AbyssalRoadTrip
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Abyssal Road Trip - 523 - Best for me
🕑 Added 2025-06-10 01:00:08 +0000 UTCAmdirlain’s PoV - Vehtë - Southgate
With gentle chiming notes, Verdandi’s Soul lifted from her body, and Amdirlain ended the lingering song that prevented the acolyte and priestess from hearing anything.
“Goodbye, Verdandi. Whatever your journey holds next for you, I hope it’s with beings that treasure you.”
As Verdandi’s Soul finished separating, Amdirlain opened a Gate to allow her to cross directly to the heavenly region where Týr’s Domain sat. For a moment, her white Soul floated still in mid-air and shimmered in the heavens’ light, showing the scars of a life well-lived. Verdandi gave a reassuring smile, but as she raised her hand, the attraction of Týr’s Wellspring drew her away.
The match of the energies baffled detection from the Temple’s wards and those of the Wizard’s college, so Amdirlain let the light wash across Verdandi’s body longer before she closed the Gate. Once the threshold sealed, she gently folded Verdandi’s hands across her abdomen and closed her eyes.
After a minute, composing herself, she opened the door and stepped aside. “She’s gone on.”
The priestess moved to the side of the bed and checked for a pulse in her throat. “Was there a Gate opened in this room?”
“I sped her Soul’s Journey to Týr’s Domain.” Amdirlain turned to the acolyte.
The priestess stiffened. “You opened a Gate through the Temple’s wards?”
It’s just her grief that has her upset; she can feel the Celestial energies.
“Since I directed the Gate to Týr’s Domain the wards had nothing to object to,” Amdirlain stated, before turning to the now quietly crying acolyte. “Aslaug isn’t it?”
The girl nodded.
“Sorry for brushing by you earlier, but High Justice Verdandi sounded frail. I’m glad I made it in time to give her some good news. She said she had no regrets.”
“I’ll try to stop crying,” Aslaug sniffled.
Amdirlain reassuringly touched her upper arm. “It’s right to mourn for our loss, but she’s not in pain.”
Before Aslaug could respond, the priestess covered Verdandi’s face with her blanket. “Aslaug, please go fetch Erika.”
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Aslaug whispered, tears running down her cheeks as she turned away.
The priestess pressed her hands to her face before she shook her head and lifted her gaze to address Amdirlain. “My apologies for my shortness about the Gate.”
“You’ve nothing to apologise for,” reassured Amdirlain. “I wanted to ensure she made the trip safely. Her Soul was already shifting to the Astral Plane, and I didn’t want her risking that trek, even guarded.”
I also didn’t want her trip through the Astral Plane claiming memories she might want to keep.
“Will you stay for the funeral?”
“I’m unfamiliar with the Norse funeral rites, and my presence might make things awkward. The important thing is that her Soul is in Týr’s Domain now.” Amdirlain nodded to the priestess and slipped through to the receiving room.
“She never spoke of a Jay before today.”
Amdirlain paused with her hand on the doorframe. “I don’t normally use that nickname.”
The priestess sagged into the seat Amdirlain had used. With tears burning her eyes, Amdirlain swallowed the lump that threatened to clog her throat. The room smelled of leather and vellum, and a faint scent of beeswax lingered about the furnishings. Elements of normalcy felt surreal with Verdandi’s death. She caught Livia's presence on personal objects tucked away in the desk drawers.
Even after all these years, she's still handcrafting Verdandi things. Leaving so quickly doesn’t feel right, but what do I do?
As her emotions churned, she sought a distraction and reached out to the damaged land. Yet she hesitated at the bright themes along the closest edges. She traced them to the small but regular experience gains of the priests and druids at work.
They can heal the landscape, but they can’t do anything about the shortage of local metals.
Dwarven memories thumped through her, guiding her understanding of patterns to seek. An alteration to her filtered senses provided the themes of the planet’s mineral veins, and she located thousands of played-out mines.
Do I handle the issue or get the Anar and Lómë to tend to it? Creatures live in many of these locations, and killing them seems pointless. What to do? I won’t just leave it. The lack of metals is also a problem for the courts and probably triggered the last Dragon scourge since they would have been fighting over treasure territory. I don’t know how much material was at each location, but I can restore it to before the mining started.
She opened temporal windows and recorded the original song of each location when its mineral deposits were untapped. The melodies painted vivid images in her mind, including the twisting veins and the distribution of ore-bearing earth. Amdirlain idly organised them in various fashions within the crystal as she considered how to proceed. The need to be fixing something in the face of Verdandi’s death clawed at her, but she stopped, recognising the urge as a coping mechanism, not a genuine need.
Since they’ve got the metals from the trial, I’ll speak with Roher before tackling that issue. I’ve got Gideon’s suggestion for a place to train, and Sarah’s debrief to complete.
In her stillness, Orhêthurin’s ancient pain at losing Syl and millions of other deaths over aeons snarled across her thoughts, seeking to twist her with a hook of blind rage. Amdirlain let the emotions storm but refused to act.
Who exactly should I hurt? Verdandi died of old age. Why did so much anger rise from her death? Shindraithra sought a final battle rather than fade.
Amdirlain let out a slow breath, a fundamental meditative act now physically pointless for her, but one she found calming as she mentally followed the airflow in the room.
I barely had time to get to know Verdandi. I respected her, yet my curse and guilt kept me from having enough time to get to know her properly. What about those dead who prayed to me?
With no reason to stay, she slipped from the building before Aslaug returned, then retraced her route to the western district. Once beyond the stronger wards monitoring for shapeshifters, Amdirlain slipped down an alleyway and ensured she was out of anyone’s sight before Planar Shift carried her to the Outlands. Beneath the canopy of trees near the Spire’s base, she eyed the pool to access Judgement, aware of the multiple region points it offered her—one for each world where her worshippers lived. A nameless dread crept up her spine as the moments of death in her many lives flashed before her eyes.
I shouldn’t try to make a home for souls when my sense of self is still a patchwork.
Emotions churned, stirring random thoughts and concerns—the names of the few people she and Verdandi had in common chimed through the tempest of emotions.
Should I even be contacting them? I don’t know what to do in this situation.
“Sarah, I made it just in time to say goodbye to Verdandi. I don’t know how to tell Yngvarr, Alfarr, Farhad, or Livia.”
“Where are you?”
Amdirlain sent an image of the Planar Pool to Judgement, and Sarah appeared nearby. “Informing them isn’t your responsibility, sweetie.”
“I was there. Shouldn’t I tell our common friends and my daughter? I’m sure my visit will get mentioned. J isn’t a common name, even if people there kept pronouncing it as the bird. Should I go to Xaos to talk to them?”
“You’re a Primordial, silly. Xaos has changed, and walking into that place without permission is a recipe for disaster. Even sending a Spell aimed at a resident might not be received favourably. Can you leave contacting them with me for now? I’ll send a messenger and let them know we’re available if they need our help.”
“Okay.”
Sarah caught Amdirlain’s hands. “They’ll have known her condition and had time to adjust. You jumped from her being aged but healthy to old and at death’s door.”
She leaned forward and pressed the side of her face to Sarah’s. “I’m a lot of work. I overcame my many emotional issues and yet ended up with more from earlier lifetimes.”
“Look on the bright side. This time, you’re not in denial about your issues.” Sarah brushed a soft kiss across her lips. “Shall we return to that DIY project Nicholaus made for you?”
“At least I get to determine what it becomes.” Amdirlain offered with brittle brightness.
“Yeah, from the sludge up.”
Amdirlain shrugged. “At least the neighbours aren’t noisy.”
A Gate opened, and the pair stepped through onto the front porch of their house. The ocean before them contained a relatively thin layer of life.
“How did you find Southgate?”
“While I can see some elements of Eyrarháls, the place and the people have changed quite a bit. Before, there was almost a quarantine between the kingdoms, with the blending of the cultures rare. Now they’ve all got mixed bloodlines, clothing styles, and relatively advanced Artificer techniques.”
“That last part comes from all those battle wizards you trained; they trained others and pushed the bounds of the locals’ knowledge of the arcane. I think you’re presently too wound up to continue the debrief.”
Amdirlain scrubbed her hands across her forearms, feeling the impact of all the deaths she’d experienced. “I’ll spend more time meditating, as I’m having some severe emotional reactions to Verdandi’s death. The plinth showed me so many deaths, and those memories were stripped from me when Lethe dragged me into the vault. While I searched for myself, I kept stumbling across them. They weren’t peaceful deaths like Verdandi’s.”
“Should I contact Aitherlar?” Sarah asked.
“How would your mother react to discovering who I am?” Amdirlain settled on the deep couch at the far end of the porch and patted the spot next to her. Tears she couldn’t contain started to stream down her cheeks. “I’ve seen so many deaths in so many lifetimes. Why does Verdandi’s hit so hard?”
“She was someone you respected, but maybe it’s some of those deaths you didn’t find the memories of making noise inside you. Aitherlar might know techniques to help with your mental re-integration.”
“After you’ve gone over the summary of my missed events.”
“Maybe spend more time in meditation between sessions?”
Amdirlain nodded and focused on her internal energies and how releases from her essence transformed into Ki.
Their days together passed quietly with Amdirlain taking the emotional turmoil as a warning to address her mental state ahead of other concerns. They spent their time together in a blend of debriefings, meditations, and comforting personal time.
A casual snippet that Sarah dropped on her a month later froze Amdirlain. Her shocked gaze leapt from the ocean’s breeding bacteria to Sarah. “How am I responsible for spaceflight on Qil Tris?”
“You showed them that things go up if you take away gravity. You even told Mor’lmes how you lifted that mass of corrupted earth and the hospital away. They figured out the runes to do it, and next thing you know, Qil Tris had interplanetary flight.”
“Magic space ships. They’ll have to be careful of regions with low Mana flows.”
“They had Mana storage devices worked out for their energy grid. They’ve reduced their size.”
Amdirlain fidgeted briefly. “Am I a big kid for wanting to go for a ride on one?”
Sarah laughed brightly. “The tickets aren’t expensive if you’re just taking a quick tourist moon trip.”
“I’m surprised they’re interested in space exploration given the amount of materials the trials produce.”
Sarah smiled. “You told a few people about the life cycles of stars, and that there are species around other ones.”
“Glad they’re curious enough to look outwards. I hope they don’t run into any Formithian planets soon.”
“Running into them later is going to help?”
“Once I resolve that situation, it might not be an issue.”
“What are you planning to do?”
“Nothing yet, but I’ve some transformation ideas.”
Sarah squeezed her hand gently. “Oh, very cute. Are you taking an interest in their situation because of Torm or because they’re an issue?”
“Both? What happened to Torm is part of it, but their attitude to other species is an ongoing concern. The Formithian population growth was a short-term solution to a big issue I had in the early stage. Yet they’re like so many short-term fixes—they just became the norm. There were other problems, and they efficiently cycled souls through the realm. With Laodice keeping them restrained, they took up real estate, but they weren’t a growing problem. Now they’ve had so much time to take over worlds she’d kept them off.” Amdirlain huffed in frustration. “They don’t seem to recognise other species as having a place in the realm. I set the orcs on them to cull their numbers, but that’s a short-term solution that wasn’t enough.”
“A short-term solution that worked for billions of years.”
“Until the key person coordinating it wasn’t around; any solution that requires active or at least regular attention from a single individual is a short-term fix. Let’s talk about that later. How far have Qil Tris gotten with their spaceships?”
“The magic provides far more than Earth technology achieved: reactionless drives, protection from solar radiation, renewing the ship's atmosphere, and more. It allowed them to get to all the planets in their system comfortably. I have lots of followers among those developing those spacecraft. The process still gives entire industries significant progress in engineering-oriented and other supporting classes.”
“I want to go to Qil Tris and see how things are,” Amdirlain grumbled.
“Why are you grumping at me for? I’m pretty sure your own self-awareness is the only thing stopping you.”
Amdirlain grimaced. “I’m getting better, but I’m still not stabilised. I’m catching fragments of death scenes bubbling up whenever my essence generates Ki. Maybe the generation of life energy draws out foreign memories.”
“And your followers, how are you dealing with all the prayers?”
“I took your suggestion, and Lethe and some new thought forms are helping me with them. I set up a separate mental vault for prayers to come into where the thought forms catalogue them. In the process, I learnt more about that High Priest I told you about from the trial.”
Sarah smiled knowingly.
“You already knew about him?” Amdirlain accused.
“Yep. Jal’sen, cub of your student Tulne and your old composer, Jal’krin. She helped him gain Life Affinity after marriage, and Mor’lmes shared the Life grimoire you gave him. I monitored your flock, but I didn’t want to distract you with information early.”
Amdirlain rolled her eyes. “Well, they’ve finished with the drama in the trial, but he’s in a bit of strife at present. Do I let him handle it?”
“That’s usually for the best.”
“They have Profile access.” Amdirlain's gaze narrowed speculatively.
“Your priests do, not mine. A fact that makes your priests a bit more prone to risk-taking.”
♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ ♫
High Priest Jal’sen’s - PoV - Northern Oligarchy
With the rest of the team dropped off at their apartments, the interior of the transport was too quiet. Though he craved conversation and the chance to speak about the instrument that had appeared before the surge, the driver sat behind the privacy screen that protected their identities from each other.
As the van slowed and bumped up the driveway’s incline, Jal’sen heard the driver yelp in fear.
The mithril and gemstone lap harp disappeared into Inventory, and he deliberately relaxed into his padded seat in the transport rear row.
The doors on the sides of the transport and the luggage door behind him opened in sync. As two rifles pointed at his face from the front, he felt a projector’s business end press against his spine. The angle made it clear the guard was crouched low so all three could fire at once to blow his head off. He casually shifted his gaze from the rifle sights to the officer’s grey and black muzzle and his line of bared teeth.
“Don’t speak or even move your lips. You are a suspect of a class one felony: Priesthood. Any action taken outside our instructions will see you shot.”
Thank you for sheltering me with your gifts, Am. I owe all I am to your benevolence.
The first officer’s rifle didn’t shift from his face as a law keeper behind him set a portable imprint reader on the seat to the left of Jal ‘sen. “You will move only your left hand and provide an imprint now.”
Slowly, he did as instructed, glad he’d already taken the time to update his false Profile after the experience of the surge.
The display panel shone above his hand, and the tension left them. “Apologies, Delver. It seems we received false intelligence.”
With that, the rifles in front of him lowered. The officer in front of him signalled for calm, but a barrel dug into his spine.
“Do you know why someone would make false accusations against you, Senior Delver Jal’sen?” The first officer questioned politely to ease the tension.
“My teams killed the primary surge boss that reopened the last region.”
The officer behind him grunted in disgust. “You claimed a Tier 7 Achievement in a trial outside your city?”
“We were down the list for handling it, but the other groups sustained too many injuries. Your city’s bias against Ki practitioners doesn’t help your teams’ recovery times with only Life wizards and mundane doctors to tend them.”
“But you benefited?” They persisted, and the amusement in his own scent strengthened.
“Not me, I’ve already got three Prestige classes, but that’s why we were there as back-up—in case things went wrong. Some of my Enduring Flame Guild’s junior members got their first Prestige classes from their contributions, which could inspire jealousy. Might I exit the vehicle?”
The edge of the barrel pressed harder against his spine. “How do you explain your age?”
“I’ve a Life Affinity. Do you have any other irrelevant questions, or am I free to go?”
A hissed order came from someone further from the vehicle, and he heard the rifle’s safety click and a low, barely audible hiss. “I’ll be watching you.”
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy checking out my arse,” Jal’sen retorted. “Our council will hear of this behaviour.”
The officers retreated, unnecessarily shutting all the doors.
Jal’sen flowed from the vehicle after giving them enough time to withdraw, snorting in amusement again that the van’s shell still utilised the spectre shielding from the era of the graves.
He tossed the driver an extra payment through his open window before he strode towards the front of the windowless apartment building that was his base for this trip. The polished plate on the front door was a rough but functional mirror, so he straightened his clothing and pretended to brush lint from his black, silver frosted fur. While doing so, he studied the host of officers and the six law enforcement vehicles parked along the street. Their shells gleamed, sitting in hardened mode so their energy shielding crawled across their surface. The Assess Skill that had come with his Prestige classes being upgraded from a Cultist to a Priest variation showed him the classes and levels of each.
If they’d fired, my shielding would have reflected the blasts directly back at them. I wonder what they’d have thought if I drew them back from the dullness of Judgement. Should I devise a Spell to suppress the accumulators in the law keeper weaponry, or leave them to the consequences of their own choices?
Having narrowed down the officer who’d been behind him to two individuals, he set a concealed tracer Spell on both to be extra careful before he headed inside.
Lady Am, please kindly guide me in navigating your creation. May the fires of your inspiration aid me in finding the right words to share your grace with others. Also, I wouldn’t say no if you want to help me inspire impotent fury in those too blind to see you aren’t like the monsters whose curse you freed us from.
When he opened the apartment on the third floor, he sighed at the music and hurriedly slipped inside. Sorrowful notes drifted from the first bedroom, each a velvety touch of universal mourning, a female for her lost mate or a parent for a child; it was a song that carried pain, and the first steps of letting go. Though Jal’sen had heard it thousands of times, Lady Am’s first street performance still had tears prickling in his eyes.
He quickly shut the door behind him. “None of our teams died, and I’m pretty sure that is high on the locals’ banned media list.”
Tulne’s voice echoed from the living area. “Your father’s been listening to it since last moon's Pyre vision. When you’ve settled, I’d like to compare our visions.”
With no response from the other room to either of them, Jal’sen drifted to the bedroom door.
“I wish you both hadn’t come on this trip. Things are far tenser here than the local parishioners led us to believe.”
Scratching a slightly greying turquoise ear, Jal’krin looked up from his synth panel, still showing the mournful drifting notes. “Nonsense. Now that the law keepers have seen your imprint, I doubt they’ll even follow you around, and we can attend the congregation without problems.”
“How did you know they’d seen my imprint?”
Jal’krin grinned. “We have monitors covering the street. Your mother believes it will take attention away from you.”
“Are you going to stop listening to her sorrow now and join us in the living area?”
“I’m just reviewing the evolution of Am’s sound in those early years. There are so many derivative works that they sometimes muddle my memory of the original traces.”
“I’m sure you know every note of each precisely.” Jal’sen snorted in disbelief and headed for the fresher, calling back. “I’ll be out shortly, and we have plans to make, so don’t be all night.”
“Who’s the parent here?”
“Mother.”
Comments
Glenn Wright
Mor'lmes wife was a Wizard, and Am also taught her Life Affinity.
CringeWorthyStudios
Nice to see a pair of familiar faces there. They said that five of the catkin that she knew are still alive so I guess these are two of them. I assume Jal’krin’s sister is a second, along with probably Mor’lmes as a fourth. I wonder who the other one is, though. Thanks for the chapter!
