Malcolm Tent
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Wish upon the Stars chapter 1050
🕑 Added 2025-12-31 04:15:52 +0000 UTCThe trek to the nearest Hanging Land was just as quick as expected, or even quicker, because we were definitely moving with purpose. Brad had managed something unctionally impossible by making a pit in the Void Road (which was durable enough that most S-rankers couldn’t do much to them), but it was at its core, just a hole in a road. Clarent was gone, but definitely not dead.
“So how does this work?” I asked Dayne as we headed for the location of the entrance. “He fell into the Void, and that’s not going to kill him?”
“No,” she said bluntly. “The Void is everything. Everywhere. Space isn’t really linear. He’ll fall for a while, and then probably land on another Void Road, or a Hanging Land, or maybe on some random Void Creature, but he PROBABLY won’t die. If he really doesn’t run into an out, he could probably do that insane reality cutting thing again, but it would be VERY dangerous. Without a notable understanding of what’s on the other side, he could end up anywhere.”
I sighed in relief. While that wasn’t exactly the BEST outcome, it meant he was far enough away that he likely wouldn’t be a problem again anytime soon.
I glanced at Brad. “Speaking of insane reality cutting things…did you see what Brad DID back there?” I was still kind of reeling from that whole experience, but I was beginning to understand why Azazel had nudged me toward that shallowing. Brad was a uniquely effective deterrent out here on the Void Roads.
And that was just what we knew about. Who could say what abilities a demon created from the Domains of two gods might be capable of once he got stronger. The merger between the demon and the entity had created a tier 7 being. Who knew what he could do at tier 8. Or 9.
“So, we’re almost to this Hanging Land,” I said after a moment or two of quiet contemplation. “What should I expect?”
“Blood,” she said simply. “Lots of blood. Everywhere. On Everything. Hanging Lands are fragments left behind by dead gods. This particular deity was an extremely unpleasant goddess who called herself the Blood Widow.”
I snickered. “Gosh, she sounds friendly.”
“Whatever you’re imagining? She was worse. The Blood Widow made Hatescream look like a humanitarian,” she shuddered. “She was notable for bathing in the blood of young children to maintain her beauty.”
I blinked in disbelief. “But…she was a GOD?” I said in confusion. “She was eternally youthful.”
Or not. The old man wasn’t youthful, but I was sure he could change that if he wanted to. She just shrugged. “Apparently it was just kind of a habit by that point. The point is, the Blood Widow World is…unique. The whole place is covered in blood, and the blood is host to creatures called Vendels. Basically they’re a type of undead made from the blood tainted spirits of murder victims. As you might expect, the ones in the Blood Widow World look like children, which presents a problem for many people.”
“So…why are we going to this nightmare factory?” I asked slowly.
“Shortcut,” she said grimly. “The same way we entered that shallowing in one spot and left in another. We’re entering the Blood Widow World and exiting at one of the prearranged exits stably operated inside Blood Widow City.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Prearranged exits?” I asked in confusion.
She walked another twenty feet or so and stopped. “Yes,” she said with a smile. “Like this one.” She reached up and sort of knocked on nothing, and as her hand made contact, there was a loud rapping that echoed through the Road. As her fingers struck the air, the clear space was stained dark brown. The color spread, bleeding out into the shape of a large ancient looking door in a thick wooden frame.
The door was made of long flat boards banded together with reddish iron, and it glistened with a worn in polish in the center, as if it had been knocked on so often it had been sanded smooth by the force of knuckles.
On one side, about halfway down, a single red iron ring hung dully, looking solid and intimidating enough that I was worried it couldn’t be pulled at all. Dayna, however, just reached down and yanked it open. “As you saw, breaching the Void directly is incredibly difficult without special abilities or overwhelming force. Locations like shallowings are another shortcut that make it simpler, but outside of those, there are often stable portals set up in specific locations. We enter into Blood Widow City through this door-” she rapped on the frame. “And then exit through another portal set to drop us at a different point on the Roads.”
I raised an eyebrow at the process. “How come we haven’t seen any of these in realspace? I assume if it works from the shallowing or from the Hanging Lands it would work there too.”
“The man who makes them, Doormaker Dave, is a rogue member of the Empire,” she explained. “He’s been hiding in the Void for centuries and doesn’t enter realspace. Aside from that one caveat, he’ll make a door for anyone, so everyone pretty much leaves him alone. He’s useful to all factions so he gets a pass.”
It was strange to think that there were really three communities in the Void. The vanished gods lived in sealed off and mostly complete god worlds. They weren’t anchored to realspace like the six, but their worlds were still functional enough for them to easily regain control after resurrection. The Hanging Lands were a huge network of criminal and outcast factions sloppily stitched together with Void Roads, and the actual Void forces, the infiltrators and Void spawn, dispersed among the others when they weren’t in the territory actively controlled by the Void Children. No wonder the old man was willing to consider peace. This whole place was an unmitigated disaster, and I wouldn’t want to try besieging it either.
Explanation over with, she hauled on the ring, pulling the door with a grunt. The portal, which looked for all the world like a normal door, groaned and swung open slowly. I blinked, realizing that it was an A-rank door, and one without any bindings on it that would suppress the physical effects of that Impact. I wondered if that was done on purpose.
It still didn’t take long for it to open, and then we all stepped inside and she hauled the door shut. It didn’t vanish on this side, but I assumed it had on the other, and I looked around to see where we’d ended up.
We were standing in a small stone room. The stones making up the walls were large and ominous, and to a one they were stained a deep, unsettling crimson. The surfaces were craggy and uneven, with the torches set on the walls flickering and dancing in the most ominous way possible, creating pockets of moving shadows across the rocks.
Within the tiny pools of darkness, I could occasionally see a lot glimmer of dark red light, and after staring for quite a while I was able to make out small runes jaggedly cut into the faces, guttering with their own dull illumination to the beat of some ethereal heart.
“Well, that's not creepy at all,” I said uneasily. “Dan, you getting any useful information here?” My information demon and Brad were both still out here with us, having tagged along after Brad’s spontaneous burst of usefulness. Brad was mostly busy chatting with his new ‘mentor’ (Dan had NOT agreed to this, but Brad wouldn’t be dissuaded), but Dan seemed relieved to have an excuse to disengage.
He closed his eyes, focusing on his extrasensory abilities. “I sense…blood. That’s not helpful. But it’s all I can perceive. It’s overpowering. The aura of death and suffering is baked into the stones so deeply it’s more part of them than the matter that makes them up.”
“True,” Dayna said solemnly. “It’s a notable feature of stones from this realm. When you build with them, the spiritual impressions of the material develops a sort of presence. If the matter is destroyed, the spiritual imprint lingers. The result is architecture that can functionally survive its own destruction. Or, in other words-”
“Ghost buildings,” I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. “What are the runes, then?”
She shrugged. “I’ve heard many explanations. Some say they are binding runes that affix the spirituality to the stone. Some say they keep the resentment suppressed. And some say they’re wardings to keep away the Vendels. Perhaps they’re a bit of all three, but I couldn’t tell you. Crafting is not my gift, nor is curiosity one of my defining traits.”
Stepping away from the door, she approached ANOTHER door, set back into the wall of the stone room. This one wasn’t wood, but instead the same red iron as the banding on the other and the handle we’d used to open it. She reached up and banged on the door roughly several times, and a riveted iron window was thrown back open. A pair of beady yellow eyes glared through it, slit pupils focusing on none and all of us. “Watchu want?”
“Out of this room, obviously,” Dayna said in annoyance. “Put it on my tab. Candlebrook.”
The beady eyes narrowed, then the harsh, guttural voice grunted. “One moment.” The window slammed shut and we stood there for another ten or fifteen minutes before it reopened. “What’s the password?”
“Lavender,” she grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose.
It slammed shut again, and the door opened, letting us out into an equally cramped hallway. Behind the door, a gigantic man with birdlike features, so tall he had to stoop even in the fifteen foot hallway, glared down at us. “Welcome to the palace of doors,” he said coldly. “Don’t crowd the ‘allway. Proceed immediately to your next destination or leave the premises until such time as you are ready to vacate the city.”
Dayne nodded. “We’ll vacate, we have some shopping to do.”
He acknowledged her, then began lumbering down the hallway on a random direction, presumably listening for more knocks. I glanced at my elven friend. “Why aren’t we leaving right away?”
“Information,” she said as she led me down the hall and towards an exit. I had no clue how she knew WHERE to go, but she seemed to. “Void Roads aren’t always safe. Your Ancestor mentioned special locations where strange things happened, but I’m not sure if he mentioned Void Storms. They’re rare, but it’s smart to at least check. Not to mention sometimes new Hanging Lands bump into the Roads and connect. If that happens, formerly safe routes can become unusable, and recalibration would be needed.”
This was more complicated than I’d expected, but I got her point. “So what is this place?”
“Palace of Doors,” she said as we reached and passed through a large open red stone entryway. “Doormaker Dave maintains his own locations in most major Hanging Lands. He’s the only game in town for doors, which means he’s left alone, but he also charges for using the big hubs like this. Standardizing it makes things easier, and makes him a decent amount of money, too.”
Dan looked intrigued. “Fascinating. I have so many things to learn here. Speaking of which, can you tell us about the information source you’re bringing us to consult?”
She snorted. “Only one place to get maps and routes on the Roads. If you need information on safe passage, you ask the Voidwalker Guild. They have regular jobs refreshing and updating their maps and they pay pretty well. I’ve done work for them before. They’re pricey, but luckily I have a tab through a friend of mine. There are a few of us who use it, but she doesn’t mind.” Then she stopped talking. It was clear she didn’t want to be asked about anything else from her demeanor, so we lapsed into silence as we followed her through red sand streets. I already didn’t like this place.
Comments
David White
Some edits: unctionally -> functionality Dayne -> Dayna (this one has happened multiple times in multiple chapters)
Malcolm Tent
He's not in actual vanished god territory yet, and there are a lot of big armored dudes with masks around. Besides he needs to find a target to mimic. Someone low profile who probably wont draw attention.
Kemizle
TFTC shouldn't Shane be using his disguise demon before he meets anyone in the void? he should have transformed before the Door was opened
