AbyssalRoadTrip
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Abyssal Road Trip - 524 - I am not (yet) okay
🕑 Added 2025-06-13 02:52:02 +0000 UTCAmdirlain’s PoV - Material Plane
Throughout Sarah catching her up on events she’d missed, Amdirlain continued creating simple bacteria and chemical chains for their reproduction. Verdandi’s death resonated with the stray memories the plinth had ensured she’d witnessed. She tried various psionic techniques to catch and handle their impact without noticeable success. The distractions had frequently caused insights from the exercises she’d been attempting to slip from her grasp.
After weeks of failures, Amdirlain finally growled in frustration. “These memories are getting in the way, and I don’t think I will get a handle on them alone.”
Sarah set aside the cybernetic arm she’d been idly working on. “They are other people’s memories. Have you asked Gideon how many death memories you’ve got rattling around?”
“I’m not used to them being helpful yet.”
Gideon’s chiming voice was audible in their minds. “I’m able to supply that information for you, Amdirlain. I won’t answer all your questions, as some information would be more harmful than silence.”
“Can you tell me how many death memories I’ve got rattling around in me?”
“The plinth assessed you as responsible for the events leading up to the death of slightly over twenty-eight million individuals and the flow-on effects to their loved ones on Qil Tris alone. Is that sufficient to judge the help you’ll need?”
“Ouch,” Amdirlain winced. “That was more than I’d expected, even with the memories I encountered in my essence.”
“That was the bulk of what its rules judged to be your ill deeds against mortals. It then showed you billions of lives improved by the trials, teaching affinities, healing techniques, and stopping incursions. It couldn’t assess the beneficial impacts of stopping the Eldritch.”
“How many people have died in my trials since then?”
“On average, the yearly death toll has trended downwards as the residents of Qil Tris and Vehtë grow more skilled in training new delvers. There is something else you should consider.”
Amdirlain swallowed nervously. “Which is?”
“For the number of people who have delved in the last year, the ratio is around what Earth experienced per capita in traffic fatalities, yet they are engaged in hazardous professions. You are being affected by other peoples’ deaths and their relatives’ grieving process with minimal context, and your mindset isn’t that of a Celestial. Their static mindsets require a heavier hand to ensure they understand the trauma they’ve caused others.”
Sarah squeezed Amdirlain’s hand reassuringly.
“You said answering some questions would be more harmful than silence,” Amdirlain prompted. “Would you explain that?”
“While I can supply knowledge, too much can as easily hinder as help. Learning rather than being given answers often achieves a more thorough understanding. I also can’t tell you the best decision, as you’ll need to earn your advancement.”
Amdirlain’s eyebrow twitched up. “If you told me the exact route, I would have been second-guessing myself whether I’d earned the advance or just been your puppet.”
“It’s more than just knowledge and facts involved in refining a nature, Amdirlain. It has to come from within to provide a strength that can exist outside this realm. That is why even the technique manuals of the Jade Court can’t give step-by-step instructions. One must study them and discover the meaning.”
“Can you tell me if these memories I’m struggling with might help me with anything?” Amdirlain asked.
“Doubtful, and you’ve already decided to go about removing them. Yet the problem you need to solve is how. Sometimes your decisions worked out better than my predictions. You’ve a nature of Transformation, so make the right choices for you, as that freedom stirs energy in you that my predictions don’t always capture. Just look at how it worked out with Dor Ji.”
Amdirlain's brows furrowed. “What do you mean by that, Gideon?”
Sarah grumbled wordlessly, but Gideon continued.
“Executing her was the most efficient route for you to take. Instead, you overturned Di Yu’s plans, spurred significant personal growth, and aided her to transform herself in a single lifetime when she should have travelled the wheel dozens of times more.”
Gideon’s projected presence withdrew from their conscious thoughts.
“How did things turn out for Dor Ji? It doesn’t sound like it was just a matter of the Storm Peak Sect restoring her title.” Amdirlain raised an eyebrow.
Sarah patted her forearm. “Jinfeng met her by accident a few hundred years ago. Dor Ji said she’d refused her title when offered it and credited you with the insights that had earned her Immortal Spirit. She now takes regular trips through smaller communities, checking their alarm wards and teaching the fundamentals of Ki and Tao Enchanting.”
“What was so special about me kicking her in the arse?”
“Sweetie, it was about you acknowledging and approving of her when she believed herself unworthy of anyone’s approval. It was how you treated her when she felt at her lowest. She no longer had a title, fancy robes, wealth, or anything she used to believe to be important, and yet you spoke kindly to her. Then, on top of that, you encouraged her to find what made her happy.”
Amdirlain blinked owlishly. “Dor Ji had done well and risked her life for others. Her concerns were for the team inside the compound, warning us about them and the Di Yu plot, instead of demanding to be taken to safety the way she would have previously done. It would have been wrong not to acknowledge that change.”
“You might feel like a quilt of various personalities, but that shows you’re still the person I fell in love with.” Sarah’s eyes shone as she cupped her face.
“We should go for a fly somewhere nicer.” Amdirlain offered.
Sarah winked. The house disappeared, and a Gate to a sun-soaked mountainside opened. Beneath the blue morning sky, springtime growth covered the slope, and scattered bushes and trees were in full bloom among the long dew-damp grasses.
The atmosphere is slightly richer in oxygen than Earth’s.
“A planet’s atmosphere feels different to a Demi-Plane, something about a sun’s energy warming it instead of a Radiant light source.” Sarah towed Amdirlain through, her boots sinking into the grass.
Amdirlain crossed the threshold and took in the scent of the alien flowers amid the fresh morning air. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, enjoying the sunlight on her skin. As they stood quietly adjusting, she let the richness of life filling the countryside wash over her senses.
As the Gate closed, Sarah playfully bumped her side.
I’ve let all the deaths steal my attention from Sarah too often.
“The air currents here sound fun,” Amdirlain stated.
A bright smile flashed on Sarah’s lips before she leapt into the sky. Sunlight fragmented into red-shifted rainbows as Sarah transformed into Diamond Dragon form, and Amdirlain was soon in pursuit. Her body also morphed into a crystalline Dragon, and the local animals hid from the first dragons they’d seen.
Days later, continents and an ocean away from their starting point, they came to rest on a distant grassland and coiled together. Their crimson scales gleamed in the dying rays of daylight, a vivid warming that kept other creatures away.
“Are you going to provide me dinner now?” Sarah rumbled softly once night set in. “A few dozen cattle would go down nicely.”
“Neither of us needs food,” Amdirlain protested.
“It’s a traditional gesture.” Sarah’s snout lifted from the grass, and she eyed Amdirlain.
“For feeding up the newly pregnant mother for egg production.”
“One day.” Sarah snuggled back into her. The evening sky showed only a light dusting of stars, illuminated only by the systems that Amdirlain had made before the plinth.
When morning rolled around, they swam in a nearby lake, catching a few salmon-like fish to grill over an open fire at Sarah’s insistence.
They lay in the soft grass while breakfast cooked, their campfire sending a ribbon of smoke into the sky.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Sarah asked.
Amdirlain turned the rack that held the fish with telekinesis as she watched clouds drift overhead. “Gideon’s right that I’d already decided I want the memories gone. Let’s get this started. I’ve learnt not to let mental health issues go unattended.”
“Should I contact Mother, or do you have another option you want to investigate?”
“Do you feel I shouldn’t ask Lethe to capture them?”
“Lethe might provide some guidance, but as Orhêthurin, you brought her into being to guard your original life’s memories. She could lock them away, but that could cause hidden trauma. What happens if all these deaths become mixed with what she’s guarding? You said you eventually wanted to recover Ori’s memories.” Sarah waved a hand at the rising smoke. “The years they represent might be as diffuse among Ori’s memories as that rising smoke in the atmosphere, but they’d still be a residue. Why introduce that when you’ve already locked away so many unhappy memories?”
“Good point. I’ll send Aitherlar a Message since I’m asking for help.”
“She’ll be glad to hear from you.”
“There are so many people I need to contact.” Amdirlain rubbed the back of her neck as she flexed from side to side.
“The most important ones know you need time to catch up and settle in.”
“I feel disjointed. The grief that surged loose after Verdandi’s death certainly clarified the fragility of my mental balance.”
Amdirlain invited Aitherlar to join them and clasped Sarah’s hand.
In a few seconds, an orb carrying a response spun between them.
“I cannot visit for at least a week, as I have a guest.” Aitherlar’s words rumbled from the orb in Draconic.
Sarah smiled. “At least she wasn’t hosting a conclave, then it might have been years. This gives me time to finish updating you on events.”
“Let’s hold off on that for now.” Amdirlain’s fingers trailed through the grass. “Let’s relax together. I’ve already got plenty to think about now.”
“Such as how to wrangle your worshippers, since you know how all the modern sects got started?”
“How they choose to see me is their choice. Choices in themselves can be transformative. I never expected Dor Ji’s choice to place such importance on my words.”
“Your words brought her joy, and it was enough to set her on the route to immortality.” Sarah was silent for a time before she nodded. “Creation, fire, sensuality, and joy are all transformative in different ways. Are they seeing facets of your lives and choosing which is important to them?”
“Could be, though I hope they don’t focus on the unpleasant aspects of fire. Let’s talk about something else. Who did the work on this world?”
“I don’t know who precisely—various Lómë and Anar seeded life with your daughters’ help. Since you made the worlds, they didn’t want to plant sapient species without your permission. They even avoided implanting the Mana sensitivity that causes the ley lines to transform animals into monsters.”
Amdirlain smiled. “Yeah, time to relax and have a proper vacation for a while.”
“Let’s have breakfast and then find a scenic spot to park the house.”
“I saw one while chasing you.” Amdirlain caressed her face.
“If you think it’s suitable, I’m not arguing.”
Sarah’s house ended up parked on a rocky south slope of a forested valley, which provided them with a majestic view of sunset and sunrise. Amdirlain settled on the porch with her lap harp and soon airy music drifted along the valley.
♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫
When Aitherlar showed up two weeks later, she was in the same lithe Human form with a family resemblance to Sarah that she’d taken on at the Outpost of the Western Reaches. This time, she wore a loose emerald smock that ended mid-thigh. As she skipped playfully across the rocks, her deep red hair swished in a high ponytail, a final relaxed hop of a half-dozen metres deposited her on the bottom step.
“Hello, mother. You look very cheerful.” Amdirlain offered, rising from the swing seat to greet her.
“You’re safe and sane, which puts me in a good mood. I’d hoped one of you would be ready to lay eggs by now, but I guess I’ll have to wait longer. It will be interesting to see if your children are little godlings or primordials.” Aitherlar winked. “Is there any interesting food around here?”
“Sarah is off hunting at present.” Amdirlain laughed. “She’s been sampling a variety of animals to ensure there was suitable food before you visited.”
“I’m sure she’s been diligent in her preparations just for my sake.” Aitherlar briskly embraced Amdirlain before she held her at arm’s length as if to study her. “Such marvellous strength in your mind. While Sarah’s not here, tell me what you needed my help with?”
“It’s not something I’m hiding from her. I’d like you to review a mental framework I’ve been trying to implement. It’s not working, and I’m sure I’m doing something wrong.”
Aitherlar perched on the coach’s edge, and Amdirlain returned to the swing seat.
“What are you trying to accomplish?”
“I’m trying to corral and extract other people’s death memories.” Amdirlain concisely summarised what the plinth had put her through.
“You gained memories, and then you forgot them?” Aitherlar’s brows lifted. “Yet they’re still within your essence, so they randomly evoke emotions.”
“They were more scattered from my conscious mind than forgotten. Since they touched my mind when I was still a Hidden, my Soul recorded them, and now they’re within my essence.”
Aitherlar’s lips thinned. “How long have you been working on removing them?”
“They weren’t a noticeable issue at first, but I visited a friend on her deathbed forty days ago. They arose after that, striking with various emotions and fragmented images. Individually, they have almost no impact, but there are millions.”
“Each drop in a rainstorm isn’t much, but they can flood continents with enough. You could have come to me earlier,” Aitherlar grumbled.
“I’ve been trying to reach stability myself. You’ll probably understand the reason once you touch my mind.”
“You and Sarah have been very protective of your secrets. I’ll ensure I keep the lightest touch I can. My Oath upon my existence that your secrets will remain sealed to the fullest of my strength and discussed only with you.”
A theme stronger than Sarith’s psionic healer’s Oath pulsed within Aitherlar.
I didn’t expect her to bind herself to my secrets.
“I’d appreciate that, but I know it’s not completely in our control.”
Amdirlain’s focus turned inwards and manifested atop a lofty peak that provided a clear view of the surroundings. Various barriers, from natural obstacles such as streams and rivers to canals and stone fences, separated the pieces of the fragmented landscape. Ranges of mountains plunged into wild seas, and patches of desert marched alongside green meadows. Some strange environments had barbed wire fences labelled with hazmat signs, cutting them off from others. The closest of those looked like a toxic fog bank, and Amdirlain recognised it as the upper atmosphere of a gas giant where she’d briefly lived as an energy lifeform.
When she opened a link, Aitherlar appeared in the mental landscape and looked around curiously at her surroundings. “I’ve never been inside a Primordial’s essence. It has a deeper feel than the awareness of most beings. These regions don’t have fragmented edges, and the landscape is an irregular quilt work of places. You’ve created a disjointed realm inside yourself, with your awareness as the boundary preventing alien sections from spilling into each other.”
“It’s assembled from worlds I’ve been to in different lifetimes.”
Aitherlar pressed a hand to a nearby boulder. “How are you encapsulating all these details? I can feel the texture and grains of the rock, and taste its scent.”
“Perfect recall.”
“Something beyond that I feel. How do the death memories show themselves?”
“Normally, they take the appearance of attacks related to the person’s death. Arrows, broken weapons, or whatever makes sense in the region that I encounter them.”
“I’ll need time to study your mind, though the link needn’t be as intrusive as what you’ve allowed me.”
The primary focus of her consciousness returned to the physical world, but a part of her awareness traced Aitherlar’s gentle survey of her mental landscape.
“What are you getting into once Sarah brings you up to date?”
Amdirlain smiled sheepishly. “Figuring out what I’m worshipped for on seven worlds. While three are understandable, I’ve had no contact with four. I don’t know if Sarah or Livia spread my name to them.”
“It might have been someone else,” Aitherlar remarked. “I heard you’ve befriended a few gods.”
“A few.”
As they spoke, a light mental touch softly examined death memories, drawing back whenever the emotions from any of them surged. After checking thousands, Aitherlar released the link and tapped the couch thoughtfully. “Show me the pattern you’ve been trying.”
Amdirlain projected them along with the details of her attempts.
“You’ve two distinct problems to address.” Aitherlar rumbled thoughtfully after disassembling the patterns and examples that Amdirlain had been trying. “You’ve applied those patterns well if you were dealing with an individual’s grief, but their purpose is to help cope with personal losses. However, these death experiences aren’t yours.”
“I’ve lived the deaths.”
“Deaths brought about by another’s decision, and with that person’s background. That is not the same as it being your trauma, as you can’t connect properly to the actions they took. So, from my viewpoint, it’s a psychic assault.”
Amdirlain considered the plinth’s construction and nodded. “What change to the framework would you recommend?”
“Let’s treat them as debris in a wound that needs removal before you heal,” Aitherlar paused. “These are all memories that came from the plinth?”
“Yes. And the second problem?”
“You’ve elements of personalities from your different lives that aren’t fully integrated with your current life.” Aitherlar projected a variety of stress points. “You should at least ease such sites.”
“I don’t think my meditative techniques will work without my sigil directing them. Any psionic approaches you can recommend?”
Aitherlar shifted position and relaxed back on the couch. “It is a similar outcome to a subsumption technique seen when someone devours another’s mental strength to bolster their own. The residual personalities clash until the person gets them under control or until their own mind breaks.”
“That sounds like a horrid thing to do to another person.”
“If you’re only a Telepath and a more offensive-oriented Psion is trying to kill you, it’s a way to stop them and also gain capabilities in areas your own talents are weak.”
Amdirlain shuddered.
“While the usual approach to complete the integration is to dominate the consumed personalities, it’s not the only option. You could try living a little, find things you have in common or can accept from those other lives.”
“Some lives are so alien they don’t even have our senses.”
“You can leave those until last, or at least until you find something that evokes a similar sensation. For the others, it could be hunting or a crafting skill, anything you enjoy or find interesting.”
“I’ll look into that,” Amdirlain began.
A pattern of psionic energies showed in the link between them. “Copy that pattern. It will allow you to identify memories inserted into your awareness from any source. I expect you to tell me what each part is doing before you use it.”
I wonder if it would also identify everything I’ve learned through using Skill and Knowledge points?
“What should I do once I’ve isolated them?”
“Cut them out. I would suggest not carrying these splinters through the rest of your existence.”
Amdirlain shuddered again. “I’ve cut pieces of myself out previously. The only time I didn’t come to regret it was when the distortion of an Eldritch was involved.”
“These aren’t pieces of you. They are fragments of other beings' passing moments. If you seal them away, they might break loose or influence you like any hidden trauma does. The energy of negative emotions comes out when you can least handle it.”
If I could control it, then I’d be able to burn it off.
“Do you have any techniques to pull the emotional energy from memories?”
Her lips thinned. “The memories help restrain that energy. It will rampage through you if it’s not restrained.”
“I’ve got a Ki technique through which I can burn up negative emotions, but the memories and the emotions have been slippery.” Amdirlain broadcast the training exercises from Wudang Mountain. “Will you help me isolate one set of memories at a time and extract the emotional energy?”
“First, have a place prepared to hold the memories. It needs imagery that speaks to you of something not being released.”
A memory of the Necropolis rose, and Amdirlain visualised a grid of corridors on a mountainside with niches for cremation urns and plaques for the deceased’s names.
“Okay, but we might want to hop somewhere barren and cluttered with suitable targets.”
“You’re not going Demon hunting?” Aitherlar asked, even as she projected the psionic techniques’ energy patterns and details of their use.
A bright laugh slipped free. “Once I would have jumped at it, but I want to focus on my self-development. I’ll get back to dealing with my enemies once I’ve stabilised this situation. Thank you for this help, I’ll examine the patterns before I try them.”
“I’m honoured by your trust,” Aitherlar emphasised the last word. “One thing got missed during our creation, Songbird.”
I was pretty sure her touching my mind would reveal my identity, but I thought I did better.
Amdirlain snorted in amusement. “I thought I had everything under control. What did I miss?”
“Your mind feels like hers, and Sarah used her original Dragon name—Shindraithra—before she understood what it told me. No other dragons, except her reincarnations, ever used that name. I hadn’t expected Orhêthurin to be the Songbird, but I was certain even before you shared the link; afterwards, I was comfortable enough to mention it.”
“You would have figured it out when we next caught up, even without the link?” Amdirlain paused and received a nod from Aitherlar. “What did I miss in the beginning?”
“You never gave us someone to worship. The metallics got old silver scales, and the chromatics got bone face.” Aitherlar winked. “At least now you’re a psion, an ability you gave to all the crystalline dragons. Are you going to make it up to us?”
“I’m not a deity.”
“You’re the Songbird. I’m sure you’ll grow more powerful than any deity again. In the meantime, practice securing your thoughts to stay safe.”
“Can you stay for a time and help with that?”
“Of course I can, especially if Sarah has found suitable snacks.”
“She found some volcanic vents lined with diamonds.”
Aitherlar rumbled approvingly.
Comments
Glenn Wright
I moved her comment down to where it fit better and didn't combine Amdirlain's lines.
James Skinner
Thanks for the chapter! I think there's a missing comment by Aitherlar before Am asks about the second thing.
Plateworm
Tftc
