“You’re no Deathless, are you?” Drakonis asked after a small moment to think.

Fortunately, I had a helmet on so there’s no way Drakonis could guess from my look.

“I’ve never heard of a reason why Deathless cannot cast like a warlock can, and somehow you’re talking like you know for certain that’s a thing.” Drakonis said, now fully turned my direction.

Unfortunately, Drakonis wasn’t a dumb meathead and didn’t need to read my face to detect guilt. I ran a few numbers in my head, and decided if there’s anyone out there that deserves to know about warlocks and fractals, it’d be the only other human in the world that managed to get a Feather to defect.

If I stopped to think about it for a moment, Drakonis would have been one of those that get a few songs written about their exploits. More scrapshit has happened to this guy than most fully fledged Deathless out there. I just happen to be an exception to the rules so far given what I’ve gone through.

“All right, you got me.” I said. “I’m not a Deathless. I’m a warlock. Technically. I think. It’s complicated.”

He narrowed his eyes at that. “And the rest of the surface knights you came with?”

“Yes, and no.” If I taught Bob how to use the occult and it got an occult sight around it, then wouldn’t it quickly catch Father? That’s how Hexis had caught Wrath and him on the surface. Was fairly obvious within the soulsight how both weren’t human at all. “Tenisent Winterscar, my Father, isn’t human. Not anymore. He stole a Feather’s body.”

Drakonis stared at me. “Winterscar, at this point I’m not sure what’s more fucked up. That you could tell me you know just about every important figure in legend somehow, or that I’d believe you.”

“Long story. Well, not really that long, I’m still making it up as I go, but the past few months have been an airspeeder trip through a mountain. Rough would be an understatement.” I pointed down to Wrath and To’Orda, who were already looking up as some of the Odin were reaching them ahead of us. “Let’s keep going and I’ll fill you in on what you’re missing.”

It was a mostly pleasant talk with only mild amounts of swearing and cursing from the only real Deathless here. Especially when Drakonis realized the real scam.

“So you stole all my spells the moment you asked to see my recordings of the pillar hearts I’ve visited.”

“I mean, can you blame me?”

“I fucking can, and I fucking will, dipshit.” Drakonis politely said. “I actually thought I was helping you out. Showing the surface knight all the cities he can’t visit himself. Fucking purple, I should have known you were trying to rob me blind.”

“If it makes you feel better, your kit has come in real good use till now. And speaking of that, I do need some more info from you. Specifically that orb spell that regenerates shields and amplifies the occult around it? I’ve got the fractals for that, but no amount of tweaking with it lets me know how to actually use it.”

“Swiping all my spells wasn’t enough,” He hissed. “you’d turn and ask me directly to my face to teach you how to use what you stole?”

“Hey, in my defense here, I’m about to teach you some spells back. Not you specifically, but Bob there living in your head. Does that count as you now technically? Might have to do some philosophical soul searching here. Heh.”

Some things were universal, even between all the different populations of humanity out here. Good puns causing eye rolls and groans was among the list.

As I learned, Bob was able to see with the soul sight like I’d expected. What I hadn’t expected was that Bob was very well used to doing that already. Turns out, it had been aware of its soul for years now, ever since it coalesced its intelligence at a central point.

And with that data point, I had a working theory on what happened to Bob that really solidified its intelligence even after hosts died.

I remembered Lord Atius calling upon the occult, having it crackle around his skin. That would give the feeling of the occult in the air to anyone around him. The feeling of reality itself twisting and bending in ways that weren’t natural. That’s the most basic variation to occult sensitivity.

Simply holding onto the sword with the true fractal of division splashed the occult outwards but mostly over the palm and hand. Regular people who’d never interacted with the occult could feel the waves and triggerpoint brushing up on their soul from the contact by their palms, but people further away wouldn’t have felt a thing.

And of course, actually cutting something’s soul with the true fractal of division did a mix of both - a radiating occult pulse and an afterimage of true division. The feeling of it. Closer one was physically, the more powerful that feeling was.

In all those cases, there’d be no awareness of one’s soul just from that, only a sensitivity to the occult as another dimension, and a feeling of being able to trigger something with merely a thought when it came to the sword.

Conversely, the soul fractal itself didn’t cause any attunement by itself, however it did the moment one touched an active fractal housing a soul. That kind of direct touch didn’t just do occult sensitivity, it outright exposed the entire soul to oneself.

From then on, one could be aware of their own soul. I don’t know if that was a temporary feeling like the prior occult pulses, mostly because ever since the soul fractal I haven’t stopped touching on that hourly, so to me soul manipulation was as easy as breathing.

Maybe if I stopped interacting for a few weeks I’d lose that sense. Don’t know, and I sure as hells wasn’t going to test it either.

Point was: For Bob to be aware of its soul, it had to have touched a soul fractal. And given it told me a while back that it had a central location that held its intelligence, I was going to take a gamble and say it had found an empty soul fractal, and moved its true soul into it, leaving itself some unifying presence capable of thinking beyond the destruction of its body by loss of hosts.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Still felt like I was missing a few pieces to the puzzle, but it made somewhat sense for now.

Teaching Bob how to use some occult fractals turns out easy enough, though only the basic ones that didn’t require any kind of emotion or thought pattern. Those might be night and day different for the sentient fungus to handle. But it was good enough as a start.

We were mostly interrupted by lack of time as we’d finally reached the end of the tower’s reach, and Drakonis stood face to face with To’Orda. And Wrath.

He looked real nervous.

"Nnn... It is good to see you." To'Orda said, in a rare display of actual affection. Probably the closest I'll ever come to seeing any other Feather besides Wrath show a spark of joy for anything besides murder and dramatics.

Drakonis was clearly thinking the same thing. "You came here all the way for me?"

"No you little shit, we came just to see the sights." The rock said, giving an animated image of rolled eyes. "Of course we came for you, who else?"

"I'm... oddly surprised. I had hoped, but I didn't think you'd come here yourself." Drakonis said.

To'Orda grunted, then shrugged his shoulders. "You would not make it far. You lacked the gear."

"I've still got the occult. I could probably make it around. But I get what you're talking about." Drakonis said, nodding.

Wrath had been polite up till now, letting the two catch up, but either To'Orda asked her to step in so he didn't need to be social, or she'd had opinions that needed to be said.

“You are the human who has been terrorizing my subjects.” Wrath started off, wings giving one hard flap behind her.

Drakonis seemed to fix up his nerve, straightened up his new makeshift toga, stared her down, and deflated. “I had reasons. And they seem unfounded. As I’ve learned, you aren’t who you appear to be.”

Wrath took this immediately the wrong way, because of course she would. “I appear exactly as I am. My shell is perfect.” For original chapters go to novel-fire.net

Drakonis just looked confused at that. “What?”

“Feather logic you dumb sack of shit.” The rock called out from To’Orda’s hand. “You forget the lot of them are the most shallow petty narcissists you could ever meet. Except for Boss here, who just wants to nap after coming all this way to get you. To’Wrathh’s just as much a nutcase as the rest of her lot, only less genocidal if you get what I’m sayin’”

Drakonis turned his head in my direction, shooting me a betrayed look. I shrugged back. “I never said she wasn’t vain or had all the other traits of a Feather in my defense. I just told you she generally has a good head on her shoulders and isn’t out to murder humans.”

Wrath nodded at that. “I am rather fond of humans and enjoy collecting them.”

“Wrath, please stop saying things that could be misunderstood.” I said, then held a hand out and patted Drakonis’s back. “Now, to formally introduce you two, this here is Drakonis. Ringleader of the enemy Deathless, and I’ve convinced him to take a second look at the evidence and what you and your people are really up to.”

“He wanted to know the city layout, infrastructure and sewer planning? Why all the hostility for such basic information?”

“Not what you’re up to right this moment with your city Wrath. I mean in general that you’re not trying to murder other people from Capra’Nor.”

“Why would I murder my subjects?” Wrath asked, confused.

“I think I’m starting to see what you mean, Winterscar.” Drakonis said.

I elbowed him on the side. “What was it you described her as yesterday? She’s a tactical mastermind, excellent schemer, and has the charisma to convince anyone about anything, including the sword saint herself, eh? Terrifying.”

Wrath on the other end beamed at me, standing up straighter and looked extremely proud of herself. “Of course I am.”

It took a while for Wrath and Drakonis to bury the hatchet, time which I spent getting To’Orda to print out clothing, and gear.

Drakonis eventually came to the resolution. While he couldn’t forgive Wrath for losing his friends due to her surprise attack, she had made it clear it was coming, and offered terms of surrender multiple times to the hunting lodges prior to the attack.

Ultimately, while he mourned his comrades, he was going to do it on his terms and not let it affect others. And, once he reached his little army, they’d sit down and sift through all the relic armor footage sent to see the truth of it.

As for Lionheart, Drakonis was rather certain Bob and To’Orda would be enough to change things so drastically even Lionheart would decide to at least reassess his current direction in life.

The veteran Deathless was driven, but not insane or irrational either. He could adapt and change his mind on things. Apparently all the old Deathless were rather pragmatic deep down inside, some kind of common ground among them. Strong morality, ability to reflect and change, driven, ect.

The new Deathless really were the odd ones out.

“And you’re sure these things will work?” Drakonis asked, looking at the tiny cameras as we all prepared for the next round of shenanigans. “They’re so… small. How can they record anything with any size?”

“Your comm system works and it’s also the same size as your brain, so we’re good.” I said.

He rolled his eyes, “Har har, fucking hilarious Winterscar.” He shoved the bundle into his new pockets and cracked his neck.

The comms unit fit over his ear and even had a small camera of its own. It looked very similar to what topside Deathless used when they wanted to walk around without a helmet and show off.

As for making it back to the tower, all he had to do was grapple onto me while I flew us to the next safepoint. So less a desperate dead sprint and more like a steady pleasant jog followed by some light flying over a hellscape breaking apart under one’s feet. I don’t know why Drakonis looked nervous when Cathida called out a few minutes left before the biome started shifting.

The second to last safezone however, just as the biome was going to complete its reshape, something happened.

A presence came out of the mite lantern, and it wasn’t Superior. Rather, Superior was there, to the side, looking a little panicked.

It was a soul tendril. A machine soul tendril, moving on its own through the air. I could see as reality ate away at it each second, but the amount that was being replenished from deep within the other side outpaced even the destructive force of reality around me.

It connected directly into my head, and words cascaded through me.

“OUR VOICE HAS BEEN ERASED.”

It was overwhelming. Beyond my own scope. Even Superior trying to shield my mind felt like snow getting evaporated by an airspeeder’s afterburner. Somehow, it was still lucid. Clear. As if each word was carefully picked.

“THOU SHALL UPHOLD HIS LAST MISSION. THOU SHALT GUIDE A BETRAYER TO TRAP A GODDESS.”

As quickly as the words had been said, the soul tendril snapped away. Quite literally snapped, parts of it dissolving away in the air as it was no longer brute forced through the lantern.

I found myself on the ground, still twitching. Cathida was saying something in my helmet, and my vitals were showing all kinds of issues. Settling down at least, and even more when I burrowed away back into my soul fractal to lick my wounds.

A few seconds later, a much more familiar soul tendril came out of the mite lantern.

I don’t know if it’ll make you feel any better Prime, but that was pretty tame on their part. They actually focused the words out to only a single set. I’ve never seen them put this much effort into reaching out to the other side.

If that’s gentle, I don’t even want to imagine what happened on your end. I sent back. I know he’d gone through hell of some kind, Superior had always been a little cagy on what he’d dealt with in the mite space.

I would recommend you don’t try then. He sent, basically patting my shoulder. What I can tell you is that we got a favor in exchange for this. We pick up whatever mission this is, and they owe us one.

Owe us one?

Yep, free favor. That’s how they work. It can be something that’s worth about the same, but that part’s nebulous. Do you have any idea what that message was about? That part they haven’t told me, and I’m not about to burn our favor on that.

I did. Not the first few parts of that, but I recognized the final bits. Aztu had told me those same words.

And months ago, so had the original owner of that mission.

Abraxas.