Tsaimath
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Chapter 1140
🕑 Added 2025-03-05 17:00:17 +0000 UTCStepping through the shadows across such a vast distance was something entirely different from my usual short steps. For once, I couldn’t just move through the realm of shadows itself; I would need to stay far too long in that realm to cross the distance we had covered in over two months of travel, so I had to project myself from the shadows into the Astral River, something I had done before but never to cover such a distance.
Calling the experience disorienting would do it a disservice; it was strangely similar to my experience on Mundus when I had experimented with travelling into the Void between Mundus and its moon, where there was nothing for one’s senses to latch on to other than the distant celestial bodies. In the shadows, there was nothing for me to latch on to other than my point of origin, the Astral Fountain in the newly christened Temple of the First Dragon and my destination, the Oculus atop Jademoon Tower. With only those two points of orientation, the experience was reminiscent of the Ladder Climb one could do at some carnivals, where a ladder was spanned across a gap, and one had to make one’s way across the ladder on all four. The problem with the game was that the ladder was attached at two singular points, meaning one had to keep one’s centre of mass right above the line between those points. This felt somewhat similar as if I was walking a tightrope, and at any moment, I might find myself tumbling down into the unknown and unknowable abyss, as was proper for the realm of Shadows.
I doubted anyone would ever be able to know everything hidden within these shadows; it was simply part of their nature to remain a mystery. Which, maybe, was for the best. A world without mystery, one where everything was known, wouldn’t be a terribly interesting one. Instead, it would be a dreadfully boring, dead one, static and utterly stagnant until it eventually ended. Maybe that was why I loved the shadows so much, even if a part of me was just a little wary of them, as was proper.
Still, it was with a bit of relief that I stepped back out of the shadows and sat down on my throne, only to find that it was raining in the area around Jademoon Tower, meaning a fairly sizable puddle currently occupied my throne. Grumbling to myself, I willed the world to stop spinning around me and focused on the Oculus floating above the centre of the tower, briefly considering taking a glimpse of the world around me before discarding that idea, at least for now. Shifting my sight around would only reinforce the dizzy and discombobulated feelings I was having, so waiting until my mind, stomach, and equilibrium had settled would be the wise thing to do. Otherwise, I might get sick all over the top of my tower, which I didn’t want.
After a few minutes of sitting in the rain, I decided I had settled enough and drew upon my power to dry myself off, rising from my throne in the process. Turning around, I noticed that some of the local birds had apparently decided to use my throne as a, well, porcelain throne during my absence. This meant I now had to clean my clothes and my throne, adding to my annoyance.
When I was finally done with that, and may or may not have turned a bird trying to land on my tower into flycicle, I walked over to the area where the entrance had once been before I sealed off the stairs to the top of my tower for anyone but Lia. Even Lia would have to use her Darkness Magic to get around the blockade, something she, and likely only she, could accomplish.
Opening it was easy for me but quite difficult for anyone else, just as it was intended to be. After a few moments of magical fiddling, the smooth stone morphed away, leaving an open staircase and the entrance into my tower, allowing me to finally step into the dry comfort of Jademoon Tower. Another moment of concentration banished the water still clinging to me and sent it back out so I wouldn’t sully my tower. Otherwise, I might have to clean up later.
The structure around me still answered me when I stretched my senses, allowing me to immediately know that there was only one presence within: the familiar presence of Lia, resting in the room I had created for her. Nobody else was around, making me wonder what had happened to Samantha and the rest of her crew. Given that it was the middle of the day, they might just be out hunting, working or doing some other task that needed to be done under the light of day.
Given their limitations, they were bound to the natural cycles, at least if they wanted to bring their full might to bear. Still, there was something about the feedback I received from the magic I had once infused into this tower that made me uncomfortable, or maybe apprehensive would be a better word. As if there was something I should know but currently didn’t, something important my magic innately recognised.
Shaking off this slightly weird sensation, I did what I had come here to do: visit my dear daughter. The stairs and everything else within the tower still recognised my presence and opened up to me with surprising alacrity, obeying my will almost before I could formulate my desires within my mind. It was quite interesting, making me wonder if the sheer amount of magic I had infused into the tower, possibly alongside the prayers spoken in the shrine downstairs, had merged somehow. Something I could investigate later, but for now, my priority was a different one.
Stepping into Lia’s sleeping chamber, I immediately noticed a strangely solemn, almost morose, sensation in the air. Ignoring it, I stepped over to the curtains around Lia’s bed, a simple precaution to make sure no sun could ever disturb her rest, even within a windowless room, and gently pulled them back, unwilling to disturb my likely resting daughter.
Looking down at Lia, I briefly blinked, taking in my daughter’s appearance. Somehow, she managed to look just like she had when I left while, at the same time, looking entirely different, even in her sleep. Her hair looked frazzled and a bit unkept, and her entire frame seemed to sink into the mattress as if a heavy load weighed her down. And yet, despite all that, there was still that spark of vibrant energy gleaming from somewhere deep within her, even if that spark had dimmed far too much for my liking.
For a moment, I simply studied my daughter until she let out a soft whimper, one strongly reminiscent of the noises Luna made when in the grips of a nightmare, so I did what I always did when my daughter was having a nightmare, even if it usually was my other daughter. I sat down, gently stroking her hair, and started to sing softly. I was somewhat glad that my high attributes allowed me to recall and mimic a lot of the music I had heard before the change. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to carry a tune in a bucket. Utterly superhuman physical and mental capabilities had to be good for something, even if it was merely mimicking what far more musically talented people had created before my time.
As I was singing, Lia stirred, her eyes fluttered open, and she looked around adorably confused.
“Mom?” she asked softly, her voice still thick with sleep and a bit of disbelief, “Is that really you”?
“Good morning, Lia,” I answered, a gentle smile pulling at my lips, “You look tired; why don’t you try to sleep a little longer?” I asked, noticing a lingering tenseness in her shoulder and mien.
“Mhm,” she mumbled before falling back asleep while I had to keep myself from chuckling. She was just so adorable.
Eventually, Lia completely woke up, but it took quite some time. She must have truly been exhausted, or maybe my appearance was at a bad time; I wasn’t sure. Either way, she was now stirring and waking up slowly until she noticed my presence.
“Mom?!” her eyes widened in disbelief, and she briefly rubbed them, maybe to get rid of a bit of grit, “It’s really you?” she asked while her body lunged at me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and burying her face in the crook of my neck. “It’s really you,” she repeated, snuggling into me. Her behaviour sent up a few alarm flags in my mind, and worry started to gnaw at my heart simply because she had never been this clingy. Affectionate, sure, especially when I was feeding her, but never clingy in this almost desperate way.
“I promised I’d come to visit, didn’t I?” I asked, one arm wrapped around her back, the other stroking her hear again, “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, my dear? And don’t tell me nothing is wrong; I can tell that something tears at you,” I asked, my voice laced with concern and a small trace of admonishment while carefully keeping the boiling anger I felt at seeing my daughter in such a state hidden. For now, she needed my support and help. Punishing those who put her in this state could come later. After all, vengeance was best served cold, something I was incredibly adept at.
