DensityGodbyToraAKR
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D.G. - Chapter 265 - RETURN TO THE UNKNOWN
🕑 Added 2025-02-28 22:58:56 +0000 UTCThe moment Jiran vanished through the hole in reality, Mayalyn turned to Olive, “Do it. Now.”
“Right here? Are you s—”
Mayalyn nodded vigorously, “Yes. Please. I know what I was doing wrong. I will not be long. Besides, our Aajiran will need more time to complete his task than he believes.” Seeing Olive's confused frown, Mayalyn gave her a secretive smile, “What? He always takes longer than he believes.”
“Oh. Okay. Well then, here we go.” Olive waited for Mayalyn to assume a meditative pose then pushed the girl's aura inside her body.
Mayalyn's vision darkened and before she knew it, she found herself deep within her mind-space. Before her stood another Mayalyn, a dark specter of herself containing all the negativity that had ever existed in her thoughts and actions. It was a vile thing to look upon: Greedy, manipulative, and brimming with viciousness; it was in every way, her.
She always had been, and always would be someone willing to take whatever she wanted, even at the expense of those around her. Just as Jiran correctly claimed regarding Olive. Being alone while he dove headfirst into danger was one of the worst experiences of her life. Having a partner to share that misery made it a thousand times more bearable. There was much more to it than that, but the specter before her had previously made it abundantly clear that was the primary motivation for roping in their royal companion.
Such a minor flaw as taking what she wanted could not have held her back from accepting herself fully for so long. It was the specter's domineering words that haunted her, “You are not his equal. You never will be. It is too late for you. He will forever be beyond your greedy claws.”
Mayalyn breathed deeply, pulling on the memory of Jiran from moments ago. The specter’s words could harm her no longer, “Obviously, we are not equal! Equal implies sameness. We are as dissimilar as it is possible to be.” Mayalyn flicked one of her ears as if to prove it, “Our strengths lie in nearly opposite directions. No pairing should strive for equality, they should seek to compliment. My strengths fit into his weaknesses, and his strengths mine. My mate is powerful, dominant among his peers, but emotionally vulnerable. I am crafty, cognizant, and provide a positive counterpoint to his suffering. Together, we are much greater than one and one. Equal. Phaw. Who needs such a foolish thing?”
Even with that demon inside him to eat his emotions, he is too softhearted by half. I will be his sturdy foundation, his city wall, and he will be my sword, my shield.
Mayalyn didn’t need to see the specter vanish to know she had the right of it; she didn’t need to feel her aura solidify and gain the strength to push Olive’s back. She knew the truth the moment Jiran pulled into his vibrant green eyes and made her mischief his own qualm to correct. He had complete control of her at that moment. No matter what he asked, she would have gladly done it. It was glorious, and she couldn’t wait to feel that way again.
Jiran of Madra
Jiran stepped from the portal, aura spreading wide to encompass the small pond within the Forest of Melodies. A hundred Timberlings knelt at the water's edge as though waiting for him. Only a few stood, he recognized them as the Unbroken—those from various sects who dedicated themselves to fighting alongside him against the Graymin. He knew they fancied themselves as defenders of the valley as well and looking at the assorted women always filled him with pride.
They bore the weapons he'd made them. The bark covering their bodies had been reinforced with the formations he provided. Yet those things were only a hasty window dressing over the fact their entire race was stuck at tier three; the empire would have considered them second class citizens at best, monsters to be culled at worst. Even with the advantages he'd given them, they were incredibly weak by most normal metrics. It was their bravery to stand up and fight against an unknown world, despite their weaknesses, that always choked him up.
Of all the races he'd met, it was the Timberling who he considered the most precious.
Dipping his chin in respect to the Unbroken, Jiran hopped into the air. His aura snatched up Knife who was rushing to dive into the water to reach him. The sometimes silly, ofttimes psychotic Timberling was short and lithe by any standards. Her muscles remained wound tight as he pulled her closer.
“You scurry, as though in a hurry,” she squinted, voice rife with suspicion as violet leaves fell from her crown of silver-white hair.
“I am. Have there been any issues protecting the valley? Are the Forkara causing problems?”
She pursed her lips to the side, releasing a harsh puff of air to blow away a loose strand of hair, “
“I grow weary of their whimpering, the lot of them fools, weak and simpering.”
Jiran flew them toward the plains circling the forest where most of the Forkara were camped. He lifted a brow her way, “What's that supposed to mean.”
Knife caressed the hilt of the trusted weapon at her waist, “They curry favor, hoping to avoid your disfavor.”
“Ahh. So, they aren't causing any issues. That's good,” Jiran’s ability to grasp the Timberlings odd way of displaying emotions had come a long ways since first encountering them. From the color and quantity of leaves on her shoulders, he was picking up on what could only be disgruntlement. He paused their flight to look Knife straight in the eyes, “You okay?”
She met his gaze without flinching, “You spoke of the aid you would lend, to help us ascend. Yet you rush to leave, and so I grieve.”
Jiran sighed, having hoped that wasn't why, “Sorry to disappoint you, Knife. I have to go somewhere dangerous. It's urgent.” Her face remained smooth, but the leaves sprouting and falling from her tripled. His next words caught her attention, “I'll return in less than a quarter day. Gather half the Unbroken. When I'm back, we're going to the empire where I plan to have them kill a hundred times more Graymin than all your people combined. During that time, I'll do my best to help you ascend. I think I know what the problem is, though I'm not sure I can fix it.”
Every Timberling shares a single massive soul. If each tier adds a new sigil—or skill—to the soul wall, and their soulwall is a shattered mess, then there's no clean room for a new sigil, hence being stuck. I'll have to dive into one of their soul-spaces to find out if I'm right. Seems like a good guess though.
Knife trembled with anticipation, her fingers gripping the hilt of her blade so hard her arm tembled, “I will gather the Unbroken, as the Great Spirit Aajiran has spoken!”
He pegged her with a deadpan look, “Really? You better not let Mayalyn hear you call me that. I don't know what she'd do, but I won't be stopping her if she tries to bury you in the dirt like a stump.”
Knife snickered as he lowered her to the ground at the edge of the forest. She stuck out her tongue, then dashed into the woods. He didn’t watch her go. There was too much to do and he doubted his next quarry would simply bid him farewell without adding more to his plate.
At least Jiran was spared the effort of finding Dokkuun. The gray-haired and bearded Forkara leapt from a man-sized hole in the side of the circular valley's cliff wall. With a powerful flap of his wings, he blasted toward Jiran, another old Forkara right behind him.
Jiran greeted them with a copy of their salute—arms crossing to tap his shoulders, “Dokkuun. Rahaak, you’re here. I expected you to be away inspecting The Divine Faction roosts.”
Dokkuun returned Jiran’s greeting, smoothly shifting to the side so Rahaak could respond, “That is exactly why I am here, Senior Brother Guardian. You tasked me with confirming the clans who violated the treaty by withholding forces from joining your most glorious flock. As instructed, I offered no punishments and only sought proof of their wrongdoing. We have it. The problem is, they know we have it.”
Dokkuun interjected with a powerful snort, “They have grown all the more restless. We cannot safely delay their punishment any longer.”
Jiran sighed, feeling torn on how to proceed. He had a plan for the clans, but he also needed to be in two other places at the moment and needed the Forkara in the empire right now, not spread out defending their roosts, “They sure have perfect timing.”
What good is having multiple minds if they’re all stuck in the same place? Huh, I wonder if I can use Mana Venom to… No, that’s crazy. Right?
Jiran’s ruminations continued as Dokkuun snarked a response, “If difficulties occurred at the perfect time, they would not be worthy of the name. Our forces grow concerned that their roosts will be sacked while they are away.”
Jiran nodded, understanding perfectly. Any soldier forced away from home would worry over those left behind, “Okay, no helping it. Send the strongest-no, let’s use the elders. Are all the elders of the clans present?”
Dokkuun flicked the air with the tips of his wings, “No. Many elders claimed it was not necessary for them to personally answer the summons to join your flock.”
“How many do we have, and how many roosts are potentially in danger?”
“Thirty elders, and over three hundred roosts are within easy range of the traitors.”
Jiran clicked his tongue, “That many? This is worse than I thought. Will half our forces be enough to defend those roosts?”
Dokkuun and Rahaak shared a look, then burst into laughter, “Half?! With the weapons and armor you provided, each of our warriors is worth twenty of theirs. A tenth of your flock could wipe them all out in twelve suns.”
Jiran frowned thoughtfully at the odd turn of phrase, quickly parsing its meaning, “Four days? Doesn’t matter, we aren’t out to annihilate them. I have a use for the traitors; I want them alive but don’t have the time to deal with them right now. Besides, a force that can’t win in an open engagement has no choice but to flee. Meanwhile, more of their numbers would nip at our heels, attacking where we aren't, which would only prolong the suffering on both sides.”
Dokkuun didn’t like what he was hearing and clearly didn’t agree based on the proliferant wrinkles spread across his face, “Such cowardly tactics are beneath true warriors.” He sighed dramatically, nodding, “That is exactly what The Divine Faction would do. We could attempt to abandon the roosts?”
Jiran was well aware how territorial the Forkara were of their airspace. He doubted such a plan would go over smoothly, “Take half our forces and defend the vulnerable roosts while keeping an eye on The Divine Faction’s movements. I don’t want them attacking where we don’t expect them to. The rest should prepare to leave. Oh, and another tenth should stay here to defend the valley. The rest, prepare to return to the empire. We have enough beasts to kill for every warrior to ascend twice.”
Their eyes widened and Rahaak opened his mouth to exclaim but Jiran cut him off, knowing what he would say, “Don’t worry. We’ll be cycling everyone out halfway through. None of my… flock will miss the chance to ascend.”
Appeased, the grizzled warriors nodded excitedly, ready to fly off straight away. He tossed two crystals to them before they could, “Olive has the mated pairs of those. She’ll be activating them soon. Hopefully, I’m back by then. If I’m not, head through and support her as best you can.”
“Craw! As you command, Senior Brother Guardian.”
Jiran darted back the way he came, quickly arriving at the teleportation platform. The praying Timberling were still there, heads resting against the soft ground, looking for all the world like short trees bent in half. He chuckled at the mental image, then his smile fell away, replaced by stony intensity. The desert he was about to enter was no joke, and its denizens were deadly-dangerous.
Several times his total mana capacity was sucked from Armament to power the gate. The only reason the expense didn’t fill him with agony was the knowledge that the ship he was going there to retrieve held the mana of an emperor. Unfortunately, that also meant the chances of encountering a Meersvant emperor wasn’t zero, and that was a truly terrifying prospect.
Lines of power shot through the teleportation pad and a slit in space rotated into a circular portal. Jiran could see the interior of the pyramid-like structure on the other end. There was nobody in sight, but that only made the paranoia burning in his gut more pronounced.
With Foresight completely choked off by one of his minds, he had no idea if it was truly safe or not. Neither his mana, nor aura could go through to scout, but he’d already discovered a workaround to that issue. Because he could see on the far side, and since it was only a few feet away (in a manner of speaking) Armament was able to open holes there. Jiran did just that, and his mana spilled out on the far side of the portal to flood across the framework within the pyramid.
The structure was entirely abandoned. Of the convicts and original pilot of the ship that he’d left alive, there was no sign at all. Other than the shifting sands blowing in through a hole in the wall, there was no signs of activity, of life, at all. After a few preparations, Jiran took a deep breath and stepped through the portal.
Comments
Judah Frankel
Typo: a loose strand of hair, “ -> incomplete
