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Chapter 335. Cobalt Crystals
🕑 Added 2023-03-25 20:27:05 +0000 UTCIan had no idea why there would be weird, dark blue crystals in the veins that anchored his soul to his body. He couldn’t feel the soul like he could the physical world–it was a different sense limited to the realm of the ethereal. Even though the ember crown made the cobalt crystals visually distinct, they didn’t feel particularly distinct from the soul anchors.
“Soolemar, what do the crystals feel like to you?”
Soolemar considered the question for several seconds before replying, Sticky, almost like a cavity on a tooth.
Ian poked the blue crystals with a tendril of his ethereal body. Smooth. Then he pricked the crystals’ surface. Like Soolemar said, there was an odd stickiness when he retracted his ethereal energy.
“What happens if we scrape the crystals away?”
There’s one way to find out, Soolemar replied.
“Go ahead. I know how to re-tether a soul, after all–that was key to escaping End oaths before I ascended. Anything you do to my soul anchors is inconsequential.”
Ian steeled himself as Soolemar’s energy arched over the root of the anchor, close to a fragment of his soul. The necromancer’s energy cleaved diagonally, prying under the crystals.
Ian struggled to keep his composure as Soolemar sawed back and forth, severing the connection points between the crystals and his soul anchors. Cutting away the crystals didn’t induce physical pain, but it caused enough discomfort that Ian had to restrain himself from interrupting Soolemar’s practice.
When the man finished, tiny traces remained on Ian’s anchors, dark blue specks of taint. The severed blue crystals lay suspended in Ian’s ethereal body, perfectly buoyant within the metaphysical fluid. Ian ensconced them in a vesicle of ethereal energy, then expelled it from his body. The vesicle bobbed above his palm.
A few more disembodied souls were fastened to a post off to the side. Ian grasped one that was sunflower yellow. He brought his two hands together, implanting the yellow soul with the azure payload.
“Now we’ll be able to study them even without the ember crown,” Ian said. After all, he and Soolemar could see disembodied souls just fine.
He cut his mental connection to Soolemar and let the artifact’s effect fade, then reverted Maria’s transformation. Soolemar stared at her, transfixed by the lich, though he quickly averted his gaze to avoid being rude. As usual, Maria supported Ian as he sagged, weakness seizing his body. The ascendant shook it off and leaned in to inspect the implanted soul.
Ian could see the crystals with his normal soul sight. They dissolved in the soul like salt in water, their blue streaks winding through the soul’s yellow ink stain. Twists of green bloomed where the colors blended.
“I don’t have time to examine how the crystals affect a disembodied soul,” he said. “Are you up to the task?”
Soolemar snorted, then joked, “The student assigning the teacher homework?”
Ian barked a laugh. “Or rather, the researcher collecting a specimen for his professor to study.”
Soolemar waved him off. “I’ll supervise this experiment. What do you intend to do, given what we’ve discovered?”
Ian sighed. “I’m going to completely re-anchor my soul.”
“You’re worried about the remnants,” Soolemar guessed, “those blue specks left behind.”
Ian nodded. “I don’t want the crystals to regrow and put me back at square one. I need a permanent solution for when I return to Eternity.”
Maria placed a hand on her hip. “Before, you detached and reattached your anchor points to fake your death. What you’re proposing here–destroying and recreating the anchor points from scratch–sounds significantly more invasive… and dangerous.”
“You’d be right if I needed to destroy and recreate all my anchor points simultaneously,” Ian said. “I’m not trying to induce a false death, however. I can recreate my anchor points one by one.” Ian felt her relief over their bond. They locked eyes and he grabbed her hand, squeezing it softly.
“The process of reconstructing an anchor from nothing will take time,” Soolemar cautioned.
“With your help, could I do it in half a day?”
He considered, then nodded. “We still don’t know if this will solve your problem, Ian. Keep that in mind.”
Ian knew what the old necromancer implied. His Beginning auguries predicted that reforming his anchor points only had a 25% chance to solve the problem. There was a greater likelihood that excising the taint was a temporary measure and the crystals would regrow, engendered by the conditions in his soul. In other words, more likely than not, the crystals were the symptom of a more insidious problem.
Even so, Ian was hopeful that reforming his anchor points would rid his body of weakness, at least for a while.
—
Ian thrust the final fistful of blue crystals into a forest green disembodied soul. Finally, he’d done it–the last of his anchor points had been remade.
The process had been more laborious than anticipated. His shattered soul had more anchor points than Soolemar anticipated, nearly a hundred. Ian could reform an anchor point in a few minutes, but the task was exhausting, especially when done in succession. Even with Soolemar helping, they could only complete around ten each hour.
Ian couldn’t tell if reforming the anchor points strengthened him. He didn’t feel different, but he’d also reformed the anchor points over time, so the change might not be immediately noticeable.
There was one way to test whether their efforts had borne fruit. Ian rubbed his midnight fingers over the gilded hilt of the Blade of Revelation. With significant apprehension, he nodded to both of his companions before divesting his body of transformative energy, forcing a reversion to his normal appearance. Soft, pale skin replaced his stiff, obsidian countenance.
Rather than feeling immediate weakness, Ian felt the same as before. Not perfect, but also not on the precipice of unconsciousness.
He smiled at Maria and Soolemar. “So far so good.”
Maria beamed and pulled him into an embrace. Soolemar’s eyes crinkled with mirth, but his mouth refused to curve into a smile. “Is this a complete success?” he asked.
“Not quite,” Ian said. He flexed his hand. “For now, it’s enough.”
“You’re leaving,” Soolemar stated.
Ian nodded. “I must, for now. You know how to reach my new glossY; let me know if you discover anything while studying the crystals.”
“You don’t have any time at all?” Soolemar asked, his gaze panning between Ian and Maria.
Ian cocked his head. “What did you have in mind?”
“It’s a beautiful day in Morinapol,” the old necromancer remarked, flashing white teeth. “If you’re planning to go into the city to use the arrays, you might as well appreciate a view of the bay.”
“I can see the bay better from the open sky than from your high rise,” Ian joked, though his expression became somber. “I’ve never been to your apartment before.”
“We never had much time together,” Soolemar acknowledged.
Ian turned to Maria. “Don’t we have time for a short detour?”
—
Soolemar’s apartment was spacious, but not to an unreasonable extent. Divian lay on the floor between Ian and Maria, demanding head scratches while Soolemar spooned steaming food from takeout containers onto two plates.
“Should we come to the table?” Maria asked, her fingers digging into the space behind Divian’s ear. Her gaze was fixed on the bay, its waters sparkling under the unclouded sun.
“I’ll bring the plates over,” Soolemar said, his eyes narrowing as he scraped the last of the food from the container. “Ian and I can control dead matter, so spills aren’t an issue.”
Ian appeared thoughtful. “While that’s true, it’s unnecessary. I eat cleanly.”
Soolemar raised a brow as he brought the plates over along with two sets of utensils. “I would expect such confidence from the Eldemari, not from you.”
Ian shrugged. “Blame my draconian upbringing.”
Maria curled her arm around Ian’s and opened herself up to their bond. He shared his senses as best he could, allowing her to smell and taste indirectly. The noodles on the plate smelled like basil and soy sauce.
Soolemar sat in a wooden chair across from the couch, one leg crossed over his knee. He held the plate with one hand and ate with the other, casually chowing down on the cuisine.
“How do you enjoy food?” Maria asked. She pointed to her blue diadem. “Even with this artifact, I can’t taste or smell.”
Soolemar swallowed. “Maria,” he began, “I’m not truly a lich, like you. Whatever I am is a being of my own creation, formed from my own flesh with the combined insights of a long life spent studying necromancy. Only a master necromancer could turn themselves into something like me that is immortal and dead, but… not entirely.”
Maria turned to Ian, who was also digging into the noodles. “Could you make me more like him?”
Ian’s eyes flitted to hers. Maria had missed his human face, the warm, brown eyes that now shined subtly iridescent in the sun. The rainbow oil-spill effect that characterized the eyes of an ancient was more noticeable when Ian’s eyes were transformed into dark, fathomless pools.
His lips curved into a smile. He was smiling more now that he’d returned. She knew Ian still worried that Achemiss would stage a comeback and spell his end, but that worry paled in comparison to the dread he felt before.
It was so easy to forget how strongly Ian felt the burden of responsibility when he looked like a dark, capable god, surrounded by cloying specters of Death. Maria liked to think that she was immune to the deception–after all, she had seen the insecurities in his very soul and had spent most of her time as his regalia, sharing his sight and partaking of his thoughts.
But the truth was, Ian deceived even himself in the waking world. He chose not to think about the enormity of the tasks that were before him. He simply moved forward. At times, the burdens had threatened to drown him–and Maria had been there to share them. But usually, they lay buried, unaddressed, but passively felt, like invisible, soundless chains.
“Maria?” Ian said, snapping her out of her thoughts.
“Hmm?”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“No, please repeat it.”
“I might be able to restore some of your senses, especially if I can study Soolemar’s body.”
Maria studied the old necromancer’s reaction. He appeared impassive, but from everything she knew, Soolemar was incredibly secretive about his body. That’s how most practitioners were–protective of their ace techniques.
“Perhaps when we’re all in Eternity,” Maria said, giving Soolemar an appeasing nod.
When the meal was done, there was an awkward minute of silence where everyone peered out the window.
“Can you tell me what you’re doing next?” Soolemar finally asked.
Ian’s hands tightened on the couch. Kneeling on the cushions, he was a bit shorter than Maria and Soolemar, who were both standing. He ran a hand through his mundane, dark brown hair.
“I need to find Achemiss,” he finally said, “but I also need to stop the Infinity Loop.” He turned to Maria. “For now, the best place to go for both purposes is the Selejo Imperial Federation.”
Soolemar seemed unsurprised by this conclusion. “Will you be able to avoid notice?”
Ian shrugged. “I have my ways, and the Crowned Executor is good with disguises, besides.”
“I’m not worried about your physical appearance.”
“Oh?”
“Ian, how can I say this nicely? You’re a trouble magnet.”
Ian blinked, then smirked. “Nobody knows I’m alive. How much trouble could I get into?”
Soolemar’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Several people know you’re alive. Important people.”
“It’s not public knowledge.”
Maria gave Soolemar a slow shake of her head and mouthed, He’s hopeless. The old necromancer shot her a look that said, Good luck.
Ian had good manners and could handle himself in social situations, that much was true. Ian’s mother had done a good job teaching her son how to fit into social gatherings of the rich and powerful. That said, Ian didn’t have patience for politics.
Maria told herself that if Ian stayed hidden, everything would be fine.
Yeah, right.
Comments
PoeticSaint
My thoughts exactly lol
Definitely (Not) a Necromancer
Yeah, right. Ian and Hidden... I think these two words are incompatible xD
