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Abyssal Road Trips - 532 - Leave a trace
🕑 Added 2025-07-11 01:00:04 +0000 UTCAmdirlain’s PoV - Qil Tris - Osaphis
Jal’krin perched on the edge of the couch, a memory crystal clutched tight. His gaze fixed on the receiver, which showed the chamber in turmoil; speakers yelling and screaming at each other as they hurled accusations and demands.
Amdirlain could feel the impact of the confrontation, and the course of the millions of lives she’d changed, reverberating through her.
[Refined Shards:
- Transformation: +1
- Life: +1
- Soul: +1]
She watched him for a minute before she sat and cut off the wider broadcast she’d enacted. “I thought you’d still be composing.”
“The noise coming from the receiver grabbed my attention.”
“What do you think? Over the top?” Amdirlain said, reverting to her azure furred form.
Jal’krin paused. “What sort of response do you want? Did you think any of it wasn’t over the top?”
“No, over the top is what I was going for,” Amdirlain said. “Do you believe they’d risk pissing me off again?”
“Please, the scolding I caught about betting my sister’s future with my own was enough to set me straight. Which goes to show I’m smarter than some of those idiots. We both know that some will think it was all a matter of mind tricks. Why were you so in their face about it?”
“I didn’t act once, and my family died.” Amdirlain dropped onto the coach beside him, leaning her head across the backrest. “I’m not letting anyone else down by not acting when I feel it’s a worthwhile risk. I felt I’d regret it if I didn’t act.”
He doesn’t need to know it was a Precognition warning.
“What are you going to do for your next performance?”
“Do you think I should put energy shields over every city that allows the faithful?”
“I think that’s a question you need to speak to Sarah and Kadaklan about, not me.” Jal’krin handed her an arcane memory crystal. “This is what I’ve composed so far. What are you going to do with the people you rescued?”
“That’s for them to decide, but I’ll try to ensure they’re safe.”
Within the crystal, there were enough songs for dozens of sets, exploring themes of transformation, creation, life, and the Soul.
He caught elements of all my natures from Soul Haven.
“How do you know me so well?”
Jal’krin snorted and leaned back to shoulder bump her. “I learned to listen to my emotions where you were concerned. That glow carried a surge of everything so that I had to let it wash over me instead of trying to understand it immediately. Writing music helps me process what I experience; it all comes out in the music.”
Activity in other cities caught Amdirlain’s attention. “What do you think the biggest reaction will be? Fear or anger?”
“You showed them you have your fangs around their throats yet haven’t killed them, so some are going to roll and show you their bellies. Do you mind if I write? I think I’ve got just the message to send out.”
Some, not all.
“What is it?”
“It’ll draw on an old play where, during hard nomadic times, a group of males try to rob a grizzled old traveller. He kills them all and claims their mates, promising the mothers to care for their children as his own. The next place that he comes across instead works with him, and together they form a new pride. The hard times pass and the new pride prospers, with the robbers’ names lost to the winds of time, forgotten by their mates and their children.”
Amdirlain smiled. “That’s fine, but I’m not marrying anyone else. Sarah is the one for me.”
He grinned with delight. “I always thought she looked at you as more than a spiritual sister. Thank you for coming into my life, Amdirlain. I had weird nightmares where you didn’t come into the shop or, instead of talking, you purchased an instrument and moved on. In the dreams I don’t know what I’ve missed, but I wake up screaming for you to come back.”
She exchanged smiles. “It is difficult to get rid of me now.”
“How tragic.” With that, he rose and headed back to his studio room.
A thick stack of sheet music to match the compositions appeared on her lap, and she moved to the kitchen table. As she studied them, she filtered through minds near and far, narrowing in on various politicians to gauge the reactions in different assemblies and political bodies. A cascade of prayers, awkward and stilted, swept in from additional sources until they outnumbered the old. While a few prayed to appease her wrath, most of the prayers expressed the hope that she’d consider them just as worthy of protection and care as those rescued from imprisonment. They sought a proper Alpha. To those genuine in their prayers, she projected a touch of reassurance, and in some she felt resulting Class visions.
Because the patron system is prevalent in many cities, the majority feel like second-class citizens. Tolerated rather than welcomed, and they want someone who sees them as more. They’ve different instincts from humans.
Hours later, Amdirlain was still at the table, humming Jal’krin’s score as she reviewed the lyrics he’d delivered. Already, thousands of comments about performing them covered additional sheets.
The front door clicked open, and Tinu slipped inside. “I have returned.”
“How was the transport?”
“It was fun people watching, but I got off early and went shopping. The shopping centres are so big and crowded compared to the havens’ small stands.” Tinu sat across from her and nodded to the sheet music. “Are you going to record those?”
“I think someone else should.” Amdirlain set aside the pages and memory crystal. “What do you think of Qil Tris so far?”
“I could spend a century here and not see everything. There were so many people talking about your performance. Did you intend to show up on all the display screens?”
“Yes. What did you think about their reactions?”
“You would have heard them, but you want to see what I picked up?”
“Filtering. I caught the general themes, but I wasn’t among the crowds.”
“There was a broad mix. Your eyes scared some, yet others couldn’t stop talking about the music at the end. I’m glad you toned down the details of your legs. There was just a blur and flames in silhouette.”
“I knew kids would certainly have seen it in some places.”
Tinu nodded. “What are the other assemblies doing?”
“Meeting to discuss. As Jal’krin put it, they’re trying to figure out how to show their bellies.”
“Can I still stay awhile?”
“Their gods’ wars left some scars in different places.” Amdirlain slid a memory crystal across the table. “All the repairs to the planet are within your octave range.”
Tinu briefly played with the crystal before she looked up. “You could do all this in a moment. Are you giving me an excuse to stay?”
Amdirlain gasped playfully. “Would I do something like that?”
“Thank you, mother. I’ll stick around and learn more about how mortals live.” She fidgeted with the crystal. “Do you know how the Eldritch got here?”
“No, but if any distortion appears, don’t approach it. Just let me know it’s shown up again.”
“Do you think they’ll return soon?” Tinu whispered.
“I don’t know, but I’m not setting a time limit on your stay. That’s between you and Tulne.”
“Aren’t there others you had looking out for Eldritch signs as well?” Tinu rested her head on Amdirlain’s shoulder, spinning the crystal in the air.
“Yes, and I did his observers out of a job unless there is a reoccurrence of the Eldritch finding this world.”
“I’m sure they’d prefer to stay unemployed.”
Though it was approaching the evening meal, Amdirlain found Mor’lmes in his office. The decoration seemed a mix of teacher and administrator to her. Across his desk were reports from various university oversight groups and racks of memory crystals holding his students’ papers. Opposite his office door was a dark wood cabinet with glass shelves holding various competition trophies, though none bore his name. Other shelving in the room contained display models for arcane theories, stacks of crystals with teaching literature and extra copies of particular texts. There were two plush chairs positioned before his desk, and a small sitting area with a couch, armchairs, and a low table off to one side.
“Let’s go.” Amdirlain touched Tinu’s arm to draw her attention. “I’ll introduce you to Mor’lmes.”
She bounced to her feet with a grin, rubbing her hands. “You mean I get to meet the infamous Professor Mor’lmes?”
“He’s hardly infamous.”
“Depends. If you ask Sarah, he’s certainly paranoid and infamous,” Tinu chuffed.
The pair appeared in Mor’lmes’s office, and he lashed out with a blast of lightning that Amdirlain seized from mid-air; she’d already prevented the wards from sensing the Mana spike. “You’re so jumpy.”
“Nervous times. Once, you needed my aid to get through the university wards.”
Amdirlain smiled. “That was centuries ago.”
“That should have caused an alert to scream.”
“I bubbled the Mana spike, which prevented the wards from sensing it.”
A familiar anger rolled off Mor’lmes, and remembering Wha’sin’s words, Amdirlain had to restrain a smile.
He loathes to admit that anyone else in the room is Alpha to him.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us, Mother?” Tinu asked, projecting playful innocence. “You’ve still not explained why you wanted me to come along.”
“Mor’lmes, this is my daughter, who uses the alias Darlin.”
“One of her daughters.” Tinu waved. “I’m here to help some people and keep an ear out for Eldritch distortions.”
“I thought you had cleaned them up.”
Amdirlain sat on the couch in the side area. “I have, but they got here somehow, and I don’t know if it’s from a mindset among the Catfolk or something else that let them bridge into this realm.”
“Shiny trophies,” Tinu muttered, and pounced before the cabinet.
“The university board members like to see some passion for promoting the place.”
“You keep them appeased with the trinkets.” Tinu swayed a hand back and forth. “Oh, grumpy patron, look at the shiny metal the place you sponsor has earned. Any reason for these particular trophies? Surely, this place earns a lot.”
“I picked the ones earned by those most in favour with the board members.”
“You manage their contact with your office. Well, my daughter here will be your contact point for me.”
Tinu left the display cabinet, dropped sideways into the padded armchair, and tilted her head back over the arm. “Why me?”
Amdirlain rubbed her nose. “Don’t be childish.”
“How about kittenish?”
The eye roll Amdirlain gave drew a snort of laughter from Tinu. “But Mother!”
“Talk to the hand. This face isn’t listening.”
Mor’lmes looked between them. “Do you actually have a purpose for being here, or are you using my office as a stage to settle matters between yourselves?”
“She’s feeling playful. I gave her some good news, and it’s gotten her all bubbly.”
“Don’t rat me out,” Tinu grumbled.
“Amdirlain, why are you here? It’s certainly not to listen to my advice. I warned you that things were delicate between cities, and you stomped on that council. There are some warlike enough not to take your advanced notice well, and they can make your followers miserable without directly attacking them.”
“Look at it from my perspective. What would you have done if someone had snatched some of your observers?”
His shoulders slumped slightly. “We both know my observers would have been dead if snatched by Eldritch cultists. Yet this isn’t the same.”
“No, it’s worse. They had over nine hundred years of their city prospering because of the opportunities I provided. There were no injuries, and I even treated them with gentleness during our confrontation. How would you feel if you had given someone gifts for centuries, and they started seizing members of your Pride? Attacking your daughters’ descendants?”
Mor’lmes’s fists clenched until his knuckles popped. “There would be someone’s blood feeding the dirt.”
“Then consider this: the gods’ wars caused deaths. I acted to stop my followers from being murdered, along with innocents, and didn’t physically assault anyone.”
He inhaled sharply, his hackles raising before he stopped and shook himself. “You’re right, I’m sorry, I just can see some lashing out at cities that haven’t opposed your faith.”
“Thank you, Mor’lmes, I’m going to do my best to head that off. My dramatics aside, do you think the message was clear enough?”
“Yes, though one thing confuses me. You said you were Mortal when we spoke the other day. Yet that image carried the weight of untold aeons.”
“It was roughly sixty billion years ago. Did you miss the part where I told them I hadn’t responded to people while transforming back into a Primordial?”
Tinu paused in her examination of the arcane displays in another cabinet.
“How does that work? Did you give up the status and then reclaim it?”
“No, I ripped myself a Soul free from my Primordial essence, and my enemies eventually killed me. I lived many Mortal lives before returning to this realm.”
“That sounds complicated and painful.”
Amdirlain snorted bitterly and pinched the air. “Oh, it was, and that’s a condensed version of events. Since it's a long and frequently unpleasant tale, can we move on to something else?”
“Then let's get back to the anti-divine groups. Are you counting on them showing you their bellies after your pronouncement?”
“Please, I’m not interested in putting my foot on anyone’s throat if they’re not hurting others.” Amdirlain waved him off. “That doesn’t interest me, and they can keep using the trials as long as they don’t attack or prosecute my people.”
“Well, there is a lot of noise bubbling around,” Mor’lmes tapped his desk. “Over eighty cities are already holding emergency legislative sessions on the hush.”
“Not quiet enough, and it’s a hundred twenty-nine cities, along with three meetings at the territorial level. Would you like me to provide their names? How far has your observer network spread?” Amdirlain asked.
“Not far enough, since you found infected individuals without us knowing.”
Tinu came over and sat primly beside Amdirlain. “I don’t get why they’re upset about you dealing with the Eldritch? You even rebuilt the mountain afterwards.”
“There is no proof the Eldritch exist as far as they’re concerned. Amdirlain’s back after nearly a thousand years, so they’re taking the destruction and recreation of the mountain as a threat.” Mor’lmes retrieved a drink from his office fridge.
“But the tunnels,” Tinu protested.
“In an illusion of Amdirlain’s creation. Though many are now concerned about you sealing the trials, which has tension up.”
“Yet others respect my leaping to the defence of those who look to me.”
A burst of laughter from Tinu caused Mor’lmes to spin. “They don’t understand Mother’s real danger if they think the mountain or the audience chamber was a threat.”
“Daughter,” Amdirlain reproved. “It’s not about flexing or measuring up. I’ve given them advance notice, and that’s enough.”
Tinu grinned. “Will I hear you call me daughter a lot on this trip? You’re avoiding saying my real name and don’t seem to want to use the alias.”
“Something like that,” Amdirlain rubbed the top of her head. “You’ll do fine.”
“Mother, I’m nearly a thousand!”
“You don’t want me touching your hair?”
“I didn’t say that,” Tinu huffed.
“What do you mean by Am’s real danger, Darlin?”
Oops, I didn’t distract him.
Tinu winked. “Mother is always fixing things. If they draw her attention to social injustices or something rotten in their cities, they won’t recognise themselves when she’s done.”
“I restrained myself over the attempt to snatch the prisoners’ assets. I also didn’t stomp their control of the city when they started locking people up illegally. Something you could have your network remind them to be grateful about before they’re dumb.”
Mor’lmes coughed. “The Matriarch.”
“Exactly. I restrained myself.”
“While Sarah wasn’t here to provide the toys, Mother could have made tonnes of equipment in a breath,” Tinu chimed in.
“Can I ask why the introductions this evening?” Mor’lmes glanced between the two of them.
“I’ll be hanging around for longer than Mother.” Tinu floated a crystal cube to his desk. “It’s not entirely safe to give out my real name, but you can attune to that if you need to contact me.”
“What are you staying on Qil Tris for?”
“Repairing environmental wounds that the gods’ wars left.” Tinu shrugged. “There are also various abominations that make living in remote areas dangerous, that Mother instructed me to clean up.”
“What counts as an abomination?”
“The creatures mauled by energies used in a Gods’ War or by arcane experimentation. Most species have recessive sensitivity to Mana that causes certain expressions.”
Mor’lmes hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe you should arrange for some people to realise your association when you’re doing that healing. It might plant some seeds to calm things down.”
“I’m sure I can get the message across that I’m handling it for Mother.” Tinu stood and changed into a version of her True Form that was the same height as Mor’lmes. As she offered him a reassuring smile, she ruffled her wings. “Do you think this is visually similar enough to give me away?”
Mor’lmes eyed the pair of them suspiciously. “Are you yanking my tail?”
Tinu turned into a silvery-furred cub. Her ears drooped, and she gazed up at him sadly. “Won’t you take care of me, mister?”
He held up a hand and pretended to avert his gaze. “You should take this one with you, Amdirlain.”
He’s gone all formal with me, now he knows my full name.
“Nah, you two can talk and get to know each other. My daughter is a people person, so you might get on with her better.”
With that, she hopped back to the apartment, and Amdirlain's gaze fell on the sheet music still on the kitchen table, its notation teasing her as she picked it up. One of the chorus lines slipped smoothly from her lips, and she shuffled through them again. “Why shouldn’t I sing these myself?”
I could perform them, since he structured all the compositions for the octave range of a lap harp.
Setting a sound barrier in place, she retrieved her harp and began working through the music. Playing it led to her adjusting her original commentary. As she did, she touched the links of faith and learned more about her followers. With Jal’krin’s permission, she borrowed the guest bedroom and shifted her practice there, ignoring the elaborate furnishing. Throughout the night, Tinu explored this city and the places on her list around the globe.
In the morning, Amdirlain appeared in a corner office within the law keeper’s headquarters. Though the walls were transparent, no one outside noticed her arrival, their minds averted from registering her presence as having any importance.
“Amdirlain,” Wha’sin nostrils twitched, and she didn’t look up from her screen. “Are you here to test my reaction time as well?”
“I had an enquiry. Would you object if I put on a show?”
For a few seconds, Wha’sin’s mouth worked noiselessly as her thoughts raced. “What sort of show?”
“I’ve got some new songs.” Amdirlain’s lap harp appeared in her hands, and she caressed the strings into emitting a cheerful purr. “Also, I thought a peaceful demonstration would head off trouble.”
Sitting back in her chair, Wha’sin fiercely massaged her forehead with her fingertips. “Why come to me? Surely one of your followers would be a better idea.”
“You tracked me down years ago,” Amdirlain snickered. “It’s stress repayment. Though I thought you might be a neutral party.”
“Mor’lmes is right. I believe you enjoy tugging people’s tails.”
“Isn’t it better that I’m playful than the vicious blood-thirsty shits that your people had for gods initially?”
Wha’sin blinked. “Good point. I hope this question doesn’t offend. There was subtle regret in how you spoke about the trials. Mor’lmes said I imagined it, but I’m experienced in taking testimonies. Did making the trials hurt you?”
Amdirlain smiled sadly. “My regret is for all those who died from disregarding the danger of the trials. I’d tried to warn them and get people to take them seriously, but so many deaths came from people going into regions beyond their strength or tackling foes unprepared. Though I’ve noticed a steady decline in deaths.”
“Tuition programs, yet some people still don’t listen to the trainers since they’re sure they know better.” Wha’sin snorted. “Last time you were in a caster station, a hit squad came for you. Are you sure about appearing in public? You could face another satellite strike.”
“Minor details. I only let that strike reach the ground to play with them. If anyone tosses any strikes towards this city, I’ll shunt the energy away.”
“When did you want to put on this show?”
Amdirlain looked through the glass office wall, taking in the staff arriving for the morning in their crisp uniforms. The morning tempo ramped up as they started consoles or dialled trace units. “How much advance notice do you need to put in traffic management around the memorial?”
“We’d have people flooding in from other cities, and hordes of locals trying to crowd into that area. Can you give me a week’s lead time?”
The crowd won’t be that big if I can come up with the right way to handle those at a distance.
“No, that’ll give other places time to prepare ritual circles. While I’m confident, I’m also not going to give someone that kind of time advantage for preparations and then show my face; someone might get hurt in the crossfire.”
“Is this just going to be a musical performance?”
“Where would the fun in that be? You might have Mor’lmes line up some university folks and some space probes.”
Her ears twitched erratically. “What?”
“I need to create a few thousand stars and planets, so I thought I’d open gates to the locations so people could see it occur.”
Wha’sin exhaled slowly. “I assume you have a particular reason for this?”
“A purpose beyond this planet, I’ve a few trillion people to rescue.”
“Followers?” Wha’sin coughed.
“No, once again I’m sticking my nose in to help people. Though my priority is my followers, so I’m trying to stabilise the situation here first.”
“Could you just perform some normal songs and conduct the demonstration at a different time?”
Amdirlain sighed. “The songs are for my followers to give them an idea of my outlook, and not just the playful songs I performed as Am. The demonstration should deter people who think starting trouble is a good idea. Unless you think creating planets won’t be enough to get through to those unconvinced that a fight with me might be silly?”
A blessing flared in her awareness, a High Priest in a trial invoking a high-level prayer of the Planar Ally path. That they were within a Demi-Plane gave her more leeway to assist. After a quick back and forth with her solars, it was Sírdhem who responded to the request for aid. Instead of accepting the summons, Planar Shift delivered Sírdhem to the Demi-Plane. Soon, absolute shock filled Amdirlain’s connection to the High Priest. The trouble arose from a clash with a swarm in a more hazardous region of the trial, and Sírdhem got to cut loose with battlefield spells.
At least they’re not asking her to help fight other Catfolk. Though I’m sure Sírdhem would have been able to defuse most conflicts.
“Is it a common event now for you to create planets?” Wha’sin asked; unaware of Amdirlain’s brief attention shift.
“I could create them before my change into a Primordial. Though I’ve never shown it to strangers before.”
“Would you object to using a stadium and not busking like you did your first performance? I could organise its use and arrange security.”
“Do you think you can arrange one in the next couple of days? Will any of the patrons give you grief for providing help?”
“Except for training, sports fields aren’t utilised mid-week. I won’t arrange things under my name or yours. I assume you can hide your music from anyone outside the stadium. Then it’s a matter of broadcasting the creation part to a wide enough audience.” Wha’sin’s claw tips tapped away at her console, her ears twitching vigorously. “Which isn’t an issue for you.”
“If Mor’lmes has the university staff and their equipment assembled somewhere. I’ll move them to the stage. They’ll need to be ready to work across a Gate’s threshold, as being on the other side might be unhealthy. I’ll be in touch.”
In a silver-furred form and black leather, she had fun slipping through the wards in secure buildings. She kept her pace relaxed as she mingled with the crowds hurrying to work or the early starters grabbing a breakfast or a morning drink. Their conversations reminded her of years spent on Qil Tris, or people chatting to each other while waiting in lines about Sydney’s CBD. She’d have preferred that her rebuke of the assembly not be the primary topic on so many lips. While some considered her a mother disciplining ungrateful children, others fixated on the realm’s creation and the energy stream. None of those near her wanderings compared her to their old gods.
Her thoughts skipped about as she considered how to choreograph the performance and prepare the stage. One of her rambling hops took her near a familiar location, and Amdirlain walked through the building’s corridors, her heels clicking on the polished stone flooring. Finally, she stopped against the steel railing on the fourth story, hair dancing on the breezes caused by the air conditioning swirling in the expanse of an atrium. The memorial stone was still in place, sealed behind a preservation barrier. It was no longer in an open courtyard but on the ground floor of a skyscraper’s open centre.
Where she’d sat venting pent-up grief for Torm, there was a small plaque referring to her presence. Amdirlain picked a spot on a balcony overlooking it. A temporal window showed her the grief she only partly remembered expressing, a victim of her fragmented memories. She fast-forwarded that session, recording the details a Mortal could comprehend into a memory crystal for Jal’krin.
“Gilorn. Do you want to have some fun? I thought in a few days we could create a few solar systems together.” Amdirlain released the song with the enclosed Message.
Bright notes brought her excited acknowledgement.
Comments
Glenn Wright
Titles have a distinction from mantles, and it was more that Amdirlain acknowledged her history than giving herself something new.
Mr NerfGun
Huh, Titan's Daughter and Titan's Songbird became Mantles?
Plateworm
Tftc
