire to live as a Wandsmith to his progression as a White Mage, his ambition to become a Guild Summons, his intention to attend the Arcanum Collegium Deo at Vespasian, his divine curse, Thraxis's quest, the Weal and Woe of a Leanan Sídhe, his role as High Redeemer, and the entire mess surrounding his status as the High Human Progenitor.
It was a lot—almost overwhelming—and would likely take several dream meditation sessions to fully untangle. But step by step, Ori reorganised his thoughts, sorting them into easy tasks, urgent tasks, things he needed to avoid, and opportunities that depended on resources and timing.
"Ori!"
Poppy gasped as she ambushed his dream avatar with a kiss.
"Hey, Poppy. I've missed you."
"And I, you." Poppy squeezed against him, warmth radiating from her as the night garden of her dream faded away around them.
"Ori! Harriet told me of your exploits upon Twilight."
"Oh yeah?" Ori tried to mask his pride.
"The Morvaethor Umbra'Sereg returned, claiming to have made contact with you. One of their scouts remained behind, leaving the mountain as you advised—before… well, what did you do? They claimed the world turned upside down. They survived long enough to see the mountain collapse, before ash and fire rained from the sky."
Ori exhaled slowly. "Yeah, I destroyed it. The whole prison. I had to—so that they could never do what they did there to anyone else again."
"Oh, Ori." She soothed him, her eyes scanning the details of his Lesser Terraformer and High Redeemer accolades as he revelled in the sensation of her touch in the dreaming.
He went into more detail about his exploits—his success in shepherding the humans back to Earth, his encounter with Mel, and his bond with Ruenne'del and Raven.
"Honestly, it's Harriet's fault. Had she not sent her, I doubt we would have met."
"I, for one, look forward to meeting our newest sisters," Poppy said with a mischievous smile. "And as a Seelie Princess walking the path, I do believe Harriet will have no issues with her as one of your wives."
"As for this Raven—you are an entity of power now, and she is your first Warlock. If I'm being perfectly honest, I'm somewhat jealous of that fact."
"Why?"
"Because I would have liked to lay such a claim myself. But from what I can gather, you both need each other as much as you want each other. I am curious to see how another from your world will adapt when you succeed in bringing her to your side."
"Might take some time," Ori admitted. "The mana required to summon her is like comparing a spoonful to a lake."
"You will get there, my dear husband." Poppy patted his chest, her dark brown eyes full of warmth and confidence. Then, as she recognised the growing desire in Ori's gaze, her smile turned sly and knowing.
"Now, now, I believe you came to me to continue your training, yes?"
Ori groaned. "Yes."
"Well, if you are a good student, there will be a reward." She sighed, though her reluctance was betrayed by her excitement and need.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"Ori!"
Before he had time to take in his surroundings, a Raven-shaped missile launched itself at his dream avatar, wrapping around him like a koala. Before he could even react, her tongue was already in his mouth.
"Is this really you? You're in my dreams?"
"Yep, though it'll be hard to prove or remember if this turns into a makeout session." Ori chuckled as she continued to cling to him. He found himself in a cluttered, dimly lit bedroom, the walls plastered with posters of The Sex Pistols, The Clash, and Black Flag. A battered Fender Stratocaster leaned against a scuffed amp, tangled in a mess of cables. Clothes—ripped Ramones tees, studded leather jackets, and shredded tartan trousers—were strewn across the unmade bed. Besides the window was a folded wheelchair and a specially adapted easel.
"Aye. There." Raven kissed him again. "So yeah, things have been absolutely mental. I think the whole world's gone nuts."
"Oh yeah?"
"There's like, the entire Metropolitan Police outside my house after an attempted break-in last night. But I managed to see your dad before all that happened."
"Yeah? Did you—"
"Yep. The wand did all the work, really. Kinda get the feeling it's annoyed with me or doesn't like my magic or something, but despite being a prick, I think it did the trick. He looked healthier when I left, anyway."
"How was it? Was he alright? Did they treat you well?"
"Yeah, I managed to go on my own first thing in the morning before the massive media shitstorm kicked off. Had some tea and cake, told him you're alright. He asked if I was your girlfriend."
"Oh yeah? What did you say?"
"Ori, you literally have my soul. I had absolutely no problem saying I was. If anything, I was tempted to say I was only one of your girlfriends—your concubine, maybe? But I figured that wouldn't go over too well without you around to explain it, so I left that time bomb for if and when you get back."
She smirked. "Oh, and I also got a lot of stuff after healing your da." Raven flashed a notification, showing Ori her new accolade.
Accolade: "Favoured Hand"
Type: Common, Warlock, Evolving
Legend:
Awarded to those who have proven their worth by fulfilling a significant mission for their patron. A Warlock is only as valuable as the services they provide, and this accolade signifies a successful act of devotion, strategy, or power that has strengthened the bond between Warlock and Patron.
Trait: Patron's Favour
The Warlock's connection to their patron strengthens, slightly enhancing the potency of their spells or abilities. Additionally, they may be more likely to receive boons or knowledge from their patron in the future.
"So yeah, I'm level ten now with a new shadow-based spell. It's kinda like a weird healing spell, but instead of actually healing, it just stops the bleeding. Anyway, managed all that before the videos hit the news."
She then went on to describe the world's reaction to the confirmation of demons and angels.
The abduction of hundreds of people hadn't gone unnoticed, and after police interviews and media attention, mobile phone footage began leaking onto the internet. At first, many called the videos hoaxes, AI-generated fakes—but when more and more interviews surfaced, independently corroborating the same reports, the world started taking things more seriously.
Confirmed CCTV footage of people stepping out of an invisible portal in space with the emergency services arriving only added to the veracity of the claims. Survivors describing their harrowing escape from infernal prisons kept bringing up a certain figure—'the man who could speak to fairies and angels'--AKA, the Angel Whisperer.
It wasn't until the third day that Raven started having problems.
With claims that she could do magic, and was having an affair with the 'Angel Whisperer', the scrutiny became relentless. Things escalated when what should have been confidential medical records leaked, confirming that she had once been a paraplegic—yet was now able to walk. The fact that she had somehow made it home unnoticed only added to her mystique.
Until yesterday, Raven had managed to avoid media and police attention, but after a home interview with the police and the break-in, she and her parents had essentially hunkered down, waiting for the madness to blow over.
"What questions did the police ask you?" Ori wondered.
"Mostly about my abduction—if I knew who or what had taken me. I said I didn't remember—that I only remembered waking up after you healed me. Hmm… what else… I think they were mostly focused on the who, how, and what of the mass abduction. They had very little to say about the paranormal side of things.
"They did ask for your whereabouts and contact details. I gave them your number and told them you were still on the other side—that you'd said you wanted to destroy the portal from there. Did you manage that, by the way?"
In answer, Ori showed her his recent accolades.
"Wow, and here I thought my accolade was all that. Yours is all epic and ominous-sounding and shit. It's mental that you blew up an entire mountain. And that dude you lot were afraid of—you took him out with it too, didn't you?"
"Yup."
"So what next? When can you pick me up?"
"It might be a while. I need to find these things called Aether Rifts. They're basically the source of my power—why I can turn you into a Warlock.
"They're like tears in space, spewing out wild magic—magic that's toxic to life. They warp and corrupt the landscape, turn animals into monsters and monsters into horrors. But I can absorb that magic without harm and close these rifts. The more I close, the more Aether I can convert into mana. But I don't know how much mana I'll get or how long it'll take until I find the first rift."
"Wow." Raven blinked. "So, you need to battle monsters and then suck in the magic?"
"Pretty much."
"You sound confident… Like you've done this before, haven't you?"
"Yeah, once. Kind of by accident. But yeah, pretty confident I can handle the last part at least. How did your parents take things? Glad you're back, I hope?" Ori wondered.
"Yeah, ecstatic. If it wasn't for the world going nuts right now, we'd have gone out for dinner and had a party. They still can't believe I can walk again. They did ask about you—the so-called Angel Whisperer. I showed them the selfie I took before we left. Their interrogation was worse than the police's, to be honest. They wanted to know how I was your girlfriend if you didn't come back. And that's when…" She trailed off.
"When what?" Ori pressed.
"I told them that I'll be going back—and that's what set them off."
"Ah. I can imagine they didn't take that well?"
"Aye. They're acting like I'm about to join a cult—like I'm crazy and need to be committed. For now, I've just told them to forget about it—that it'll be a while before it happens, if it happens. But yeah, it's definitely spoiled the mood."
"I'm sorry. If I get powerful enough and get the right class, I should be able to return to Earth and bring people with me—but that might be some way off though."
"It's cool. It's me who wants to go anyway. If only I could convince them it's my idea."
They continued exchanging information and sharing their experiences well into the later hours of the dreaming. Raven's easy-going, expressive nature made the long hours of the night pass in moments—her presence a familiar comfort amid everything Ori had left behind.
As the end of the dream approached, Ori found himself reluctant to leave. Her rather chaotic, yet typical bedroom felt like an anchor to a world and culture that now seemed a million miles away—far removed from anything he was likely to experience for a long time.
"So, is there anything you'd want me to do between now and the next dream?" Raven asked.
"You make it sound like I won't be popping in here every chance I get."
"Aye. Besides, since I'm avoiding uni for now, I figured you could give me something to keep me busy. Being your Warlock and all."
"Just keep yourself safe. If you could do that without using any magic, all the better."
She groaned. "Aye, I'll do my best to stay out of trouble. Anything else?"
Ori hesitated, thinking it over.
"Hmmm… could you get a bunch of medical textbooks? Like the actual ones student doctors would learn from? And maybe a laptop—stick it all in your ring. Don't worry if it's too expensive. If you asked my dad, he'd probably pay for all of it."
"My fam is well off—not loaded, but I don't think a new laptop and some books will be too much of a bother given a few months."
"Yeah, no rush, and no big deal if it's a hassle."
"What else?" Raven pressed.
"Hmmm… just keep an eye on the internet. See what the public and governments are saying—about me, you, and especially anything about demons, portals, or infernal rituals. And specific keywords, such as Library of Fate, Overseer, High Human, Redeemer, and Bondweaver."
"Oh, Why?" Raven looked at Ori with more than a hint of curiosity.
"Just covering my bases. Want to know how widespread knowledge of the other side is on Earth. Make a note of anything interesting, so you can let me know in the dreaming." He paused, then added, "And please, keep yourself safe. I can imagine having powers and not being able to use them must be a pain."
Raven smiled, shaking her head. "Ori, I'm still getting used to walking under my own power. Don't worry about me. And if you do…" She reached up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips as the dream faded into nothingness. "…I'll be here, waiting for you in the next dream."