AbyssalRoadTrip
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Abyssal Road Trip - 283 - Frame of mind
🕑 Added 2023-04-24 09:23:55 +0000 UTCAmdirlain’s PoV - Outlands
Amdirlain walked around the dome covering the plinth and studied the alcoves along the wall. The crystal barrier muffled the songs of the divine death memories, but walking so close to them felt strange, and she carefully kept Resonance clear of their screams. “Did you carve all of these?”
“Not all,” admitted the Eldest. “My fallen brethren liked to work stone. They carved the lower levels with tools rather than magic, including the largest library. I continued the tradition in their memory.”
“What became of your brethren that slipped from the path?”
“Transformation sites will normally turn angels into demons; a strong enough Fallen will become a Demon Lord; the one that slipped made use of such a site,” advised the Eldest. “I wouldn’t have expected the wish of a chaotic concept such as Luck to allow an Angel to avoid such a fate.”
Amdirlain laughed bitterly. “My friend is strange. She wished for a chance that Torm could find his way back. Just because there is a way, it doesn’t mean I’m doing what’s necessary for it to come about; I’m worried my plan won’t be enough.”
The Eldest nodded and set the roll of tools they’d been carrying at the base of an alcove. “Hatred is a strange soil from which to expect good deeds to bloom. Though, what other options do you have besides their destruction?”
“Eternal imprisonment or sending them through the trial sponsored by a good Deity,” replied Amdirlain, keeping the most drastic option she had to herself.
“It wouldn’t have to be a good Deity, just because that is what they used to serve. If he is so warlike and aggressive, you could seek a neutral war god to sponsor him. I believe there are thousands of deities with troops across the eternal battlefield of Acheron. Many of those serve war gods whose only interest is in the long-term strategy of conflicts.”
“I wouldn’t have expected that suggestion from you,” confessed Amdirlain, and she gestured about them. “If you see that as a path, why are there any Fallen here?”
“It is not a course I would take, but an individual’s journey is for them to decide. Those following Redemption’s Path are here because they don’t wish to return to a Deity’s service,” explained the Eldest. “Why didn’t you seek a good patron if one helped you capture Torm?”
“I’ve been told that the results of going through the trial would render me unrecognisable,” offered Amdirlain.
“Curious,” said the Eldest. “We’ve gone over your plan, and you’ve tolerated my questions about your safeguards. Might I ask a question from a different viewpoint?”
“You can always ask questions; if I will answer them is another matter,” replied Amdirlain.
“You said you purged their corruption, and the pain gives them a reason to hate you. Yet you can also remove and provide them with memories. So my question is, why is it necessary for them to hate you?” enquired the Eldest.
“I can control how I react to their hatred, and it’s not pointing them at a target that will squash them like Moloch,” replied Amdirlain. “I’ve got options that would let me overpower all three of them, even if they work together.”
“Are you deserving of their hatred?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Amdirlain.
“To me, that is a sign you want them to hate you,” said the Eldest, their tone gentle.
Amdirlain rolled her eyes. “I meant that from their perspective?”
“You being concerned for their viewpoint shows the answer to my questions is no,” declared the Eldest. “Hatred is never necessary. It brings no light into anyone’s existence. Are you deserving of their hatred? No. Someone that wants to help others onto Redemption’s Path isn’t a villain. I would suggest looking for another way.”
“What should I do, then? How do I get them motivated to even try for Redemption?”
“Those that walk Redemption’s Path because of hatred might well be able to succeed. However, we have to work harder to steer them to success than we do for those that undertake the journey for better reasons,” explained the Eldest. “You have them confined. You’ve purged the corruption. Why do you rush towards the goal via uncertain means?”
“Life is uncertain,” countered Amdirlain.
The Eldest clicked their claws softly. “Then we should ensure the footing on our path is as stable as possible.”
“I’ve been waiting for years to rescue him.”
“You rounded the bend of a passage and realised the end was still not in sight. Rather than stoke the fires of your patience, you seek to set hate burning within them,” observed the Eldest. “Is it possible? Yes. Is it the best option for any of you? No.”
“Why did you want to speak in person?”
“To learn more about you,” admitted the Eldest, pointing towards the dome. “The path itself is an example that hatred makes things harder.”
“What do you mean?”
“Its creator hated us, and perhaps herself. While she never made the path easier on us, she made other changes,” advised the Eldest, and he started walking around the dome. “When she created the start of the path, she said it would be our responsibility to determine if others found it.”
“Then the trial stones appeared?”
The Eldest moved to stand before another alcove. “Yes.”
Within the alcove, the engraved image showed three formithians with a twisted humanoid figure at the top of the alcove’s arc. Centred in the alcove was a picture-quality engraving of Orhêthurin’s face, her attention fixed on the dome’s doorway as she sang. Images of marker stones in various locations: woodlands, swamps, desolate landscapes, and strange cities; were arrayed in sections around her.
“The only difference in your appearance is your elven species, but your face looks identical to hers,” observed the Eldest. “Truly, if not for your dusky skin tone and darker hair, I’d be able to mistake you for her; even the timbre of your voice is similar.”
“When did the event depicted here occur?”
Despite her evasion, the Eldest gave a soft, almost curious hum and pointed towards the figures at the top of the alcove. “We’d been progressing with just the three of us for a millennium. We’d return here occasionally to check the dome was still here and gradually make improvements.”
They paused with their crest of tendrils pointed towards the three figures, and their claws clicked once.
“Then we encountered another Fallen and informed them of the path. A short time after they joined us, I found her here singing. I thought she might say something, but she left without a word. Days later, another Fallen arrived to join the path guided by the stone. Then, a third and fourth became a stream in the weeks afterwards. They’d all encountered a stone on their wanderings around the same time, from which they heard the female Elf speaking directly into their minds.”
“Orhêthurin died with all the Anar,” replied Amdirlain.
The Eldest’s claws clicked a dozen times rapidly, but they made no move towards Amdirlain. “You know the one I speak of then, without mention of a name.”
Hoping she wasn’t about to land herself in trouble, Amdirlain nodded towards the alcove. “Yes, I know of her, and I expect you are right about her hatred for any Fallen and herself. Though I look like her, I’m not Orhêthurin. Did she only visit this cavern and not talk to any of you?”
“No, her touch was felt throughout the cloister, our libraries and armouries, amongst other things,” informed the Eldest. “The few times she spoke, those she addressed said her tone was curt and dismissive. We don’t know everything she might have altered on her visits. I won’t pry into your knowledge of her unless you’re willing to talk about it, but a word of warning: others who remember her might be more insistent on answers. Let me know if they cause you trouble.”
“I think I might keep my visits to a minimum until word gets around that the Fallen that looks like Orhêthurin isn’t Orhêthurin,” replied Amdirlain.
“I didn’t mean that you would be in danger,” corrected the Eldest, and they gestured to the crystal dome. “Hating us or not, this allows us to regain our previous state, without becoming beholden to any Deity. I’m unsure if you realise how precious a gift many consider that to be.”
“Then that’s even worse. I don’t want to get any consideration for Orhêthurin’s efforts,” insisted Amdirlain.
The Eldest gave a strange rumbling huff, and it took Amdirlain a moment to realise they were laughing. “I’ll make sure all are aware. Though your initial contact with us is already among the most unusual.”
Amdirlain raised her hands and shrugged helplessly. “Unusual, that I’ll admit I’ve got down in all shapes and sizes. I appreciate your guidance with the trio, and I’ll see what I can do to find a way that doesn’t involve invoking their hatred.”
“That would be for the best,” agreed the Eldest.
Heading back to the surface, Amdirlain only passed a few of the cloister’s members. From them, she caught the same confusion she’d sensed from the Fallen she’d spoken to upon her arrival. Though her protections weren’t under any strain, Amdirlain gated away as soon as the wards allowed.
Hopping across various planes, Amdirlain cleaned herself of lingering energies from Imjit before she emerged into the Outlands. Sitting on the valley’s clifftop, Amdirlain listened to the trio’s songs and considered options for proceeding.
“Master Cyrus, I was wondering if we could speak again; I’m currently in the Outlands.”
Dispatching the Message with an accompanying image, Amdirlain considered her options. Not knowing when or even if she’d receive a reply, Amdirlain followed it with another to Rasha, keeping him apprised she might be away some time.
The insights of the Eldest had extended Amdirlain’s plans so much that by the time she got back to the prison, she had dozens more songs to compose. Along with those she’d scoured from the plinth’s music, she’d determined how to retrieve their original memories. Memories of the creation of Anar souls provided the means to bury them within the depths of their essence until their nature became attuned to their personal memories. It promised to offer them flashbacks during quiet times, similar to what she’d experienced herself through meditation.
“You’re out there, aren’t you?” Torm asked, his fingertips brushing across the circle’s barrier. “I don’t know what you just did, but this is more than a little ironic. I avenged your confinement, and look what you’re doing to me.”
“It’s far from the same thing. Being in a tube shouldn’t be unusual for you after the last few years—you’ve been in many tight places. Or were they loose because you couldn’t touch the sides?” taunted Amdirlain, wanting to see how he reacted without the corruption in play. “What’s one more?”
Even though Amdirlain had remained perched atop the cliff, sending her voice into his cell was simple.
Torm’s muzzle curled into a smile. “Jealous?”
“Curious. I wondered if you manifested with a wolf’s muzzle because of my reluctance to acknowledge my attraction when the furry was underneath. Self-loathing perhaps?” prodded Amdirlain.
She was unsure if the lack of rage in his voice was from his regenerated state or the purged corruption. What flesh his torn clothing exposed looked like someone had rolled a burn victim in coal dust. There wasn’t a square centimetre of skin that wasn’t a charred scar-crusted mess.
“Narcissistic much? I’d have to defer to the local expert if it were self-loathing. I'd only need to look at how easily Viper pressed your buttons to change your appearance. Looking to swap and become the psychologist, or is Sarah out there whispering in your ear? You were a gorgeous Succubus,” remarked Torm, his choice of subject and reminders digging at her. “I would have fucked you for weeks and not bothered to leave the room once.”
“If I did anything with you, it would be a pity fuck. Charm attempt: fail,” Amdirlain replied and stopped listening.
Returning to her studies of Votari’s music, Amdirlain settled in to wait.
A shimmering manifested midair a hundred metres from the cliff’s edge, and seven dragon eyes blinked at her from around the edges of a pair of white jade doors. The dragons that had seemed part of the door came alive, and their serpentine bodies moved as if swimming through the jade. As their bodies shifted further, their efforts allowed the doors to unseal, and beyond them, a set of black stone stairs appeared within a stairwell of white clouds.
Though he hadn’t been visible, Master Cyrus suddenly stepped off them to stand in midair, and the dragons sealed the doors in a sudden rush. When Amdirlain flowed to her feet and bowed, a smile erased the tension from his hawk-like features. His gaze didn’t leave her, and he strolled towards her as if stepping on solid ground. The loose silk robes he wore looked like he’d come directly from a fancy event, with a blue silk over robe with mithril thread embroidery that showed a charging tiger. A broad white belt cinched the robes at his waist, supporting a black sheath for a thin sabre.
“Perhaps I should ensure the White Tiger and you remain unacquainted,” said Cyrus when he stepped onto the grass near Amdirlain.
“Why is that?” asked Amdirlain, amused by his strange pronouncement.
“He tries to woo beautiful females into becoming wives or concubines; even the thought of you among them would turn the palace on its ear. With a thousand upset females within the palace, I’d want to be on continual field manoeuvres.”
Amdirlain restrained her laughter. “It’s good to see you, Master Cyrus.”
“Likewise, Amdirlain. I can feel the strength coming off you and the Willpower in your killing intent. Perhaps one day I’ll be the student seeking greater enlightenment from you,” offered Cyrus. “Your former teacher is currently at the Jade Emperor’s Court.”
Amdirlain reestablished the concealments of her aura, and Cyrus’ brows lifted.
“Is it because of what I did in the Abyss?” enquired Amdirlain, but she sighed when all Cyrus could offer her was a shrug. “Hopefully, I’ve not caused either of you trouble.”
“I understand you sent up quite a shockwave, but not one that threatens us,” advised Cyrus. “I’ve caught hints that they have summoned him for a different reason.”
“No puzzle from the Jade Emperor to sort out?” asked Amdirlain, keeping herself composed.
Cyrus laughed. “Not so far. Have you spoken to Livia since you regained your freedom?”
Fighting off the temptation to grill him about their relationship to see if it had progressed after Sarah’s teasing, Amdirlain nodded. “I handed over a criminal to her but haven’t told her about capturing Torm yet.”
The amusement drained from Cyrus, and he sat in the air near Amdirlain, taking his time to arrange the folds of his robes. “Do you plan to bind him?”
“While I can guess what you mean, I’d hate to assume,” replied Amdirlain.
“We spoke in the past of the eastern traditions similar to your Redemption’s Path, but I’m not sure if Demon binding would be effective on yourself or Torm,” replied Cyrus. “An Immortal or Shen can bind a Demon, taming them to their will. Through service, hard work, and trials, they can lift themselves into a sufficient state to reincarnate as a Mortal. For those originally Shen, they can regain their heavenly state; such was the case with Xuanwu and seven of the Jade Emperor’s generals.”
“I hoped there was something I could do with Ki cycling to repair damage from the Transformation Site,” admitted Amdirlain.
At her admission, Cyrus looked like he’d bitten into a lemon. “How often have you been cycling?”
Amdirlain gave him a sheepish smile. “I need to get back into the habit. It would have drawn attention to my hiding spot.”
“The source of Ki is your life and spirit; to gain the best results in healing flaws requires the individual to cycle their Ki,” explained Cyrus.
Having remembered the explanation, Amdirlain readily nodded. “I had hoped I could do something similar to what I’d undertaken with Livia to lessen the damage. The corruption twisted them and distorted their perspective of their existence before going into the Transformation Site.”
“A Mortal child’s Soul is far more malleable to life’s stimuli,” stated Cyrus. “You sent pure energy into Livia and drew away the Abyss’s heat; it was as if cool water washed away her fever. She responded by instinctively healing within your saturating energy. Sending your Ki into a mature being’s essence is highly inefficient—especially when forcing their Ki to cycle it within them. Or do you believe they’d cooperate and try cycling themselves?”
Amdirlain sighed and looked across the valley. “I don’t think they’d even want to attempt it.”
“There is no guarantee the outcome will be as you desire,” cautioned Cyrus. “I’ve been in the presence of your Ki when you were overfull. It could harm them rather than heal.”
“But healing is possible?” enquired Amdirlain with a hopeful smile.
Cyrus frowned; his expression was a sudden thundercloud. “You and my Liege must never meet; that smile would have him striving to woo you. How many hours of cycling have you done to heal your flaws? Even if it works, it’s limited in its usefulness. Normally, similar techniques are only useful to instruct those having trouble with initial cycling.”
“They’ve suffered a hideous mauling, even if all I can do is provide some seeds of guidance and mercy within them, that’s far more than they have now,” asserted Amdirlain.
His frown didn’t waver, but Cyrus grunted. “May your work find favour with Quan Yin. How are you even going to get your Ki into them? Universal Life heals only the flesh. You don’t have a connection between souls as you did with Livia.”
“I can create oath links to them, and energy can pass across those,” explained Amdirlain.
“It would be far easier to bind them,” grumbled Cyrus. “It will not be a matter of flooding them with energy, or the Demon will consume whatever life you give it.”
“Fallen, not Demon,” corrected Amdirlain.
“We do not distinguish between the Shen who have slipped from their way and those demons bred by the Yomi King,” advised Cyrus.
“How does your Hell fit on the planar wheel?”
“It is not on the same axis as Outlands or Limbo,” Cyrus said, extending a hand flat before turning it to a steep angle. “Outlands sits flat here to you, but its axis is tilted relative to that joining the Celestial Court, the Middle Kingdom, and the Eastern Hell. The guardians of the Celestial stairs had to work hard to allow me to meet you. Do you seek to change the subject because you’re nervous?”
Amdirlain stopped to consider her leaping thoughts and nodded. “I’m not sure I could handle enforcing servitude on them even to give them a better chance of recovery.”
“So your thoughts wish to leap away from all the advice I can offer?”
“More seeking information to try and find a more palatable chance for them.”
“Life is frequently unpleasant. You are a strange mixture, Amdirlain: kind-hearted yet capable of being vicious,” observed Cyrus. “Did you have any compunction about obliterating your enemies in the Abyss, even if it was just the destruction of their physical forms?”
“We attuned them to the local Plane first, so it destroyed those without the capacity for multiple Home Planes,” corrected Amdirlain.
“Eliminating them quickly is a cruel kindness. The wheel of your life has dwelt much in the realm of death; you should seek more life to balance it,” advised Cyrus.
Amdirlain gave a tight smile. “I’ve got some plans for that.”
“Good, now with the Ki cycling. You’ll need to get back to where your pattern is effortless. You can’t spare it any attention while trying to leverage your Ki to cause their own to move,” instructed Cyrus. “This will not be easy.”
“Where is the fun in taking the straightforward route?” questioned Amdirlain.
“You can be lighthearted if you wish, but you’ll need to be completely comfortable cycling your pattern before we try this. The technique will require a constant flow of Ki being renewed, as you’ll be sending your reserves into them to control the Ki within them.”
“Before we try this?” probed Amdirlain.
“Have you become foolish? Do you think I’d leave you to try this alone?” Cyrus asked haughtily. Before Amdirlain could object, he folded his arms and looked at her so imperiously that Amdirlain had to stifle her laughter.
“My mistake, Master Cyrus,” apologised Amdirlain. “I’ve created a place to practice cycling; it lets me drain off my accumulated Ki Energy. I’ll admit I’ve not used it as frequently as I would like.”
“At least you’ve made preparations to practice, even if you’ve been slack in the execution itself,” chided Cyrus. “How long ago did you create your practice site?”
“I’ve not been free long,” reminded Amdirlain, and she didn’t waver when she locked her gaze on Cyrus’ reproving stare. “There has been a lot going on and things that needed to be tended to before I could take time to meditate.”
“Life is a constant distraction; discipline comes from making the time to practice. Will you show me this site you’ve prepared?” asked Cyrus.
“You don’t want to see the prisoners first?”
“They can wait. Seeing them won’t change what needs to be done,” asserted Cyrus.
The Gate opened to the glowing pavilion at the Demi-Plane’s heart, and Amdirlain found some of Moradin’s celestials had covered the nearest platform with work tables. Each table had plans or tools covering every square centimetre, and Erwarth was deep in conversation with a score of dwarven celestials.
Cyrus followed her through and looked over the hundreds of workers measuring sections of the walkways and stairs. “Do you need to speak to them?”
“No, I think I’ll leave them to it,” laughed Amdirlain. “I wouldn’t dream of micromanaging them.”
“At least all the noise will provide a useful distraction.”
“There is one thing I should mention: my combat Skill absorbed my meditation technique,” admitted Amdirlain.
“How this realm can restructure the efforts of one’s learning is still strange to me. Did you intend to use katas for cycling?” enquired Cyrus, and without waiting for a response, he started towards one of the vacant platforms.
“That was one of my plans,” admitted Amdirlain.
Cyrus flowed forward, and his robes shifted from the court garb into the earthen-toned layered garb he usually wore. “Good, then let us get you back into practice so we might exchange pointers. I’m interested to see how your new strength holds up against my Skill.”
“I’d say I’m in for a painful experience. If you break me, please send me a message releasing me from the Planar Lock,” requested Amdirlain, and she was only partly joking.
Laughing, Cyrus nodded. “That sounds like a fair request.”
Comments
Gopard
Thanks for the chapter!
