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Page 4047

"If that's the criteria we're going by," said Damian, "then I have no problem with it. But it also means that there are at least two others who gained Jonah's approval. And we should probably make contact with them, if we can."

It took Parson a moment to realize who he was talking about.

Sermung and Tenebrach.

Yes. From the vision, it was obvious that Jonah trusted them more than perhaps anyone else in the world. Certainly more than anyone here, right now.

'Yet another thing that is easier said than done,' said Feromas. 'Unless, that is, our resident Vanguardians have some way of getting in touch with them.'

'There was a time when that was so,' said Overra. 'When Sermung handed out beacons left and right, telling people to call if they needed help. Parson had one for a good few decades. But no longer.'

Feromas tilted his faceless head. 'Beacons, huh? Can you get another one?'

'Wouldn't matter,' said Overra. 'He stopped answering them altogether.'

'All of them?'

'As far as I know, yes.'

'So someone else out there might still have the privilege.'

'Technically, yes, but I do not know who that could be.'

'Well, who is his favorite subordinate?'

'I don't think he plays favorites.'

'Everyone plays favorites.'

'Sermung is not like everyone else.'

'Tenebrach, then. He must have a favorite.'

"If you ask me, it seemed like Jonah was Sermung's favorite," said Damian.

Another brief silence arrived.

'Well, even if that's true, it's no help to us now,' said Feromas.

"We could always send a Courier," said Damian.

'That won't work, either,' said Overra. 'We've tried before. They just return the letters.'

"You're kidding. How badly does this guy not want to be bothered?"

'Judging from what we just learned in that vision,' said Overra, 'I don't know if that's the problem. Instead, it might just be that the Couriers are unable to reach him.'

'You think he's venturing out into other planes of existence?' said Feromas.

'Maybe. But it's just a guess. He's become very unpredictable over the years. By design, I'm sure. We'd have to ask him directly to find out the full truth of things.'

'You'd think your boss would be a little more forthcoming with his subordinates about such important information.'

'Not if he knows that unwitting saboteurs are everywhere.'

Parson had to add onto that. "And to be honest, I'm not even sure that he considers himself the leader of the Vanguard anymore."

'Excuse me?' said Feromas.

Page 4046

"I doubt it will be that easy," said Parson, standing to his feet again. "The Archivers have a long memory. They're reapers, after all. They'll remember our last visit perfectly. And when they see that we've returned, asking similar questions again, they'll be instantly suspicious of us. And if they have anything to hide, they'll work doubly so to make sure we never find it."

"So we don't go to Luugh, then," said Damian. "Or at least, not first."

"I'm sure the different groups talk to each other," said Parson. "But yes, that is probably wise. We should start with some other target, one that is less likely to turn into a fight."

'Archivers are not fighters,' said Feromas.

'So they say,' said Overra. 'But even if that's really true, there are other ways of combating one's enemies besides martial strength. As we've again just witnessed, no?'

'True,' acknowledged the other reaper. 'Moreover, we don't yet know who all is trustworthy. If the rest of them are as deceptive as this Ettol was, then there's no telling how many other people might be unknowingly compromised by their influence. In my opinion, the only ones we can trust right now--at least on this matter--are the four of us here in this room.'

Damian huffed. "Are you even sure of that much? It would seem we've all been unknowingly compromised before. Who's to say that's not still the case, somehow?"

An uncomfortable silence arrived as everyone looked at each other.

Parson was the one to break it. "Jonah. He's the one to say. He gave his life and left us that message so that we might have this opportunity now." Parson paused for someone to respond but when no one did, he kept going. "Jonah saw everything. He knew all of us. Understood us. And he knew the enemy as well. Knew the hold they had over us. And he still didn't give up on us. Even though maybe he should have."

'What are you saying?' said Overra. 'He should have abandoned us as Ettol's puppets?'

"It would've been the much easier path for him," said Parson. "He might still be alive, right now. In fact, he probably would be."

Damian nodded.

Parson went on. "If Jonah approved of us working together, then Feromas is right. The four of us here can trust each other. None of us are compromised."

'It may be a stretch to say that I trust Overra, though.'

'Hmph, right back at you.'

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Page 4045

And that first encounter hadn't even been the only time. The second encounter with Chaos had been at Bellvine, when those mad creatures began showing up--and more importantly, when Morgunov had gotten ahold of both Damian and Germal at once.

That entire battle had become a mad haze in his memory over the years, but here and now, thinking back on it with this new context fresh in his mind, that particular moment was feeling especially clear.

Morgunov had gotten to Germal. Holding him by his head. Seemingly to 'show' him something. And then done the same thing to Damian, hadn't he?

Parson had fought to free them both, but in the end, he had also ended up in basically the same position, at the Mad Demon's mercy.

And Morgunov had been about to 'show' him something, too, judging from the way he'd been talking. The only reason he hadn't done so... was because...

The wolf.

Parson's mind refocused. Reprioritized. And then he remembered everything Morgunov had said to the beast. Along with everything he'd witnessed in the recent battle.

What monstrous power the wolf had wielded. Incredible all those years ago, but now even moreso.

"Koh is the key," he found himself saying. "The Prime Hunt, yes? That's what Morgunov called it, back when he was possessed at Bellvine. And in this latest fight, Koh... clearly, something changed with him. He turned on Germal. Or Ettol, rather, didn't he?"

"Mm," hummed Damian. "So if we can learn more about him, then perhaps we can learn more about this enemy."

'Easier said than done,' said Feromas. 'It's not like we never tried. Even the Prime Archivers in Luugh couldn't help us when we sought to learn more about Koh.'

'Hmm, I wonder about that,' said Overra.

'What do you mean?' said Feromas.

'The Archivers are supposedly neutral,' she said, 'but I have long had my suspicions about that. Just because they do not side with either the Vanguard or Abolish does not mean that they are without an agenda of their own.'

'Well, of course they have one. Everyone does. But what relevance does that have here? Do you have some reason to believe that they are untrustworthy on this particular subject?'

'Think about it. If these Primordials are such an ancient and powerful fixture of the world, then why is so little known about them?'

'You're implying the Archivers are in league with them?'

'Someone must be. And they seem well-positioned.'

"Sounds worth investigating," said Damian.

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Page 4044

"I'm sure the Vanguard has valuable intel about the state of the world, right now," said Damian. "That's intel we may need."

'Good thing we've got other ways of acquiring it, then,' said Overra. 'And what about you? How's your network of contacts, currently?'

"...Serviceable," said Damian.

'If you've been able to keep tabs on us with it, then I suspect it's better than merely serviceable.'

"I'm not making any promises after going mad for half a century."

And again, Parson found himself circling back to the point that he'd been trying not to dwell on. "...Are you implying that you're cured now?" he said.

"No," said Damian. But then he paused. "I don't know. Truth be told, I can still feel it. The memories are vibrant. It wasn't some other personality like... Jonah struggled with. It was me. And yet now, I... agh, it's difficult to explain."

'Try,' said Overra. 'Do you feel like yourself again?'

"Not exactly. I feel like someone new. I feel more in control than I've ever been, sure, but I also can't forget the..." He trailed off.

Parson had to push him. "Can't forget what?"

The other man leveled a stare at him. "The things I saw."

Impulsively, Parson wanted to ask what he meant, but he stopped himself. He instead had a very sudden and strong feeling that he already knew exactly what Damian was talking about--or a close approximation of it, perhaps.

Parson had his own encounter with the otherworldly, after all. With non-existence in the realm of Chaos. Or the Void. Or whatever it was called.

It hadn't amounted to much, of course, but he'd never forgotten the time he touched that black sludge on the outskirts of Montero in Korgum.

Which also had happened to be his very first encounter with the name Ettol.

Certainly not a coincidence, now that he was looking back on it.

But in his encounter, Parson had merely looked at the madness that lay within Chaos. A detached observer. It hadn't affected him in the slightest. He'd even felt disappointed by it, somehow.

But now... seeing what had become of Damian...

He could understand how lucky he had been at that time. How close he'd gotten to losing himself.

It was now quite easy to imagine what might have happened if he'd been fully immersed in those sights at the time--if he hadn't felt so safely detached.

Not to mention, there was probably so much more that Damian had witnessed, too. Things that Parson couldn't even begin to conceptualize.

Page 4043

'Because you're not thinking straight, right now,' she said. 'We've done many good things, Parson.'

He shook his head. "Have we, really?"

'Of course we have. Don't let your failures blind you. What have you always told the new recruits to the CID?'

Hmph. He didn't even want to answer that. Having his own words weaponized against him in a moment of weakness? That was low, even for Overra.

Damian answered for him, though. "'We exist in a space between black and white. In a world of grays. But that doesn't mean the extremes don't exist at all. It just means they're more difficult to keep track of, sometimes.'"

Parson stared at him. "How do you even know that?"

"What, you think I haven't been keeping tabs on you?"

'Having everyone think we're dead has had its advantages,' said Feromas. 'Thankfully, we didn't waste ALL of that opportunity.'

'Don't lose heart now,' said Overra. 'We're finally nearing the goal line, after all these years. We got so close this time, and on the next attempt, we'll do even better.'

Parson was far from convinced, though. "Shallow words. Do we even care about Morgunov, anymore? After everything we've just learned?"

"Good question," said Damian, earning a bit of surprise from Parson. "These Primordials seem like they might be an even greater threat than Abolish. And we still barely know anything about them."

'You would have us abandon our centuries-long quest?' said Overra.

"For now," said Damian. "It's not like we're in any condition to mount another attack. I say we take this opportunity not just to lick our wounds but also to learn as much as we can about this other threat."

'That's not your sympathy for Morgunov talking, is it?'

"Please."

'You ARE one of his pupils, after all.'

'One of his test subjects,' said Feromas. 'Don't question our loyalty to the cause, Overra.'

'Oh, I'm going to be questioning a lot more than just that, old friend. You'd best get used to it, if we're going to be sticking together for any length of time.'

'Hah. Are we, though? Or shall we go our separate ways again? It won't look good for you, if you're seen with us. We're still associated with Abolish, technically.'

'True, but we also have plenty of enemies within the Vanguard ourselves. Parson and I should return and report back, but that can be delayed. And I don't think we would want to stay long, either.'

Page 4042

Too late. Yet again.

Why was he always too late?

And worse still, what was he doing now? What had all these sacrifices been for?

The Rainlords were coming to mind. Everything he'd put them through, recently.

Ultimately, yes, it had put them back on the path of independence and growing strength, but looking back on it now, in the context of this new continental war--in the context of these ancient machinations with Ettol that he'd never even known about...

He was a fool to think that he could manipulate the world in such a way.

Whether the objective was achieved or not, there were always going to be unforeseen players on the board. And as much as he thought he could take advantage of a situation, there would always be others trying to do the same.

He wasn't a player. He was just another piece on the board.

His mind went to Sermung. He certainly hadn't expected to see the High Commander in that vision. Working directly with Jonah, no less.

And he'd even mentioned Parson by name.

Some forty years ago.

What must he think of him, now?

The more he thought about it, the more Parson could only feel shame.

Damian's voice cut through the silence like a knife. "You gonna start cryin' over there?"

Parson didn't know whether to laugh or yell at him. If he didn't feel so much pity for the other man, it probably would have been the latter.

He pushed himself into a seated position and just stared at the empty space in the middle of the room where the vision had been.

Damian came over to stand next to him. "Told you to give some respect to Germal, didn't I?"

"Jonah," Parson corrected. "Not Germal."

"Right."

Parson sighed. "I don't even know what I'm doing, anymore."

Damian made no response.

Parson looked to Overra now. "Why did we even form our little trio? Hatch our little plan? It's been too long. I can't remember."

Overra had an answer for him, though, of course. 'To break the stalemate.'

He snorted. "In Sermung's favor, right?"

'Of course,' she said. 'To give him and Tenebrach some manner of relief after all they've done for the world.'

"Then why, when I look back on all we've accomplished, do I only see misery? Why, when I look inside myself, do I only feel misery?"

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Page 4041

What a relief. Germal was ready to lay back and whatever happened happen, since he wasn't in much condition to do anything else, but then Nerovoy was there, invoking the regeneration.

Stability and awareness began to return.

And Damian attacked Nerovoy.

That was it.

That was what Ettol needed.

Parson and Overra were fully on his side now. Even if he was still recovering, this battle was already won. Ettol knew it.

Closer than he would've liked, certainly. This troublesome trio. But they were fractured now.

Before long, Damian fled. He didn't put up much of a fight against Parson, probably because, even in his burgeoning madness, he still did not truly wish to harm the other man.

Or perhaps he could see what Ettol saw. His fight was lost.

Feromas gave chase. Not ideal. Ettol would've preferred he stay and become convinced by the new web that he was about to weave for the others, but oh well. Feromas would have to be a future project.

This wasn't over, of course. There was no doubt in his mind that they would meet again, but there would be plenty of time to prepare for that day.

Ettol had much to do...

-+-+-+-+-

The illusory vision kept going for a while longer, and it took all of Parson's concentration to remain focused on it after the revelations about Germal's true nature. And about what had happened to Damian.

About everything. The culmination of their entire history together.

Jonah.

He showed them memories. As real and immersive as Parson and Damian were there themselves--and occasionally, they were. It was surely a strange thing, seeing their younger selves from Jonah's perspective.

But frankly, Parson didn't really need to see the rest. He remembered perfectly well himself.

After the breaking of their fellowship in this little ancient fortress, he'd encountered Damian several more times. But Jonah--or Ettol--had always been there, too, ensuring that every attempt at reconciliation failed.

So many lies.

Woven seamlessly into the truth.

Made utterly indistinguishable from one another.

But so much was slotting into place now.

Damian had tried to explain the truth to him. Couched in madness as he'd been, he'd still tried. But Parson had never been able to bring himself to believe him. He just seemed so far gone--and this Ettol, so reasonable by comparison.

By the time the vision concluded, Parson Miles had long since fallen to his knees.

Page 4040

All wrong. Everything. Germal was floundering under the barrage of attacks. Desperately, he tried every different option that arose into his mind. Stop? Unaffected. Numb? Unaffected. Slow? Unaffected. Distract? Unaffected. Wipe? Unaffected. Break? Unaffected.

Of course not. Damian was already broken. Be smarter.

How? Damian was relentless. And had gotten the drop on him, besides. The man was not letting go of the upper hand, nor would he.

That look in his eyes. He had knowledge that he shouldn't. And he just kept talking. Smiling. Laughing.

"Even if you survive me here today, your loss is inevitable. Don't you see? Your struggles against oblivion are precisely what will doom you in the end. Because oblivion isn't even so. Your cowardice is exactly--"

On and on. A constant through the fighting. Germal reached out to Koh, but he already knew it was fruitless. The wolf helped only when he deigned to--and this was not one such occasion, apparently.

More nonsense. Useless thrall.

The domain was wavering now. Germal couldn't maintain it. The reapers would begin to regain awareness.

Agh, but perhaps that was good? With no context, maybe they would actually--

A truly solid blow landed on Germal's jaw, connecting far more deeply than mere flesh and bone.

Ettol felt it. The soul itself rattled.

He hit the ground and skid across the ancient stones. Blood smeared across his vision as he struggled for awareness. Germal? Ettol? Jonah?

Damian was there. Whaling on him again. He could scarcely even process that much, now. The world was blinking. Fading.

Was this death? Yet another failed incarnation? Ended prematurely?

Frustration was the only emotion in his mind. What a wasted opportunity.

But then it stopped. The pounding on his skull. His soul was still trembling, yes, but no longer in an exponential manner. It was calming again. His thoughts, settling. Awareness, returning.

This body was still far from ready to listen, though. He felt like a smear on the floor. And perhaps was--or little better than. If Damian had started using that mysterious ability of his, then that wouldn't be a surprise.

But he still heard fighting. Shouting. Familiar voices.

Reapers.

And Parson. The man had finally arrived. Even later than usual.

But still timely enough to save his life, apparently.

Germal couldn't make out what they were saying, but the unfolding scene was obvious enough even without such details. Damian was arguing, no doubt trying to convince Parson not to interfere.

But thankfully, the madness was there, too. And Parson was sharp enough. It must have been obvious to him.

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Page 4039

Impossible didn't even begin to describe it. Time had not been time. Who could have--?

He saw, finally. Damian was there. Moving when he shouldn't be able to. Seeing what he shouldn't be able to.

The man's eyes were as wide and wild as any Ettol had ever seen. And they were staring right through him.

"I see you, devil."

And the blows kept coming. Pummeling the incarnation's body.

Ettol lashed out with the Windlight. A surge of psychic strength. Released all at once, without aim.

A great pulse pushed his attacker back and left the small fortress rumbling. But that was not all. The wind stayed. It whipped itself into a frenzy, flowing to and fro with guidance from Ettol.

Agh. A wisp had slipped through. A nuisance, but fine. Perhaps even helpful. Not time to fuss over it, though.

Damian was not pushed back for long. He was blitzing straight toward him.

Not using that strange power of his? Fortunate.

Ettol raised a hand to summon full psychic force. Freezing the man in place would be the best solution, but maybe--

Damian was barely affected. He rushed through and swung again, forcing Ettol to dodge physically.

Now he was beginning to understand.

Psychic breaks could sometimes result in these sorts of unexpected reactions. It all depended on how one coped with the advent of madness.

Judging by the smile on his face, Damian wasn't minding it terribly.

Germal certainly was. That expression on that face couldn't have looked more wrong. Was that truly Damian?

There was no opportunity to contemplate it. Germal was a skilled hand-to-hand fighter, of course, but Damian had always been on another level when it came to such things. And if psychic attacks were going to be of limited use, then he didn't favor his chances here.

Damian was a tornado of blows, now--as if the wisp that had snuck its way into the room had chosen to bless every one of his attacks. It was all Germal could do to stay on his feet. Right hook, left hook, sweep of the leg, feint, jab, knee, grab, spin, fly.

It didn't make sense. Nothing did.

"This is what you fear," Damian was saying with a laugh. "Isn't it? You fear us seeing through you all. Growing stronger than you all. Showing you that we aren't your playthings."

Page 4038

If the reaper was ever to be repaired, then it would be in moments like this, when he was accessing as much of the Windlight as he could.

Or that was the theory, at least. Perhaps the Lights were themselves the problem. Perhaps their essential energies clashed with that of the reapers.

Unfortunately, there would be no certainty until he conducted more tests. And even then, this incarnation might simply be still too weak.

But it was worth a try, at least.

He retrieved Nerovoy from his coat again. For a while, he merely sat there, observing the reaper's fragile form another time.

Curious. It had already degraded quite a bit, even though he'd just reinvigorated it with the Windlight not too long ago. Was it because he'd put the reaper away? Out of sight, out of mind? And so the psychic influence holding Nerovoy together had dissipated much more quickly.

Hmm. How was he only now learning of this?

Well. He wasn't often given to these bouts of attentive experimentation.

In which case...

Ettol's gaze fell to Feromas next.

That one was also quite vulnerable, right now. Ettol harbored no ill will towards the reaper, of course. It wasn't about that. But if he could perform a more invasive observation of a healthy reaper, then perhaps he could learn how to help Nerovoy.

Yes, of course.

This one wasn't even about Jonah.

Though, admittedly, that was a nice bonus.

Don't worry, Jonah. If this worked, then it wouldn't matter if Feromas also suffered. Ettol would be able to repair him, too. And so much more. Think of the possibilities.

Heh.

Ettol was already on his feet and walking again.

Oh? Stirring again, Jonah? Fighting?

Ettol's pace slowed.

Not too exhausted already, eh? Go on, then. Show your strength. How much resistance could you truly mount? How important was Feromas to you?

Stop, Ettol. Stop this.

Begging now? Finally, some humility, Jonah. You should have demonstrated that more often. Things may have never come to this, if you did. Why don't you try--?

Something crashed into him. From the side. Ettol flew into the wall, cracking it.

He didn't understand. What was it? He was too disoriented? Jonah? No. There was a fog in his vision. His senses. Something hiding there, right in front of him, even as it pinned him to the wall. As it punched him in the face. In the stomach. In the soul.

Page 4037

It felt good to indulge for a change. So cathartic. Instead of holding back. Worrying about what others might think. What consequences might follow. What new webs he might need to spin.

A true god did not need to bother with such things, surely. Was this how Hada felt all the time?

It wasn't healthy, of course. Ettol knew that. Hada was not a role model. The God of Wrath had suffered plenty of blowback for his behavior--some of it at Ettol's own hands.

But he had no interest in any of that, right now.

And he shouldn't waste this chance, either. As much as tended to ruin things, there was also opportunity here. So much could be accomplished in these preciously rare moments when he didn't have to hold back.

When he didn't have to be the reasonable one, anymore.

The Windlight surged as he kept drawing on it. More. More. Deeper than he'd pulled in Ages--perhaps even deeper than this incarnation may ever get to try again.

Ettol's gaze fell upon the wolf. Sitting there in silence, watching as always.

An impenetrable fortress, that one. Even when suppressed.

But maybe now. In this moment of full indulgence. A seed could be sown. A psychic connection.

It was a risk, naturally. He truly did not know if he could even control it, much less if it would actually work. But if the wolf was to spell his inevitable doom, regardless, then was it not worth the try?

Damian was discarded. Left to fall, slowly, to the floor. Time was no longer itself. No longer so oppressive. Ettol moved at his own pace. Walking over to the wolf.

Ettol found the creature's head and went to work. A psychic incursion.

Instantly rebuffed.

As expected.

The Void's influence over the wolf was mercilessly strong. The others all said it was impossible to undermine.

But Ettol had never believed. Not fully. He still remembered the early days. When the wolf loved them all, not just their "father."

The Void did not create you, Koh. You were your own beast with your own mind.

The Prime Hunt was not all your existence amounted to.

Nothing. No response. No resonance.

Ettol took his time mourning yet another failure. There was no rush. He sat with the animal for a while. Just reminiscing on simpler times.

And then he moved on again.

To Nerovoy.

Page 4036

Perhaps it was time for more dramatic action. If the world refused to understand, then perhaps he should do more to teach it. This could be the start. The first real lesson.

And Damian, the first student.

In the end, they all wanted him to act like an evil son of a bitch, didn't they? Everyone. Always. That was why they all treated him the way that they did. Even his own kin. They simply couldn't get it out of their minds that he was manipulating them in some way. Or that he was planning to. Anyone who grew to know him also grew to fear him.

It was inevitable.

And if they were so dead set on hating him, then he might as well give them something to hate. Payback from all his incarnations.

And from before, too.

Were you watching, Jonah? This was your fault, you know. If you just stopped pushing, this wouldn't have happened.

Yes, that's right. Ettol could feel him stirring now. Realizing. But he was well in control, this time. Flush with power. The Windlight already flowing through him, almost without effort.

He'd grown again. It wasn't usually so obvious. Almost like those emergences that servants and reapers loved to talk about.

But this was different. This was a return. A remembering.

Damian's temples were between his hands. Damian was struggling. Yelling. As he often did. But it was too late, of course. Ettol had control of the body. Of everything, really.

Feromas was there, too. Frozen. But still conscious. Ettol made sure of that. He wanted the reaper to see. The way Jonah saw.

But what to do with this vulnerable little mind? Snap it in two? There was certainly something satisfying in that option. A beautiful simplicity in it. But no. This needed to be more of a show.

And an experiment. Yes. A new test for this renewed strength.

Damian. Your mind wasn't going to snap. Not yet, anyway.

You were going to attack Parson and Overra when they arrived. You were going to destroy this little trio at its root.

And tell them all sorts of things. Confound them. Make them hate you. Make them hate themselves, if you can. But that might be too much to ask of you, of course.

Ettol felt the twisting soul in his grasp. The writhing thoughts. The rising willpower. The stubborn resistance.

But they were glass. And he shattered them.

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