Ambient Music
The Shade reels back from the intensity of your assault, screeching in pain and anger. For a moment, it sizes you all up- all the dragons that now overflow the healers’ shacks, the bunker doors that no longer hold so strong after hours of repeated and unceasing combat. Even your reinforcements look worn; Ereshkigal and Entelechy alone make repeated attacks, while Mordred, Arthur, and Bedivere do their best to cover a contingent of wounded dragons making for the far side of the landmass. Opposite you, Murasaki and the Asclepius brothers throw up cover as the cat-a-lock, Gin, Ao, and Enjin jump onto the platform of the Cannon of Fluffiness in order, loosing four bolts of charged energy straight at the Shade. The hits ring true, and the heavens shake with the fierceness of the Shade’s scream.
“How much more is this thing going to take?” you shout over the cacophony, barely keeping on your feet. The Shade shrinks in on itself, a familiar sight, and around you your comrades start running for cover and shouting for your allies to do the same. You find yourself under a hasty barrier thrown up by Gin as the Shade expands in a rapid wave, flooding over New Sornieth, ravaging the settlement and dragging any dragons unfortunate enough to be caught outside a defended position to their deaths.
“Everyone, fall back!” you hear Mordred shout. “To the center! Defend the bunker gates!”
You scamper back with everyone else, stopping long enough to scoop an injured Fae up with your tail and place them on your back. Apophis roars overhead in the train, the gatling gun long since out of ammo, its barrels melted from the intense barrage that had left its twelve compartments, a veritable hailstorm of fire that had single-handedly kept the Shade at bay while Ereshkigal and Entelechy flew to the aid of a knot of dragons trapped by the Shade.
“It has to be slowing down, right?” a dragon from Pan says. Their shovel has long since given way before the demands of combat, and they jab a pointed, splintered pole at an oncoming Shade mouth. “There’s no way this thing has that much energy!”
“It feeds on the darkness of the starless skies and the despair of dragon’s hearts,” you hear Apophis say. “It makes sense that it’s strongest in the Reach, and after all the fighting that’s gone on…”
“We can’t give up!” you say, watching the two golden dragons circle the Shade high above you. “If it gets past us here, it’ll devour the Sky, and then the Outlier Sea, and then our home!”
“Wait!” Bedivere limps over, the arm you forged for him visibly cracking and warped from extensive combat. He grabs a nearby Boolean, watching its carapace light up with a look of rapture on his face. “It’s Lanling! He’s almost here!”
As Bedivere speaks those words, a mighty salvo of fire rips through the dark clouds, smashing into the Shade with unadulterated fury. The engines of the Empyrean sail through a wall of smoke, cannons and guns on full rotation, the projectiles of each ship launched in such a way that they are perfectly timed to hit the Shade all at once. A thousand mouths eat a thousand cannonballs and are beaten back by five thousand more; Lanling leaps from the window of a train in a death dive towards the Shade, opening his wings at the last moment as his sword catches on the Shade and drags a rift all the day down its form, spilling dark essence out into the Sky. Okita is right behind him, a new katana in her claws, spinning and parrying the Shade with ease.
Ereshkigal and Entelechy pin their wings to the sides of their bodies and dive to avoid the second barrage of fire, and from the light of the cannons firing, you can finally begin to grasp the size of the Empyrean’s fleet. They have half of New Sornieth surrounded; the ships occupy the space above and below and around the Shade, offering it no place to go.
“This is it,” Entelechy says. She lands beside you, golden eyes fixated on the battle above. “The Shade has been fighting us for too long. It can’t resist that kind of firepower. The second it begins to flee, we’ll make our move.”
“We?”you ask.
“You have a Sky-god and a Star with you,” Ereshkigal laughs. The winds around New Sornieth rustle with her mirth, gently swaying the earrings dangling from her head-feathers. “And while we were fighting, we came up with a plan. All we need, dragons of Sornieth, is a suitable distraction.”
“I’ve got one!” you hear Murasaki say. You look over and see him scratching the last of a complex set of runes across his multitude of circles. “Ready to fire!” he reports, the runes on his bracelets glowing with power.
“Time it with the next Empyrean strike!” Mordred commands, pointing his dual swords at the Shade. “And everyone else, hit it with whatever you have!”
“They’re firing!” Bedivere reports, holding up the flashing Boolean.
“Now!” Mordred brings his swords to bear on the Shade, firing twin beams of energy from them. “Everyone, give it what you’ve got!”
“Hey!” Dark Asclepius shouts as someone headbutts him onto the platform of the Cannon of Fluffiness. “I’m not qualified for this!”
“Shut up and fire!” Light Asclepius replies, and the beam of the cannon rises to join the multitude of attacks ascending from New Sornieth. Murasaki slams his claws to the ground, and the thirteen circles he’s scratched out hum and begin to rotate, thirteen pillars of light rising around him. Then, suddenly, you feel the island beneath you tremor. Multitudes of rock fall away, only to levitate in mid-air, unburdened by gravity. Earth dragons spontaneously begin calling more of their element into being, uncertain of why, but driven by a single unspoken purpose. You turn your head to where the thirteen pillars of light have combined, drawing in the stones around them, taking on the shape of a massive creature. It has seemingly as many legs as the Shade has mouths; its own mouth is comprised of four great mandibles, which gnash at the Shade in utter hatred; the thirteen lights become its eyes, from which it shoots pure power at the Shade, pinning it between itself and the Empyrean’s barrage.
“Now!”
Entelechy and Ereshkigal take flight once again, the Star wielding her energies and the Waste-Waif her spear, slicing into the Shade with sunlight. You see the moment the Shade is torn in two, its mouths agape as it shrieks and writhes in an attempt to get away. Entelechy’s claw closes in on something solid, and Ereshkigal whips a cage into being, imprisoning something behind bars over which only the Waste-Waif has domain.
One last, final wail of despair and rage ripples through the air around you. Then the storm around New Sornieth begins to still: the dark clouds recede as quickly as they came, giving way to open Sky and calm stars, amongst which six rifts of twilight still hover, awaiting the dragons they delivered.
Ereshkigal and Entelechy wing their way back down to you, prisoner in hand. What they have, you realize, is a ball of condensed Shade, unable to do anything other than struggle in its enclosure.
“Is it over?” you ask, carefully examining the two halves.
“It is,” Ereshkigal confirms. “And now I will be taking my leave. My debt is repaid; these dragons must be returned to their homes, and I will be locking the Shade away.”
“Where are you going to take it?” you ask.
“Perhaps my realm,” Ereshkigal says. “Perhaps one of the two Wells. Perhaps whatever my whim desires. But first, I will make it suffer for its insolence, for trapping me in a dragon’s body.”
“If we unbound you back then, why are you still a dragon?” you ask.
“Would you really want to see the true form of all three sky-gods in your journey?” Ereshkigal laughs. “The sight would drive you mad. Better to remain in a form that dragonkind would be familiar with. Isn’t that right, Burrower?”
The giant construct of elemental energy and earth rumbles its assent, thirteen eyes beginning to fade away. The effigy of the Burrower slowly turns back away from New Sornieth, undulating into open Sky before allowing itself to disintegrate into its component parts: the beams of elemental energy that quickly fade away, and the portions of New Sornieth, which crumble and plummet into the void below.
“Farewell, dragons of Sornieth,” Ereshkigal says, opening a rift behind her. The other dragons she’d brought are already returning to their respective rifts, some giving you weary waves of farewell, most simply going back to where they came from, eager to get some rest. “Rest assured that the Sky will never forget you. The gods will never forget, and we will not let our realms forget.”
“Thank you,” you say simply, and then the goddess of the void is gone, taken away in a flash of her spear.
“It’s over,” Light Asclepius sighs, grooming his slightly singed feathers.
“At last,” his brother agrees. “The Sky is free of the Shade’s tyranny, and a few other worthless rulers as well.”
“You would speak that way of-”
“I mean the Empress!” Dark Asclepius waves his staff at his brother. “The Halved was a worthy king, albeit-”
“Totally off his rocker?” Mordred asks.
“Well-” Dark Asclepius sputters, then huffs and folds his forelimbs over his chest. “Hmph.”
“I hope we weren’t too late.” Lanling and Okita land next to your group, sheathing their weapons. “Sorry we were held back. Okita insisted that we bring every single ship we had, and that required getting some out of storage-”
“But it was worth it!” Okita shouts, punching the air. “Did you see the Shade take that hit? Total success! Great victory!”
“No, you aren’t wrong there…” Lanling smiles and rests his hand on the hilt of his rapier. “King Mordred, we intend to return back to the Empyrean post-haste to continue diplomacy with the new king of Albion, the Clockwork Sun. Would you like to join us?”
“I guess I should,” Mordred sighs. “It’d be bad form to just, yknow. Turn down a ride back. Father, Bedivere?”
“A wise decision, King Mordred,” Bedivere says, inclining his head, and Arthur nods their own behind him. “Dragons of Sornieth, I’m afraid this is where we’ll have to part ways.”
“I understand,” you say, opening your arms to embrace all three dragons in a hug. “Hey Mordred, didn’t you swear you were going back to the Traitor’s Wood to become a statue once this was over?”
“Very funny,” Mordred says.
“And I suppose while this isn’t retirement, this is a fitting rest for me,” Bedivere muses. “I have, after all, found another worthy wielder of Excalibur. That I get to serve by my old leader and the current King is but a boon that I will gladly indulge in.”
“And I must thank you personally.” Arthur bows deeply to you, smiling. “Once for saving me from the Shade, and again for giving me the opportunity to right past wrongs. Mordred and I will forever be in your debt.”
“Hey, wait!” Entelechy tilts her head to the side, evaluating Mordred. “Yeah, I think I’ve decided. Mordred, how would you like to be a Sun?”
“What, me?” Mordred asks. “Uh- I don’t think that’s how it works? Why are you asking?”
“Because I’ve decided I want to see this ‘Sornieth’ myself!” Entelechy says. “And I’m taking Apophis with me!”
“Did you just- voluntell me what to do?” Apophis shrieks.
“Oh come on, I’ve seen you eyeing their books!” Entelechy shoots back. “I know you want to come! It’ll be like an extended vacation! Don’t tell me you’re not tired of this place?”
“You get to say that!” Apophis protests. “You’ve been here for how long?”
“And I don’t want to be here for any longer!” Entelechy removes her mask and stares at it carefully, a golden light emanating from her claws and eyes. “If Mordred is to be King of Eleutheria, he’ll need the power of a Star to drive back the damage the Halved has done to the realm, and I certainly don’t need this power if I’m going to visit Sornieth. Better to leave it in good hands where it can be of use.”
“Are you certain, Entelechy?” Bedivere asks. “Star-power is not so easily given or taken. You may not be able to take it back, should you choose to return to the Sky-”
“I won’t,” Entelechy says. “I’m done exploring here. I’ve seen far too much of the Sky for one lifetime- I’d like to see some of Sornieth too.”
“Then it’s settled,” Arthur says. The golden light coalesces upon the mask, which Entelechy hands over to Mordred.
“Hey, now you have a crown,” Entelechy remarks, grinning. As the mask leaves her hands, you see the runes on her body fade and the light etched against her scales vanish. When it’s over, what’s left is the dragon you rescued from Piranesi oh so long ago- a simple Nocturne, now as much a dragon as you. “I gotta say, I’m glad you accepted, King Mordred. Imagine if I went to Sornieth like that. I’d be competing with one of their deities.”
“And I think you’ve seen enough war for a lifetime,” Bedivere comments.
“Thanks, Entelechy…” Mordred turns the mask over in his claws. “We’ll… do you proud with this, I promise. What’re you going to do with the Shade, though?”
“Honestly?” Entelechy says. “I was thinking of taking it to Sornieth. That way, even if it escapes- and given how this thing is, it probably might in the far future- it’ll only be at half strength. And even if it does, there will be a team of dragons in both the Sky and Sornieth who can take it on when the time comes. Ereshkigal agreed with me, so that’s what I’ll do.”
“Do we have to?” you ask.
“It’s for the best,” one of your teammates says. “It’s true, a Shade at half-power is better than one in either place.”
“Alright,” you relent. “Well… goodbye Mordred, Bedivere, Arthur. It was nice meeting you all.”
“Likewise,” Arthur says. “And I’m sorry I almost blew you up when we met.”
“No hard feelings,” you say. The three dragons laugh, then pad over to the edge of New Sornieth, flying for the departing engines of the Empyrean. Lanling and Okita follow after them, and they are quickly lost from sight, the only evidence of the massive Empyrean fleet the thousands of smoke trails that they leave behind them as they fly.
“Well.” Light Asclepius shrugs and paces a circle around you. “Now what?”
“We’re unemployed,” Dark Asclepius pouts.
“Maybe we can go on some adventures ourselves?”
“That sounds like a lovely idea.”
“But only after we help this place rebuild.” Light Asclepius gestures to the ruins of New Sornieth, at the dragons emerging from their shelters and gazing around at the battlefield. “If we are to prove to the dragons of the Sky that we are not what our masters made us, we will have to begin now.”
“So we shall.” Dark Asclepius turns to you, shaking his staff. “Dragons of Sornieth, I believe we shall now also take our leave. Thank you, for… well, as much as I hate saying it, freeing me so I may travel with my brother. Millennia of servitude may have its enjoyable moments, but a new life in its entirety… perhaps in time, I will grow to understand the true depth of what it is you have given us. So, thank you, kind dragons. We hope that your travels are safe.”
“And yours,” you answer. “Oh, and… hey, don’t eat too many of the rubbery lumps when you go to Seaside.”
“Rubbery lumps?” Dark Asclepius asks, walking off with his brother. “What’re those? They’re-” Light Asclepius leans over to whisper into his ear, and Dark Asclepius baps him over the head with his staff. “That’s disgusting!”
You laugh and watch the two dragons disappear into the rubble of New Sornieth, throwing magic up where they can to alleviate the pain of the injured and begin the slow, arduous process of returning the settlement to its former state.
“That was an adventure.”
You turn and see the Silver Coalition lying in a cuddle pile, Enjin begrudgingly trapped beneath everyone else while the cat-a-lock bounces happily on his head.
“I don’t want to do that again,” Kotoha gripes. “Way too much work.”
“Yes,” Ao agrees quietly. “There was way too much dying involved in that.”
“And not enough rice!” Kotoha says.
“It really is all about rice with you two, isn’t it?” Gin sighs, reaching up to pat Ao’s head feathers.
“What are you going to do now that you’ve found the Name?” you ask them.
“I’m going back to Perdurance,” Murasaki says. “I have to rebuild. So many notes lost, so many experiments… and so many knowledgeable dragons, too. If the Sky is about to undergo a rebirth of sorts, then perhaps so too should our understanding of things.”
“I’ll be going with him,” Gin says. “I’ve always wanted to start a tea-house of my own, and now, well, there’s plenty of real estate on Perdurance.”
“And we’ll tag along!” Ao declares. “Right, Kotoha?”
“Yeah, there’s no separating the Silver Coalition!”
“Actually…”
All eyes go to Enjin at the bottom of the pile.
“I was wondering if I could go to Sornieth with you, when you return.”
“Enjin?” Gin asks.
“I thought about what the dragons said to me after we defeated the Exile, and…” Enjin claws at the ground. “I want to try that ‘starting over’ thing. But I don’t want to do it in the Sky. To the Sky, even if they don’t know who I am, the Light-that-Follows will always be the object responsible for the loss of Hybras, of many other dragons. In Sornieth, no one will know who or what I am. They have dragons born of goo, for Storm’s sake- I’m sure some lightning in a dragon won’t puzzle them a bit.”
“Are you sure?” Kotoha asks, turning her head upside-down. “But then we can’t see you!”
“You can always go through the Seaside Door,” Murasaki points out.
“But long distance travel is bad for riiiice.”
“We have rice in Sornieth,” you point out. “Or we can make you some.”
“Is it fluffier than ours?” Ao asks.
“Come and find out,” you laugh, carefully extricating Enjin from the pile of dragons. The cat-a-lock bounces indecisively between the two parties, tail wagging in uncertainty.
“Go with him,” Ao urges gently, extending her forelimb to the cat-a-lock. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate the company.”
Mrrrr.
The cat-a-lock purrs and hops over to the members of the Silver Coalition, nuzzling against each of them in turn. Even Murasaki looks like he doesn’t want to experiment on it for once, instead reaching down and giving it a goodbye pat on the ears.
“Alright,” Enjin says, scooping the cat-a-lock up and placing it on his head. “When do we leave?”
“I don’t think we should delay much longer, if we’re transporting part of the Shade,” you say. “We can take it to Sornieth and imprison it in the Icewarden’s territory- hey, Entelechy, you don’t mind if we start the grand tour there, right?”
“Not at all!” Entelechy says. “But I didn’t pack warm…”
“It’s alright,” you laugh. “I’m sure we’ve got a clan or two there that’ll be more than happy to lend you a coat.”
“So this is it…” Gin steps forward, extending a hand to you for you to shake. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for all of us. Saving my sister, getting my body back, helping us defeat the Exile- everything.”
“Don’t mention it,” you say. “But come visit us in Sornieth sometime, and then we can call it even.”
“As soon as we’ve gotten things in Perdurance back up and running, consider it a deal,” Murasaki says.
“Everyone, last call for the Sornieth Express!” Entelechy sticks her head out of the train window and waves a claw at you. Apophis, you note, has been relegated to coal-shoveling duty for the duration.
“We’ll see you later!” Ao says, giving you a quick hug.
“Yeah, we will.” You hug her back before jumping aboard the train with Enjin in tow, the vessel quickly pulling away from New Sornieth and making for the Seaside Door.
The Door is already open when you arrive somehow- perhaps the workings of the Clockwork, or one last favor from Ereshkigal. You don’t really question it, more than happy to sail through and be home again.
The train begins to grind and shudder the moment you rocket through the great double doors, wheels becoming propellers and the roof pulling away to form some extra deck space. You splash down in the sea of Sornieth as a ship, which Entelechy sails back to the port you left from with all the seasoned hand of a captain who’s now, truly, seen everything.
“Ahh…” You leap off the boat and kiss the ground. “Home, sweet home.”
“So this is Sornieth…” Enjin says, stepping off the boat. “Is that a sun? It’s so… benign.”
“I know, right?” you say. “Hey Entelechy, if you’d come while powered up, you’d give that thing a run for its money.”
“Wouldn’t I?” Entelechy laughs.
“What a nice, peaceful place,” Apophis says wistfully. “Do you think they’ll mind if we leave our boat here for a while?”
“They’ve seen weirder,” Praeteri says, and mumbles something about a boat piloted by a soul on her last adventure.
“-bzzt- We have returned to Sornieth, -bzzt-.” The Booleans make their way up from the hold as a swarm, their varying members flying off in different directions. “-bzzt- Thank you for your assistance, dragons. We -bzzt- will always remember the help you have rendered us, -bzzt-. Be it Sky, Outlier Sea, or Sornieth, -bzzt-, you can always count on us to answer your calls. Although, -bzzt- we doubt we can help you with problems larger than -bzzt- clogged plumbing.”
“Thanks anyway,” you say, patting the nearest Boolean on the antennae. “And we’re glad you’re back. Do you know how slow the mail was without you guys?”
“-bzzt- Undoubtedly atrocious, -bzzt-.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” another dragon groans.
“So, where’s this… Icewarden you told me about?” Entelechy asks. “Is he anything like the Piranesi Wardens? What does he do? Does he have a lantern?”
“We’ll explain it on the way,” you say. “Oh, and I forgot to warn you- we have to walk a lot of the ways, here. Or fly.”
“Awww.” Entelechy groans. “Can’t we just use the train?”
“I don’t think they have that kind of technology here yet,” Apophis says thoughfully.
“B-gger,” Entelechy gripes.
“Still got the Shade?” you ask.
“Yep!” Entelechy holds the small confined ball up in both claws. “Now let’s slam dunk this thing where it belongs. I wonder if this Icewarden fellow can really contain it, though.”
“You’d be surprised,” a fellow dragon says, running over with a copy of the Sornieth Times in their claws. “Check this out! They found a rare new breed hidden in the Icewarden’s territory. They watch the Shade, and they’re called gaolers.”
All eyes turn towards Enjin as you compare the picture of a gaoler on the paper with Enjin’s strange stature.
“What?”
Several Months Later
The months since your return from the Sky have been painfully normal. The dragons from your clan listen to your tales with interest, and occasionally you receive a Boolean message from Entelechy and Apophis or Enjin, noting their travels across Sornieth. The Shade has been locked away in the care of the Gaolers, and Enjin has apparently found employment in a Lightning facility as a provider of strange, non-Stormcatcher lightning. Apophis was chased out of an observatory for having a sky-map that made no sense tattooed on his wings, and Entelechy declares that, definitively, the Lightweaver has nothing on her.
On a particularly muggy day in the rainy season, a Boolean finds its way to your clan’s lair, a tightly bound roll of parchment held in its appendages. It deposits the message on the table in front of you and buzzes off, its duty complete.
“Huh,” you say. “No postmark.”
Turning it over in your claws, you notice a series of seals embossed on the portion where the scroll folds over itself: the first, a seal of four sigils imprinted onto silver wax; the second, an image of two crossed staves; the last, a horned helmet with two swords crossed in the background behind it. You pry the letter open and unroll it, beginning to read.
Dear Friend,
What’s up! It’s Mordred!
King Mordred insisted I write that, my apologies. This is Bedivere, currently writing in the presence of our friends and your former crewmates. The Sky has been so peaceful since you left. You would hardly believe it’s the same Sky you once came to. The Midnight Belt will take several years to dissipate in full, and there will still be the same clouds of Eleutheria that we all know thanks to the new Well, but at last, there is no war here. The Clockwork has assumed full control of Albion, and the Clockwork Empyrean is now a joint place of ruling where our two kingdoms can discuss terms of governance. The Empyrean’s forces have fallen in line with Mordred, thanks in no small part to Lanling and Okita’s efforts. This may not be the Dual Kingdoms of old, but this place is now our home, and a fine one at that.
The Silver Coalition would like me to report that Perdurance is, while nowhere near its former self, a newly started settlement. The academy is being rebuilt, and the carnival is apparently better than ever, thanks to Kotoha’s power-speak. I haven’t been there to try it myself, so you will have to take the Asclepius brothers’ word for it. Light Asclepius would like me to say that you should never ride the ‘roller coaster’ after eating the rubbery lumps, though, and Dark Asclepius would like to comment that if he can’t tell which of those he got sick from, then how can he really know that it was the ‘roller coaster’ that got him sick?
As for the brothers, as you can likely guess, they have been rampaging around the Sky and giving everyone quite the good time. By which I mean to say, they may have broken the Blue Kingdom’s bureaucracy to some degree and had to escape from Piranesi at some point. I fear they have taken after your more reckless habits, dear friend, but they regret none of it. I suppose after thousands of years of service to a Star, there is very much in life that is wanted for.
New Sornieth is likewise in a state of recovery. The casualties from the final battle with the Shade may never be truly known in full, but Ereshkigal has quartered the dead in her realm and promised that she will watch over them until the time that the Blue Kingdom changes hands, so that they may be returned to the Sky they gave their lives to protect. When that will be, no one knows, but if the change you have inspired in the Sky is any indication, maybe it will be soon. Perhaps Arthur will go for it, since they seem to be getting restless. Last week, they attempted to start a food fight between myself and Mordred. I’m still picking crumbs out of my armor.
Lastly, I shall inform you that a new history book is being penned by several of the dragons involved in this escapade, including your heroic efforts to save the Sky from its old foe. The tale of the Prophet Exile is likewise being written in full, of course with a certain name omitted. He may be dead, but we see no reason to give the Exile the infamy he so longed for. And at last, we have closure for the truth of Hybras, the mystery of Traitor’s Wood, and many other tragedies that the Sky has suffered. While we cannot undo these things, at least we may rest in the knowledge that you have given to us.
We hope that you are doing well in Sornieth, and that perhaps our paths may one day have the fortune of crossing again. You will always be our valued friend, and we will never forget everything you have done for us. Also, Ao wants to remind you to eat your weekly bowl of fluffy rice.
Yours sincerely,
Bedivere, Mordred, Arthur-
The rest of the letter is smudged with ink, and it looks like the dragons signing their names may have gotten a bit overzealous in doing so. How very like them. Smiling, you carefully roll up the letter and stick it in a wooden case to protect it, tucking it away into your satchel.
To Complete This Event:
Reward:
Next Event:
Event 18: 0030 FR Time, Jul. 10
