Brent Stinebaker
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17 Quest
🕑 Added 2025-06-02 09:29:33 +0000 UTCQuests are something that all Pathbearers desire, but few will regularly encounter. The reason is that it takes a divine entity, or in extreme cases, the system itself, to issue fourth quests. These are events of massive importance, often determining the fates of entire towns, cities, or even kingdoms.
Perhaps the most well-known quest came from legend during the early days of the system’s integration. The Incursions, as they were called, saw the invasion of new species from other dimensions, trying to conquer our world. This resulted in the creation of the first great nations across Integrated Earth, for we needed to band together—not only as rogue, wandering hedge Pathbearers, but as true organized armies in our own right—to withstand the onslaught of the enemy, and to venture forth into the gates to halt the invasion for good.
According to historical records, it was only after this quest was completed that all the ambient mana from these external dimensions flooding our world was naturalized as a reward, allowing a Pathbearer then to go beyond the limit of Master Tier.
And so we get into the mechanics of what a quest is. There is a goal, or many goals, that need to be fulfilled to achieve the completion of a quest. At the end, there are usually great rewards as well—sometimes allowing someone to obtain the skill of their choosing, or a powerful weapon or item that is desired by many.
But just as well, there are consequences should one fail a quest.
As we have discussed in the chapter on contracts, two souls are usually bound after the creation of a contract, with skills put up as collateral. A sundering takes place if either side breaks their bargain, and the quest can be just as vicious. Or worse, a failed quest could bestow curses or even unleash calamities upon the world, such as the unleashing of Lie Tian Hu, the savage Storm Titan who still reigns over the Vast Atlantic and launches invasions on our shores.
Should you be fortunate enough to obtain a quest, understand that you bear a great burden as well as a great boon. Succeed, and you rise beyond what you could have dreamed.
Fail, and be broken—potentially breaking the world alongside you as well…
--The Paths of Ascension, Essential Reading at Phoenix Academy of The Twilight Republic
17
Quest
“Before we continue, please don’t lie to me,” the Composer said. Her face was stern, hard as a statue. “I loathe lying. There’s nothing I hate more than a liar, so please don’t make me hate you, Shiv. I don’t want to hate what seems like a good man.”
Shiv looked at her, swallowing. After all of that—after killing the raven to hide his secret—she knew. All along, she knew. She—
Before he could answer her, another question came up. “Wait, if you were aware of what I was the entire time, why didn’t you just kill the raven—the assassin?” he asked.
“I wanted to see what you were capable of, and if they actually knew you. You must understand that not even my home is entirely safe. The agents of New Albion are everywhere. And though my web stretches far across the abyss, I know little of the surface. Frankly, you are, in ways, more of an enigma to me than I am to you.”
“I very much doubt that,” Shiv muttered. “I keep hearing about this New Albion. Valor warned me about them.” He held up the dagger. “But I barely know about New Albion. From what the Republic says, they’re like a small nation that’s barely worth mentioning—that they’re lucky to exist with our protection.”
The Composer’s face contorted in an expression of barely suppressed mirth. “The Twilight Republic said that about New Albion. Well, the Auroral Council’s arrogance…” Her expression turned serious again. “No, New Albion’s power makes them among the greatest nations on post-integration Earth. Few have the resources and influence of the Stolen Throne, and all are wary of its spies.”
Shiv frowned. “Except for me, apparently. I don’t really know anything. But I’m not a spy. I’m not from New Albion.”
Foreshadowing: From afar, a man with a Mythical set of artificial eyes watches the Composer’s nest. He flickers into Weave briefly, stealing a glance before vanishing. He does this several times—never staying in one place. He wonders why he agreed to this assignment just days before his retirement. And why the Throne is so interested in the least hostile of all the Abyssal Nations…
Foreshadowing > 3
Composer observed him for a long moment. “I believe you. Mainly because of your Path. They wouldn’t risk someone like you on mere tradecraft alone. And I want to talk about that: Why can’t you die?”
Shiv licked his lips, unsure how to proceed.
“Wait, Shiv, what is she talking about?” Valor said.
Great. Now he had to explain to Valor why he was lying the entire time. Shiv closed his eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know how it worked. It just happened. I gained the Path the first time I died. When the raven-helmed stranger killed me.”
“Oh, so that was the thing of revenge. I was wondering why you were so vicious with him,” the Composer said, seemingly entranced by his story. “Oh, continue, please.”
“Yeah. So, where do I begin?” Shiv went into some detail about his past. He went through as much as he could. His upbringing. The ritual his parents did. Him being an Omenborn, and how Roland Arrow dealt with him. After that, he managed to skip most of his miserable years as a street rat before his acceptance into Georges’s kitchen and his determination to gain a Path before he finally got to the point of the present.
To his surprise, though, the Composer knew who the Town Lord was.
“The Dread Horizon,” she whispered.
“The Dread what now?” Shiv said.
“That is what we call him. During his invasion into our depths, he slew many, destroyed cities with the other surfacers, and displaced many more.”
Shiv just stared. “What invasion?”
“They didn’t tell you this? The surface nations… They pushed into the Abyss after their victory during the Eclipse. At first, they were pursuing the Necrotech Legions, and we allowed it to be, for it was the Necrotechs who brought misfortune upon themselves. But the surfacers and the Twilight Republic especially—they continued pressing on, pushing further. It took the Five Faiths uniting to halt the surfacer advance. It was an unprecedented, fragile union, considering only just a few years before we were all at war with each other: the Second War of Faiths… War of the Five.”
The Composer fell silent. “That was likely also the reason why we couldn’t protect ourselves. So often, we strike at each other—mauling and bleeding and committing atrocities in the name of my fallen progenitor.” Her voice took on a mournful quality. “We cannot unite. We are too different. And so, we hurt ourselves worse than any surfacer could. It might be our undoing in the long run.”
Shiv blinked as he tried to process the information. The history books distinctly ended with the stalemate; they didn’t say anything about the surfacers pushing down into the Abyss. Frankly, none of the soldiers he knew talked about it, not even those veterans from the campaign. Something was very wrong here. Shiv shook his head.
“All right, well, I didn’t know anything about that. But Roland Arrow is Town Lord. And the rest—the rest is the absolute truth of what I know.”
“You said your parents performed a foul ritual behind your birth. You suspect that to be why you have your Path?”
“Yeah,” Shiv said uneasily. “My curse went away. It had the condition that something terrible would bear fruit after meeting a certain requirement. I suspect that requirement was my death.” He chuckled. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be. And probably not nearly what Roland Arrow feared.” Come to think of it, this might have been his parents’ plan all along. “If Roland Arrow had the strength to kill me, I might have gotten a Path a long time ago…”
“This is impossible,” Valor said, processing everything. “It just is. There is… This goes against everything I know about Necromancy and Animancy.”
“Animancy?” Shiv asked.
“Anamancy,” the Composer explained, “is the study of souls. It is the direct modification of a Path, of every component that makes up a person’s being. It is a new skill—one very few have.”
“We know enough about the soul, however,” Valor pressed, entering the conversation. “We know enough that vitality, the mind, and the soul itself are three separate components. They work in harmony, but they are not a single construct. If what Shiv says is true, that means his mind is bound to his vitality and soul like a single unit. That’s the only way he should retain vitality after the destruction of his body. This makes him fundamentally different in composition compared to every other soul in existence. At least, every other soul we’ve seen. Even dimensionals fall under these rules, alien though their mana might be.”
Shiv was reeling.
Valor continued. “The Eclipsebreakers and the raiders from the surface gained many of our secrets when they captured and razed the fortress city of Submission. But this wasn’t enough time. How—how could they understand? How could they know what we spent centuries—no, longer—mastering ourselves? I’m telling you, it is not possible. Not… not without… not without…” Valor trailed off. “Not without substantial help. Not without someone who knows more about Animancy than even I do.”
The Composer looked troubled, and Valor was silent.
“So, what does this all mean? Is there something wrong with me?” Shiv looked between the dagger and the goddess.
“On the contrary,” the Composer said, looking at him with renewed interest. “You might be special. That is why one of your skills is unique—because no one else has it. In a sense, you have a composite body: something that has your mind, your soul, and your vitality bound together, hence allowing you to exist in a state of disembodied, incorporeal life.”
“…and not the kind where one escapes death through the Ritual of the Dichotomous Soul,” Valor elaborated. “You simply can maintain yourself by draining another. Or so it sounds.”
“For a time,” the Composer said, “your vitality field is—it’s very, very chaotic. Your body gives it a stable shape, but the moment you lose your material form…”
“I start getting colder.” Shiv added, “I start dissipating.”
“Yes, I suspect you will cease to be… without draining a surplus of vitality from someone else,” The goddess finished. Both the Composer and Valor were now quiet, each lost in thought.
“So,” Shiv said, “am I going to be put in a cage? Are you going to experiment on me? If you reach into my mind, I…” He clenched his teeth. “I will kill myself, you understand. I will do my best to escape from you. I will destroy myself for good before I let you take me as a slave. This is my honesty.”
The Composer almost looked offended. Her hands clasped together, and she shook her head. “You—you have not had the best experiences with authority, have you?”
“Yeah, well, you can say that again,” Shiv said, thinking of his upbringing, of his last conversation with Roland Arrow. “But my Path is also unique. I have a Unique Skill—a Legendary Skill. This must be interesting to some people, right?”
“Yes, but—well, we don’t need to make a slave of you to learn about this. In fact, it is pointlessly brutal to do something in that sense. It’s honestly quite hurtful that you would think that of me,” the Composer finished, and she pouted. Again, the shift between girlishness and goddess was quick and sudden.
Shiv started to feel bad. He wasn’t expecting this. After years of Republic propaganda, he expected monsters, horrors, nightmares lurking around every corner. Instead, he found—well, he was finding that he liked this place more than he liked it back home at Blackedge.
“I’m sorry,” Shiv said. “The things I grew up learning in the Republic, the things I thought about the Abyss—it’s just none of it was true. None of it.”
The Composer looked upon him with pity. “You’ve had a hard life, Shiv. I’m surprised you are the way you are. Many would break under these circumstances. Sorrow would seep into their souls, I’ve heard it—the songs, low and mournful.”
Shiv looked at her and shook his head. “I thought about that a few times, and I wouldn’t give the world the pleasure. The world wouldn’t stand for me; fine, I would. I’ll be my own champion since the gods hate me, since everyone hates me. It’s the way it is, it’s the way it will be, it’s the way it I will always be.” He was resolute. Even before he had his Path, that was the truest thing Shiv knew about himself. He wasn’t going to betray his own heart, not for a second.
A moment passed as the Composer studied him, and slowly, she smiled. It was a genuine, appreciative smile. “You’re a very precious boy, you know that?”
“I—what?”
“Very precious,” she said again. “Well, after hearing all this, I will need to convene a web of my eldest daughters.”
“Will I need to be in attendance as well?” Valor asked. “You do know I hate these things.”
“I think I will spare you this time,” the Composer said. “Besides, I think it’s best that you stay with Shiv for now, until I figure out the rest of your situation.”
“My situation?”
“Yes, let’s talk about that. Now that we’ve finished with his problems,” Valor said, “and Shiv, we will be talking about this afterward.”
Shiv swallowed. “Yeah, sorry about hiding all that from you.”
Valor didn’t acknowledge that, and Shiv felt worse. “Now, let’s talk about my problem,” Valor said. “Did you find the remnants of my souls or not?”
“I know where they are,” the Composer said, with a slightly apologetic smile.
“Composer,” Valor said. “You have no idea how mad I am right now. If I wasn’t trapped in this dagger…”
“You would probably be strangling me,” the Composer blinked quickly.
“Yes,” Valor said.
Shiv tried to imagine that. “How big are your hands, Valor? How big are you, actually?”
Valor let out a surprised sputter. “How big are… I won’t… I’ll use magic for that, Shiv. And I was being figurative!”
But Shiv’s question broke the tension in the air, and the Composer started laughing again. “Oh, he is precious. He is truly, truly precious,” she said. “But, Valor, we really know where the pieces of your soul are. We just don’t have all of them yet. A few are held within my vaults. I will return them as soon as I can, provided that you agree to the quest I have for you. But the others—the four others… One of them is still with the Necrotechs in the Moonlit Library. Two are held by the Descenders. And the last one—the last one might be the most difficult.”
“And why is that?” Valor said.
“Because the last one was brought into a gate during a crusade into another world. A crusade led by the Compact.” A moment passed, and Valor did something that Shiv never expected him to do.
Valor started cursing, very loudly, very angrily. He cursed the Compact in every way, begging for their children to be born wrong, to be born simple of mind and crippled of flesh. He prayed to the Great One, asking every member of the Compact to have their greatest skills shattered and for them to gain the Path of Slave. And he finally cursed someone called the Suzerain in especially vivid detail.
With every word that Valor spoke, Shiv’s eyes widened further, and the Composer shared his expression. He looked up at her. “Is he… alright?” he muttered.
“No,” the Composer said. “He is very upset right now. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen him this upset since the last time we fought.”
“Well, this is just—this is grand,” Valor said, huffing and puffing. “How am I supposed to return now with that piece missing? We just need to find the dimension that it got lost in and then retrieve it. Which means an invasion. It means that we need to perform an incursion on another world, Composer.” His voice rose, each word building in annoyance. “Have you considered that? Do you have an army ready for invading another world?”
“Invading another world?” Shiv said. “Like what happened to ours all the way back in the Apocalyptic Era?”
“Yes,” the Composer replied. “Invasions will always trigger a quest for the locals of that world. Any occupied world.”
“I’ll come up with a plan,” the Composer said. “Don’t worry—just be patient for a little while longer.”
“I’ve been patient for the past forty years,” Valor almost screamed. “Forty years in the darkness. Forty years and no one to talk to. No one. Forty years imprisoned by my own son for doing the right thing.”
“Forty years,” Valor finished. By the end, he sounded like he was about to weep.
Shiv awkwardly patted the dagger and muttered, “I’m sorry.”
After a moment, Valor let out a sigh. “It’s… thank you, Shiv.”
Shiv didn’t think so. Forty years in the dark sounded… well, it didn’t sound great. He tried to imagine how he would handle that. Probably go insane, Shiv thought. Actually, it might be in my best interest to go insane. Forty years. Broken Moon, I don’t even want to think about one year in the darkness.
“There, there,” the Composer said. “I will make sure you are whole again. I swear to you—on the class quest I will bestow, and for all the things you’ve done for me, for all the wrongs you have righted. Do you believe me? Do you believe me as you used to?”
There was a pause in the air, and it dragged until even the Composer looked uneasy. Finally, Valor gave his answer. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Good,” the Composer said, her face relaxing into relief. “Nonetheless, you’ve both undergone a significant ordeal, and I cannot express how grateful I am to you, Shiv, for seeing Valor delivered here. The city will know what you have done, and you will be rewarded for your efforts. But I have something more to ask of you.”
Shiv looked at her. “What kind of something more?” he said, worry creeping into his voice.
“Everyone in the Abyss bears the Light Curse,” the Composer explained, “from the youngest Umbral to even I, a divine. Those who are born in the dark—born of the Great One’s descent—shall not know the light without suffering a brand upon their soul.” She recited the words as though reading from memory.
It took Shiv a moment to realize she was reading the description of her Curse. “It says that?” Shiv muttered. “Why?”
“I do not know,” the Composer replied. “I suspect it was a Curse born by the Great One as well, when they finally escaped their shell.”
“Their shell?” Shiv asked.
“The moon,” Composer finished, and everything clicked for Shiv.
“Broken Moon? That’s why people use it as a curse?” he sputtered.
“I suspect so,” the Composer said in a sing-song voice. “Anyhow, I might need you to do something to our mutual benefit. In the near future, I believe the Five Faiths will be calling a conclave—the first one in many years.”
“I… you want me to stand testament there?” Shiv said.
“Absolutely not,” she interjected, gazing upon him with a stern expression. “There are those who will kill you for merely being here. The Necrotechs—they have not forgiven the surfacers for the destruction of Submission. They might never forgive the surfacers for that. Your very presence will be taken as a breach of the truce—the truce between the Auroral Council and the Abyssal Nations. Something that Vicar Sullain is doing right now in his mad quest to redeem himself for his failure.”
Shiv stared at her. “So what do you want me to do?”
“I want you to end the war before it properly begins,” she said. “You are the only one who can move freely between the surface and the Abyss without suffering from the curse. And, frankly, you’re an outsider—one who has vested interests but no true ties. You are, in a word, perfect for this task.”
“Of course you’re doing this right now,” Valor said. “Of course you’re recruiting a new ‘sister’ for the cause.”
“Sister?” Shiv looked at the dagger. “But I’m not a… I’m not… I’m not sister material.”
“You can be,” the Composer said, showing a toothy smile. Shiv suddenly felt terrified.
“She’s being metaphorical,” Valor explained.
“It can also be quite literal,” the Composer said. Shiv felt her Biomancy field flickering around him, and his eyes widened in alarm.
“I… uh, I like being a brother,” he said.
“Oh, you like being a brother?” she replied, barely able to restrain her laughter.
“Yeah, I do. There are lots of things I like about being a brother. Lots of parts,” he added. “One part in specific.”
“Ah, I tease. But I am serious about what I said. I need you. The Abyss needs you, and the surface likely needs you as well—though the ones from your home might have mistreated you, so…”
Shiv nodded. “Yeah, they’re kind of bastards,” he agreed, “but there are people I don’t want to see die, and there are people that probably don’t deserve to die, even if they’re bastards.”
“That is a very mature attitude to have,” she said, “and, frankly, you’ll be saving many lives. I have means of returning you to the surface.” Shiv felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “That does not mean it will be an easy path back to the Surface,” the Composer continued, and some of the weight returned to Shiv. “But there is a gateway we can potentially use, and I can help you pass through. On top of that, I would like to open Weave to you and name you an honored guest. We will treat you as one of ours—so long as you follow our laws and customs.”
“And obey your every word,” Shiv joked.
“Impossible,” the Composer said, waving her hand dismissively. “Not even my own daughters do that.”
Shiv grinned. Yeah, it’s nice meeting a goddess with a sense of humor.
“I understand that there are forms of education you’re interested in pursuing. I shall make sure that my halls of learning are open to you as well.”
“Thanks,” Shiv said.
“It’s also prudent,” the Composer added. “It wouldn’t do to have you return unready for conflict and as strong as you can be. Which brings me to my next point: the other person—the boy under the care of my Biomancers—do you truly not know him, or—”
“No, I was lying about that,” Shiv said, wincing. “Sorry, I… uh… He’s Adam Arrow.”
“Adam Arrow!” the Composer screamed. Shiv felt his Diamond Shell come in handy again, as he was blown off his feet and flung against a webbing. Instead of impacting the wall hard, however, he bounced off and simply walked back without much reaction.
“All the shouting Marikos did got me well-conditioned,” Shiv muttered quietly.
“Oh, I apologize,” the Composer said, covering her mouth. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay. You weren’t as bad as this dragon.”
“I hope not,” she muttered, narrowing her eyes. “But anyway, Adam Arrow! The… the Dread Horizon’s offspring!”
“Yeah,” Shiv said. “He’s also kind of an asshole.”
She looked at him. “Is that a euphemism?”
“Yes. It’s what we call people we don’t like.”
“Oh. Well, he is mistreating some of my Biomancers and making demands to be set free. They have applied restraints.”
That made Shiv smile. “Yeah, you know, maybe add a few more. He’s pretty dangerous.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, as many as you can. And gag him, too. He has some kind of mouth skill.”
“Mouth skill,” she said, like she didn’t believe him. “Shiv, are you lying to me?”
“Maybe a bit,” he admitted.
She glared.
“I’m sorry,” Shiv whispered.
“It’s fine. Just don’t do it again.”
“I should probably go speak to him afterward,” Shiv said. “Explain things to him.”
“I thought you said he was an asshole.”
“Yeah, but asshole doesn’t mean enemy,” Shiv explained. “It’s just someone you don’t like, you know—his personality. It’s like, you know, he treated me like Sister Nomos did.”
The Composer looked at him for a long while. “Oh, I see, I see. Oh, he’s an unpleasant person.”
“Yes, not an enemy,” Shiv replied. “Just kind of a prick.”
“Well, that clarifies things. And he will help you?”
“Absolutely,” Shiv said without hesitation. “He might be an asshole, but he’s a brave asshole, and his home is at stake. He cares about Blackedge more than I ever will, and he definitely cares about his father. Then, well, he’s got a fiancée somewhere, so he probably wants to get back to her as well. What I’m saying is he has a lot of skin in this game.”
“So you think we can enlist his aid?” she said.
“I think I can probably enlist his aid, maybe,” Shiv muttered. He thought about it, and he increasingly found himself unsure. Adam really didn’t like Shiv—he knew that. But surrounded by Umbral and beings from the Abyssal Depths, and considering Adam was at the capital, who knew what kind of propaganda he’d been fed, Shiv thought. Yeah, best I still talk to him when I have time. Maybe later.
“Very well,” the Composer said. “But if he proves a danger—”
“If he proves a danger, just pop him.” Shiv nodded. “I’m not asking you to put your people and your city at risk. Just, you know, give me some time to work with him. We’ll see what I can do.”
“Very well, Shiv. I appreciate this. You have already helped quite a bit. Finally, before I let you go and seek a place of rest and recovery, I have something for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes. I have this.” To his surprise, the Composer placed both her hands together as a flow of golden patterns came into shape. Gold turned blue to the purest white, and he felt all spectrums of mana merge together until it was something pristine, something beyond his description. Slowly, she held it forward to him. It resembled a gleaming shape of some kind, its geometry hard for him to comprehend.
As she held her hands before him, Shiv looked into the light and breathed slowly. “What is this?”
“It is a quest, if you will accept it. Reach out with your hand and the conditions will reveal themselves to you—and only you.”
Shiv hesitated for a moment, then extended a finger, dipping it into the radiance.
Quest Gained: Break Vicar Sullain’s siege of Blackedge and stop a war between the surface and the Abyss before it can begin.
Reward: Evolve an [Existing Skill] to Legendary Tier.
Failure: The Abyss rises, consuming all of Lost Angeles’s surface territory.
Shiv studied the conditions of his quest for a long while. The reward was nice, but the failure condition… “Why is the penalty so severe?” he asked.
“Often I ask myself that question as well,” she replied.
Shiv looked at her. “Wait—you didn’t decide this?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I am merely a divine entity—a god. I bestow the quest, and I can weave some of its requirements, but the reward and the penalty are decided by the system. I am,” she paused, “like a conduit for the system, as all gods are.”
“As all gods are…” Shiv repeated, not fully comprehending.
“You asked me earlier why I didn’t simply strike down your adversary. Well, there is a very simple reason why: gods are not meant to directly interfere in most mortal matters. There are restrictions and penalties placed upon me as well. Due to the unique situation behind my birth, however, I have a bit more flexibility than most gods, but not that much more. I can empower and aid my children in responding, but ultimately, only in very specific and very extreme circumstances can a true god reach into the mortal realm.”
Shiv took note of what she said at the end—“true god.” She probably wasn’t a true god, he realized. Maybe something half-immortal? Half-divine? Something that would allow her to remain in the material dimension. He didn’t voice that, but she nodded, and he understood.
After a moment’s consideration, she would have accepted the quest. To his surprise, a new section was added to his personal status. “Perfect,” the Composer said, clapping her hands together. The loud sound made Shiv jump a little, but he composed himself.
He looked around. “So what now?”
“Now? Now you should go rest,” she said. “After a long ordeal like that… I will go over more things with you in the meantime. Including how you might traverse between the Abyss and the surface. We can talk when you’re less exhausted.”
“I’m not that tired but…” Shiv yawned. “Okay, but I’m probably more mentally tired than physically.” He rolled his shoulders. “Say, is there somewhere I can get some cooking done?”
“Cooking?” she echoed.
“Yeah—cooking. I, uh, just finished killing a guy. I think I need to work off some of that stress.”
She looked at him thoughtfully. “I see. I will make the arrangements.” She grinned. “Oh, I’ll make the arrangements indeed.” Her eyes narrowed.
Shiv wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
“Oh, and do take Valor with you. I think you two are good together. It will keep him company.”
“Do I get a say in this?” Valor asked, his voice rife with sarcasm.
“I could give you to one of my Honored Daughters. They’ll be sure to ask you about all your escapades so many times.”
“Please, please, let me stay with Shiv,” Valor begged, and that was exactly what the Composer expected.
She looked especially smug. “Now, off with you. Go get some rest. Enjoy my city.”
As Shiv awkwardly offered her a salute, she covered her mouth and laughed, and he slowly retreated from the room, feeling more dazed and overwhelmed than ever before.
“This is a lot to take in,” he muttered to himself.
“For both of us,” Valor said. “Now, we still need to talk about your special circumstances.”
“Uh, yeah,” Shiv muttered. “Sorry about that.”
“No, no—again, it’s understandable, it’s just…” Valor hesitated. “Is that how you managed to make it here? And all the times I lost contact with you… you were dying?”
Shiv looked at Valor. “I mean, I wasn’t lying about just becoming a Pathbearer a few days ago. And that’s why your Toughness is so high—because you’ve been killed over and over again?”
Shiv nodded, then realized this dagger couldn’t see him. “Yeah.”
“My… my boy, how are you… how are you not insane?” Valor asked.
Shiv stared at the dagger. “What do you mean?”
“Dying is traumatic, isn’t it?”
Shiv considered it. “I mean, it hurt, and some of my deaths were ugly, but you know, I got skills out of it.” He shrugged. “So, it’s not that bad. It’s pretty good, actually. Educational.”
“I… I don’t… I don’t know what to say to that,” Valor said. “You have an exceptional mind to accept this state of affairs.”
Somehow, Shiv didn’t know if that was a compliment or not.
As he departed the tunnel from which he came, he was surprised to find someone familiar standing at the end, waiting for him. There was Sister Uva, with both arms folded behind her back and a slightly awkward look on her face.
“Honored guest,” she greeted.
“Sister Uva,” Shiv said. “What are you still doing here?”
A part of him was actually pleased to see her. It would be nice to have someone to guide him. “I am assigned to be your guide,” she said, “to familiarize you with the Weave.” She swallowed slightly. “And I understand you’ll be carrying the great Valor Thann with you?”
“Yeah, seems to be the case,” Shiv said. “So, uh, did you get a quest from the Composer too?”
“You got a quest?” she asked, her breath coming fast and excited. She quickly looked around and leaned in. “Don’t tell everyone you have a quest! Have you no sense?”
Shiv shook his head. “Not really.”
“You…” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Just don’t. Come with me. I’ll get you out of here before anyone else hears you.”
He followed her and found himself appreciating her reactions.
“So—you don’t have one?”
“No, I don’t,” she said, a little too quickly, a little too annoyed.
“What do you have? Did she communicate with you telepathically?”
Uva didn’t respond.
“So that’s a yes,” Shiv said. He could see something in her body language changing. He had to keep needling her—he couldn’t help it. “Do you know where we’re going?”
She paused and turned. “I understand that you wish to cook?”
“Yeah,” he said. “You want to have a taste?”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Of my food. I just finished killing a guy after an ugly, brutal fight. Now I cook to balance that out. So, would you like to have a taste of some food?”
Her mouth fell open, but no words came out at first. “Yes?”
Shiv smirked. “Alright. Well, let’s see how this goes.
“Am I going to regret this?” Uva said.
Shiv grinned. “Nah. I’m a pretty good chef.”
Comments
Nawks[The Butcher of Names,P.U.P]
This might just be the first spider deity that is benevolent I have seen.
