Valiant: Tales From The Drift

[Tails #39: A Family Matter]

Log Date: 3/17/12765

Data Sources: Lysanne Arrignis, Jazel Jaskolka

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Dandelion Drifter Skipper-1

8:31am SGT

I’ve never seen a world desolated in the way that this one was.

There were pictures — they had circulated in the news and on the galaxynet — but it’s different from seeing it in person. The scale and scope is limited to an image that could be contained on a screen; it doesn’t really bring home the totality of it. But here, watching through the window as we descend towards a world choked with dark grey clouds, stretching from horizon to horizon for as far as the eye can see…

“How could she think it was okay to do something like this?” I murmur. “This world used to be green…”

Raikaron, who’s sitting in the copilot’s seat while Milor flies us down, doesn’t say anything. Maybe he’s grown tired of these questions, trying to provide explanations or justifications for Azra’s rampage. Or perhaps there is no explanation or justification that he can muster for it. Whatever the case, he remains silent, one leg neatly folded over the other as we start to near the upper reaches of Tirsigal’s atmosphere.

“Hey, dead red. Didn’t you say she was planning on terraforming this place?” Milor asks. “That’s what she grabbed the ice sword and all that junk for, right?”

“Terraforming takes time. Planets must be sculpted with care.” Raikaron replies. “It is a process that takes millions or billions of years when occurring naturally. Even when the process is sped up and being actively directed by a hypernatural, it could still take decades or centuries to get it to the state that they want it to be in. Geography, atmosphere dynamics, water cycles, ecosystems — they’re all complex and delicate and interwoven. I’m sure Lysanne and Jazel and Dandy understand, with the work they put in to maintain the biomes within the Drift’s biosphere. Imagine doing that, but for an entire planet.”

“Yeah, I’d rather not.” Milor grunts. “Our dailies are already bad enough as it is.”

“It’s gotta be impossible to breathe down there, with all the ash that’s been ejected into the atmosphere.” I murmur. “You’re sure we’ll be safe when we step out of the skipper?”

“Ms. Arrignis, I did not accompany you and friends halfway across the galaxy just to watch you suffocate and die as soon as you step off the skipper’s ramp.” Raikaron answers patiently. “I told you that I would provide a survivable environ when you embark on your final confrontation of Azra. That has not changed in the last twenty-four hours.”

“Okay, it’s just… dunno where you’re gonna find the oxygen and temperature control for that.” I mumble.

“I work in hell, Ms. Arrignis. I am accustomed to making adjustments for environments such as this.”

Though polite, it’s clear that he doesn’t wish to be bothered any further on the topic, so I fight down my worries and leave them unvoiced. I’m going to be happy when this is all over, mostly because we won’t have to deal with Azra anymore, but also because it means Raikaron will go back to hell and resume his duties there. Of all of the guests we’ve had on the Drift, he puts me at unease in a way that no one else has ever done — Kayenta was powerful, but could be manipulated if you could find the right levers with her. Milor was canny and clever, but he was human, had no magic, and there was a hard limit on the power he had at his personal disposal.

But Raikaron is more than either of them. He is clearly very intelligent and socially savvy; he’s obviously quite powerful, simply by virtue of being a demon Lord; and he clearly has extensive connections and influence, along with an entire cadre of lower demons at his beck and call. He’s the whole package, in terms of all the ways power can manifest — power as social influence, power as authority, power as knowledge, power as magical capability. And while he only seems to use it when the situation requires it, it’s clear that he’s neither hesitant nor unskilled in its application. He’s comfortable using it, which is perhaps the most unsettling thing of all.

“I’m gonna go check on the others.” I say, excusing myself from the cockpit — and while I’m sure Milor doesn’t like being left alone with the demon Lord, I’m sure he’ll survive. I head back into the passenger cabin, where Dandy and Ozzy are; Ozzy has dozed off, as he usually does once he settles into a seat on a moving vehicle, while Dandy is checking through our inventory of armaments. It’s sparse, but considering most of us fight with magic, we’ve never had much need for guns or melee weapons.

“Why don’t you sit down and try to relax, Lysanne.” Dandy recommends as she slots a spare plasma cell into a bandolier. “Pacing and fretting will not accomplish much, except wearing you out before the encounter begins. I have some mind-clearing exercises I could recommend that may help you focus.”

“Honestly, I’d prefer distractions at this point. Focusing is the last thing I want to do when it means I’ll be focusing on our upcoming fisticuffs with a literal goddess.” I say, planting my hands on one of the seats and blowing out a long breath. “You think we could talk her into throwing in the towel? Maybe she’s as tired of this as well are. I don’t think she’d really want to waste time fighting us, right?”

“I doubt she does. However, according to myth, and Raikaron himself, she is the goddess of tyranny.” Dandy points out calmly. “I find it unlikely that someone who is supposed to be the embodiment of tyranny would yield to us simply because we asked them nicely.”

“I mean, you never know unless you try…” I mutter.

“While I’d normally agree with a nonviolent approach, I don’t think it’ll net us the results we’re looking for, Lysanne.” Dandy says, resting her plasma rifle across her lap. “I don’t want to fight Azra either, especially after how it went last time — but this is what we have to do to bring this to an end. It’ll be unpleasant; it’ll probably be painful. But once it’s done, we will be free of this burden, and we can return to something approaching normalcy.”

I take another deep breath, looking out the window. Stars beyond, and an ash-choked planet below. “We’re owed more for everything we’ve gone through, everything we’ve done to fix this. The number of times we’ve put ourselves in danger to fix this… if CURSE can’t respect that…”

“One problem at a time, Lysanne.” Dandy reminds me.

I nod. “Get through this. Deal with the rest afterwards.” I exhale, pushing off the seat. “I’m gonna go check on Jazel and Jayta.”

She lets me go without a word, and I walk to the back of the passenger cabin and into the cargo bay. Jayta is next to the door, while Jazel is sitting on the floor of the bay, across from Sång, who’s doing the same. “It is these things — acceptance, respect, the approbation of her parents — that Azra desires above all else. She wishes to be viewed as an equal to her parents, and to the other members of the Rantheon. And to this end, what does she attempt to do?” Sång asks Jazel.

“She tries to fill the role that her parents hold, as the gods who keep watch for threats to the Diaspora.” Jazel answers. “A tyrant can also be a protector.”

“Correct. And what is Azra’s flaw in this respect?”

“She lacks patience and moves to deal with those threats herself.”

“Yes, and what else? A shard of her is part of you now. Look inwards, examine what feelings it produces in you, and find the answer.”

Jazel pauses for a moment, one of his fluffy, white-tipped ears flicking as he ruminates on that. “She is… proud? Arrogant?”

“Yes. But her flaw is that she does not trust mortals to do the work that must be done. She believes them too weak to protect themselves, and therefore reasons that she must act on their behalf, in their defense, which is what led to her making a direct assault on the Collective.”

Jazel shrugs. “I mean, she’s not entirely wrong, is she? If they had been able to take care of themselves, they wouldn’t have lost Tirsigal to the Collective all those centuries ago.”

Sång gives Jazel a flat look.

“Oh… which is probably what Azra would say if she was having this conversation with you right now, isn’t it…” Jazel mumbles and ducks his head a little, not unlike a fox being chided. “Okay. I get what you mean when you warned me there might be a little bleedover.”

“Be mindful of it. Elements of Azra’s personality will inevitably manifest in you now; however, you control the extent to which you yield to those impulses and desires.” Sång warns him. “You can observe her flaws without giving in to them.”

“I thought she’d be giving him last-minute tips on Ranter magic, not some quiz about Azra’s personality.” I murmur to Jayta.

“Azra’s a goddess. As far as magic goes, she’d have him outclassed in both skill and power.” Jayta says quietly, her arms folded. “She’s taught him the basics so he can defend himself. She doesn’t expect him to beat Azra with Ranter magic.”

“Is she going to be helping us?” I ask, nodding to Sång. “She seems pretty powerful… she was able to break Azra’s hold on Jazel when she possessed him over a month ago.”

“She’ll be supervising. I don’t think she’s allowed to intercede directly.” Jayta explains. “I think she’s in the same category that Raikaron’s in. Able to render aid, but not allowed to fight Azra directly.”

“Those rules are stupid.” I mutter. “If they would just clean up the mess themselves, we wouldn’t be stuck doing it for them, and this whole thing would be solved a lot faster.”

Jayta doesn’t respond right away. I can tell something’s on her mind, and it’s working its way through into words, until: “Would you be a goddess, Lysanne? If you had the chance and someone offered it to you?”

I blink at her. “That’s a… weird question.”

“It’s one that Raikaron asks me sometimes.” Jayta says, watching Sång. “Back when I first made my contract with Raikaron, I thought I knew better than him. That I knew what was right, and the way things would be. And instead of telling me that I was wrong, he would ask me how I would handle things whenever I complained. Most times I couldn’t come up with a better answer. And when I thought that I did, he’d point out the flaws in my solution, or even worse, he’d implement my solution. I can’t think of a single time when I didn’t ask him to walk it back and return to the way things were being done before.”

I huff at that. “So he was basically telling you to stay in your lane.”

“I mean… yeah. I guess so. But that wasn’t really the point he was trying to get across to me. The point is that it’s easy to have an opinion on the way things should be, but when they put you in charge, it’s a lot harder than it looks from the bottom.” Jayta says. “I’ve been there, where I’ve complained about something, and then Raikaron put me in charge of fixing or dealing with it, and gave me freedom and authority to get it done the way I wanted to. And I don’t like it. It’s not fun. You find out pretty quick that there’s a reason people do things the way they do things — and when you’re put in that situation, you end up doing things almost the exact same way they would’ve done them. Because you’re not smart or wise enough to figure out a better way to do it. And it’s pretty humbling when you find that out the hard way.”

I purse my lips. I don’t like hearing that, but I also didn’t expect it to come from Jayta, since I’ve always seen her as a little sister. She’s obviously grown up, become an adult, and has literally been to hell and back again, but even so, I didn’t expect her to show this level of maturity or wisdom, especially since she’s younger than me. “Still… there’s gotta be a better way.” I say, shaking my head.

“I can’t speak for Sång, but if you’d like to take Raikaron’s place for a day and do his job, I don’t think he’d mind taking a break.” Jayta offers. “He’s not a god, just a demon Lord, so it’d probably be a little easier than taking the place of a goddess for a little while.”

“I’ll take a hard pass on being a demon Lord, thanks.” I snort. “Maybe I would be a goddess for a day if I got the chance, but I don’t imagine there’d be many slots open for that.”

“You’d be surprised. Most of the hypernaturals I’ve met have all been women.” Jayta says. “Honestly, I don’t know if I’ve actually met any gods… it’s all been goddesses.”

“Really?” I say, raising an eyebrow. “The patriarchy doesn’t have a death grip on the afterlife? The girls are in charge in the great beyond?”

Jayta shrugs. “Seems like it. I think I’ve only met… one god? And that was Maelstrom, and I barely talked to him. All the rest have been goddesses.”

“Dang. Maybe we could get a bit more of that on the mortal plane.”

“You did get some of that on the mortal plane, in the form of Azra, and you have not ceased to complain about it in the past month.” Sång’s raised voice crosses the cargo bay, sounding rather tart. “Do not wish for things that you already have, or that you do not understand. And unless you have something salient to add to this training, I will ask that you remain quiet while I prepare the witchling for his coming battle with Azra.”

“Heads up, we’re about to start hitting the upper cloud layer.” Milor’s voice comes over the intercom. “Dead red said he’ll be clearing a corridor for us through the clouds, but it’s still gonna be a rough ride from here until we touch down. Everybody should probably find a seat and buckle in until we’ve landed.”

“Still think we should’ve had Dandy do the flying.” I mutter, turning and heading back into the passenger cabin. “C’mon, Jayta. Let’s get buckled in and hope that Milor doesn’t get us all killed on the way down.”

Event Log: Jazel Jaskolka

Dandelion Drifter Skipper-1

9:07am SGT

Everything is so much more… crisper.

I’ve had a week to adjust, but even so, I’m still noticing it everywhere I go. My senses are sharper; I’m so much more aware of everything around me now. Standing here in the cargo bay, I can hear the howling wind outside of the skipper; the soft hum of the engine powering down; the vibrations running through the hull whenever a stray rock or chunk of pumice bounces off the exterior. Not to mention all the clomping, rustling, and clanking as the others gear up in the cargo bay.

“Do not let your newfound capabilities betray you.” Sång cautions me as she checks my cloak and the spells woven into it. “No matter the strength you have gained, no matter the speed you have accrued, no matter the powers now at your disposal, Azra is still stronger, faster, and more skilled. Play your hand carefully, and the improvements to your capabilities may catch her off guard, to the point of giving you an opening in which to strike.”

“Remember also that wit and words are weapons as well.” Raikaron adds. “Spells and swords often fail to do meaningful damage to hypernaturals, simply because they are gods and can easily shrug off the versions crafted by mortals. But their egos are often viable targets, especially for the prideful ones.”

“That’s great and all, but bullying the royal foxbitch isn’t gonna cut it when she’s capable of handing our asses to us.” Milor says as he holsters his pistol and slings his shotgun over his shoulder. “Last chance for you and the nudist mannequin to pitch in and make a difference. Otherwise we’ll have to take the credit for doing all of the actual work.”

“We’d hardly want to deprive you of the opportunity to bolster your ego, Deputy.” Raikaron replies kindly. “I imagine it would make you quite the hit with the ladies, having the defeat of a demon goddess on your resume.”

“Yeah yeah, har har har, you’re very clever.” Milor mutters. “I know I hardly seem the type, but I’m more worried about our survival. I’d prefer that we not lose anyone today.”

“Then turn your eye towards the coming battle. Great victories are not achieved from the shadows of doubt.” Sång replies, looking around to the others. “Are you all prepared to march forth?”

Lysanne snorts. “Do we have a choice?”

“I’m ready.” I offer before the others can offer any more shirking answers. “Let’s go. I’m ready to put this to rest.”

Raikaron lifts a hand in the direction of the ramp door, and after a moment, looks to Dandy. “You may open the door now, Dandelion. There is a pocket of habitable atmosphere outside the skipper.”

The ramp door unseals and begins lowering as Dandy nods, slowly opening to a dark and dreary vista. It looks like we've landed on a flat stretch of ground outside of a castle roughly hewn from an outcropping of rock, overlooking what may’ve been a body of water, if there was any water to be had. The sky is bruised and black, lit only by an occasional crack of lightning; even if it was day, you probably wouldn’t know it, with how thick and dark the clouds are. A harsh, ashy wind is scouring the surface, with gusts that occasionally blast up to hurricane force-speeds; and in the far distance, there is the occasional orange glow painting the underside of the low clouds, which seems to be the only source of light in this blasted and desolate landscape.

Milor lets out a low whistle. “Damn.”

“Maelstrom have mercy.” Ozzy murmurs. “She really turned this place into hell, didn't she.”

I start down the ramp without a word, walking out into the bubble of clear air that Raikaron’s created on the back end of the skipper. The wind and ash flow around it, leaving it a spot of calm in the hellish weather; but I can still feel the heat rising off the earth, radiating through the soles of my boots. If I had to guess, the ground I’m now standing on was probably lava as recently as a month ago, and there are probably still some parts of Tirsigal’s surface that are a molten ocean, slowly cooling into rock once more.

“Jazel and I will go at the front.” Jayta says as she pulls even with me; I noticed that she’s morphed into the demon form she showed on Tareya — alabaster skin, horns curving back through her hair before curling up into tips, digitigrade legs, bright orange chains trailing from manacles around her wrists, and wings that she’s tucking in against her back. “The two of us will go for Azra; the rest of you deal with her minions, if she’s got any of them hanging around.”

“We’ll handle them. Once they’re dealt with, we’ll help you with Azra.” Lysanne says as we start walking, the bubble of clear air moving with us. I think I pick up some nervous muttering from Ozzy as we start towards the castle, but I don’t expect any more or less from him at this point, and keep my focus on the front entrance.

The walk there is a quiet one, though we’ve all noticed the red dome curving over the entirety of the castle. Much like the bubble Raikaron has provided around us, it seems to be keeping out the smoke and ash and harsh winds scouring the surface of Tirsigal; when we reach its boundary, we’re able to step through it without an issue. Our bubble of clear air seems to merge into the larger dome, and we now have a better view of castle itself, which clearly wasn’t sculpted by human hands. Where such structures are usually made of bricks or stones methodically laid on each other and mortared together, this one looks like someone had carved it directly out of a rocky deposit. It lacks the squareness that normal castles tend to have; the walls and towers have a glassy, brushed look to them, as if they were formed by a red-hot hand reaching in and scooping out swathes of stone, leaving behind an obsidian facade with directional streaks. And as we arrive at the entrance, I realize that the doorways and the halls seem to resemble a fox’s den more than anything else — the main entrance lacks doors and is a rounded affair, like a hole dug into the ground. The hallway beyond looks more like a tunnel than a hall, with an uneven floor and curving walls.

“I know she’s a fox, but damn.” Milor remarks as I lead the way into the castle. “Feels like we’re walking into a cave, not a castle.”

“Do we know where she is in this structure?” Dandy asks as our footsteps start to echo through the main hall.

“She’ll be in the throne room. She knows we’re here, and is waiting for us.” I answer, my eyes quickly adjusting to the dimness of this hall. There are no lights in here, likely because Azra doesn’t need them. “I can sense her.”

“So long as she doesn’t come rushing out of one of these halls and ambushes us.” Milor says, looking around at the ‘doorways’ that lead to other parts of the castle. Like the main entrance, all the adjoining halls more resemble tunnels than they do actual halls, liked they’d been dug out by an animal rather than chiseled out by a person.

“Haven’t seen any of her sycophants so far.” Lysanne remarks as we make our way deeper into the structure.

“I believe she has sent them away. I have not sensed anyone else here.” Raikaron states from the back of the group. “She may want to preserve the lives of whatever followers she still has here on the mortal plane. Ensuring she will still have disciples to advance her agenda even after she has been returned to the Maelstrom.”

“The one time she’s interested in saving lives, huh.” Lysanne mutters.

“This is it.” I say, cutting through the chatter as we approach the end of the hall, with a wide opening dug into a wall that looks like it opens into a court beyond. I don’t hesitate to step right through, finding myself in something that resembles a circular throne room without a roof; the walls have wide gaps in them that allow us to overlook the terrain surrounding the castle. At the back, upon a raised dais, is a harsh black throne; there are a couple of tables on either side of the room, and in the center is a black sphere that looks like a replica of Tirsigal and its current geographic state. Standing beside it is Azra, occasionally gouging a fresh scar on it with one of her nails. She’s dressed in a mix of the old and new, wearing partial plate armor that’s a rich red with a sleek golden trim, and beneath it is a black plugsuit with green lines running through it.

Her fluffy red ears twitch in our direction as we enter the throne room, her hot green eyes flitting to us. “Well well, if it isn’t the clown car. Took you all long enough.”

Milor sucks in a quick breath as he gets a good look at Azra, reaching up to take his toothpick out of his mouth. “Hot damn. That is a tight getup, girl.”

Lysanne jabs an elbow into Milor’s ribs. “Seriously? She’s killed billions of people!”

“Look, look, blondie; I know, I get it.” Milor says hastily. “But let’s be honest: genocide never looked so good. That is one hot fox.”

“She did charbroil the planet to a crisp…” Ozzy mumbles.

“Exactly! Hot fox!” Milor exclaims.

“At least one of you recognizes quality when you see it.” Azra say, examining her nails.

“We are not here to preen her ego.” Dandy say, slinging her plasma rifle off her shoulder and flicking the safety off as the others start to fan out across the throne room. “We will politely request that you return to the Maelstrom, Azra Guile, and give us back Kayenta. Refuse to comply, and we will endeavor these things by force.”

“Oh ho ho, look who’s got a big vocabulary! I’m soooo scared!” Azra says, making mocking jazzhands at Dandy. “You barely even have a soul, robot. I don’t even know if you’re capable of despising me the way the rest of your friends do. And you.” She turns her derision on me. “Figured you’d have a bit more to say now that you’re here, loverboy. You didn’t strike me as the strong and silent type; more like a weak little twig waiting to be snapped, if Kaya’s memories are anything to go by. You got any brave words for me before I beat your ass a third time in a row?”

Despite how harsh and cutting the words are, I’ve started to get a faint feeling that this is a performance, albeit a very convincing one. I know by now how powerful Azra is; that she outscales us by multiple magnitudes, and if it wasn’t for the seal forcing her to engage on our level, she could very well bury us with little more than a sideways look. She killed seven billion people and likely wouldn’t hesitate to add another six to that tally if she could; for her, this confrontation is all a show, pageantry that she participates in only because she has to. She’s a good actor, but I can tell her heart isn’t in it, no matter how spiteful and condescending she comes across.

So rather than feed her the response she’s looking for, I reach up and pull off the hood of my cloak, my fluffy ears popping upright as I reveal how I’ve changed since the last time we encountered each other.

The scorn immediately evaporates from her face, her eyes slowly widening as her arms unfold and she gradually straightens up. Realization seems to be dawning over her, accelerated through the stages of disbelief; you can see her mentally eliminating the possibilities in quick succession as she quickly homes in on the explanation that’s most likely, but also the most shocking. To help her get there more quickly, to bridge that last gap of disbelief, I flick one of my ears, one of Azra’s ears mirroring the twitch without a single second of delay.

She jerks like someone shocked her, pulling a sharp breath as her disbelief starts to morph into anger. “No… no, this can’t… you couldn’t…” Her eyes rip away from me to scour the rest of the group until she locks onto Raikaron at the back. “You. You did this.” she seethes, her hands starting to curl into fists as a low rumbling shivers the ground beneath our feet. “This is what you were hiding from me.”

Raikaron gives a lackadaisical shrug. “I may have made a suggestion. And perhaps helped him follow through on it. But at the end of the day, he’s the one that accepted the costs and took the risk on this particular gambit. Myself and a few others were simply the facilitators.”

“Facilitator, my ass!” Azra snaps, her voice taking on a shimmering resonance as she fully departs the script and pageantry. Whatever emotions she might’ve been faking before, the ones she’s feeling right now are clearly very real; the elongated triangle markings on her face snap open into another set of eyes as her tails catch fire. The flames roar upwards to take the shape of a giant fox towering in the throne room, with the souls of the damned trying to escape from its snarling mouth as a blast of suffocating heat rolls through the room, shoving the others back a few steps and setting my cloak snapping. “These feckless little idiots would never have taken a risk like that unless someone pushed them to it! They wouldn’t have even known how to do something like that, which means that you were holding their hand the whole way through! Were you hoping that you could take a piece of me and create a little godling by fusing it into some mortal like a pet project of yours? The absolute fucking audacity of you, Raikaron Syntaritov! You had no right!”

“It was not him alone, child.” Turning, I can see that Sång has perched on one of the obsidian pillars framing the edges of the throne room, staring imperiously down at Azra and her divine manifest. “Your parents gave their approval. The Rantheon acceded to the proposal. And the Witchling granted her permission.”

I didn’t think it was possible for Azra to get angrier, but the infernal heat spilling from her manifest intensifies, while the screaming of the damned souls trapped in her jaws rises in pitch and volume. The eyes on her face are blazing like green stars as she bares her teeth up at Sång. “Then I’ll be having words with them the next time I see them. After all I’ve done for them, the courage I’ve had in doing what they never had the balls to do, when they’re the ones that are supposed to be the divine defenders of the Diaspora — I am owed more than this disrespect.”

“Consider it fair play. You took my mate, so I took a piece of you.” I say, pulling her attention back to me. “And if you don’t give her back, then I might take another.”

“You are adorably naïve.” Azra sneers as her towering manifest collapses back down into her burning tails, the extra eyes on her face closing. “Do it. See what happens if you keep eating shards of a goddess. We both know you barely survived eating the shard you managed to get your hands on, and we both know what will happen if you’re dumb enough to try eating another.”

I curl my hands closed. “Never said I would eat it. Just said I would take another piece if you don’t give Kaya back.”

“You’ve got almost as much nerve as he does.” she says as copies of herself start splitting off, each one subtracting a burning tail, in the same way that she did on Tareya. This time, though, she only produces enough copies to match the number of people fighting her, leaving me to contend with a four-tailed Azra, while the other five start to move across the room to the rest of the Drifters. “You want your woman back so damn bad, come and get her.”

I take that invitation, lurching forward into a sprint before anything more can be said. Behind me, I can hear shots being fired as Azra’s clones rush up on the other Drifters; but even though I’m concerned, I push that to the back of my mind. I need to focus on the Azra that I’m fighting, especially since she’s the one with the most tails at the moment.

Picking up speed on my way towards her, I open my fingers, a ball of fire spinning to life in my hand. I keep it hidden beneath my cloak until the last second, sweeping it up towards her in a wild slash; she easily shreds the arc of fire with a flick of her fingers, but that was intended. It was only supposed to be a cover to keep her distracted, because I come hurtling through the fading flames with the Viscori knife up and driving towards her ribs.

She notices and catches my wrist at the last second, holding the blade at bay before I can drive it into her. “You little shit. You really were going to try it, weren’t you?” she growls.

“I don’t make idle threats.” I snarl back at her.

She twists my arm until I drop the knife, before grabbing me by the shirt and lifting up so she can slam me into the ground, knocking the breath out of me. “You better check it before you wreck it, buster.” she warns as she pins me down. “You’re a morphox now, and I’m the first morphox that was ever created. You owe me your allegiance.”

“Yeah right.” I wheeze, trying to kick her in the stomach to get her off me. “I did my homework. Maelstrom created morphoxes as a gift to Radiance. If I owe my allegiance to anyone, which I don’t, then it would be your parents!”

“Leave my parents out of this!” she seethes, pushing upright and dragging me along with her, spinning in place and throwing me towards the stairs that lead up to the throne. Normally I would’ve hit the ground and gone rolling, but with my new reflexes and my tail, I’m able to pivot around in the air, landing on my hands and feet as I skid to a stop. As Azra marches towards me, I scramble back upright, shaking my grimoire awake as she starts venting at me. “They haven’t done shit for you except sic you and your friends on me! The only reason you’re a morphox is because there’s a chunk of me inside you! If anything, I’m the one you should be thankful to! All that strength, all that speed, those reflexes, your senses, all those fancy new powers you’ve got, they come from ME! The only reason you’re worth anything is because there’s a piece of ME inside of you! But you have the nerve to come here and defy me after I made you something more than what you were before?”

“Bitch, you want me to thank you for something you would’ve withheld from me if you’d known about it?” I snap back at her as I pop open a spell sphere of somnatic compulsion, and sling most of the dark blue wisps at her as soon as they’re available. “The only reason I have these powers is because I took them by force! That shard of you that I drank didn’t just hand them to me on a silver platter; she tried to burn me into submission and take over me!”

“Well you should’ve done yourself a favor and let her win!” Azra retorts, dodging two of the wisps but getting hit by the other two. It looks like she was bracing for them to explode, so it clearly takes her off guard when a wave of drowsiness washes over her instead, and slows down, staggering a little as she fights it off. A flick of her hand brings the ruby-red katana out of the air, where she can plant it against the ground and lean on it. “Oh, a sleep spell? Oh, you think you’re so clever, don’t you! Do you use this on all the girls you hit on, you creep?”

“What? No! Just give me back my mate, you genocidal maniac!” I say, throwing the last wisp.

She jerks away from the wisp as she starts to shake off the drowsiness, pushing off the sword and straightening up. “God, your aim is horrible. It’s a miracle you’ve managed to survive this long.”

“I wasn’t aiming for you.” I say as I start to cycle through my grimoire’s spells again.

Confusion furrows her brow, and she looks around in time to see one of her clones staggering from getting hit with the wisp — and that lapse gives Milor the opening he needs to nail that clone with a point-blank blast from his shotgun. “That is me, you idiot!” she yells as the clone collapses into crimson smoke, and my Azra regains another tail.

“Well it’s not— you know what I mean! I wasn’t aiming for you specifically, I was aiming for another you!” I say, popping another spell and pointing to my dropped knife. A line of golden light whizzes out to it, latching on and reeling it back to me.

“That’s still me, you dense clod! They’re all me!” she snaps, the ruby blade glowing as she sweeps it up on a diagonal slash, then brings it back down in the other direction, slinging a fiery X towards me. I grab my cloak and jerk it up as soon as I have the Viscori knife in hand; the whiplashing arcs of fire slam into the fabric, the protective enchantments flaring to life as I’m thrown flat against the stairs leading up to the throne. I whip my cloak to the side, scattering the fire away from myself, only to find that Azra’s closed the distance and is swinging the katana down towards me. There’s not enough time to get the Viscori knife up to block it—

But at the last second, the gemlike blade twists to the side, seemingly of its own accord, cutting into the stairs beside my head and missing by less than an inch.

“What the—” Azra sputters, taken off guard by her sword’s sudden independence.

I don’t waste time looking for an explanation, taking advantage of the proximity to shove the Viscori knife upward and ram it into her midsection. The blade phases through her plugsuit, stopping at the hilt, and I start to yank it back before Azra grabs my wrist in a crushing grip.

“You. Little. Shit.” she hisses through gritted teeth as she pries my hand off the knife’s hilt with inhumane strength. “You’re a morphox. Act like it.”

Letting go of my hand, she grabs the hilt of the Viscori knife, pulsing a blaze of red light into it. It disintegrates instantly, and I start to scramble backwards up the stairs before Azra grabs me and hauls me upright. “Our people are soul-eaters. This is one of the gifts Maelstrom gave us; it is part of our nature. Use what you were given; don’t disgrace yourself with tools that mimic what you can already do.”

“Hard pass, thanks. I don’t feel like giving anyone the kiss of death.” I grunt, trying to break her grip on me.

“Who said it had to be a kiss?” Azra says, letting go of me, flattening her hand, and jabbing it in into me, her fingers phasing through my sternum the same way the Viscori knife phased through the people when I'd stabbed them with it.

I let out a gasp of shock, my legs going weak as I feel the familiar draining sensation. But unlike the Viscori knives, this doesn’t seem to have a limit; Azra can just keep siphoning and siphoning, at whatever rate she wants. “Gghaa— I thought—” I gasp, grabbing Azra’s wrist and shoving a hand against her armored shoulder to steady myself.

“That it always had to be a kiss? Please.” Azra scoffs, walking forward and forcing me backwards up the stairs with her hand still in my chest. “Kaya does it that way because she’s a romantic. Because it feels more intimate and special, or some shit like that. Because it makes her feel better about the fact that it usually kills whoever she does it do. A morphox that gives the kiss of death is a softie. Real warriors rip the souls out with their bare hands. They watch the light leave the eyes of their enemies, instead of playing tongue hockey for it.”

I’m struggling to breathe as I grapple with this new information. It wasn’t exactly rocket science, and it did make sense, but it still came as a shock, especially considering the way I was finding out about it. I try to extract her hand from my chest, but with her strength, it’s impossible, and I can tell she’s relishing this. This probably isn’t the first time she’s killed someone this way — a slow death, siphoning someone’s soul out bit by bit until they finally died.

And knowing I can’t overpower her, I instead reach deep inside myself, dredging up something that I know is risky. Waking up the portion of her that resides in me, that is me; digging deep down into that cache of memories as I let go of her hand and grab her head instead. Instead of making a conscious effort to block her out, I open up, letting the memories spill out.

Memories of the halcyon days on the Maelstrom Isles, the land of our origination.

Sunny afternoons and mistladen mountains, warm beaches and lush forests. Glimmering tropical waters and daily thundershowers.

Sundresses and warm summers and the days when I only had a single tail, instead of the nine which now weigh on me.

My childhood, when I still knew nothing, and I was still my MaMa’s little princess, and I could sit on her lap and she would brush my tail, and rock me to sleep in the hammock beneath the stars, telling me stories about what lay beyond them in the great dark blue…

Back before I knew what I was, and I only had to be one thing: a daughter.

“HhhhaaaAAAHH!” The shout comes from Azra as she shoves me away, throwing me flat at the foot of the throne as she stumbles back and goes to one knee, hunched over and clutching her head. The other Azras are likewise staggered by the quick, warm flash of their past, and I scramble back to my feet, motioning for the others to take advantage of it before it passes. They don’t waste a second in doing so, especially since Milor’s already been helping the others deal with their Azra clones; as they’re eliminated one by one, more of Azra’s tails return to her as she starts to get back up.

I spare no second in dashing over to her, gripping her shoulder and trying to push her back down, tangling a hand in her hair again as I reach deep into our shared memories once more.

Simpler days.

Running free through the forests and mountains of the Isles, exploring caves and climbing trees and coming home all dirty. My father showing me how to tie knots, swim in rivers, how to speak with forest spirits and use magic to navigate and start campfires. He could do anything, and seemed to know every secret of the Isles. Because he and Mom created them, of course; because he was Maelstrom, the god of storms and shadows, the watchful guardian of Rantecevang.

But I did not know that as a child.

To me, he was just Dad. My hero; the man who knew everything and could do anything.

There’s a rattle as Azra’s hand finds its way to my neck and latches on, her nails digging into my skin as she glares at me, her breathing uneven. I’ve managed to force her back down to one knee, both of us wildly veering in and out of memories; I only loosely know what I’m trying to do here, and I don’t have a plan. Just an instinct to try and get her to stop, to choose something different, to see who she used to be.

“I am not that person anymore, little fox.” she rasps, forcing me down to her level with the grip she has on my throat. She has all her tails back; the others have dealt with all the other clones while she’s been staggered, and they’re making their way to where we are now. “It will not change my mind. I will not yield to nostalgia.”

I swing an arm up, knocking her hand off my throat and lunging forward in the same motion, catching her in a bear hug that pins her arms to her sides. I know she’ll break out in an instant if I let her, so I reach down again and let the memories loose. But this time, they aren’t her memories.

You never feel love so intensely as in these little moments.

At the end of the day, as the night is deepening; when the light fades into soft shadows and there is nothing left to be done except relax. She has fallen asleep curled up in your lap, wrapped in a blanket and tucked in close to you because you are warm. You want to move, but you don’t, because you don’t want to wake her up, and she looks so peaceful like this. Relaxed, unburdened by waking worries.

So you just tug the corner of the blanket over her shoulder a little more. What else can you do? Tell her you love her? She already knows. You answer her questions, you explain the galaxy to her, you let her steal your food and wear your shirts. You wouldn’t let anyone else do these things; she knows this. It’s why she looks at you the way she does, and kisses the tip of your nose on those sleepy mornings when neither of you want to get out of bed.

Still. You wish there was a way to tell her what you feel in this moment. When all existence is still and soft and quiet, and it feels like you are the only one awake, with your entire world curled up in your lap.

Moments like these, for which you would give everything.

It’s quiet in the throne room.

There is the occasional crack and rumble of volcanic thunder; the footsteps have faded to a halt. Milor’s put a hand out, signaling for the others to stop short of where Azra and I are kneeling. She could break out of my embrace if she wanted to; she’s more than strong enough for it. But her arms hang limp at her sides, and all I can hear is her slow breathing.

“I never got to feel that way for anyone.” she murmurs. “I always thought it would happen eventually, one day. But it never did.”

Her tails are still flaming; I can feel the heat they radiate, but I don’t let go. Despite her words, I don’t feel any sadness from her; it’s more of a wistfulness, wishing for something she never had, and didn’t quite understand. As if by having it, she would finally be able to understand it.

“Sometimes I think that if I’d had someone like that, I wouldn’t be the way I am.” she goes on faintly, as if her mind was somewhere else, far away. “But maybe it’s the other way around. I’ve always been this way. Maybe it means I’ll just never know what it’s like, because people like me just can’t have stuff like that. We don’t know how. Our eyes are set upon the stars, and we just can’t comprehend the value of little things when we know we’re called to a higher purpose.”

My hands twitch where they’re clasped around behind her back. “I don’t care if you burn another dozen worlds.” I whisper. “Please just give her back.”

I can feel her take a deep breath, and she lifts a hand to pat my head, right between my ears, as she sighs. “You really don’t care about the rest of it, do you. You just want your girl.”

I nod silently, not trusting my voice.

“You make this hard on me. Out of everyone I’ve had to deal with during this shitshow, you’re the only one that isn’t trying to harangue me for murdering billions of people. It’s a breath of fresh air, and I actually feel bad that I have to tell you no.” she concedes without any of her usual spite or venom. “But I’ve gotta finish my work here. I’ll let you have her back once I’m done.”

I close my eyes. “I’m sorry.” I say as I tighten my fingers around the glowing thread I’d looped around the base of her tails while I had her in a bear hug. A simple spell, surreptitiously pulled from my grimoire while we spoke; one of the two that Raikaron had recommended to me so long ago, but that I’d never gotten a chance to use on Tareya. “I can’t wait that long.”

With that, I yank the ends of the thread in opposite directions, the loop closing around around the root of her tails and shearing through them as it pulls tight.

Azra instantly straightens up, letting out a sharp gasp, and I can sense the destabilization immediately. The tails lose their flames as they drop to the stairs, and without those tails to serve as an anchor, there’s nothing to keep her bound to this body or this plane. The clouds overhead immediately swirl in on themselves, forming into whirlpool that seems to drain upwards into the sky, and a crimson shimmer starts separating out from Azra — or rather it is Azra, being drawn upwards out of Kayenta’s body. The red is being stripped out of her hair, bleeding it black again, and the color’s being siphoned out of her ears, leaving them silver once more. Azra’s shimmering silhouette is clawing and clinging, trying to cling to her mortal vessel, but there’s nothing to bind her to it anymore, and she fully separates from it after several seconds, being pulled up into the swirling vortex in the sky.

Yet it’s not just her silhouette alone; her entire presence was was filling the castle, and the grounds surrounding it. A scarlet miasma is being siphoned from the entirety of the structure along with Azra, all of it feeding into that black hole in the sky that presumably leads back to the Maelstrom. Even the dome that was shielding the castle is stripped away, and once the last of it has been sucked into the sky, the vortex finally dissipates, the clouds untwisting and starting to smooth out again, or at least as smooth as they can be in this hellscape.

And I’m left holding an unconscious Kayenta as the sulfurous wind starts to scour the newly exposed castle, bringing clouds of ash and dry heat with it.

“Gather together!” Sång orders as she launches off her pillar and dives down into the throne room, her wings blurring as she brakes right before landing beside me and Kayenta. She raises her arms, a bubble of clear air forming around us and pushing outwards as the others rush to get within its perimeter, coughing and trying to shield their eyes from the ash and scouring wind. Raikaron quickly joins us within our bubble of safety, taking his glasses off and blowing the ash off them.

“Is that it, then?” Lysanne coughs as she braces herself on her knees. “Is it finally over?”

“It is done.” Raikaron says, checking on Jayta as she tries to wipe ash out of her eyes. “Azra has been returned to the Maelstrom; your commission is completed. You may rest easy now.”

“Oh, thank god.” Milor sighs in relief, sitting down and setting his shotgun beside himself. “We’re drinkin’ tonight. I’m gonna cook myself a burger. The best damn Venusian burger this side of the galaxy. Pickles, tomatoes, lettuce, Begnionese cheese, the whole nine yards. The rest of y’all want a burger? I’ll cook y’all burgers too. My treat.”

“You? Cooking?” Ozzy says incredulously. “B-but you’ve never helped with dinner prep!”

“Why are you sitting down?” I hiss at Milor and Ozzy. “Someone get over here and help me! I just cut off her tails and I can’t stem the bleeding while I’m holding her!”

Milor and Ozzy scramble back to their feet with hasty excuses, but Dandy’s the first one to reach us, already pulling out a bandage to wrap around the stub of Kayenta’s tails. Lysanne is next over, one of her arms hanging scorched by her side as she kneels next to me, checking Kayenta’s neck for a pulse. “There’s a pulse. She’s alive.” she confirms after a moment.

“I, uh, I got her tails.” Ozzy stammers, gathering up the severed tails on the stairs, though they’re still red, instead of the silver of Kayenta’s fur. “Maybe we can, um, throw ‘em in some ice and reattach them later—?”

Raikaron shakes his head. “They’re tainted with Azra’s influence. If Kayenta is to gain back her tails, she will have to do it in the traditional manner. The good news is that morphoxes are able to regrow their tails with the consumption of souls; having their tails lopped off does not mean the permanent loss of the appendages.”

Lysanne purses her lips. “Not ideal, but we’re got crates full of Jazel’s soul on the ship. There should be plenty there for her to grow back her tails.”

It almost slips under my radar, but I catch the way that Raikaron and Sång’s eyes briefly flit to each other. Neither of them say anything, but I know there is something about Lysanne’s statement that they silently disagree with. And normally I would ask, but at the moment, all that matters is that I have Kayenta back, and she’s alive.

“So, uh… if we can’t reattach the tails, maybe they might still be good for something…?” Ozzy says probingly. “After all, the Tinkerbelles did have magecloaks trimmed with morphox tails in their store…”

“Alright, cool your jets, Mr. Moneybags.” Milor says, reaching over and taking the tails that Ozzy has bundled up. “Even if Kaya was okay with you selling her tails, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to sell the tails of a literal demon goddess to the highest bidder. Might be creating more problems than we solve with something like that.”

“What? No! I wasn’t thinking of selling them!” Ozzy protests. “I mean, they’re definitely super valuable, absolutely, no one would argue with that, like, can you imagine? These are the literal tails of a demon goddess! Jazel and Lysanne can tell you, the Preserver Academy would be salivating over researching something like that! Not to mention, they’d probably make amazing spell components! The potions or enchantments you could make with something like this, why, it just blows the mind! Morphox tails are already exceptional magical components, but these are the literal remnants of a goddess—”

“Which is why they’ll be going in the vault, along with the crates of Jazel’s soul.” Lysanne interrupts, and in a tone that makes it clear there’ll be no further discussion on the matter. “We’ll figure out what to do with them later. For now, we need to get back to the ship and get medical attention. Mostly for Kaya, but I could do with some ice for this burn that the bitch goddess gave me.”

“Raikaron, could you help with healing some of these injuries?” Jayta asks from where she’s knelt beside me, fussing over Kayenta.

“I could, but I think it would be better if they returned with their injuries. None of them seem crippling, and it gives evidence to their valor here.” Raikaron replies as he straightens up with Azra’s ruby-bladed katana in hand; even as he holds it, it shifts and morphs into a two-edge straightblade with a crossguard, though the blade itself is still composed a rich, clear ruby. “We wouldn’t want CURSE to think that defeating a demon goddess and sealing her back in hell is a walk in the park, after all.”

“Only reason we managed it is because Jazel had her stumbling around like a binge drinker at a dwarven party.” Jayta says, looking to me. “What did you do to her? She was beating our asses until you got up on her at the end there.”

“It was just memories.” I mumble, having shifted my position to make it easier for Kayenta to slump against me. “Since I have a piece of Azra inside me, I was able to link to her and flood her with memories. It helped disorient her, break her concentration.”

“Oh, like a memory flashbang! Well isn’t that neato.” Ozzy exclaims, hitching a hand on his hip. “Guess that ritual was good for something after all. I mean, aside from giving you better reflexes and strength and access to Ranter magic, and all that.”

“Oi, dead red. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you gettin’ handsy with the spoils of war.” Milor says, resting a hand on his pistol. “Why don’t you hand over that pretty liddl’ stabby stick. Not sure I trust someone like you with somethin’ like that.”

“I will have to respectfully decline that request, Deputy.” Raikaron replies as he examines the blade. “Unlike you, my obligations do not end with Azra’s banishment back to the Maelstrom, and I still owe a service to the person trapped in this blade.”

Milor’s thumb starts to stray towards the hammer of his pistol. “Yeah, I don’t like the sound of that. If you plan on setting some other demon loose after we just put one away—”

“Milor.” I interrupt wearily. “Let him have it.”

Milor looks back at me. “Didn’t you hear him? There’s something in that sword—”

“I know.” I say. “Whatever it is, it saved my life. Azra would’ve cut my head in half if the sword hadn’t twisted to the side at the last second. Let him have it and do what he needs to do with it.”

It’s clear he doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t fight me on it. “Fine. This better not come back to bite us in the ass, dead red. We’ve had enough demon shenanigans for one lifetime.” he says, his hand slipping off his pistol.

“I’ve patched up as much as I can here.” Dandy announces as she finishes bending adhesive over the bandaged stub of Kayenta’s tails. “We should return to the ship now, and should set a course for the nearest world with a proper hospital. I can handle minor injuries, but  loss of an appendage requires follow-up care that is beyond my ability to provide.”

“Lady Sång, may I ask you to see them back to the Drift?” Raikaron asks as he tucks the blade into the pocket of his vest — three feet of sword somehow disappearing into a space that’s less than six inches deep. “I must remain here for a time. Andalus is still somewhere on this world, and I must locate it so it can be returned to the Rantheon. Beyond that, I must take stock of matters here, so that I can compose my final report to the Gathering.”

“Wait, you’re not coming back with us?” Jayta says, standing up.

“I will be staying here for a day or two, yes.” Raikaron says, turning towards Jayta and resting a hand on her shoulder. “There is still work to be done; matters that need accounting. Once I return to the ship, you and I will have to depart again for Sjelefengsel, so go with your brother and his friends, and enjoy your time with them before we have to depart the mortal plane again.”

“Okay.” Jayta says, sounding a bit disappointed, but accepting. She turns to me as I work on turning around while holding Kayenta up. “Here, let me help you, Jazel.”

“Let me turn around so I can get her on my back and carry her out of here.” I say, shuffling around. “When we get back to the skipper, I think we’ll have to lay her on her side. I don’t want to lay her on her back since her tails have been cut.”

“Are you sure you can carry her, Jazel?” Dandy asks. “I know she does not weigh that much, but she is still dressed in Azra’s armor. Milor or myself may be better equipped to carry her there.”

“I’m stronger now. I can handle this.” I say as Jayta helps get Kayenta’s arms over my shoulders, and I get my hands under her legs to lift her up.

“Let him carry his mate. It is his responsibility; you should not deprive him of it.” Sång says, one hand raised to maintain the bubble of breathable atmosphere around us, while she uses the other to beckon us to follow. “I will watch the mortals while you conclude your work here, Lord Syntaritov. I also have a report of my own to deliver once your have finished with yours.”

Gritting my teeth, I push to my feet with Kayenta on my back, swaying a bit as I get upright. Jayta helps steady me, looking concerned. “Are you sure you’ve got it?” she asks.

“Yeah.” I exhale, setting my eyes on entrance of the throne room as the others start to stand up around me. “We’ve done what they asked us to do. Let’s go home.”

And with that, we begin our journey back to the ship, and the safety of high orbit.