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Chapter 314. Mirrors of the Sun Starer
🕑 Added 2022-11-29 06:53:31 +0000 UTCMirror Scale Sindragos
A necklace hidden under my shirt activates, strengthening my mental defenses. Against a peak Remorse practitioner, my own defenses and the artifact wouldn’t be enough for a prolonged engagement. However, Black’s newest affinity is Remorse. With the suppression of the black rock, his affinity will be weakened enough that I should be protected.
The world freezes over as my practice expands. The walls of the chasm become coated in ice, forming an unbroken surface of frozen water. I direct its surface to shatter and scatter. Mirrors of ice surround us, floating in the air. A thin layer of ice forms beneath my clothes, covering my skin. The ice is segmented, flexible–a lattice that bends with my body.
My ascendant energy ignites. It starts with my thin layer of armor. A frenetic, static buzz courses through the frozen weave. Then, a cold, unburning fire radiates across the solid patina of ice on the walls and water. Each icy mirror flickers with red incandescence as my power expands out. The mirror shards become sharp enough to slice the veil.
As is customary for one-on-one spars between two ascendants, I start slowly, probing. If we both went all out at the outset, one of us would probably die soon into the confrontation. That’s just how it is with ascendants–we’re naturally hyper offensive.
That’s part of the beauty of the black rock’s suppression on this plane. With power locked away, finesse matters far more. In weakness, we grow stronger.
I direct my ice mirrors to fly at Black from all angles. In response, he manifests a loose shield of bones and soul gems. Only a moment after their formation, the space around black is encompassed by a globe of dark pitch. It glistens like an oil slick.
My mirrors embed themselves in the darkness, piercing through the shield.
At the same time, I feel a horrible ache at the base of my head, as though someone drove a stake into the top vertebrae of my neck. I sense the depletion of ascendant energy in that area, marked by the shattering of ice into ever-tinier fragments.
I shake off the pain and focus on what I can see through the mirrors. The Claw of the Sun Starer–an armored covering for my right index finger–activates.
I cannot see the reflection of light in my ice. I can feel whatever the ice touches, however–can sense what it senses. That has always been true.
Sun Starer allows me to feel the light itself, so I can feel what is reflected in the ice mirrors. Feeling an image–especially one broken up and reflected across multiple small mirrors–is extremely difficult, especially for someone without a Beginning affinity. At first, I thought the challenge insurmountable. It was like strapping on compound eyes, with each compound facet moving independently of the others. Larger, stationary mirrors were easier, but impractical for duels or other confrontations. Besides, they offered little utility–anything large mirrors could capture, I could see with my eyes.
Most water elementalists simply spread water in an area, filling it with water or even vapor. Unfortunately, that’s predictable, but more importantly, it’s easy to defend against. A volume of water, even when charged with ascendant energy, won’t penetrate defenses like those of Ancient Black. Water is most effective as a vehicle of crushing force, surrounding and constricting inward. People either succumb to the force or suffocate.
But as I said, battles between ascendants are often hyper-offensive engagements. My ascendant energy isn’t weak, but I wouldn’t rely on it to incapacitate any ascendant long enough to kill. Liquid water won’t cut it, literally and metaphorically.
As my mirrors pierce Black’s defenses, I sense the scene reflected in them, a composite image pieced together from fragments. Black is as calm as my ice, his face expressionless, his eyes unfocused, staring into nothing. His body is utterly still in contrast to the bone constructs that come into being around him, maturing from soul gem seeds into small constructs composed of only a few bones.
The constructs intercept each of my ice mirrors.
To my surprise, the ice mirrors cleave them straight through, continuing unimpeded toward black. If he’s surprised by this, he doesn’t show it.
Suddenly, claws of bone scrape at the fabric of reality, pulling away the veil. They pull it around Black, swaddling him and revealing a gaping hole into another plane. The veil is thick here, difficult to pierce for most, but Black has no trouble. It suggests a deep familiarity with traversing planes through untraveled paths, cutting one’s own way through Eternity rather than traipsing through the typical weak points.
It lends credence to the claim that he’s a recluse who has spent most of his lifetime at the edge of Eternity, exploring.
He must have powerful artifacts after so many years spent in danger zones. It’s not surprising he has something that has attracted Achemiss’s interest.
It does, however, make the prospect of enticing Black that much harder. How do you persuade a man with power, riches, and immortality to do anything?
Before my ice mirrors careen into the gaping hole in the plane, I pivot them to the side so that they split, going around to flank Black from both sides.
Another stabbing pain assails my mind, more powerful than the last. I sense an attack on my mind, but it sloughs off my defenses, unable to gain purchase.
Black’s minions exit his egg of darkness, flying toward me like tiny missiles. My mirrors intercept most. Those that get through and fly within a few feet rapidly decelerate under the influence of my Moon affinity, and I invert the tiny forces of attraction between my body and the Death projectiles. Rather than drilling through me, they plunk harmlessly into my body.
Then they bite and claw against my clothes, quickly reaching my skin.
The ice spikes outward, spearing each of the soul gems with perfect precision. The gems break and the constructs lose their power, but that doesn’t stop Black from manually controlling the broken bones to continue their assault.
My ice spikes spear the remaining bones relentlessly, impaling and tearing until the bones that remain are little more than dust. Black decides to bring the rest back after they fail to pierce the base layer of ice scales on my skin.
Suddenly, the inky yolk around Black disappears. Raising an eyebrow, he says, “Your ice is extremely hard.”
“It is my specialty,” I reply with a chuckle.
We stare at each other for a moment. It’s an impasse–who will be the first to make the next move?
Usually, it’s the weaker party who acts first since that gives the advantage. It’s odd for that to be me. For me to be weaker. But I cannot deny the rainbow sheen that covers Black’s eyes, the irrevocable sign of his mastery of three affinities, and more importantly, proof of age and experience.
He’s holding back–we both have been. I wonder what it will take to force him to reveal more of his cards.
The ice of the lake cracks, rolling off the water’s surface. It fragments and surrounds me, encapsulating my figure. Black allows the transformation to complete unhindered, his eyes sparkling with interest.
I stare at him from all angles, all facets. My small form is dwarfed by the mass of a hulking, serpentine dragon. Its scales glisten like shards of glass. It is featureless, without even a mouth or claws. Why have them now when I can make them at will if needed?
But within the dragon of ice, I see everything in the surroundings, the mirror scales resolving into a three dimensional sphere of perception.
The ice hovers in the air, thick and impenetrable, red ascendant energy painting it in overtone hues of pink.
I move. The dragon rushes Black, the ice moving as fast as my practice allows. Given the distance, Black has a moment to react.
The wings on his back–limned with glowing fire–conflagrate explosively. Black dodges out of the way, then says, “I don’t have a good answer to this.”
I–what?
“I am a master crafter of constructs, both decemantic and necromantic. In coming here, to Achemiss, I left behind most my powerful constructs. They’re too big to carry across the planes, you understand. I do have powerful artifacts–such as these wings–but I would rather us fight with skill rather than pitting artifact against artifact.”
After Lucinda’s claims of Black’s ruthlessness and battle acumen, this was the last thing I expected. I melt a passage of ice up through the neck of the dragon and split its head along a horizontal seam. Mirror shard teeth glisten as the mouth opens, allowing my voice to echo to the outside. “So… you concede?”
He smiles, a cold, cruel thing. “For now. How about we fight again when it’s time for me to leave? I promise a more exciting engagement then.”
I want to argue that this isn’t enough, that he didn’t really try. He’s barely taxed himself at all. He’s uninjured. It’s been less than a minute of fighting.
But that’s the point, isn’t it? He never wanted to fight in the first place. I can’t fault his decision, though–it’s calculating, rational. Why reveal any of his cards, his combat potential, unless necessary?
Black is an ascendant who wields mystery like a blade and anonymity as his cloak. His decision to concede the match speaks volumes and reminds me of an unforgettable fact–Black is a Beginning practitioner.
“Now that we both understand each other, I think it’s time to return,” Black states, “unless you are unsatisfied.”
I shake my head. “I’ve learned enough for one day.”
—
When we return to Starbreak, I head to the thumb to grab Ascendant Red. With him and Black in tow, I proceed to the dining room.
I observe their reactions carefully. The space has tall ceilings and a large chandelier made of never melting ice–not provided by me, but by one of the time-lost ascendants from long ago. Any construct I make in Starbreak breaks down eventually. To make ice that lasts forever–as far as any of us can tell–is beyond my capabilities. Maybe not someday, but at least for now.
I lead them to the kitchen. “In the black faction, people prepare their own food. Since you’re both guests, I can cook for the three of us, but if you’d like to assist or prepare your own meals, that is also fine.”
“What were you planning to make?” Red asks. “With my affinities, I’m of minimal help in the kitchen, but Ancient Black is rather good at processing ingredients.”
Red’s word is true, not that I doubted it. A Death practitioner is an asset in the kitchen, especially one who can manifest fire with an artifact to balance my ability to manifest ice. In a matter of minutes, the scent of seasoned meat and roasted vegetables waft around us.
Lucinda makes an appearance just as we finish plating the meal.
“Ancient Black, Ascendant Red,” she says, inclining her head. “Ascendant Mirror Scale.”
I give her an unimpressed look. She never calls me Mirror Scale unless she wants something. Lucinda, I think, carefully opening myself up to her mental intrusion, why are you here?
She doesn’t respond. Great.
“We only made enough for three, Lucinda,” I state, probing for a reaction.
“She can have mine,” Red offers quickly.
I exhale through my nose. This isn’t about the food. Lucinda wants something else, but why come to me now while I’m with the guests? I’ve only been back in Starbreak for a few minutes after leaving with Black for an hour. Did something change in my brief absence?
“We watched your engagement with Black from afar,” Lucinda mentally explains, finally responding to me. “The others are concerned he won’t be powerful enough to defeat Achemiss, even though I explained that Black was strategically avoiding a contracted fight where he’d reveal his capabilities. Right now, aside from me, Cursory, and Valent, you’re the only one who has seen Black fight. What is your opinion?”
Inconclusive, I reply, but I had the sense that I only scratched the surface of what he was capable of. For instance, you claimed that he had a way of controlling ascendants, but I never once felt him hijacking my practice. The only impressive thing I saw was how he manipulated the veil.
“We couldn’t see that,” Lucinda says. “I presume he did that while surrounded in a smog of condensed Death energy.”
Yes.
“Will you be able to push him? Force him to reveal more?”
He said that if I gave him time to prepare, he would fight again.
“Specifically, he said that when he was about to leave, he would fight you again.”
If Black isn’t powerful enough to defeat Achemiss in his own lair and steal the artifact… well, we can let him see Achemiss from afar using the linked viewing arrays, as we originally planned. But if he is powerful enough, we can arrange for him to meet Achemiss in person as he requested.
“In exchange for stealing Achemiss’s most prized artifact,” Lucinda adds, her mental voice filled with dark humor.
He can keep whatever he can take, so long as he brings us what we want, I reply.
“What if he reneges?”
Achemiss will be very angry, won’t he? We’ll deny involvement. Achemiss will naturally go after him to claim what he’s lost.
“But if Black is a master of traversing the planes, we might never find him if he disappears. We could lose the artifact if the man decides to make us his enemy.”
I’ve already considered this, as have you, I expect. You should know my answer.
Her thoughts are contemplative. “You don’t think Black would exploit the artifact like Achemiss to make artifacts.”
No. Unlike Achemiss, Black doesn’t need to rely on a ridiculous amount of artifacts for power.
“You say that, even though your duel–”
Lucinda, I state, cutting her off. You feel it too, I know you do. He may be a new ancient, but his power is real.
Lucinda smiles brilliantly at Red, the expression disjoint from her previous thoughts. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” She looks at me, as though asking for permission.
I wave her on as I pick up my plate and settle into a seat at one of the round wooden tables.
She locks eyes with Black. “I’m here to discuss Achemiss.”
