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The Second Archon War: Comedia Glacialis 22
🕑 Added 2025-10-29 17:05:23 +0000 UTCComedia Glacialis 22: A Mournful Duet
Looking down at the map, Kollei could help but feel cold. All the preparations had been made: the ranks of the Fatui were stronger than ever. Stockpiles of equipment, foodstuffs, and clothing were all well in hand. A new road, a six-lane highway, had been constructed in Volgograd, and then to the border with Kazakhstan. Georgia had already capitulated and agreed to annexation, her president now the Duke of Sakartvelo. Cathedrals and mosques were already being rededicated to the Church of the Frozen Heart, and those who refused to convert were slapped with heavy fines and had their citizenship stripped from them. Kollei had quashed exile and concentration camps, claiming that mercy would create more converts.
It had in Finland. More than 37% of the population had officially converted and offered regular tribute to the Tsaritsa and Kollei. She could…feel…their devotion. Hear their prayers. What her mother had prophesied was coming true: She was becoming a god. She wasn’t sure what she would be the god of yet. It seemed all that remained was to find what her Aspect would be. Something related to Love, surely, for she was the daughter of the God of Love.
Her mind was wandering. Everyone in the room was looking up to her: The Five Harbingers, the generals, the ministers, the bishops and priests. All awaited her word.
She nodded, and pointed to the border of Russia and Kazakhstan near Volgograd. It was a flat plain, with the former Aral sea barely a quarter of its former size. At least she could rectify that. “Begin the invasion. Do not stop until we reach Almaty. Do not halt before all of this region is once more the Kazakh Duchy. Glory to the Tsaritsa.”
“GLORY TO THE TSARITSA!” the soldiers cheered, and all saluted her. Bottles of champagne and wine were opened, and Kollei even sipped a little. It wasn’t as though the alcohol could really affect her unless she allowed it to. Her body wasn’t really human any more, and it would take a stronger poison than this to actually impede her.
It wasn’t long before the Harbingers began to depart. The Dancer would return to Finland, where she would be conducting a Hearts and Minds campaign. Some of which would involve actual brainwashing, the rest of it would be propaganda and coercion of the populace into supporting the Tsaritsa’s reign. It may take a few decades, but the Tsaritsa was immortal, even if she still slept. Come to think of it, so was Kollei. Were the Harbingers immortal? Riley had mentioned that she’d slowed the aging process in herself and offered the surgery to her fellows. Kollei certainly wasn’t aging any more. Time enough for that later. Hah. Time. She had plenty of that now.
The Thief was continuing to conduct operations against the enemies of the Tsaritsa in Georgia and completing the pacification of that country. There were still troublemakers, and they would be…removed. While Kollei was trying the velvet glove, some dissidents would simply disappear and never be heard from again. Russia was a big place. And Riley always needed subjects for her experiments. A few thousand could vanish easily.
Riley herself would remain in Moscow, churning out more loyal servants in the House of the Hearth. No more would orphans be left to rot in the cold in Russia as Kollei had. There was a home and a place for all. And if you were a disobedient child, you would be reeducated. If that wasn’t enough…
Kollei stroked Cherie’s head, and the cat-girl purred happily as she crouched at the side of Kollei’s throne. She had a bow in her hair and ribbons on her dress; Kollei did enjoy playing dress up with her pet. And like a pet, she tried to treat Cherie the best she could. The girl had torn the throat of an assassin out three days ago, and Kollei had bought her the new dress and ribbons. It had seemed to please Cherie, though she was so devoted to Kollei now that even a kind word or gesture had her trembling with pleasure.
“We go now to serve you on the front, your Highness,” the Prince said, kneeling before Kollei with the Witch.
Kollei nodded. “I shall be joining you, my Prince. Together, we shall bring our foes to their knees without firing a shot or lifting a blade. In a month time, all of Kazakhstan will bask in my mother’s benevolence.”
“The Americans already muster their forces in the mountains, and Kusinali has formed a new alliance to oppose us. Her forces began arriving a week ago,” the Witch said.
Kollei raised an eyebrow. “Do you foretell our doom, Witch?”
Yelizaveta gave a throaty chuckle and looked up, mismatched eyes flashing. “Not in the slightest, Highness. Only that it may take longer to bring the whole nation to heel. The West will fall in days; there is no terrain to stop us, and the enemy concentrates their forces in the Southeast. Such mountainous terrain will give us more trouble than the Finnish forests and fjords. And, there is an Archon to oppose us this time.”
“Buer is not a threat, not even to me. I could defeat her as I am now, my mother would obliterate her,” Kollei said with assuredness. “Barbatos was a victor in the Archon War. Buer is even younger than my mother, and completely inexperienced in warfare.”
“And yet, she has two dragons and has completely checked the Simurgh. We would be wise not to underestimate her,” the Witch warned.
Kollei shrugged. “Then we will not. But my mother has decreed that Kazakhstan will fall, and then the rest of the wayward children who defy my mother’s rule. Or do you disagree?”
“No, Highness. Of course not. But I look forward to a protracted campaign,” The Witch said, a vicious tone entering her voice.
“Make it short. Make it merciful. These wayward children are to be brought into my mother’s fold, that they might know her Love, and be blessed by her benevolence,” Kollei ordered sternly.
“Spare the rod, spoil the child,” the Witch said, and Kollei sighed.
“You two are my rod, yes, but do not slay the children to avoid spoiling them. Our goal is to preserve humanity from the Cataclysm that comes. Not to simply conquer or subjugate.”
“As you command, so it shall be, Highness,” Ivan said, standing jerkily. His face was frozen in a rictus grin, and his eyes burned with the light of madness. He was at least part of the reason Kollei was stepping onto the battlefield herself.
The festivities were cut short as everyone rushed to make final preparations. Kollei stood from her throne and left the building, Cherie following close behind, tail lashing as the cat-girl glared at everyone they walked past who did not immediately bow before her mistress. Kollei smiled at her pet and passed her a treat: not a chocolate or candy, but a bit of raw tuna, which Cherie hastily scarfed down. It was good to have such a loyal and faithful bodyguard.
Even here, in New Moscow, danger lurked behind every corner.
Once more, Kollei ascended to the top of the Frozen Tower, where her mother slept. She went and knelt beside the bed, reaching into the block of ice to grasp her mother’s frozen hand.
“It’s done, mother. The invasion begins today. I depart for the front. I will retrieve Buer’s gnosis, and bring it to you,so that you can wake and rule again,” Kollei whispered as Cherie crouched by the door outside.
You have done well, my daughter. Ensure that the children of the stray republics know my Love, and my discipline.
“We are bringing food, clothing, and medicine. I will also restore the Aral Sea, replenishing their water supply and their livelihoods from the fish stocks there. They will know that the Tsaritsa Loves them, and that it is in their best interests to Love and worship you. That only you can save them from the demons of this world,” Kollei said, frozen tears on her cheeks. “Just…just like you saved me.”
She had to cling to that. Yes, Russia had experienced much hardship. Even the Tsaritsa’s takeover had not been gentle. But life was so much better now, for Kollei, for Russia. Once Kazakhstan and the rest of the wayward children of the Russian Empire returned to the fold, they would be strong. Strong enough to face even Scion, King of Demons, and bring him low.
Then, humanity itself would be saved. They would all be free. Free from death, from fear, from hunger and want. That was what it truly meant to be free. Not the anarchy Barbatos offered.
After that, Kollei returned to her chambers and changed from her long, flowing white dress that she had been wearing into a pale blue tunic and skirt with stockings. Her weapon continued to be her mother’s scepter, imbued with the gnosis, which was mightier than any sword, or even those destroyed nuclear missiles. With it, she would engulf Kazakhstan in a blizzard through the Prince, and would create ice that would melt and form the runoff of the new Aral Sea.
After that, she and her retainers went to the stables, where her mother’s sleigh and its polar bears awaited her. The bears eagerly ate seal steaks from Kollei’s hand, though one of them got a little too aggressive and bit at her. Shocked, Kollei backhanded the creature, which broke the creature’s jaw and sent it crashing through two of the wooden stables, where it sat, stunned. It did not have time to rise, as Cherie snarled and dashed forward, using her own sharp claws to rip the bear’s throat out before picking it up and hurling it to the rear of the stables to bleed out.
“Highness! Are you hurt!?” Cherie gasped, sprinting back to Kollei even as servants fawned over her.
“I am fine,” Kollei said, though she had to use Cryo to heal the wound on her hand: the bear had bitten her to the bone and taken two of her fingers off. All that from a simple polar bear, albeit a magical one that could fly.
I may be powerful, but I’m not indestructible. None of the gods are. I suppose I should have known that from the moment I first met Mother…
Hand restored, Kollei bid farewell to Riley, who bowed low to her, dressed in the white suit she wore when she wasn’t in her workshop.
“Keep the people of New Moscow safe for me, Riley,” Kollei said, caressing the younger girl’s cheek.
Riley nodded desperately, tears in her eyes as she clutched at Kollei’s hand. “Yes, Highness. Only…only come back safely! I will ensure that her Imperial Benevolence is well protected while you are away at war. Cherie! Keep her Highness safe! If she is harmed again like she was today…”
“Y-yes, father,” Cherie said, shrinking back behind Kollei, face white with terror.
“You will not punish her. It was my own fault, and she protected me immediately,” Kollei ordered sternly, and Riley relented with a bow.
With a final farewell, Kollei stepped into the Sleigh and took a seat with Ivan and Yeleniza, while Cherie took up the reins. With a flick, the polar bears lumbered into motion, out into the stableyard, then up into the ever grey sky. Closing her eyes, Kollei felt the wind on her cheeks, and checked her heart. She felt…nothing. Emptiness. That was good. At least she wasn’t joining the battle with a heart full of regret.
She’d just had to betray everything she’d once loved first.
Dead hulks lay covered in salt and dust, rusting away. In the distance, there were towns that still had some signs of life. Sighing, David turned towards them, flying over the arid remains of what had once been a thriving brackish lake, but was now a monument to man’s hubris and failure. Much like his own life.
However, at the edge of the dying sea, there was new life. An old mudbrick building that looked to have once been a mosque was surrounded by a few acres of cultivated land, with children out in the fields. This was the place: the orphanage run by the Spider of Kazakhstan. Even Caulrdon knew little of the woman who called herself the Spider, only that she seemed to be in Farasha’s cluster, and while not as powerful as her southern neighbor, was still capable of burning nearly any threat to ash. Eidolon aimed for the building at the center, and set down just outside of it, which prompted several of the nearby children to run away screaming. He adjusted his Thinker power to understand and speak Kazakh.
“THE RUSSIANS ARE HERE!”
“F-FATUI! RUN!”
“I’m not-” David began, but there was a burst of flames from the building, and a moment later, a fiery spider the size of a large dog skittered towards him before resolving into a snarling woman with striking white and black hair appeared, flames coating her body and a scythe in her hands. Not one meant for war, just a farmer’s tool. Interesting. She had the weapon, and she was clothed in jeans and a worn long-sleeved shirt.
David raised a hand to block the scythe with his Geo Delusion, but the woman pulled the scythe up short.
“Wait, you’re Eidolon,” she said, the improvised weapon still raised as she glared at him.
“I am,” he agreed, feeling a bone-deep weariness. “You’re the Spider?”
The woman drew herself up, resting the half of her scythe on the ground. “I am Örmekşi, yes. Call me Arlan. Why have you come? Are the Russians invading already? Surely they won’t be here for days or hours.”
“For you,” David said, and pulled off his mask to show his face.
“Hmm. You’re uglier than I thought,” Arlan said.
That stung a little. Despite her shoddy men’s clothing, Arlan was a handsome-looking woman, with darkly tanned skin, and that striking white and black hair. Her red eyes gave her an exotic air, though the Xs for pupils was a bit disturbing. She reminded him of…well. Of Hannah. Though she was a bit older, closer to his own age.
“They didn’t hire me for my looks. We need you. You’re the strongest cape in Kazakhstan,” David said bluntly.
Turning her back, Arlan looked to the children who had paused in working the large garden around the old mosque. The crops looked healthy, but the children were scrawny and filthy, with clothing stained and torn. All of them were peering nervously at Eidolon, most of them cowering in fear.
“F-Father, um, should we hide?” One of the older boys asked, stepping forward. He looked to be about ten or so, and was barefoot like the rest, though he held his rake towards Eidolon like a spear.
“Back to work, Mūhamed,” Arlan ordered. “The crops won’t tend themselves, and we don’t want you to go hungry.”
David raised an eyebrow as the boy turned and urged the others back to work, and Arlan turned a sour frown on him. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Seems a bit silly,” David admitted, and the woman’s fist lit up with flames.
“Then be gone. The children address me as Father. The fools in the town call me ‘sir.’ If you insist on calling me a woman, I will burn you to ash like the rest, or at least try!”
A few gears clicked over in Eidolon’s head, and he winced. “Wait…you’re a man?”
“I…” Arlan extinguished…his? Flames, looking uncertain. “And what if I am?”
“Then I apologize. I was saying the gardening was silly,” Eidolon said, and mentally groaned. A few years ago he would have been offended to find a woman calling themselves a man, but now? Now he didn’t care. Even if he wasn’t going to embrace it like Legend would. Though it seemed their file on Arlan was woefully out of date.
“Ah,” Arlan flushed slightly, then shook his head. “Well, what else are we going to do? Starve? I couldn’t give two shits about the Tsaritsa. I hate the Russians, but if my children won’t starve, what does it matter?”
“Let me guess. You found an Aranara,” Eidolon said, nodding at the garden. There was no way there should be that much green here. They had at least an acre with crops that weren’t even in season bearing fruit. Based on the soil and rainfall of the region, half the plants shouldn’t grow here at all. That, and there were at least half a dozen varieties known to be Teyvan in origin.
“I…” Arlan hesitated, then shrugged. “I have not seen it. But the crops have begun growing. The children stopped getting sick. It used to be nearly impossible to get enough food to feed them all. All I could do was keep the children warm. But now? We could make it. If that frozen bitch wasn’t coming for us.”
“Well, if you want to keep your aranara, then you’ll have to fight off the Fatui with the rest of us,” David said grimly. “They’ll come here. They’ve already said they’re invading. That damn road of theirs is finished. They’ll come for you, and kill or drive away the aranara.”
“So now you Americans care. Now, when you want me to bleed and die for you like the rest,” Arlan said bitterly.
Anger sparked in Eidolon’s heart. “Look, I’ve been all over the world, saving as many people as I can. Every waking moment for the past 20 years, I do all I can to save humanity. I’m sorry your little corner of the world wasn’t on my list, but you were doing a pretty damn good job all on your own.”
“Such a typical American. You think help means to fight? I do not need help with the fighting! Until now, I killed or drove off every threat that came! What I needed was food, medicine, water! CLOTHING! Look at my children! No shoes, only cast-off rags, and until a month ago, half of them malnourished! We didn’t need a hero to fly in and punch something; we needed what one of your supermarkets throws away every day!” Arlan ranted.
Something broke inside of Eidolon all over again, and he staggered back. She, no, he, was right. They hadn’t needed Eidolon, creator of monsters. He’d been a hero for his own vanity. They’d needed a real hero: someone to feed the hungry, cure the sick, and clothe the naked. He’d never even thought of that.
“What does it matter if we all die when Scion decides it’s time?” David gasped, clutching at his head. His blood ached, and he could feel his Geo Delusion poisoning his soul again.
“Exactly. The Tsaritsa, she fought him. She’s the only one. Even the Shogun knelt to that monster,” Arlan snorted. He pointed with his scythe. “Fuck off. We don’t need you, big man. Yes, yes, you could give me medicine, food, whatever I want, if only I fight the Tsaritsa. Well, maybe she says the same thing. Maybe I serve her. I might hate the Russians, but who else has done anything for me and my children?”
“Kusanali. She sent the Aranara. She’s the real hero the world needs,” Eidolon said, feeling sick.
She'd find you a wife, and a plot of land. You'd become a farmer, growing food to feed the world.
For a sickening moment, David saw Arlan in a dress, laboring beside Eidolon as smiling children helped turn this desert into a healthy sea surrounded by orchards and farmland. He shook his head in disgust, both at the idea of marrying another man and at being so weak. No. He wasn’t a farmer. He would be there when the end of the world came, and he would be the one to lead the charge against the King of Demons.
Oh gods, I’m using their words for him now. And…and thinking in gods, not God. What is wrong with me?
“Well, at least you’re right about that. Perhaps if you were recruiting for her army, I would join you,” Arlan laughed.
“Ask her. She’ll likely find you a wife and help you turn this blighted hellhole green,” David growled.
That brought a laugh from Arlan. “You’re doing a piss poor job of making your pitch, Eidolon. Can you offer me a mother for my children, and a promise to turn this barren land green?”
“No. I only have doom and destruction in my wake. Good luck protecting your children. The Tsaritsa doesn’t care,” Eidolon said, lifting up into the air and spewing the venom he felt poisoning his soul. “She has Bonesaw, you fool! The one they call Pater! That little girl will carve your children up and turn them into perfect puppets for the Fatui Warmachine, while the Dancer mind controls you into one of her puppets. She’ll probably make you wear a dress, I hear she likes pretty things.”
Then, Eidolon lifted into the air and sped away. His heart was pounding in his chest, his mind burning. That bastard. Turning Eidolon into a farmer, destroying everything! Now the Tsarisa was coming, and Eidolon’s current powers were nearly used up. If he called on more, he’d just make another Endbringer! He was too weak! He couldn’t, he needed-
Vertigo washed over Eidolon, and his eyes swam. He saw great shapes, colliding, stars exploding, reality bending and warping as it was splint and split again, then folded back into itself in-
The Cycle.
Millions of pinpricks of light, spreading across the galaxy like a devouring swarm of locusts, swallowing moons and planets whole, they devoured and divided, they-
When David came too, he was lying on the hard ground. He’d fallen, but he’d had enough Brute power and his delusion so that he didn’t simply splatter. He groaned and sat up, clutching his head. What had…what was that? If he didn’t know better, he’d have said he’d had a second trigger event. But that was impossible. His shard was dead; he couldn’t have a second trigger. None of the Cauldron capes could.
It was just the stress. He hadn’t slept in a week. The invasion was going to start soon.
“Door me,” David gasped, and a door opened for him. He stumbled through it to his apartment, and tore off his clothes.
“Eidolon? Sir? What’s wrong?” his radio chirruped. Linda. Bless her, his secretary was monitoring him.
“The Spider said no. Also, update his file. He’s a transvestite. Or whatever you call it, ask Legend,” David groaned, clutching his helmet to his chest as he flopped onto the bed.
“That’s unfortunate. Will…he…side with the Tsaritsa?” Linda asked.
“Who the fuck knows. I need to sleep,” David said, taking off the delusion and letting it drop to the floor. “Wake me when the invasion starts. Or better yet, wake me up when the Russians are an hour from the first fallback point where we actually put up a resistance.”
“Yes, sir. That’s at least 12 hours away. I’ll let command know you need some shut eye,” Linda said.
David passed out. For how long, he didn’t know. His dreams were extremely troubled. He mostly dreamed of a dark egg, sitting in the void, a great monster within it. What it was he never saw or know, only that he was trying desperately to keep it from hatching, but every moment more cracks appeared and it rattled harder.
He awoke, gasping, ten hours later. He checked in, and found that the Russians had indeed crossed the border. However, coalition forces had made the hard decision not to attempt to give battle on the open plain. Their first defensive line was around the Akmola region. The rivers and rugged foothills there gave much better defensive terrain which would give them a far better chance.
Still, David thought their chances were slim. A howling blizzard was rolling through Kazakhstan already. What possible hope did they have?
“Door me,” he growled, and a portal to Aqmola, the largest city of the Akmola region. He looked up at the sky, which was still blue and sunny. Still, a look to the north saw the rolling line of the blizzard approaching. He headed for the command structure, where the guards soon let him in.
He stepped inside just in time to hear Hannah say, “I’m going to kill her.”
“You can’t kill her, she’s our ally,” Alex said, massaging her temple. They were sitting at a large conference table, with various NATO generals and a couple of other cape leaders. There were a couple of Kazakh officials, but half the table was empty and reserved for another party.
“She’s a fucking monster worse than the Tsaritsa!” Hannah snarled, and Eidolon groaned and felt as though he’d never taken that much-needed sleep.
“Let me guess: Farasha is coming,” he said, folding his arms over his chest.
Hannah whirled on him, her face obscured by her new power armor’s visor. “That bitch needs to be put in the ground! Do you even know how many Kurds she’s killed?!”
“About 81,672. Not personally, that’s more like a couple hundred, but they told me eighty-one thousand is the estimate from the Anfal Genocide,” a somber voice said, and Eidolon didn’t have to turn to know who it was, as Miss Militia formed a hi-tech canon on her arm.
“Well, then you can greet them in hell,” Miss Militia snarled as Alexandria got to her feet.
Farasha stared down the barrel of the gun, but didn’t flinch. Instead, she bowed her head. “You’d be right to kill me, I suppose. I’ve asked Nahida about it. If they’re going to put me on trial. I deserve it. Have nightmares about it, then and now.”
“And what did the little-” Miss Militia bit off her words as Farasha looked up, red eyes suddenly flashing.
“Ok, you can call me a bitch, or a whore, or whatever you want, but you insult my daughter and they’ll have to add another name to the list of people I murdered,” Farasha growled. Behind her stood several Iraqi generals, along with Theresa Richter in her human disguise.
“This isn’t productive. We have work to do,” Alexandria said, grabbing Hannah’s arm and forcing it down. “If you can’t control yourself, I’m sending you back to the States.”
“I want to hear what Kusanali said first,” Hannah said, her visor raising so she could meet Farasha’s eyes.
Shrugging, Farasha said, “Fair enough. Well, Nahida told me that I was a victim too.”
“Horseshit!”
“That’s what I said! Just because I was a brainwashed little girl who was kidnapped and turned into a living weapon doesn’t mean I get carte blanche for genocide!” Farasha said.
“You sarcastic c-”
“I’m not being sarcastic! I mean it!” Farasha snapped, stepping closer to Miss Militia and sticking her face right against Hannah’s. “Yeah, I was tortured and brainwashed and whatever. I still killed thousands of innocent people. Well, tens of thousands if you count all the Iranians I burned. Doesn’t make it right. But that wasn’t all that Nahida told me, so listen up.”
“Oh, do explain why you’re not rotting in jail or in hell like you deserve,” Hannah said, lip curling.
Farasha sighed and leaned back. “She said I didn’t get off that easy. I’m going to live a long, long time. Probably not forever, but at least a few thousand years, apparently. And I have to spend every single day of the rest of my existence paying for what I did. So yeah. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I have to put up with your miserable American hypocrisy. As if you haven’t genocided ten times the nations I have. Or did you forget Vietnam or Wounded Knee?”
“Farasha,” Theresa said, coming forward and putting a hand on her friend’s shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah,” Farasha sighed, and slumped slightly. “Sorry. I was wrong. I know you’ll never forgive me, and that I can be, well, am, an insufferable bitch most of the time. Nothing I do will ever really make up for all the Kurds and everyone else I killed for that asshole. But I have to live each day like I can. And me rotting in jail or finding someone who can actually kill me won’t help. Because believe me, I have tried to kill myself. Doesn’t really stick. Shit, I’ve tried guns, poison, drowning, you name it. None of it works. I just murder another poor bastard and-”
Farasha cut herself off and shook her head. “Old me. Not new me. New me isn’t even a little suicidal! Most days. Anyway, it’ll make you feel better, you can shoot me, but then we-”
There was an ear-splitting roar, and Farasha was reduced to a red smear as the wall behind her exploded. Eidolon and Alexandria only barely managed to shield their own people as Theresa created a green barrier to protect the Iraqi delegation. And in the center, a panting Miss Militia, her alien gun steaming and smoking.
“-have to work together,” Farasha said, reappearing in a swirl of fire and butterfly wings. The blood stains ignited, causing the smoke alarms to go off and the fire suppression system to attempt to engage, though Theresa summoned some green script and shut it off before they could all get soaked in stale water and foam.
“Hannah Jones! You are relieved and placed under-” Alexandria began, but Farasha raised her hand and waggled a finger.
“Ah ah ah! I gave her permission. And can you really say I didn’t fucking deserve it?”
Alexandria glared at Farasha. “That’s immaterial. She disobeyed an order.”
“Did it at least hurt?” Hannah demanded, her gun vanishing with a flash of green light.
“Meh. You get used to it,” Farasha said with a shrug. “You’re just lucky I don’t need to burn someone from the inside out to resurrect myself anymore.”
“You’re still dismissed, Hannah. We’ll talk later,” Alexandria barked.
Hannah snapped off a salute, then stomped off. Farasha waved merrily to her, which only incensed Miss Militia further, though she restrained herself to flipping the bird before she departed.
“Farasha,” Theresa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and causing her green-rimmed glasses to ride up her forehead.
“Sorry, sorry. Anyway…” Farasha turned to Alexandria. “Now that that’s out of the way, you want me to stop that blizzard?”
Everyone in the room took a moment, save for the Iraqis, who looked rather worried another fight would break out.
“You…you can do that?” Eidolon asked sceptically. “It’s the Prince and the Princess working together.”
“Yeah, well, in case you hadn’t heard, I’m the Pyro-fucking-dragon, and Tessa here’s the Dendro dragon. Ever heard of elemental reactions? Like Burning?” Farasha said with a smirk, folding her arms over her chest. She was wearing her usual black and red robes, and had grown her hair out into a side plait. She looked, well, downright motherly. It was rather disturbing, considering her behavior.
“And exactly what does it mean that you’re the Pyro Dragon? Are you claiming that you’ll begin distributing Visions?” Alexandria retorted.
“Fuck me if I know. Tessa, tag in!” Farasha said, and slapped her companion on the back, which startled Tessa.
“Oh! Um, well, only Archons can distribute Visions,” Tessa said, adjusting her glasses again and flushing. “That, er, well, everyone knows, yes?”
“So we gathered,” David said dryly. “Continue.”
“Well, you know Mushu is the Electro Dragon, and Keiga is the Hydro Dragon,” Thersa said, taking on a lecturing tone.
“We know they call themselves that, but not what it means,” Alexandria said flatly.
“Oh, well, it means they, um, well, we, are divine beings with a great deal of Authority and Sovereignty over an element. There will be Seven Dragons, and Seven Archons. On Teyvat, the Archons and Dragons opposed one another, but here, we must work together to, ah, well…stop you-know-who.”
“Then where is the Cryo Dragon?” David demanded.
“We’re not sure,” Theresa admitted. “We think the Prince may become the Cryo Dragon, or, well, we thought he would. But the Tsaritsa seems not to want to create a dragon. You see, Dragons will become just as powerful as an Archon and they-”
White noise filled David’s ears, and he stopped listening. All of his vision narrowed to a single point. A way. There was a way to become just as powerful as an Archon. To be able to fight against Scion on, well, not an equal footing, but on a level where there was a chance of defeating him. The Tsaritsa had come closer than anyone else.
Your name will be synonymous with Traitor. The world will hate you. Your former friends, myself included, will try to kill you. And yet…you will become the Hero. The man who will hold the fate of the world in his hands…and choose to save it out of Love. Though it costs him…everything.
He shook his head. No, no, that was impossible.
“-use the Cryo Gnosis to create a Dragon,” Teresa finished. “Or a sufficiently powerful source of power, like a very powerful shard. Such, as, well…”
“Ta-da!” Farasha said, making jazz hands. She winked and raised one finger. “But! In case you think you can create your own dragon! Oooo, so sorry! Turns out you need to be an Archon to create one. There was a secret ritual and stuff with Nahida.”
“So she turned one of history’s biggest murders into a dragon,” David said, half to himself. If Farasha could become one…then why not the true monster in the room?
“Well, it was that or I go crazy and start burninating the countryside after I ate poor Papilio,” Farasha said, conjuring up an especially large butterfly that fluttered around her. “He’s still here, sort of, but he’s dead. It’s too bad, just when I was starting to like the little fucker.”
“And you’re just telling all of this to us…why?” Alexandria demanded.
“Oh! Because I’m the Dragon of Knowledge! Which isn’t the same as wisdom. So, um, maybe this wasn’t the wisest course,” Theresa admitted. “But, if we’re going to be allies, we should share knowledge freely.”
“Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blahbity blah,” Farasha said, using her hands to make chattering motions as the ominous butterfly continued to circle her head. “Anyway, you want that blizzard gone, or what?”
“If you can get rid of it, we’ll have a fighting chance,” Alexandria admitted.
“Perfect!” Farasha said with a grin. She pointed at the map. “Right, here’s how we do…”
Eidolon tried to pay attention as they went over war plans, but his mind was racing.
A dragon. If he could become a dragon…he would have the power of an Archon. He would have the power to change the world. To save the world.
He just had to betray all he loved first.
Author’s Note:
In real life, Astana became the capital of Kazakhstan in 1997. Here, the capital is still Almaty due to timeline divergence.
Also, we’ll get the full story of Farasha becoming the Pyro Dragon in Mavuika’s chapters when Farasha moves to Mexico and becomes Santa Muerte.
Comments
FullParagon
He is, at least, trying. Sort of.
Peter Calton
Saying 'transvestite' and saying 'ask the queet idk' ohhh david the mormon flopking that you are
FullParagon
Nahida won't start fights, but she's pretty good at finishing them.
兔 KZS
It suddenly occurred to me that Arlan is now a "father," which implies he had a terrible "mother" in the past? Even though he'd stick with whoever provided him with food and supplies, wouldn't alarm bells go off in his head the moment he first encountered the Tsar? Nahida's unfamiliarity with war doesn't mean she won't attack you.
